Before dusk, Tran Huyen arrived in Giang Thanh.
She got off at the high-speed train station. When she hailed a taxi, the driver asked her a few questions in the local dialect. She could only understand about 50%, but the gist was that they had to take the highway. Unfamiliar with the people and the area, she simply agreed.
But after arriving, she seriously suspected she had been ripped off. The journey wasn't far, yet the fare was as high as 40 yuan.
After registering her name and number with the security guard, Tran Huyen entered the residential complex.
This was a standalone residential complex located in the center of Giang Thanh, very close to the riverfront, with a subway entrance right outside. There were very few permanent residents in the building; most units were used by business owners as homestays. The room Tran Huyen had chosen was on the 20th floor. It had floor-to-ceiling windows, decorated in the popular cream-colored style – bright, pristine, and airy – it would also work well as a studio.
Tran Huyen was drenched in sweat after dragging a suitcase that had traveled with her all this way on a forty-degree day. When she stepped into the elevator, she felt like she'd gotten half her life back.
She took her phone out of her pocket, glanced at it, then put it back.
The timing was perfect.
Once she went up, tidied a few things, and opened the blinds, she could take in the entire sunset view of the riverfront.
*Ding!* The sound of the elevator car interrupted Tran Huyen's thoughts. She stepped out, looked around, then turned into the hallway following the signs, mentally repeating "Two... two... zero... three" as she searched for her room.
All the way to the end of the corridor.
Tran Huyen stopped in front of the door, took out her phone again, and found the password the landlord had given her.
She thought that in ten seconds she'd be inside, turning on the air conditioning and breathing easy, but unexpectedly, she ran into trouble while entering the password.
She wiped the fingerprint lock several times, but it didn't react. The numbers didn't light up either; the panel remained completely dark, with no sign of activity.
She tried a little more force, but it still didn't work.
She tried a different method, but got the same result.
Tran Huyen froze.
The long, narrow, sweltering corridor was infuriating. She sent a voice message to the landlord, informing him of the unexpected situation, her tone not very pleasant. Luckily, the landlord was responsible and immediately called her back.
The landlord, in a polite tone, said: "This morning when I set the temporary password, it was still fine. Perhaps it's because it's too hot, so it occasionally doesn't light up. Could you please try again?"
Tran Huyen leaned against the door. "I've tried a hundred times already," she said.
The landlord offered no more advice. "I'll be right up," he said.
Tran Huyen asked, "How long?"
The landlord said, "It's evening rush hour now. I'll try to get there within half an hour."
Internally, Tran Huyen was screaming "Help me!", but there was nothing else she could do. She could only reluctantly say, "Alright."
The corridor was quiet. Like the dead password lock, she finally resigned to her fate.
She tied her hair back, pushing up the drenched wisps on her forehead that were sticking to her skin, revealing her red, hot face.
After getting bored of checking WeChat, Tran Huyen blocked a few noisy group chats and started observing her surroundings.
There were two doors right next to her, two adjacent rooms. 2204 was quiet, not a sound, but 2202 seemed to be occupied; faint music drifted out, not very clear.
Tran Huyen sat on her suitcase, her patience worn thin, and sent another message to the landlord, asking him where he was.
The landlord, very proactively, sent a location pin, along with a wryly humorous JPG that read: "Trying my best."
Trần Huyền opened the app to check. Following the navigation, she confirmed the small road ahead was marked red, indicating severe congestion.
Trần Huyền bit back a string of curses.
Sweat streamed down her cheeks. She took off her backpack, rummaging for a small pack of tissues. Just then, a sound suddenly came from room 2202, and the door opened from the inside.
Like uncorking a bottle.
The previously indistinct music grew louder and clearer, spilling out from within and filling the entire hallway.
The person standing in the doorway froze.
The person outside the door froze too.
Standing before Trần Huyền was a tall young man. He wore an oversized white t-shirt and black shorts that reached his knees, yet they did nothing to conceal his lean, tall frame. His face was sharply defined, with prominent features. Thick eyebrows peeked out from beneath his bangs, and his slightly emphasized eyes held a shrewd, almost sharp glint.
His hand remained on the doorknob, not letting go for a long moment. Perhaps he hadn't expected to find a living person outside his door, and was momentarily unable to react.
Trần Huyền clutched the tissues, immediately stood up, and pulled her suitcase over to her spot.
She felt utterly disheveled.
And disheveled in front of a handsome guy, no less.
She stood to one side, looking at him, subtly indicating that he could pass.
As he passed her, the young man gave a polite nod, and she returned it. Neither of them spoke a word.
Once his figure disappeared, Trần Huyền quickly wiped away her sweat and tidied her hair. She suspected her makeup had long since smudged from the heat.
A few minutes later, the elevator chimed. Trần Huyền quickly stood up, watching the young man return from the corner of her eye. He was carrying a paper bag, likely something he'd bought outside. The building management was very strict; outside purchases weren't allowed upstairs, a rule the security guard had specifically emphasized.
He looked at her again.
She looked back at him.
Likely guessing her predicament, he stopped this time and asked, “Do you need any help?”
He wasn't from around here; his accent wasn't local, and his tone was slightly hesitant and cautious.
Trần Huyền paused, then shook her head. “Oh, no, thank you.”
The young man didn't say much, stepping inside. But instead of closing the door, he left it wide open.
A wave of cool air wafted out, as if a small patch of shade had suddenly fallen across the doorway.
Trần Huyền understood implicitly. She glanced inside, surprised, as the young man, having just washed his hands, emerged from the bathroom, reappearing in her limited field of vision.
She raised her voice slightly. “You really don’t have to keep the door open—”
He paused, glancing over. “It’s too hot out here.”
Trần Huyền said nothing more. Two seconds later, she said, “Thank you.”
He turned off his Bluetooth speaker, pulled a can of Coca from the paper bag, popped it open with one hand, and took a sip. “Did you just arrive in Giang Thành?” he asked her.
Trần Huyền: “Mhm.”
She said, “Giang Thành doesn’t seem to be rolling out the welcome mat for me. First, this keypad lock is giving me trouble.”
The young man chuckled.
Marble soda.
The image flashed through Trần Huyền’s mind: marble soda. Had she ever had marble soda? With a *pop*, the glass marble was pushed into the bottle, and the clear liquid inside came alive, fizzing and bubbling, each tiny sphere rising to form a milky way within the bottle.
His smile felt just like that—a powerful, effervescent burst, cool and crystal clear.
“Have you contacted the landlord?” he asked, his expression turning serious.
Trần Huyền shook her phone. “Mhm, traffic jam. They’ll be here in a bit.”
A moment of silence passed.
For some reason, she felt a little embarrassed, but also overly aloof. Deep down, Trần Huyền racked her brain, desperately searching for a topic: “Are you also here in Giang Thành for a visit?”
The young man replied, “Yes, I just arrived yesterday.”
She asked again, “How is it here?”
The young man said, “The surroundings aren’t bad, but there are always ambulances and train engines passing by in the middle of the night. My sleep quality isn’t great.”
They were some distance apart, so they didn't instinctively raise their voices.
The light in the room was changing.
Trần Huyền noticed the orange-red orb next to the table shifting from deep to pale: “Is the sun about to set?”
The young man looked up, gazing into the distance: “Hmm, it’s almost seven.”
Trần Huyền asked, “Can you really see the entire riverbank from here?”
The young man stood up: “Let me go check.”
Trần Huyền was surprised: “You don’t know?”
The young man said, “It’s been too hot; I haven’t opened the window curtains since I arrived.”
Trần Huyền showed an expression of "what a waste of such a sight!"
He gave a puzzling smile: “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Trần Huyền didn’t say anything, only regretting: “I thought I could catch today’s sunset over the riverbank.”
The young man stepped out of her line of sight: “Tomorrow is fine too.”
The sound of a window opening came from inside. Trần Huyền protested: “But that’s tomorrow.”
There was no sound from inside his room.
Just then, Trần Huyền’s mobile phone rang. The incoming call was a local number, accompanied by the landlord, her savior, who arrived leisurely late.
He also brought a locksmith, who quickly identified the reason for the lock code’s invalidity. After replacing the battery, he repeatedly apologized.
Trần Huyền didn’t dwell on it. Even if she felt regret and resentment, she couldn’t go back to the time of sunset. The first item on her escape plan could no longer be carried out, and she didn’t want to bring more unhappiness upon herself; treating others well was also treating herself well.
The door was opened smoothly. Trần Huyền didn’t rush in. She poked her head out to look for him, wanting to say thank you again.
The young man noticed and came over, simply saying it was nothing.
Trần Huyền said, “Then I’ll go in now.”
The young man called her back, frowning slightly, as if finding it difficult to ask. After a moment, he asked: “Is it convenient to add WeChat?”
Trần Huyền paused.
The landlord suddenly looked like he was watching a show.
“Uh, sure.” Trần Huyền felt her heart beat a little faster. Pretending to be natural, she nodded in agreement.
They exchanged WeChat IDs.
The homestay door was opposite a floor-to-ceiling window. As soon as she stepped into the room, the sky that greeted her was a gradient of pale purplish-blue with a hint of pink. Although she was a step late, the sky still kindly held onto a bit of its warmth.
Turning on the air conditioner was the top priority, taking a shower was the second. After unpacking her luggage, Trần Huyền finally had time to plop down on the sofa and check her WeChat messages.
An unfamiliar profile picture popped up at the top.
She blinked, then realized it was the friendly young man next door. After opening it, she was stunned. Inside was a photo, which she promptly zoomed in on.
Trần Huyền remained motionless for a long time.
Goosebumps.
In the photo, bathed in the afternoon sun, were the riverbank and rooftops. The image perfectly matched her previous imagination: Above the resilient, lush trees, there was a sea of orange sunset, with a rose-colored sun suspended within it, too beautiful for words.
He also left a message: “You missed the sunset, so I took a picture for you.”