Zong Ying shifted her gaze from the notebook and looked up, her eyes falling upon a cabinet filled with remnants of the past.
That year, when Yan Man had passed away suddenly, they found a large quantity of antidepressant prescriptions in her office. Combined with her melancholic demeanor during that period, everyone believed she might have made an unwise choice under the influence of medication.
The incident occurred at the newly constructed office building of Xinsi. At the time, even the railings along the circular corridors hadn’t been installed yet, and naturally, no one was working inside. Thus, there were no witnesses when it happened.
During that period, Yan Man’s marriage was also on the verge of collapse, her life seemingly besieged by negative forces. Moreover, the forensic results from the scene showed no signs of homicide, so media reports leaned toward suicide as the likely truth.
Zong Ying closed the notebook and returned it to its place.
Over a decade had passed since then, and whatever traces might have existed had long been eroded by time, making it nearly impossible to revisit the truth. But one thing Zong Ying was certain of—Yan Man’s departure should not have been a suicide.
She had always been resilient and diligent, responsible in her academic pursuits, her work, and her child. She wouldn’t have silently bid farewell to the world without reason.
The accusations back then—of her being "reckless and irresponsible"—the meaningless pity and insincere sympathy, the greedy disputes over her estate after her death—had all been vividly imprinted on Zong Ying’s youth.
At that time, Zong Ying had been disheartened and disgusted, yet powerless to leave.
Her grandmother, devastated by the blow, fell gravely ill and was taken abroad by her youngest uncle to recuperate. Meanwhile, Zong Ying had to stay behind, enduring one lonely day after another, growing up with a stern face and few words. She could hardly even remember her own smile as a child.
Her reflection faintly mirrored on the glass cabinet door—a dull, lifeless face.
She tried to lift the corners of her lips into a smile, but the stiffness of unfamiliarity made her give up in the end.
Zong Ying did her best to calm the storm inside her as she searched through her mother’s belongings for a thin address book for her grandmother.
Her grandmother had been born in the ancient city of Chun’an, where her siblings had scattered early to make a living. After that, years passed without reunion, and by the time they managed to track down a few, Yan Man’s death had severed the connections. The phone numbers left behind from that time might have long since changed hands. Even if she found the address book, it might not lead her to those old acquaintances.
But in the twilight of life, far from home, nostalgia for one’s roots and old friends becomes a final, stubborn longing. No matter what, she had to try.
Zong Ying rummaged through the bookshelf and finally found it tucked among a pile of notebooks.
The fragile pages had grown slightly brittle, the ink only slightly smudged—still legible.
She reached out to close the cabinet, as if sealing away all the emotions along with it.
Her grandmother’s return to the country also provided Zong Ying with the perfect excuse.
When Xue Xuanqing asked her about her leave that evening, she simply replied, "Grandma is back. I need to accompany her to find her relatives."
The reason was sound and justified—utterly unassailable.But Xue Xuanqing wasn’t entirely convinced. She said, “Finding relatives is indeed important, but the length of your leave this time is unusually long. Aside from accidents or medical leave, I really can’t think of any other reason that would justify such an extended approval from the higher-ups. Zong Ying, I know pressing you like this isn’t ideal, but I want to understand your difficulties. Some things may have to be endured alone, but sharing the emotional burden might make it easier. Don’t you think that makes sense?”
Zong Ying remained silent. She knew Xue Xuanqing meant well, but now wasn’t the time to reveal everything. She replied, “Xuanqing, just give me a little more time. It won’t be long.”
Xue Xuanqing thought it over seriously and agreed, but added, “No matter what happens, promise me you won’t get stuck in a dead end.”
“Okay,” Zong Ying responded with equal sincerity.
In August, Shanghai’s heat showed no signs of relenting, every particle of dust in the air scorching hot. By the end of the month, two heavy rainstorms finally arrived, quenching the city’s prolonged drought. After the rain receded, the world was left with a damp, refreshing cleanliness.
During this time, Zong Ying met with Lawyer Zhang to discuss her intentions regarding asset management. However, due to limited time, the conversation couldn’t delve deeper, and Lawyer Zhang had to schedule another appointment with her.
Originally, she had planned to settle this matter quickly and proceed with her surgery, but her grandmother’s return disrupted her arrangements, forcing her to postpone everything.
On September 1st, her grandmother returned to Shanghai, and Zong Ying went to the airport to pick her up.
Her youngest uncle was swamped with work and couldn’t spare much time to stay in Shanghai. He barely had time to drop off their grandmother before rushing back, leaving the hosting and accompanying duties entirely to Zong Ying.
Her grandmother was a delightful old lady—optimistic and lively, except during the years following the successive deaths of her grandfather and Yan Man.
On the drive back to the apartment, the old lady gazed out the window and sighed, “Has everything changed, or have I grown so old that I can’t even remember what Shanghai used to look like?”
Zong Ying glanced out the window. The moment she had returned from 1937 to 2015, she had felt the same way. She replied, “It’s Shanghai that’s changed, Grandma.”
A trace of melancholy unique to old age flickered in her grandmother’s eyes. “It’s changed so much I don’t recognize it at all.” Sensing the somber mood, she quickly changed the subject and apologized, “Did you take leave today? I must be disrupting your work.”
Zong Ying said, “I’ve saved up some annual leave. I’ll spend it with you.”
“You don’t have to accompany me. I still know how to book train tickets online. I could go to Hangzhou by myself without any trouble. But you all treat me as if I’m too old to do anything. It’s really not necessary.” Her grandmother spoke with a slow, measured cadence that suddenly reminded Zong Ying of Sheng Qingrang.
She hadn’t seen him in a long time.
All these days, he hadn’t once appeared at Apartment 699. And the credit card she had given him hadn’t recorded any transactions since August 21st.
Sheng Qingrang had vanished, as if evaporated from the world.
Had something happened to prevent him from appearing, or had the temporal rift been repaired, freeing him from shuttling between the two eras?The parting on Qixi Festival vaguely resembled the Cowherd and Weaver Girl after their Magpie Bridge reunion, each placed on opposite ends of the Milky Way with no further meetings.
The difference was, the Cowherd and Weaver Girl at least had a foreseeable date for their next reunion, whereas their separation held no measurable promise of meeting again.
One was about to face a high-risk surgery in the modern era, while the other was dealing with the crises brought by war in 1930s Shanghai. Fate truly… could sever just like that.
At this thought, a fleeting shadow of melancholy passed through Zong Ying’s eyes.
She was certain she was worried about Sheng Qingrang, as well as the two children she had taken to the Sheng family, and Qinghui… among others. From the depths of her heart, she prayed they would be spared the ravages of war and safely endure those years of instability.
As she dwelled on it, her right hand trembled slightly.
Her grandmother, sitting slightly behind her, noticed the faint unease in Zong Ying’s demeanor.
Only then did her grandmother take a closer look at her. Though she had learned bits about her recent life through video calls or phone conversations over the years, now that they were face to face, her grandmother’s concern became immediate and intense—
Whether in appearance or mannerisms, she was growing more and more like Yan Man.
Her grandmother’s worried gaze fell on Zong Ying’s hands gripping the steering wheel, and she cautiously asked, “A-Ying, is there something troubling you?”
Though the question came abruptly, Zong Ying quickly replied, “No, there isn’t.”
Her grandmother pressed further, “Then, are there any difficulties in your work or life?”
Zong Ying thought seriously before answering, “There are some, but I believe I can handle them.”
The response was almost identical to Yan Man’s back then—yet shortly after saying those words, Yan Man had left without a word.
Her grandmother’s worry deepened. Yan Man’s sudden departure had struck her hard, and she couldn’t bear to see anyone retrace Yan Man’s steps, especially Zong Ying.
By the time they arrived at Apartment 699, it was already evening. Returning to the long-unvisited old home, her grandmother was inevitably overwhelmed by a mix of emotions.
This apartment had once been her bridal home. Here, she had welcomed the births of her children, watched them leave for school, witnessed them start their own families, and then, one by one, bid them farewell. Eventually, she too had left this place, and years later, everything had changed.
Her grandmother stood before the bookshelf for a long while before moving past it to the balcony. In the twilight lay a brand-new Shanghai, entirely disconnected from her old, sorrowful stories. The past, to her, was now distant—grief and regrets that needed to be restrained.
Zong Ying stood beside her, recounting the progress of her recent attempts to contact their relatives in Zhejiang.
She had dialed each old number from the notebook one by one, but the first few were unreachable—she would have to search for them slowly later. However, the line to her grandaunt’s home was still answered, though she was told her grandaunt had since moved to Nanjing with her daughter. Zong Ying promptly called Nanjing, where she was told that her grandaunt also missed her elder sister dearly and would arrange a meeting as soon as possible.
Though not every relative could be reached, having at least one who could meet immediately was already a pleasant surprise for her grandmother.
Zong Ying contacted Nanjing once more, and the two elderly sisters spoke at length in their hometown dialect over the phone, holding back tears as they quickly settled on a date—September 3rd, Friday evening.From Shanghai to Nanjing, setting off steadily after lunch and taking the highway, one could arrive just in time to greet the sunset over Nanjing. Entering the city and encountering minor traffic congestion was nothing out of the ordinary for a weekday evening rush hour—this was Nanjing in 2015.
But what about over seventy years ago? The navigation system announced three kilometers to the destination. Zong Ying gazed at the distant, tranquil high-rises and stopped herself from dwelling further.
The meeting place was at her grandaunt’s home, an ordinary apartment in downtown Nanjing.
Her daughter and son-in-law had prepared a table full of dishes to welcome them, their hospitality warm and their speech thick with a Nanjing accent. Only the two elderly sisters spoke in the Chun’an dialect, forming their own little world, their increasingly clouded eyes brimming with moist joy.
Reunions after long separations were often like this.
By nearly eight in the evening, the grandchildren’s families from Pukou and Jiangning had arrived one after another. The small apartment suddenly swelled with over a dozen people, lively as if it were New Year’s Eve. The TV played local news, children tumbled on the sofa, some helped in the kitchen, others set the table in the living room… Zong Ying stood to the side, at a loss.
Her own family had never been this large, nor had they ever gathered like this. To her, this was an unfamiliar warmth of life.
Her cousin, noticing her awkward solitude, quickly called Xiao Nan to invite her to sit. Xiao Nan looked up and called out, "Auntie from Shanghai, come sit! Dinner’s about to start!" Only then did Zong Ying snap out of her daze and walk toward the pair of small sofas by the west wall, offering the seats to the two elderly women.
At the table, her grandmother naturally became the center of attention. A few tried to inquire about Zong Ying, but her reserved demeanor discouraged further questions after a few polite exchanges.
The meal ended pleasantly, nearing ten at night.
Normally, the elderly would have retired long before this hour, but today was special. Neither showed any sign of sleepiness, so the whole family stayed up with them, slicing watermelon and preparing cold drinks while watching TV.
Zong Ying sat in a corner for a while, the electric fan giving her a faint headache. Her cousin noticed her slight frown and asked, "Is it too stuffy?" Then added, "Would you like to step out onto the balcony for some air?"
Zong Ying nodded silently, and her cousin led her to the south-facing balcony.
Opening the window, her cousin said, "The AC’s been running, and the cooking fumes never really cleared out. It’s uncomfortable."
Zong Ying didn’t respond, pulling a cigarette case from her pocket. "Mind if I smoke?"
"Hmm?" Her cousin nodded. "It’s fine, make yourself at home."
Zong Ying lit a cigarette by the window, gazing through the thin haze at the city lights twinkling like stars.
How nice, she thought.
She instinctively checked her phone—22:06. Past ten, but still no movement.
Her cousin, sensing her unease and seeing her check the time, assumed she was anxious about returning to Shanghai. "Why not stay the night in Nanjing?"
"Mmm." Zong Ying’s reply was vague. She unlocked her phone, opened a search page, hesitated, then looked up the timeline of the Battle of Shanghai.
"August 21: Enemy reinforcements arrive. Fierce fighting ensues, leading to a stalemate.
August 22: Our forces continue advancing on both flanks at Huishan Wharf, pressing east toward Yangshupu Road and west to Hengbang River."August 23: Japanese planes bombed the Sincere Company, resulting in over 800 casualties.
August 28: After more than ten days of fierce fighting, our forces suffered over 50% casualties, and the town of Luodian fell to the enemy.
September 1: The Japanese 12th, 18th, 21st, 22nd, and 36th Brigades arrived in Shanghai… Tongji University was destroyed by Japanese bombardment."
These brief records of major events outlined the trajectory of the war, yet they could not account for the fate of every civilian caught in its midst.
Just as she couldn’t resist searching for the three words she had once abandoned, a "ding-dong" sounded—a spending alert suddenly appeared at the top of her screen.
Zong Ying quickly tapped on it. The transaction location showed a local Nanjing merchant called Baixiang Pharmacy.
Frowning, a white sign with green lettering immediately flashed in her mind. She suddenly turned to her cousin and asked, "Is there a Baixiang Pharmacy outside the neighborhood? Is it a chain or just that one?"
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