CITY LIGHTS AND SALUTED SHADOWS

The van's engine rattled to life, a jarring counterpoint to the mountain silence still ringing in their ears. Trader Zhang fumbled in the glove compartment, pulling out a small envelope. "Here you go, Li Lǎobǎn," he said, handing it over the worn center console. "Three tickets. Shanghai Express. Departs 9:40 AM sharp. Platform three." Anze took the envelope with a curt nod, his expression unreadable in the dim cabin light. He opened it, extracted the stiff cardboard rectangles, and silently passed one back to Xu Linxue and another to Little Yan, who clutched hers like a treasure map. "Hold onto these," he instructed, his voice low. "Don't lose them." He tucked his own ticket into the inner pocket of his practical jacket, the one he always wore for village repairs, now looking incongruous in the confines of the van heading towards the modern world. The journey down the winding valley road was a blur of grey rock, rushing river glimpses, and increasingly frequent clusters of low buildings. Zhang drove with a nervous competence, filling the silence with chatter about market prices and the unreliability of valley mechanics, a monologue largely ignored by his passengers. Yan pressed her face to the window, wide-eyed at the unfamiliar scale of the valley compared to their high perch. Xu watched the landscape change, feeling the pull of the city she needed to return to, mingled with a strange pang of loss for the mist-shrouded quiet already receding behind them. Anze sat beside Zhang in the front passenger seat, his gaze fixed ahead, his profile etched with a tension that hadn't been there on the mountain. The weight of the letter, the impending farewell, sat heavy in the space between his stillness and Zhang's nervous energy.

They reached the bustling valley station just after nine. It was a small, utilitarian building, dwarfed by the surrounding peaks but teeming with a level of activity utterly foreign to Yúnzhī Cūn. Announcements crackled over tinny speakers, people hurried with bags, vendors shouted. Yan clung to Xu's sleeve, overwhelmed but fascinated. Anze navigated the chaos with the focused calm of someone used to extracting order from confusion. He guided them through the modest crowd to Platform 3. The sleek, modern train gleamed under the station lights, a silent beast waiting to devour distance. They found their seats – a four-person booth, Anze and Yan on one side, Xu opposite. Yan immediately claimed the window seat, her nose almost pressed to the glass as the train pulled out with a smooth, powerful glide, leaving the valley station and its mountain backdrop shrinking rapidly behind.

The journey was a study in contrasts. Yan remained spellbound by the blurring landscape outside – terraced fields giving way to sprawling industrial zones, then clusters of towns growing denser, taller. "It's so… flat!" she breathed at one point, then later, "Look at all the boxes stacked high! Are people living in those?" Anze answered her questions patiently but tersely, his attention clearly divided. He pulled a small, well-worn notebook from his pack and began writing, his brow furrowed, the pen moving with quick, precise strokes. Xu, grateful for the relative comfort, tried to rest her ankle, her mind a whirlwind of the past few days – the pheasant's impossible beauty, the fall, the village's unexpected kindness, the jade pendant's shared secret, and now this urgent, somber journey. She sent a text to Li Na updating her estimated arrival time. The train ate the miles, the scenery morphing into an endless tapestry of urban sprawl, highways, and concrete. The air inside grew warmer, drier, carrying the faint tang of steel and humanity absent from the mountains.

By early afternoon, the skyline began to rise – not gradually, but in jagged leaps. First scattered high-rises, then dense forests of glass and steel piercing the hazy sky. Yan gasped, pulling back from the window slightly. "Wow…" The word was a soft exhalation, filled with awe and a touch of apprehension. "It's like… mountains made by people. But pointy. And shiny." The sheer scale of Shanghai, its relentless verticality and teeming energy pressing against the train windows, was a visceral shock after the horizontal serenity of the cloud village.

The train slowed, gliding into the vast, echoing cavern of Shanghai Hongqiao Railway Station. The controlled chaos of the valley station was amplified a hundredfold here – a river of humanity flowing in all directions, digital displays flashing, the constant hum of movement and announcements. They disembarked, joining the current flowing towards the exits. Yan stuck close to Anze, her earlier excitement tempered by the overwhelming sensory assault. Xu limped slightly, the long journey stiffening her ankle. Emerging into the plaza outside the station was like stepping into another atmosphere – warmer, thicker, laden with exhaust fumes, distant sirens, and the low thrum of millions of lives intersecting.

Anze paused on the bustling sidewalk, scanning the sea of taxis and cars. He turned to Xu. "What are your plans now? Where do you need to go?" His voice was practical, cutting through the city din.

Xu adjusted her camera bag strap. "The hospital, actually. Huashan. I need to get this ankle properly checked, and maybe my head too, just to be safe." She gestured towards her temple. "My friend Li Na is meeting me there. She's already in the city."

Anze nodded. Before Xu could ask about directions or taxis, he reached into his pack – not the small pocket where he kept village tools or herbs, but a deeper compartment. He pulled out a sleek, modern smartphone. Xu blinked, surprised. "You had a phone? All this time?"

He powered it on, the screen glowing bright in the afternoon haze. A faint, wry smile touched his lips, the first Xu had seen since reading the letter. "Useless in the mountains. No signal, no point in carrying the distraction. But down here…" He tapped the screen with practiced efficiency, opening a ride-hailing app. "It serves a purpose." His fingers flew over the virtual keyboard, inputting their destination – Huashan Hospital. Within moments, he confirmed a ride. "Car's three minutes away. Silver sedan. License plate ending 7J3." He gave her the details automatically, the habits of command surfacing.

As they waited on the curb, Xu pulled out her own phone, texting Li Na their ETA at the hospital. "Anze," she said, looking up. "Could I… have your number? Or WeChat? Just in case. About the tickets, or…" She trailed off, unsure how to frame the request beyond simple practicality, yet feeling an unexpected pull to maintain a thread back to the man who'd been her unexpected anchor through chaos.

"Of course," he said, no hesitation. He pulled up his WeChat QR code on the screen. Xu scanned it with her own phone, sending a contact request. He accepted instantly, his profile popping up on her screen – a simple, stark black square, the username just "Ān Zé". She sent him her contact: "Xu Línxuě - Photographer". He glanced at it, gave a small nod of acknowledgment just as a silver sedan pulled up precisely to the curb. The driver confirmed Anze's name through the window.

They piled in – Anze in the front passenger seat, Xu and Yan in the back. The city unfolded outside in a dizzying stream of towering buildings, neon signs already flickering to life despite the afternoon sun, and a relentless tide of people and vehicles. Yan was silent now, absorbing it all with wide, solemn eyes. Anze pulled out his phone again, not to navigate, but to make a call. He spoke low, professionally, in crisp Mandarin Xu could only half-follow over the traffic noise: "…ETA approximately twenty minutes… Yes, understood… Private vehicle, silver sedan, plate Shanghai A·7J3… Proceeding directly to the West Wing entrance… Affirmative." He listened for a moment, his gaze fixed ahead. "Understood. Thank you, Major." He ended the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket without comment, the brief glimpse of his operational world snapping shut.

Xu watched him, a new layer of complexity adding to the enigma of Anze Li. The village bridge builder, the quiet café owner, the man who carried ghosts and matching jade pendants, now coordinating with military precision. She texted Li Na their updated arrival point: *Huashan Hospital, West Wing entrance. Silver car, plate ending 7J3. See you soon.*

The cab navigated the dense traffic with practiced aggression, finally pulling up to a quieter section of the sprawling Huashan Hospital complex – the West Wing entrance Anze had specified. It was less crowded than the main entrance, more subdued. Anze paid the driver swiftly in cash. As they climbed out, stretching stiff limbs on the busy sidewalk, Xu saw Li Na already hurrying towards them from the direction of a small coffee kiosk, her face a mask of relief and worry. "Linxue! Oh my god, you're here! Are you alright? Your texts were terrifying!" Li Na enveloped Xu in a fierce hug before Xu could even say hello, her eyes scanning the bandage on Xu's temple, the careful way she stood.

Xu hugged her back, the familiar comfort of her friend a sudden anchor. "I'm okay, Li Na. Really. Just banged up. This is Anze Li, and Little Yan. They helped me get down from the village and back here."

Li Na turned, offering a quick, polite smile and nod to Anze and Yan. "Thank you so much for helping her! I've been frantic!" Her attention immediately snapped back to Xu. "Come on, let's get you inside. I pre-registered you at orthopedics and neurology. We need to get that ankle looked at and make sure your head's okay after that fall…" She began gently steering Xu towards the hospital's automatic doors.

Xu allowed herself to be guided, but glanced back at Anze and Yan. Anze was standing very still, his gaze fixed not on the doors, but on a point further down the curved driveway leading to a more secluded, canopy-covered entrance marked 'Private/Administrative'. His posture had subtly shifted – straighter, shoulders squared, the quiet village man replaced by an alert readiness Xu hadn't seen before, not even on the mountain path. Yan stood close beside him, sensing the change, her earlier city awe replaced by wide-eyed curiosity.

As Xu watched, the glass doors beneath the canopy slid open. Two men in crisp, dark suits emerged, scanning the area with professional detachment. Behind them, stepping out into the afternoon light, were three soldiers. Not police, but PLA soldiers in immaculate dress uniforms. They stood ramrod straight, their expressions stern and focused. Their eyes locked onto Anze.

Before Xu could process what was happening, the lead soldier, a man with captain's insignia, snapped a sharp command. Instantly, the three soldiers brought their hands up in perfect unison, their palms rigid, fingertips touching their peaked caps in a textbook military salute. It wasn't casual; it was precise, deliberate, and full of profound respect. The salute was held, unwavering, directed solely at Anze Li, the man in the worn village jacket standing on the Shanghai sidewalk with a teenage girl beside him.

Xu froze, Li Na's chatter fading into white noise. She saw Anze's reaction. He didn't flinch, didn't seem surprised. He simply returned the salute with equal precision, his own hand snapping up in a mirror image, his gaze meeting the captain's directly. It lasted only a few seconds, but the formality, the intensity of it, crackled in the air. This wasn't just recognition; it was deference. The salute ended as sharply as it began. The captain stepped forward, saluting again briefly. "Captain Li," Xu heard him say clearly, his voice carrying over the city murmur. "The Colonel is expecting you. This way, please. We've arranged for the young lady to wait comfortably." He gestured respectfully towards Yan.

Anze nodded once, a curt, professional dip of his chin. He turned briefly towards Xu. His eyes met hers, holding a complex mix of the man she'd known in the village and the officer who commanded instant salutes. There was no time for words, only that brief, charged look. "Go get checked," he said, his voice low but carrying. Then he turned, placing a reassuring hand on Yan's shoulder, and followed the captain and the soldiers towards the canopy entrance. The suits fell in step beside them. Yan glanced back once, her eyes wide with bewildered awe, before the glass doors swallowed them whole, leaving Xu and Li Na standing on the sidewalk amidst the oblivious flow of hospital traffic.

Li Na, who had witnessed the entire exchange with stunned silence, finally found her voice, pulling Xu's arm. "Linxue… what… who *was* that? Soldiers? Saluting? What's going on?"

Xu stared at the now-empty canopy entrance, the image of Anze returning that salute burned into her mind. The village bridge builder, the man who made healing soup and carried orphans down mountains, was clearly someone of significant standing in a world far removed from Yúnzhī Cūn. "I… I don't know exactly, Li Na," Xu murmured, the reality of the last few minutes settling over her like a shroud. "But he was… is… a lot more than he seemed." The throbbing in her ankle suddenly felt minor compared to the weight of unanswered questions. Li Na, sensing her friend's dazed state, tightened her grip. "Okay, questions later. Doctor first. Come on." She firmly steered Xu towards the bustling main entrance of the hospital, the mundane urgency of medical check-ups a stark contrast to the silent drama of salutes and disappearing officers that had just unfolded. The city roared on, indifferent, as Xu limped inside, leaving the enigma of Anze Li behind glass doors guarded by soldiers.