Sweet Oxygen - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – Lingering Rain

The youthful confidence that belongs only to teenagers

——

On the way home from the library, Qin Han didn’t chat with Hu Keyuan as she used to.

The three-year friendship of high school suddenly felt like it was separated by frosted glass, unclear and distant.

Qin Han still remembered telling Hu Keyuan about her so-called “love at first sight.” That was back in their first year of high school.

Back then, they sat one in front of the other. During lunch break, while the boys ran outside to play basketball, the two of them returned from the restroom together and decided to share a desk, using the light blue curtains to block out the bright noon sun. Leaning close to each other, they whispered softly.

It was the first time Qin Han had told anyone about that experience. Before that, she had only written about it in her diary.

“It was many years ago.”

Qin Han cleared her throat, speaking with a mix of solemnity and the exaggerated seriousness of a child trying to act profound.

She had only just started when Hu Keyuan laughed. “Qin Han, you sound like an old lady.”

“Don’t talk yet, this old lady is about to tell you her love story.”

“Hahaha, then hurry up! I won’t interrupt!”

Hu Keyuan even mimed zipping her lips, signaling that she was now in silent mode.

It happened when Qin Han was in middle school. Their school organized a trip to the Geological Museum.

The bus carrying their class was stuck at an intersection. Outside the window was a park, with colorful flags bearing the name of a well-known teachers’ university in the Imperial City. There seemed to be some event going on.

The bus driver had to brake abruptly at several intersections, making Qin Han feel carsick.

The teacher wasn’t on the bus. Two boys in the back were hurling insults at each other’s ancestors while fighting over a mobile game.

In front of her, two other boys were loudly arguing with the chubby kid beside her about which basketball star was the best.

The bus was too noisy, and Qin Han felt increasingly uncomfortable.

She pushed open the window for some fresh air.

The scent of freshly cut grass filled the breeze, and in the distance, there was a burst of cheerful laughter. Qin Han instinctively looked over and saw a few young men dressed in white sportswear.

The sunlight reflected off the white fabric, dazzlingly bright.

One of them stood out—tall, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing well-defined arm muscles. He was gracefully throwing an arrow.

As soon as he released it, he held up his hand, making a “1” gesture, as if he was completely confident.

The arrow, with its light-colored feathers, traced a beautiful arc through the air and landed perfectly in a wooden barrel several meters away.

Cheers erupted around him, and someone whistled. The young man, oblivious to the concept of “low profile,” casually ran a hand through his hair and smiled. “Just a casual throw.”

The sun was brilliant, and he smiled under it.

In that moment, Qin Han felt guilty towards her literature teacher—she couldn’t think of a single word to describe him.

As she recounted the story to Hu Keyuan, she thought—

Perhaps it was the kind of youthful confidence that belonged only to boys at that age, dazzling in that hot summer, leaving an unforgettable impression on a carsick girl leaning against the bus window.

Back then, she thought that when she grew up, she wanted a boyfriend like that.

In truth, she could no longer remember his exact features, and calling it “love at first sight” was just a joke. But the feeling of telling Hu Keyuan about it remained vivid.

Qin Han had truly considered Hu Keyuan her best friend, someone she could confide in about her shy, girlish feelings without hesitation.

“I kind of wished the traffic jam had lasted longer. But after just two red lights, the bus drove off.”

—

Qin Han arrived home, setting down the books she had borrowed from the library.

When they parted, Hu Keyuan had said, “Bye-bye,” but Qin Han only waved weakly.

The next day, the Imperial City greeted them with clear skies. A beam of sunlight hit the history book spread open on her desk, making the sword in its illustration gleam.

Qin Han was getting ready to return an umbrella to Yaonan Alley.

Just as she was about to leave, Hu Keyuan called.

There was a brief silence on the phone before Hu Keyuan suddenly apologized, “I’m sorry, Qin Han.”

Qin Han fell silent too. She wasn’t good at arguing.

She was the kind of obedient girl raised in a happy family.

Once in middle school, she spent an entire class trying to solve a math problem, unable to get the textbook’s answer.

During break, the classmate in front of her said, “Stop trying, the answer must be wrong.”

Qin Han was baffled. “How could the test paper be wrong?”

To her, teachers were always right, books were never mistaken. Even in high school, she still had this mindset. She had never been rebellious, even during adolescence.

Because of her naivety, she had an unusually good temper.

“Qin Han, were you mad at me yesterday? I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have talked about those things in front of Xu Weiran.”

Hu Keyuan’s voice was soft. Qin Han wasn’t the confrontational type. After a moment of silence, her heart softened. “Forget it, it’s nothing.”

Hu Keyuan immediately brightened up. “Then let’s go have dessert later! There’s a mille-feuille cake place on Tiyu Road, and they have cats—Garfield and an American Shorthair!”

“I have to go out first. Let’s meet in the afternoon.”

“Where are you going? Your grandma’s house?”

If it had been before, Qin Han would have honestly said she was going to Yaonan Alley to return an umbrella. But she didn’t.

There was an invisible distance between them now.

She simply replied, “No.”

Hu Keyuan didn’t press further, just happily reminded her again about their dessert plans.

When Qin Han arrived at Yaonan Alley again, she felt like she had come to a completely different place.

Unlike yesterday’s gloomy, quiet street, today it was lively.

By the stone monument at the entrance, a few elderly men were playing chess under the trees. The wooden pieces hit the board with crisp sounds, and one man’s voice rang out, “Checkmate!”

Nearby, a vendor had a handmade sign that read “Iced Sour Plum Juice.”

Inside an open-windowed barber shop, a barber was using a traditional straight razor for a shave.

Some people carried cloth bags full of vegetables, while an old-fashioned radio played opera somewhere.

This street had a different kind of bustle from what Qin Han knew—like a hidden Peach Blossom Spring nestled in the midst of the Imperial City’s traffic and skyscrapers.

——”Peach Blossom Spring” refers to a secluded utopia, inspired by Tao Yuanming’s fable The Peach Blossom Spring (桃花源记). It describes an idyllic, hidden paradise untouched by the outside world.

Only, the roads weren’t very well-paved.

After yesterday’s rain, puddles and mud were everywhere. An elderly woman was pushing a cart full of potted plants and flowers, but the wheels got stuck in a puddle. She pulled at it a few times, but it wouldn’t budge.

She sighed and shuffled to the front, trying to lift the cart. The wheels barely moved.

Qin Han ran over, placing her hands on the wooden cart frame. “Let me help you!”

However, she hadn’t expected it to be so heavy. The cart was packed with plants in plastic pots, big and small.

She pushed with all her strength, her white sneakers sinking into the muddy ground, but the cart didn’t move.

“Thank you, dear, but you’re too skinny. You don’t have the strength,” the old lady chuckled.

“Don’t worry! I’ll try again!”

Qin Han stuffed the umbrella into her bag, slung it onto her back, took a deep breath, and pushed.

At some point, a tall figure appeared behind her.

A man, wearing black gloves, silently gripped the cart and gave it a strong push.

At the same time, Qin Han exerted all her strength.

With barely any effort, the cart was freed from the puddle.

Qin Han exerted all her strength at that moment.

Yet, without much effort, the cart was already out of the puddle.

She hadn’t realized that someone had helped her from behind. Staring blankly at her own hands, she was a little surprised.

“Young people sure are strong. I’m getting old.”

The old lady smiled and thanked them. “Thank you both.”

Qin Han snapped back to reality.

Thank you both?

Both?

A little confused, she turned around and finally saw the person standing behind her.

It was the same man from yesterday, dressed in a black short-sleeve shirt and wearing a black mask. He was tall.

Standing under the late morning sun of early summer, he lowered his gaze slightly to look at Qin Han and raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. “Oh, it’s you.”

The flower-selling grandma was very enthusiastic and insisted on giving each of them a small potted plant. “Pick one, all grown by me. They’re easy to take care of. These are succulents—don’t young people like them?”

Qin Han felt a little embarrassed and quickly waved her hands. “No need, Grandma…”

“You don’t like my flowers?”

“No, it’s not that!”

Qin Han grew anxious. She had a feeling that the man behind her was probably better at handling this situation than she was. She glanced at him for help and even poked the back of his hand.

The man clearly understood what she meant but only responded with a light nasal sound. “Hmm?”

Qin Han looked at him, almost ready to jump in frustration.

He let out a quiet chuckle before finally speaking to the old woman in a familiar tone. “Aren’t you heading to the market? If you wait too long, all the good spots will be taken.”

“Well, I still have to thank the young lady.”

It was obvious that the old woman knew the man. “You don’t need one, but the young lady must take a plant—it’s my gift.”

The man jerked his chin toward the cart. “Pick one. She won’t leave until you do.”

Qin Han quickly scanned the potted plants. The flowers were well cared for, all lush and green. She grabbed one, lifted it, and smiled lightly. “I like this one.”

“Choose another. That one’s not good,” the old woman said.

“It’s fine. I really like this one.”

It was the only one that wasn’t particularly pretty.

A tiny cactus, about the size of a thumb, its oval-shaped stem slightly cracked at the top, forming a light brown scar.

Plants with blemishes like this didn’t sell well. They were usually given away to customers.

The fact that Qin Han picked this one surprised even the man beside her, who had his hands tucked into his pockets. He turned slightly and took a second look at her.

After the old woman left, Qin Han held the small plastic pot in her arms and pulled out the umbrella from her bag, handing it to the man. “Thank you for the umbrella and the shelter yesterday.”

The man took the umbrella and said lightly, “You’re welcome.”

Qin Han stared at the little cactus in her hands, feeling a bit guilty.

After all, it was the man beside her who had done most of the work, yet she was the one who received a free plant.

Thinking this, the tips of her ears turned slightly red. She lifted the cactus toward him. “This cactus…”

“It was given to you. Keep it.”

Not far ahead was the shop called “Oxygen.” Seeing the man walking back to it, Qin Han grew anxious—she didn’t even know how to address him.

Suddenly, she thought of an illustration in her history book and blurted out, “Sword!”

The man paused, then turned back with an amused, unreadable smile. “…Me? Cheap?”

——”sword” 剑 (jiàn) sounds very similar to 贱 (jiàn) “cheap” or “lowly” which is sometimes used as an insult. When Qin Han suddenly called out “剑!” (sword), the man misheard it as “贱?” (cheap/despicable?)