Chapter 88: So Downcast, How About a Smile?

(1)

December 5, 2009, Saturday.

An ordinary day, as ordinary as any.

The only difference was that it wasn’t a workday.

But even on weekends, many people still had to work.

At the water delivery station, a few men dressed in thin clothes were loading heavy water jugs onto their electric scooters.

Fang Qiang was wearing only a tank top, his arm muscles bulging as he hoisted a water jug up.

An electric scooter could carry at most three jugs of water.

Every delivery, they tried to load it full, so they could earn money for three jugs in one trip.

After putting down the jug, he exhaled slightly and shook the metal basket behind the seat—modified specifically to hold water jugs—making sure it was still steady before swinging his leg over the scooter and sitting down.

He had come early today and had been delivering water for almost a whole day without even stopping for lunch.

Because he planned to finish work early and get off sooner.

“Last trip,” he muttered to himself, taking out a small notebook filled with several hastily written addresses, only the last one left unchecked.

“Xiao Qiang! Have you eaten lunch yet?”

The Station Chief, standing by the door smoking, flicked his ash to the side and shouted loudly.

“Not yet!”

“Aren’t you going to eat? Do you still have any strength?”

“Last trip!”

“Alright, then go home early today. Eat right after you finish!”

The Station Chief was easygoing.

“Let me see, you’ve delivered… oh wow, quite a lot, huh? I’ll just settle your pay for this trip along with today’s earnings.”

***

(2)

“Chief, I haven’t finished the last one yet.”

“What’s the big deal? You think I’m afraid you’re pocketing some small change?”

He waved his hand, pulled out a small calculator from his pocket, tapped a few times, and after confirming, took out a fifty-yuan bill.

Then he reached into a thick wad of coins, pulled out a five-yuan and a one-yuan coin.

“Here, fifty-six yuan. Check if that’s right.”

“I already counted several times while carrying them today. It’s correct.”

“Haha, then that’s fine. Go on, hurry up, finish the deliveries and eat right away. Don’t delay!”

“Thanks, Chief!”

Fang Qiang gratefully took the cash, carefully stuffed it into his old canvas wallet, then patted his pocket several times to make sure nothing would fall out before feeling at ease.

“I’m off to deliver water!”

“Go ahead!”

The Station Chief waved energetically, watching Fang Qiang’s figure disappear around the corner of the station’s entrance.

“That kid works hard enough,” an uncle wiping sweat from his neck with a towel chuckled nearby.

“Haha, bad at studying, so the only thing left is to sell labor, right? But he works seriously.”

The Station Chief flicked his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out.

“A good young man.”

“Ha… ha.”

Fang Qiang carried the last water jug up to the sixth floor, leaning heavily against the stairwell railing, almost collapsing.

Usually, he banged on doors as if breaking them down, but today he didn’t even have the strength to knock.

“Knock knock.”

“Coming—!”

A young man’s voice called out, then the door clicked open.

Sweating profusely, Fang Qiang gasped for breath and lifted the jug from the floor.

“Water delivery… here.”

“Okay, just leave it inside the door.” The well-dressed young man nodded.

“Also, the payment for last month’s bottled water will be collected next Friday.”

Fang Qiang finally straightened up, catching his breath.

“Any jugs to return?”

“I haven’t finished mine yet. I’ll return it next time.”

“Alright.”

He wiped sweat off forcefully, but before he could say more, the door slammed shut as if afraid the smell of his sweat would drift inside.

He didn’t take offense and instead happily thought about the money he had earned today.

His legs, which just felt as heavy as lead, suddenly felt light again.

“That comb Honghong liked last time, I can finally afford it,” he clenched his fist excitedly.

“Better hurry over, or she’ll be off work.”

Fang Qiang’s girlfriend was Lu Hong, who hardly ever went to class at university and had recently taken a part-time job—because she loved reading—at the Library.

Today was her first day at work.

Fang Qiang wanted to surprise her with that comb as a gift.

Imagining how happy she would be, maybe even hugging him tightly, his joy bubbled like boiling water, almost overflowing.

***

(3)

“Heading out?”

“Yeah, Chief, I’ve parked my scooter and given the keys to Chen Jie.”

“Alright, go eat! It’s almost three, and you haven’t eaten lunch yet.”

“No worries!”

Fang Qiang felt more energetic than if he were full.

He got on his bike and couldn’t help but pat the backpack on his back.

There were no books inside—just a beautifully wrapped comb.

It was said to be a genuine sandalwood comb.

On the way back, he had wobbled a bit on his bike to stop at a shop specializing in combs, asking the clerk to pack it in a pink box, making sure the ribbon was tied beautifully.

He pedaled hard into the warm sunlight.

The breeze that blew against his face felt gentle, like a girl’s hand softly caressing her cheek.

He felt like he had endless strength.

The small town wasn’t big, and the Library was located on the bustling street with the Carrefour supermarket.

It was funded by several wealthy local families and had three floors.

Inside, it held not only common books but also many about the town’s history.

Though photocopied, these volumes couldn’t be found elsewhere.

Though the Library’s salary wasn’t high, in a small town, it was considered a respectable job.

Fang Qiang put on his jacket.

Thinking about the surprise for Lu Hong made his heart pound uncontrollably.

The smile on his face was now impossible to hide.

When he entered, he carefully glanced at the entrance to avoid being seen immediately by her.

That would be a surprise, but not nearly as big.

“She’s not in the lobby… good.”

Fang Qiang took a deep breath and pretended to be an ordinary visitor borrowing books, slowly walking inside.

Lu Hong’s shift ended at 5:30.

Before then, he had plenty of time to find her—ideally sneak up behind her for the biggest surprise.

But the Library was huge, its corridors intricate like a maze.

Fang Qiang circled around several times but still couldn’t find the girl he longed to see.

His stomach growled in hunger, making him anxious.

He wasn’t afraid of hunger but worried she might finish work and leave.

“Where are you…?”

He scratched his head hard, leaning on a railing nearby.

“Maybe I should send a text…”

He pulled out his phone and typed “Which floor are you on?”

Hesitating, he deleted it and changed it to “Guess where I am.”

This time he sent it decisively.

Although the surprise was lessened, it was still a surprise.

The reply came quickly.

Fang Qiang’s heart raced wildly.

He eagerly opened the message, hoping to see joyful words.

But the text was cold: “Did you really come to the Library?”

But text had no tone; maybe Lu Hong’s voice was full of surprise when she said it.

Fang Qiang was about to reply when another message came:

“You didn’t really come, did you? Don’t. Why?”

Suddenly Fang Qiang realized text could have tone.

His wildly beating heart slowed, almost stopping.

“Uh… I wanted to surprise you. I bought the comb you wanted. Where are you? I’ve searched for a long time, almost half an hour. I’m starving…”

“Third floor, Small Town History.”

Fang Qiang waited silently for three minutes but received no further messages.

No care, only cold resentment and disdain.

Lu Hong was an empathetic girl—she cried for characters in stories, rejoiced for them, and was sad when stories didn’t match reality.

Fang Qiang once thought she was very understanding…

His heart started to stall.

The Small Town History section was tucked away in a quiet corner.

Fang Qiang had failed to find it earlier.

He took out the exquisite gift box, placed it carefully into a matching paper bag.

The book area was deserted—not a single person in sight.

He walked further inside, as if venturing into the depths of the Antarctic glacier.

Finally, he saw a familiar figure.

A faint smile appeared on his face as he lowered his voice and hurried over to her side.

She was sitting there alone.

Fang Qiang turned his head, trying to make his smile more obvious.

But what greeted him was an indifferent face.

He slowly set down the paper bag, as if running an errand for a stranger.

There was no conversation between them.

Fang Qiang didn’t stop. He quickened his pace to leave.

No, it wasn’t walking—it was more like fleeing.

He exited the book section, went down the stairs, and out of the Library.

The bustling street was filled with people coming and going.

The blazing sun cast a light devoid of warmth.

The wind cut at his cheeks like knives.

She was just in a bad mood today, he told himself.

His phone suddenly vibrated.

After the word “breakup,” a barrage of messages bombarded him.

They were accusations, complaints, dissatisfaction, and sarcastic attacks.

“I just wanted to surprise you,” Fang Qiang bit his lip and sent that message.

“Okay, okay, thanks for the surprise.”

His eyes fixed on the three “okay” characters, dizzy with despair.

Those three words morphed into ugly laughing faces, swirling around him.

His world held only mocking laughter and that overwhelming “okay.”

Okay, okay.

Okay, okay.

Okay, okay.

“Hahaha…”

Suddenly, he laughed aloud and strode forward, letting the scalding tears flow freely from his eyes.

His laughter soon turned into quiet sobs and hiccups.

Passersby looked at him in confusion, wondering why this tall young man was crying on the street.

Perhaps some even suspected he wasn’t all there mentally.

Otherwise, why would a young man cry while walking?

“Not much like a man,” he muttered to himself.

He thought he sounded calm, but actually, he stammered through his sobs.

He didn’t know how far he had walked or how long he had cried.

Maybe a long time, maybe far away, or maybe just a few minutes and a few steps.

“Roasted sausages, roasted sausages! Hey, young man, want some sausage?”

Fang Qiang let the wind blow against his wet face and slowly lifted his head, seeing several familiar faces.

“Yo, A Qiang! Want some sausage?”

Zhou Chao asked with a warm smile, ignoring the tears on his face.

“How much?”

“Five yuan.”

“Haha, you’re lying…”

“Give me one.”

Fang Qiang fished out the crumpled last five yuan from his pocket and handed it to him in the wind.

“Brother, my treat.”

Zhou Chao’s expression suddenly turned serious.

“Hey, isn’t this A Qiang? What’s wrong? Why are you crying like a dog?”

Sun Wei’s voice rang out.

“Ow! Who kicked my butt?”

Quiet, who had been calm, lightly clapped his hands and walked over from behind the cart.

Standing on tiptoes, he patted Fang Qiang’s shoulder firmly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Broke up.”

Fang Qiang tried to smile, but his mouth felt as heavy as if weighed down by a thousand pounds.

“See? I knew it.”

“Zhou Chao, you knew all along?”

“Guess so.”

Zhou Chao carefully grilled the sausages and glanced up.

“Don’t be sad, A Qiang. You’ve got a long road ahead.”

“Need napkins?”

Zhu Ying asked quietly.

“Two, please.”

Zhang Qiqi nodded.

“No need. Men don’t need women’s comfort,” Sun Wei said righteously, blocking the girls.

“Let him handle it himself.”

“Shut up,” Zhou Chao shot him a sideways glance.

“Hurry and pass the napkins. His nose is about to drip into his mouth.”

“Zhou Chao, a real man must bear this.”

“If you say one more word, I’ll really get mad.”

Zhou Chao’s face was serious, not joking.

“Okay, okay.”

Sun Wei didn’t dare joke anymore, quickly took the napkins from Zhu Ying, tore open the pack, and handed them to Fang Qiang.

“A Qiang, your sausage’s ready!”

Zhou Chao stuffed the sausage into his palm and casually threw an arm around his neck.

“Thanks…”

“Hold it tight. Don’t drop it.”

“Thanks…”

“Here’s the napkin. Wipe your face.”

Sun Wei also came over, put an arm around Fang Qiang’s shoulder, and patted his back hard.

“Don’t be sad, okay?”

“Don’t be so down, smile for me, will you?”

Quiet stretched out his arm, hooked it around Fang Qiang’s shoulder, demonstrating with a bright smile.

“Thanks…”

Fang Qiang suddenly felt relieved and smiled.

“Thanks, brothers…”

The wind blowing against his face felt like the rough kindness of his brothers, carrying away the last tear on his cheek.