On Standby - Chapter 11

On a sweltering summer evening, the gentle breeze offered no relief from the oppressive heat. Each breath felt like inhaling a wave of scorching air.

Lin Ye carried the trash bag down from the third floor to the second, moving out of Tang Feihuan’s sight. Only then did the slight furrow in his brow relax, though the lingering confusion in his mind refused to dissipate. Why had she rented a place? Why specifically next door? Why, after believing he had started a family with someone else, had she not distanced herself, but instead sought to get closer…?

Lost in thought, Lin Ye’s usually calm heart was thrown into turmoil.

He repeatedly told himself: Perhaps she had already been considering renting a place. After all, living closer to the hospital would make commuting easier. And she happened to learn that Professor Zheng’s old house was available at a reasonable price.

Coincidence. It’s all just a coincidence.

There’s no need to treat her differently. It’s not unusual for ordinary colleagues to live next door.

Yet, just as one wave of unease subsided, another surged forth. After disposing of the trash, Lin Ye returned the way he had come. As he reached the corner between the second and third floors, he clearly overheard Lin Wenhui and Tang Feihuan exchanging pleasantries.

“Young people should eat less takeout, Doctor Tang. If you don’t feel like cooking, you’re welcome to join us for dinner anytime.”

“Thank you, Auntie.”

“Tonight we’re having taro stewed with chicken…” She trailed off as Lin Ye interrupted, “Aunt Hui.”

The corners of Lin Wenhui’s lips curved upward, deepening the fine lines at the corners of her eyes. “Xiao Ye, I just learned that our new neighbor is your colleague from the office. I was about to invite her to dinner.”

Lin Ye pressed his lips together, unusually silent despite his deep respect for Lin Wenhui. Sensing the awkwardness, Tang Feihuan offered a way out for both of them: “Auntie, thank you, but I already ordered takeout. I can’t let it go to waste.”

“Then next time, next time,” Lin Wenhui replied. Having known Lin Ye for years, she immediately sensed something was off. After exchanging polite farewells and retreating to their respective rooms, she voiced her suspicion: “Xiao Ye, you and Doctor Tang aren’t very close, are you?”

Lin Ye’s right hand tightened at his side. He moved casually to the kitchen to wash his hands, forcing his voice to sound normal as he replied, “Aunt Hui, Doctor Tang only joined the team last Tuesday. Besides, I’m a bit tired tonight and worried I wouldn’t be a good host.”

Seeing his weary expression, Lin Wenhui accepted his explanation without further questioning. She called out, “Yangyang, dinner’s ready!”

“Okay! Auntie, I’ll get the bowls and chopsticks,” Yangyang replied. After placing StellaLou on the sofa, the boy remembered Lin Ye’s reminder to wash his hands after playing with toys and returned to the bathroom. He washed his hands before climbing onto a small stool in the kitchen to retrieve his special bowl and chopsticks.

As Lin Ye served the rice, Yangyang gently nudged his wrist and said in a childish voice, “Mommy, Yangyang wants to help!”

Lin Ye obediently handed the rice spoon to the boy. Watching his obedient demeanor, the straight line of his lips finally curved into a smile.

A lavish dinner of one meat dish, two vegetable dishes, and a soup lay before Tang Feihuan, but she couldn’t enjoy it. The Sichuan maocai she’d ordered for delivery, with a note specifying “mild spice,” nearly set her mouth ablaze with the first bite. She frantically gulped down half a bottle of water to quench the fire. Determined not to waste the food, she rinsed the dishes in plain water, but the meat and vegetables, now bland and tasteless, only served to fill her stomach.

Tang Feihuan’s mood had already been soured by Lin Ye’s coldness. Now, her appetite remained unsatisfied, and to top it off, she had to endure her own father’s taunts.

Tang Anhua’s video call came through. “What are you having for dinner tonight?”

“Maocai.”

Jiang Junli asked, “Why are you rinsing it?”

“It’s too spicy.”

Tang Anhua flipped the camera to show the dishes on the table, boasting, “All your favorites: stir-fried lettuce with shrimp, yuxiang pork—a feast for the eyes and the palate!”

Tang Feihuan gritted her teeth. “Dad, you…”

“I told you not to move out! But you wouldn’t listen. Now you know how it feels, don’t you?”

Jiang Junli, rarely siding with her husband, disapproved of Tang Feihuan’s decision to live alone. “This impulsive move—she’ll probably regret it next quarter and come crawling back.”

“Doctor Jiang, Teacher Tang,” Tang Feihuan said firmly, snapping the lid shut on her lunchbox, “I signed a year-long lease. Breaking it means forfeiting the deposit. I won’t regret this.”

After ending the video call, Tang Feihuan took her dog for a walk, then returned home to tidy up, clean, and disinfect the furniture. By the time she finished showering and lay down in bed, it was nearly 10 p.m. She closed her eyes, but despite being awake for almost forty consecutive hours, she felt no sleepiness. Her mind was filled with images of Lin Ye.

Their physical distance had shrunk from over 8,000 kilometers—a journey requiring a flight and a train transfer—to less than ten meters. A simple knock on the door would bring them face to face. Yet their emotional distance seemed to grow wider, so vast that Tang Feihuan was losing confidence in ever closing the gap.

After an indeterminate amount of time, the person lying flat on the large bed rolled over and, as if guided by some unseen force, pulled open the bedside drawer. She retrieved a weathered iron box.

The aged box bore the German inscription “Ein kostbares Geschenk” (A Precious Gift). It was a New Year’s gift from her mentor in January 2014. She had emptied the box of its original contents—two books and two fountain pens—and repurposed it to store letters.

Over three years, four letters had arrived, all postmarked from Shujiang City and signed by Lin Ye.

And she, Tang Feihuan, had only discovered these letters on the ninth day after their breakup.

The letter was slightly worn, though carefully preserved. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t resist taking it out from time to time, holding it in her hands as she reminisced about the past, often losing half a day in the process.

Summer 2010

Tangtang,

As I write this, you’ve only been gone for less than two months. I don’t know if you’ll ever receive this letter, or when you might get it, but at this moment, I just want to express how much I miss you.

Lin Ye shared his initial confusion upon arriving at the Second Affiliated Hospital’s Emergency Department, his self-doubt, his perseverance, and his eventual triumph over challenges, earning the Director’s recognition.

The final six words of the two-page letter: I look forward to your reply.

Winter 2010

Tangtang,

This is the third letter I’ve written. The first two have probably sunk without a trace.

Lin Ye urged her to take care of herself, avoid late nights, and remember to dress warmly as the weather changed. The final six words remained unchanged: I look forward to your reply.

The next letter jumped forward two years to Winter 2012:

I keep thinking that you should receive one of my letters for each season abroad. Spring, summer, autumn, winter—four letters a year. This must be the tenth one, right?

In each letter, Lin Ye shared details about his work and the events happening around him. As always, the final six words remained the same: I look forward to your reply.

In the summer of 2013, Lin Ye wrote his twelfth and final letter to her. The closing six words remained unchanged. However, in the second-to-last line, Lin Ye asked, “Do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?”

Tang Feihuan still remembered August 26, 2013, Lin Ye’s 29th birthday. At 10:32 PM Beijing time—4:32 PM in Heidelberg due to the time difference—she slipped out of the lab, gazed up at the boundless blue sky, and made an overseas call. Back then, they could still talk for hours; the call lasted 1 hour and 27 minutes. She softly called Lin Ye’s name in different ways, and he responded to each one.

“Senior Sister.”

“Hmm?”

“Dr. Lin.”

“Yes?”

“Lin Ye.”

“I’m here.”

Mentally counting down three seconds, she asked Lin Ye to open the window and whispered, “Can you see it?”

“The moonlight is beautiful tonight.”

Blushing, she asked the person on the other end of the line if he understood her meaning. In the next moment, Lin Ye’s tender voice flowed like water, gently filling her heart: “Do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?”