NIGHT TEXTS AND MORNING LIGHT

Sleep remained a stubborn stranger. Anze lay on the crisp linen, the muffled thrum of Shanghai a distant ocean against the shore of his silent room. The day's collisions – salutes, Tieshan's bear hug, the sterile fear of the hospital, the boisterous warmth of the Golden Dragon – echoed in the quiet. He switched on the low, brass reading lamp by the bed, its pool of warm light pushing back the city's electric gloom. From his small pack, he retrieved not a military manual or a survival guide, but a worn, cloth-bound copy of *Tao Te Ching*. The smooth paper, the sparse, profound characters – they were a touchstone, a path back to the mountain's quiet philosophy. He opened it to a random passage, the words about water flowing soft yet strong resonating in the stillness.

*Buzz.*

The sound, sharp and alien in the profound quiet, made him start. His phone, lying face-down on the nightstand, vibrated against the wood. It was a sound he hadn't heard in over a year, a sound belonging to another life. He picked it up, the screen blindingly bright in the dim room. A WeChat notification. From Xu Línxuě.

> **Xu Línxuě:** Just wanted to say thank you again, Anze Li. For everything. The mountain, the descent, the hospital detour, the incredible (and slightly terrifying) dinner. Li Na dropped me home. Ankle braced and medicated. Hope your friend continues to recover well.

He stared at the message, the glowing characters feeling unreal against the backdrop of Lao Tzu's wisdom. He typed slowly, the unfamiliar keyboard a slight hindrance.

> **Anze Li:** No need for thanks. Glad you're settled. Liang is stable. Rest.

The reply came quickly.

> **Xu Línxuě:** Good to hear. What are you doing awake? It's late. Or… early?

> **Anze Li:** Couldn't sleep. Reading.

> **Xu Línxuě:** What book chases away sleep for a mountain man in Shanghai?

> **Anze Li:** Lao Tzu. Old words. Quiet ones.

> **Xu Línxuě:** Fitting. Sounds more calming than counting sheep. I just got out of the shower. Heading to bed now. Though sleep might be elusive here too. City noise is different. Louder, but… emptier somehow.

A pause. Then, another message appeared.

> **Xu Línxuě:** Sorry if this is intrusive… and you absolutely don't have to answer… but that scar above your eye. How…? I saw the doctor's reaction to your bandage. He called it 'military-grade'. And then the soldiers today… It just makes me wonder.

Anze stared at the question glowing on the screen. The scar itched faintly, a phantom sensation. Sharing this over text, in the anonymous intimacy of night, felt strangely easier than speaking it aloud. His fingers moved.

> **Anze Li:** Not intrusive. Kyrgyzstan. Five years ago. Border reconnaissance op gone hot. We were ambushed in a narrow gorge. Rocks, not bullets, first. Landslide triggered above us. Boulder the size of a small car sheared off. Took out two men instantly. Shrapnel spray from the rock hit… caught me here. Knocked me cold. Liang dragged me out before the second wave of rocks came down. Saved my life that day. Got a commendation for stupidity under fire, he always said. The medic who patched me used the same wrap you saw. Some skills stick.

He hit send, the stark facts laid bare in digital text. No embellishment. Just the cost of the life he'd left behind.

> **Xu Línxuě:** Oh. Wow. Anze… I'm so sorry. About your men. And… thank you for telling me. Liang saving you… it makes today make even more sense. The weight you carried coming down. The bond. It's… profound.

> **Anze Li:** Bonds forged in fire are heavy. But they hold.

> **Xu Línxuě:** They do. What kind of pictures do you like? Birds aside. Landscapes? People? Abstract chaos?

> **Anze Li:** Quiet ones. Like Lao Tzu. Mountains. Mist. Still water. Things that endure. Things that hide deep truths.

> **Xu Línxuě:** *Smile emoji* I should have guessed. Endurance and hidden depths. Fits. What's the plan for tomorrow? Hospital visit early?

He shifted the focus back to the present.

> **Anze Li:** Yan first. Breakfast here. Then hospital. See Liang. If he's truly out of the woods… take Yan to see some of the city's giant fireflies. If all is well, train back to the mountains day after tomorrow. Need to get her back. The village needs its Little Warrior.

Another pause. Then:

> **Xu Línxuě:** Let me take you and Yan out tomorrow. After the hospital. My treat. A thank you that doesn't involve near-death experiences or intimidating restaurateurs. Just… city sights. Maybe lunch somewhere quiet(ish)? I'll meet you at the hospital entrance. Say… 10 AM?

> **Anze Li:** You don't owe us anything, Xu Línxuě.

> **Xu Línxuě:** I know. Consider it… documenting city endurance and hidden depths. With lunch. 10 AM?

> **Anze Li:** *Slight pause* Alright. 10 AM. Hospital entrance.

> **Xu Línxuě:** Perfect. Get some sleep, Anze Li. Even Lao Tzu needs rest. Goodnight.

> **Anze Li:** Goodnight, Xu Línxuě.

He set the phone down, the screen dimming. The quiet in the room felt different now. Less oppressive. The words about the scar, the shared understanding of bonds and loss, had somehow released a valve of tension. He picked up the *Tao Te Ching* again, but the characters blurred. The profound exhaustion, held at bay by the text conversation, finally washed over him. He switched off the lamp, the city's glow painting faint patterns on the ceiling. This time, when he closed his eyes, sleep came, deep and dreamless.

* * *

The Golden Dragon's kitchen was already a symphony of clattering pans and shouted orders when Luo Ying herself delivered breakfast to the private quarters. Steaming bowls of congee rich with shredded chicken and ginger, delicate *shāomài* dumplings, and freshly fried *yóutiáo* dough sticks. Yan ate with focused enthusiasm, while Anze ate methodically, his mind already at the hospital. Tieshan appeared, filling the doorway, holding two sleek paper bags. "For the road," he grunted, handing one to Yan (filled with delicate almond cookies) and one to Anze (containing two vacuum-sealed containers of Luo Ying's congee and braised tea eggs). "Tell the stubborn ox I expect him walking by next month. Or I'll send Ying up with her soup ladle." Anze clasped his old comrade's forearm briefly, a wordless exchange of gratitude and understanding. "Keep the room," Tieshan added as they left. "Always yours."

The morning Shanghai air was warmer, buzzing with weekday energy. They took a cab back to Huashan, the journey quicker this time. Anze felt a familiar tension coiling in his gut as they approached the West Wing entrance – the fear of bad news warring with yesterday's relief. The same soldiers were on duty near the canopy entrance. As Anze approached, the captain snapped to attention. A sharp salute cut the air. Anze returned it automatically, his focus already on the doors. Yan, walking slightly behind him, straightened her posture unconsciously.

Inside, the hushed corridor led to Liang Wei's private room. Mei was waiting outside, her face drawn but lit with genuine relief. "Anze! He's awake! Truly awake this time. Groggy, weak… but *him*." She ushered them in.

The room was dim, filled with the quiet beeping of monitors and the soft hiss of oxygen. Liang Wei lay propped up on pillows, his face pale, tubes snaking from his arms, but his eyes… his eyes were open, alert, and focused on Anze as he entered. They were bloodshot, shadowed by immense fatigue, but they held the familiar, stubborn spark. A weak smile touched his cracked lips as he saw Anze. He tried to speak, his voice a dry, rasping whisper, barely audible.

Anze crossed the room in three strides, stopping beside the bed. He didn't touch him, respecting the tangle of wires and his fragility, but leaned close. "Look at you," Anze said, his own voice rough with emotion he couldn't quite mask. "Only you, Liang Wei. Only you could wake up the morning after someone gifts you new lungs looking like you just need a strong coffee and a nap." The ghost of the old, irreverent camaraderie warmed his words.

Liang's smile widened fractionally. His lips moved, forming soundless words. *Told you… tough…* seemed to be the gist.

Anze nodded, understanding. "Toughest ox in the pen. Tieshan sends threats. Luo Ying sends soup. Rest now. Properly. No arguing with nurses." He met Liang's gaze, the depth of unspoken gratitude passing between them. "Good to see you, mate. Truly good." He placed his hand gently on Liang's forearm, a brief, solid contact. "I'll head back to the mountains soon. Yan needs her terraces. Call me. On WeChat. When you're bossing the physios around."

Liang managed a slow, deliberate blink. *Agreement.* *Understanding.*

Mei touched Anze's arm. "He needs to rest again. The doctors will be in soon." Her eyes shone with tears of pure relief. "Thank you for coming, Anze. It meant… everything. To him. To me."

Anze nodded, giving Liang's arm one last gentle squeeze. "Take care of him, Mei." He turned to leave, Yan slipping her small hand into his.

As they stepped back into the corridor, the soldier-captain stationed outside Liang's door approached. "Captain Li," he said, saluting crisply again. "There's a visitor for you at the main West Wing entrance. A Ms. Xu."

Anze acknowledged the salute and the information with a nod. "Thank you, Captain." He guided Yan down the corridor, towards the glass doors leading to the driveway canopy. The bright morning light streamed in, silhouetting a figure waiting just outside.

Xu Línxuě stood on the sidewalk, bathed in the Shanghai sun. She'd traded her practical hiking clothes for a soft, knee-length dress in a pale lavender color, patterned with tiny, delicate white flowers. It had a fitted bodice and a gently flared skirt that moved slightly in the faint breeze. Over it, she wore a tailored, short denim jacket, its sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her dark hair was down, loose around her shoulders, still damp at the ends from a recent shower. The bulky ankle brace was visible beneath the dress's hem, but she stood confidently, a small leather crossbody bag slung over her shoulder. She looked fresh, vibrant, and utterly different from the mud-stained photographer or the weary patient of the previous days – a splash of gentle color against the hospital's grey stone and the soldiers' uniforms.

As Anze and Yan emerged through the automatic doors, the two soldiers flanking the entrance snapped to attention. Their salutes were crisp, professional, directed at Anze as he passed. Xu watched the gesture, the respect it commanded, a flicker of understanding in her eyes before her gaze settled fully on Anze and Yan. A warm, genuine smile lit up her face.

"Captain Li," she greeted him, her voice light, acknowledging the salutes without dwelling on them. "Little Warrior." She nodded to Yan. "Ready to see some giant fireflies that don't bite?"

Anze stopped before her, the morning sun warm on his face, the weight of the hospital vigil finally, truly lifting. He looked at Xu, really looked at her – the lavender dress, the denim jacket, the quiet courage in her eyes, the echo of their nighttime conversation hanging between them. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips, the first unburdened one since descending the Thread Path.

"Lead the way, Xu Línxuě," he said. The city, suddenly, didn't feel quite so loud.