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. ...

At just past five in the morning, the breakfast shop behind the station was already open for business. The young man frying buns looked up with surprise as Lin Song walked past his storefront. Lin Song had to make a trip to Fuyang this morning for his first meeting with a client. To avoid getting sunburned during the long drive, he had deliberately worn a long-sleeved shirt. He had planned to buy four buns from the Kechen Baozi Shop for breakfast, but when he saw that a single bun from this shop was bigger than two from the Dehua Restaurant, he quickly told the owner that two meat buns and one vegetable bun would be enough. The three large buns cost seven yuan in total. ...

Surprisingly, there was no one seeking refuge from the heat in the entrance passage of the Shiqiao Metro Station. As Lin Song descended on the escalator, he could feel that the air conditioning in the station seemed to be off. On the concourse level, in front of the Zhou Hei Ya duck neck stall, a notice was pasted on the bright yellow construction barrier: “Construction Hazard, Do Not Approach.” Today’s breakfast was reganmian. The new girl at the counter asked every customer as a matter of routine, “Is there anything you don’t want in it?” “No string beans.” A mother asked the little boy, who was also having reganmian, what else he wanted. “A cup of soy milk. Remember to get a warm one.” After instructing his mother, the little boy started singing, “A-ba-zi, a-ba-zi, a-ba-zi…” ...

Summer vacation was in full swing, and grandparents had become the main force in childcare. The grandmothers’ specialty was taking the little ones to the mall to cool off. They’d find an open area with a large TV, and the old and young would sit down in rows. The TV played old cartoons on a loop. A film like Godzilla vs. Kong held no appeal for them. The children lost interest after a couple of glances, and the elderly had no idea who the monsters were fighting, much less why. The kids much preferred watching Princess Elsa from Frozen sing her enchanting songs. When the beautiful Elsa danced, the children became exceptionally well-behaved. ...

In October of 1996, Lin Song and his colleagues went to Zhengzhou on a business trip. The weather was cool and pleasant. After finishing their official duties, they decided to use the spare time before their return journey to visit the Songshan Shaolin Temple. By then, nearly fifteen years had passed since Lin Song, in the prime of his youth, had watched Jet Li’s Shaolin Temple. Lin Song remembered it was a weekday. Aside from seeing the sign for a martial arts school at the entrance, there weren’t many tourists at the temple. It was a spontaneous trip, so they hadn’t brought a camera. They used their memories of the movie as their travel guide. ...

He left the house too early, his morning appetite not yet awakened. Lin Song went to the Dehua Restaurant to get two orders of xiao long bao and two fried eggs, drizzling some light soy sauce over the yolks. He took the food with him in the car, ready to comfort his hollow stomach whenever hunger decided to strike. In the summer, it seems human skin can perform photosynthesis. As long as you give it some water, you can go all day without thinking about food. The afternoon is when children are supposed to take their naps; summer afternoons are sweltering and boring. The TV stations no longer loop reruns of My Fair Princess or Journey to the West, so children can take advantage of their grandparents’ naptime to scroll through all sorts of videos on their phones. ...

At noon, Chen Peisi’s star power failed to draw a larger audience for his film, The Stage. Screening Room No. 2, located near the ticket check, is one of the larger theaters in the cinema. Even so, there were fewer people in the audience than there were opera fans in the movie itself. After accounting for the couple who walked out midway, the vast theater felt even more sparse. The film’s original score left little impression, mainly because The Stage is set against the backdrop of the Peking Opera classic Farewell My Concubine, and thus, most of the film’s music was occupied by traditional opera melodies. The choice of lyrics for the closing credits song—Wang Anshi’s poem, To the Tune of Gui Zhi Xiang: Musing on the Past at Jinling—was quite an elegant touch. Its final line, “To this day, the singing girls still from time to time perform the songs of a fallen dynasty,” could perhaps be gifted to those film critics incapable of understanding the movie. ...

It was a strange day; no matter where he sat, Lin Song could smell a thick odor of sweat. It was a summer smell he knew well. Back in middle school, he’d wear the same jersey for an entire afternoon of ball games, and after practice, he’d just toss it in the equipment room, only to put it on again the next afternoon. It was an age of utter indifference. ...

The best legacy a restaurant that has closed for good can leave to a shopping mall is its wide assortment of tables and chairs. The vacated stalls can’t find new tenants right away, so they become temporary leisure areas. On this hot summer day, in an air-conditioned mall, as long as there are enough seats, there will be enough customers coming to escape the heat. The grandpas and grandmas, brothers and sisters who come to enjoy the cool, bring their cell phones and occupy every empty seat. If a bench hidden behind a barricade is wide enough, lying down for an hour or two is also a fine option. A small personal bag for a pillow, and you have a perfect afternoon. ...

After raining for half the night, it finally stopped. The east-facing window did not greet an early-rising sun. The air was clear and transparent. Along the horizon, thick cumulonimbus clouds curled, letting a faint morning glow seep through. Room 7 on the sixth floor is being renovated. Debris from dismantled old cabinets litters the elevator. You have to watch your step coming in and out to avoid a nail. Just after 8:30 a.m., the impact drill started, sending vibrations through the entire building and giving me a headache. I had to hurry downstairs to get “guò zǎo” (the Wuhan term for the morning ritual of eating breakfast). ...