Each person’s life is like a river. Its upper reaches are like the water droplets running off a snow-capped glacier, slowly collecting into a rivulet carrying the air of the highlands, passing through mountain ranges and flatlands, now rapid and now slow, now stopping and now starting, bringing along sand and grit as it goes. Its middle reaches become muddy and furious; then, as it flows on, this fury wears away, and it passes through cities, being structured by their clamor, becoming placid and silenced. 

Until at last it reaches its end in the great sea that joins the blue sky, stretching as far as the eye can see. 

The River God meets the North Sea, comically exposing smallness in the face of greatness, henceforth coming to an end, yet also henceforth beginning; the wheel comes full circle, continuing forever. 

Heaven and earth are the guesthouses of all living things; time is the sojourn of hundreds of generations. 

And our fleeting lives are like dreams; how long can happiness last? 

Each person looking at another person sees only a brief span of his life. Who knows how far he will have gone when you turn to look again? It seems that one person can never truly understand another person, unless he curves his own life into an arc, adjusts to the same tempo as that other person, from birth to death, not parting for an instant. 

But how hard would this be? An old saying tells us that “you can’t take a book a thousand leagues”; on a long and cold road, even a notebook half an inch thick is a burden that can be carelessly mislaid or lost, let alone walking a road several decades long taking another person with you. 

Hu Bugui leaned quietly against the doorframe of Su Qing’s room, separated from him by a bathroom door. Neither understood the other. 

Su Qing didn’t understand why Hu Bugui insisted on making him stay. He thought that if the RZ Unit were high quality government products, then he himself was a counterfeit “Notorola” cellphone. While his functions were complete, he wasn’t precisely fit to appear in public view. But he didn’t have a sense of inferiority, either; the work of the revolution didn’t make distinctions between the high and the low. High-end goods had their high-end market, and counterfeit goods had their benefits. He thought that even compared to the government’s group of superstars, he could still be counted as a specialist in his arts and profession. 

They could cooperate, but it would be very miserable to stay here year-round. 

How could a fish’s eye pass itself off among pearls? 

Su Qing looked at the super luxurious bathroom full of steam and thought that this really was a good place. Though it didn’t amount to corrupt opulence, at least it reached the level of a developed country. It made the down-at-heel Su Qing, who had crawled out of the sewer, feel like a floating immortal. But however comfortable it was, what did it matter? 

As soon as he thought of the enormous organization in the RZ Unit headquarters, the scrupulous and methodical military personnel, the superiors coming to deliver orders now and again, and the ceaseless “serve the people,” he simply felt that it was a pain from the stomach down to the balls. 

At first, when he had taken Tu Tutu and obstinately left the RZ Unit’s treatment center, he probably had been nursing a slight fit of pique, though he would have died sooner than admit it and had hypocritically put on a magnanimous front. But now Su Qing thought that there wasn’t anything bad about the way he lived. He had even developed a sort of objective point of view and could observe his own chaotic life with detachment. 

Today surnamed Zhao, tomorrow surnamed Qian—he had gone through The Book of Family Names one by one, wandering through every corner of the cities and the countryside, but he hadn’t left a trace. Cutting up an ID card was like throttling a person. When he realized that that person was himself, he would have a feeling approaching warped pleasure. 

These were his yesterdays. Using this method to renounce yesterday, it was as if there was no need to look back, and therefore no memories. Without memory, he had no roots. He was like a spirit floating through the air. No one could catch him, no one could number him, and no one could hurt him. This way, he felt safe and at ease. 

All structures were like talismans of control, giving him an endless headache. 

Perhaps Su Qing himself hadn’t realized why he was so opposed to staying at the RZ Unit. Because elsewhere, he was Li Meng, he was Lu Dacheng, he was Su Zecheng. Even if he changed his name to Su Wukong, no Tathagata Buddha would idly come along to seal him under the Five Elements Mountain. But in the RZ Unit, he could only be Su Qing. 

The year he was twenty-four, he had been drawn into a monstrous and motley world. He had lived once and died once, like that stupid bird Su Qing suspended above the precipice, who didn’t dare to fly up, only dared to jump down. The instant he had seen Hu Bugui, he had even automatically withdrawn from the state of being “Lu Dacheng” and returned to his original appearance. 

Like a fox demon running into a monster-revealing mirror, forced back to its true form. 

But at the moment he didn’t think so much or so deeply. He only thought that Hu Bugui’s presence was too powerful and made him uncomfortable. So amid the steam, this professional swindler persisted in thinking that he had to run; if he didn’t run, it was simply like picking up a carful of fathers for himself! 

When Su Qing had cleaned himself up to something like a proper human appearance and walked out of the bathroom, he found that Hu Bugui was still standing upright at the door in his earlier posture, as if he was a door god. 

Hu Bugui looked at him and saw that Su Qing was only loosely wrapped in a bathrobe with the collar open to the base of his chest in a style that was a grave offense against decency. So he averted his eyes and seriously said, “Go ahead and get changed, I’ll take you to get something to eat. General Xiong and the others want to meet you.” 

Su Qing paused in his tracks. “Are there nutritional capsules?” 

Hu Bugui directly bent down and took a small bottle from a cupboard next to him. He carefully read the directions and the date on it, then put it on the coffee table in front of Su Qing. Then, providing excellent service, he poured him a glass of water. Afterwards, he cautiously solicited his view: “Later…will you come eat with the others?” 

Su Qing put a capsule in his mouth. A bit of weariness appeared on his face. “What, do you have urgent business, Captain Hu?” 

Hu Bugui shook his head. 

Su Qing swallowed the capsule and yawned, rubbing his eyes. “Then let’s talk about it tomorrow, OK? It’s been a long time since I dared to sleep for real. I relaxed a little just now and felt like my bones were coming…haaa…apart.” 

His indistinct voice rolled into another yawn. He seemed so sleepy he could hardly keep his eyes open. 

Hu Bugui’s expression sank—General Xiong had said that for a person like Su Qing, having a handle on his surroundings was something he relied on to live. His exterior slickness was built on his excessive sensitivity towards his environment. If he wanted to stay somewhere for a time, he would do everything in his power to blend in, actively take note of the routes, and attempt to start conversations with each person to get as much information as possible. 

On the contrary, if he didn’t actively do these things, then he wasn’t planning to stay. He was going to retreat. 

So Hu Bugui didn’t say anything. He nodded. He stood up and walked right out. He even closed the door behind himself. Only then did Su Qing see that there was a piece of paper stuck to the back of the door with a careful analysis written on it of where he should go to look for the things he wanted. 

Looking closely, the text was handwritten, but it was very neat, like printed regular script, scrupulously exact. Even the line spacing was just about uniform. 

Su Qing drew closer to look, and a sudden wild guess rose in his mind. He thought, Hu Bugui couldn’t have written this, could he? He felt very strange, just like a stray dog suddenly receiving the treatment of a house pet, picked up by a perfume-scented wealthy woman and carried to a high grade estate, treated like an only son, so overwhelmed by the unexpected favor that he didn’t know what to do. 

A person he thought had forgotten him long ago had been searching for his whereabouts nonstop for three years, had even been able to recognize him at a glance under these circumstances after those three years, and had reserved a room for him—this couldn’t be faked, Su Qing could tell. The things and the food here were all according to his standards—and anyway, a person like Hu Bugui wouldn’t fake it. This person was like a big, hard stone who would leave a dent anywhere you tossed him. He had spent his whole life marching forward without hesitation; he had no need for circumvention. 

Su Qing sighed and crossed his arms, averting his gaze. He felt an emotion of mixed awkwardness, sadness, embarrassment, gratitude, and helpless confusion sticking painfully in his chest. 

If your stomach is used to noodles with fried bean sauce, seafood will give you the runs; how could a fox demon live under the nose of the three-eyed Erlang God?

Sighing with emotion, Su Qing stood up and stretched, quickly and calmly using all the reflective objects to glance around the room. For the moment, he couldn’t see anything like a security monitor. There wasn’t even that fingernail-sized loudspeaker that had projected Lu Qingbai and Xu Ruchong’s voices from the upper left corner of Cheng Weizhi’s room. 

Inside was rather free, but outside the window it wasn’t so friendly. There had just been a major event at headquarters, so the patrols everywhere were very strict. Su Qing had no malicious intent. It was one thing to want to leave, but never mind kicking up a fuss with the RZ Unit; it was correct behavior to leave yourself a line of retreat. 

He couldn’t get out that way, so Su Qing turned over and lay down on the bed, considering a new plan. 

Hu Bugui had left his room, but he didn’t go away. Xue Xiaolu, just coming by to take Cheng Weizhi and his son back to their room, saw Hu Bugui with a cigarette in his mouth, standing with his back to the corridor wall. She was a little surprised but wasn’t in a position to ask—Cheng Weizhi still didn’t know that Su Qing had come back. 

When the two of them were settled, Xue Xiaolu quietly walked up beside Hu Bugui. “Captain Hu, why haven’t you gone to rest?” 

She could tell that Hu Bugui was a little on edge. Their captain had quit smoking. When he had quit, he had always gone around with a cigarette in his mouth, not lighting it, only smelling it. As time went on, he had developed a habit. As soon as he got fidgety, he would put a cigarette in his mouth and chew on it. 

Hu Bugui didn’t explain, only quietly said, “Go to bed early. Tomorrow, prepare the materials. While General Xiong is here, he wants to call everyone in for a meeting in the afternoon.” 

Xue Xiaolu looked at the room with the doorplate reading “Su Qing” on it and swallowed her words. She nodded in silence and left. Half an hour later, the lights in the corridor automatically went out. Hu Bugui stood in the dark, turning his tormented cigarette over and over until all the tobacco spilled out. 

There were no monitoring installations in Su Qing’s room, because Hu Bugui believed that, since he was neither a criminal nor a high-risk witness with no means of self-defense like Cheng Weizhi, he couldn’t do as Xu Ruchong and the others said and crudely lock him up. 

So Hu Bugui decided to wait here all night for Su Qing to come out—this method was very clumsy, but it was flawless. He decided to follow Su Qing closely until he didn’t want to run anymore. 

There was no doubt that Su Qing wouldn’t be able to think of how to deal with this, because probably no one but Hu Bugui would do such a thing. 

Hu Bugui thought that a word was binding. He had said he wanted to take care of him, so he had to implement it so there wasn’t any exaggeration. Even if Su Qing was unwilling, he had still decided to follow him for the rest of his life. 

A lifetime wasn’t long, but everyone had failed a couple of people. Anyway, whether it was true or false, Su Qing swore up and down that he hadn’t taken it to heart. And Hu Bugui had never made such a promise to another person. 

Why? 

Hu Bugui sat down with his back to the wall and cast aside the spilled cigarette and took out another one to defile. He thought that “why” didn’t come into it. This wasn’t an elementary schooler’s popular science book. It was only that Su Qing had always been different from other people.