Linsongs

He hadn’t checked the mailbox in his building’s entryway for a long time. Remembering that an important piece of mail was supposed to arrive recently, Lin Song rummaged through a miscellaneous box in his bookcase and was relieved to find the mailbox key still there. Three days ago, Lin Song had peered through the mail slot, scouting it out. There appeared to be an EMS envelope inside. But he had long since lost the habit of carrying keys, so he didn’t know for sure what was in there. ...

Everyone has their own “soul breakfast.” For Lin Song, it’s pan-fried buns, which must be paired with two fried eggs. If a breakfast shop only serves braised eggs, Lin Song considers them insincere. Sharing a table with Lin Song were a young daughter and her earnestly instructing mother. The daughter had wanted pan-fried buns; the mother had ordered steamed dumplings. When the girl saw the pan-fried buns in Lin Song’s bowl, a look of disappointment crossed her face, as she had none. “You just eat your food properly. Finish these hot dry noodles, then have two steamed dumplings.” “A fly, a fly! Shoo it away, shoo it away!” “I’ll go see if the steamed dumplings are ready yet.” “I want to eat from the big bowl. And I want diced pickled radish.” A waitress, clearing tables, repeatedly shouted into her headset microphone: “Special deal today! Shumai are buy one, get one free!” ...

The shopping mall had set up temporary stalls in the open space by Entrance 3. “Special Clearance on Books,” 9.9 yuan/jin (approx. 500g): The Encyclopedia of Healthy Recipes, A Guide to Food Pairings and Prohibitions. “Children’s Book Clearance,” 20 yuan/jin: Encyclopedia of Chinese Geography, Andersen’s Fairy Tales, Calabash Brothers. “Novel Clearance,” 22 yuan/jin: Nezha: Past Stories of the Three Realms, The Details of Law, The Grave Robbers’ Chronicles. Lin Song circled the bookstall three and a half times, scanning the titles one by one. Among the books piled on the tables, there were a few scattered ones he had read. ...

An important sign that summer is about to end is that by Saturday morning, the food delivery platforms have eased up on their promotions. Lin Song parked his car in the underground garage. Before turning off the engine, he glanced at the time on the display: ten past five. Still enough time to make dinner. “Fingerprint error!” The sharp alert from the smart lock startled Lin Song. Every time he opened the door, he was very careful to cover the sensor completely with his thumb. Could it be that his hands were too dirty after moving cardboard boxes all day? ...

Venting is a base emotion. Lin Song dislikes it when people get forceful and aggressive in their interactions. Perhaps it’s because, over the past few years, he has been so worn down by such overbearing attitudes that he feels his own lung capacity has diminished. At noon, after dropping off Xiao Lin at the train station, he went to a client’s office to settle a payment. Coming down from the elevated departure level of the station, Lin Song began to wonder how he would kill the next two hours until his client’s office opened at two. It was too hot to stay out under the sun. The underground parking at the mall was only free for thirty minutes, which, after accounting for the time to drive in and out, wasn’t even long enough for a nap. Maybe he could find a diner on a small side street, have lunch, and enjoy two hours of free air conditioning. That seemed like a good option. ...

As expected, the orange high-temperature warning arrived on schedule, like a gilded invitation for the entire city to partake in a grand sauna. For all those not required to clock in at an office, the strategy for escaping the heat was strikingly uniform: flock to the shopping mall, that modern oasis of steel and concrete, to righteously share its free air conditioning. The sun had just crossed the horizon, the morning light yet to fully dispel the city’s slumber, when figures already began to gather at the mall’s entrance at half-past nine. It had become an unspoken ritual. In the mall’s atrium, the tables and chairs intended to attract customers for coffee shops and bubble tea stalls now served as the exclusive domain of the city’s elders—the Grandpas Wang and Auntie Lis. They were the earliest “residents” here, sitting quietly with the unhurried poise of age. The businesses seemed to have grown accustomed to this special group of “patrons.” During off-peak hours, the staff would carefully navigate around their napping forms, reluctant to disturb the tranquility that belonged to them. ...

At the intersection beneath the overpass, the road surface, worn out from years of neglect, was once riddled with potholes. Drivers who frequented this route would instinctively steer around the sunken manhole covers to avoid scraping the undercarriage of their cars. After the summer rains, the eroded roadbed, repeatedly crushed by heavy vehicles, became even more bumpy and unbearable. Last week, the intersection was repaved with fresh asphalt, the depressions were filled, and a new crosswalk was painted at the widest point. ...

For 30 consecutive days, the maximum temperature in Wuhan has exceeded 38°C (100.4°F). For a month, the high temperatures have had perfect attendance, never absent, never late. In the sweltering heat of July, some chose to escape to southeastern Hubei. But who would have known that deep in the Dabie Mountains, it was just as historically hot as Wuhan? During the day, swirling clouds of mist felt like a steamer; at night, air conditioning was a must. The teachers who went to the mountains to escape the heat this summer all felt they had escaped for nothing. Since they had to use air conditioning anyway, wasn’t it better to be back in Wuhan, sprawled on their own couches, eating watermelon and scrolling through their phones, free and at ease? ...

On a Saturday afternoon, the gym is at its quietest. Sunlight slants through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, casting bright patches on the dark gray rubber floor. The air is a mixture of scents—the cold, metallic smell of the equipment, a faint hint of disinfectant, and the subtle trace of evaporated sweat. The weekday evening hustle is gone, replaced by an off-peak tranquility, as if a soothing rest note has been placed at the end of a long, strenuous week. ...

It was sunny when he set out. After crossing the Dabie Mountains, the clouds in the sky began to thicken. As he approached Fuyang, a few raindrops even splattered against the windshield. In the past, when traveling on inter-provincial expressways, you had to swap your IC toll card at each provincial border, settling the toll for the completed section before starting anew in the next province. Every business trip left Lin Song with a pile of toll receipts to file for reimbursement. This time, however, he truly understood what a “seamless journey” meant. He collected his IC card at Hankou North, entered the G42 Shanghai-Chengdu Expressway, and didn’t settle the toll until he exited at Yingshang East from the Chuzhou-Xincai Expressway. There were no intermediate charges—it was a single, uninterrupted trip. ...