The plane landed at Hangzhou Xiaoshan Airport at 2:40 in the morning. The moment I stepped out into the skywalk, I regretted everything: why didn't I bring a long-sleeved jacket? Watching everyone else bundle themselves up tightly, I looked like an idiot in my Shenzhen outfit. I walked over to an area with benches where people were sleeping — each person curled up on two seats, looking as uncomfortable as could be. I still had a pair of long pants in my bag. I glanced around; people were sleeping, no one was watching me. I pulled out the pants and put them on over my shorts. Finally, a little warmth. I was cold and tired, so I followed their example, curled myself into a ball, and tucked myself into the seat. But I couldn't get comfortable. I drifted in and out of a daze until sometime past five in the morning.

Then I walked out of the airport onto the road. From the terminal to the metro entrance — at most a hundred meters — but it felt like a kilometer. Every skeletal muscle in my body was shivering, trying to generate heat, but it wasn't enough. I walked while looking for food. Eventually I found a place selling wontons. Forty-nine yuan for a bowl of wontons and a chicken leg — what the hell, that's way too expensive! But then I thought about my shivering body. Expensive or not, I had to eat. Better than freezing to death.

I took the metro from Xiaoshan to Fengqi Road. It was 7:10 in the morning. I wanted to take a stroll around West Lake. Back in 2022, when I was delivering food, I'd pass by this area sometimes, but I'd never actually gone in. I walked clockwise along the lake. There were lots of people there — some walking, some jogging, some dancing, some practicing with staffs. I just walked, unhurriedly, watching the distant Su Causeway stretch across the view like a wavy line, splitting the scenery into an upper and lower half. The morning sun shone on my body, but it didn't bring any warmth.

I kept walking, and found a wooden bench by the lake. I sat down to rest. I looked at the surface of the lake, at the sightseeing boats drifting on the water, and my thoughts began to scatter in all directions. I got up from the bench and walked a bit further. Without really knowing why, I felt like leaving. I opened the map to figure out how to get to West Lake Cultural Square. Oh — I'd need to take the metro from Ding'an Road. So I walked. Along the way, I passed plenty of shops selling silk cheongsams and fabrics — they looked beautiful and delicate, and definitely not cheap. I walked past one shop, but then a thought suddenly flashed through my mind: why not buy a gift for Mom? I turned back and asked the shopkeeper how much the scarves were. There were several price ranges. I picked one with a nice pattern that seemed like good value for money. When I got home and gave it to her, Mom was really happy.

By the time I reached West Lake Cultural Square, the sun had started to warm up. Finally, some real heat. I wandered around the square, but even resting in the shade of the trees, I could still feel a chill. Later I walked over to the Grand Canal, drawn by the sound of elderly men playing the saxophone. That bright, crisp sound stopped me in my tracks. If it weren't for that damn work nagging at me, I probably could have enjoyed it even more. In April and May in Hangzhou, trees along the canal were in bloom, and beneath them an old man was playing a love song with deep emotion. Who was he playing for?

I walked to Midu Bridge Road, hoping to find the fast-food place I used to eat at back then. It was gone. But Song Sun Bakery was still there. And the Sha County小吃 shop was still there. Time lets the things that can endure keep on enduring.