Chapter Fourteen: A New Day

No matter how wonderful a dream is, there always comes a time to wake up.

Shi Fei lay back down and picked up his phone to check the time.

It was 4:30 a.m.

Four-thirty in the morning.

There were a few unread messages on his phone—some sent at 9:40 the previous evening by his colleague Lao Zhang, asking about work matters.

In their line of work, it was normal to chat about work after hours.

Clients were unpredictable.

Messages sent around nine o’clock were not considered late; Shi Fei had even replied to some sent at midnight.

He quickly sent a response and tossed the phone aside. His work started at 8:30 a.m., so he usually got up at 7:30.

He still had three hours to sleep a little longer.

Closing his eyes, he lay there for a while but eventually sat up in frustration.

He couldn’t fall back asleep.

It was a similar situation to last night—unable to sleep.

The difference was, last night at this hour he had been very tired but still couldn’t sleep.

Today, however, he wasn’t tired at all.

Not only was he wide awake, he even felt an unfamiliar clarity and freshness.

It had been a long time since he’d felt so clear-headed.

For years now, every time the alarm dragged him from sleep, he fought against getting up. Even on weekends when he woke naturally, he never felt refreshed—only more tired the longer he slept.

He lay back down for a moment, but his mind was filled with fragments of the dream he’d just had.

The more he tried to recall the details, the more elusive they became, and the more a headache throbbed.

Deciding to stop trying, he resolved to get up and get some fresh air.

Looking at the clock, it was 5:15 a.m.

In August, the sky was already beginning to lighten at this hour.

After brushing his teeth and washing his face, he found the running shoes he hadn’t worn in ages, put on a T-shirt and shorts, grabbed his phone and keys, and stepped outside.

He was going for a morning run!

For a young office worker, morning exercise was somewhat of a luxury.

His social media feed was full of night runners, but no one ran in the mornings.

For young people, staying up until two or three a.m. was acceptable.

But getting up at five or six in the morning? Absolutely not.

Not even Ultraman could disturb their morning sleep.

After descending two flights of stairs and turning a couple of corners, he reached the gate of his apartment complex at 5:30 a.m.

The sky was neither fully dark nor fully light, and the four illuminated characters above the entrance, once reading “Spring Blossom Community,” had faded over time into a barely recognizable jumble.

Beyond the gate, the streets were eerily quiet except for sanitation workers clad in bright orange uniforms sweeping the sidewalks.

So, when a man wearing a trench coat, hat, and sunglasses, clutching a stack of documents, stood waiting outside an iced milk tea shop, intently reading, it was impossible not to attract attention.

In August, the morning air was cool and refreshing—not hot.

Wearing a trench coat and hat at this hour was quite exaggerated.

Aren’t you warm?

Can you even see clearly with those sunglasses on?

Surely you haven’t fallen asleep, right?

Shi Fei had many unspoken questions.

The peculiar man, however, didn’t notice him and kept his head down, absorbed in the paperwork. Had he not been squatting on the curb, he would have looked quite elegant.

He was definitely not asleep but genuinely engrossed in his reading.

A person reviewing documents at five in the morning had most likely been up all night.

Such all-nighters were probably driven by the pressures of life.

Shi Fei had pulled all-nighters for proposals before, and with a sigh, he set off on his run.

It had been a long time since he last ran, and he quickly found himself out of breath. What he expected to be an easy five kilometers became an exhausting struggle after just one.

Only then did he realize he was no longer the man he used to be a few years ago.

He walked the rest of the way home.

Returning drenched in sweat, he stopped by the modest bun shop near the community gate, ordering a bowl of soup and a steaming basket of dumplings.

Dumplings dipped in chili oil, paired with the savory soup, made for a satisfying breakfast.

Inside the old shop, he spotted the strange man again.

Wearing a trench coat in August was hard not to notice.

Especially since he still wore sunglasses, refusing to take them off even to drink his soup.

Truly odd.

But the world was full of odd people. Shi Fei glanced at him twice and returned to his meal.

Back home, after a quick shower, it was 7:40 a.m.—just in time to head to work.

He drove to the office and arrived at 8:20 a.m.

Five minutes earlier than usual.

At his desk, just as he brewed a cup of tea, Lao Liu hurried in.

Lao Liu was a balding man in his early thirties, about the same age as Shi Fei.

“Hey! You’re here early today!” Lao Liu exclaimed, surprised to see Shi Fei already at his desk.

Usually, he arrived before Shi Fei.

“I got up early today,” Shi Fei replied.

Lao Liu considered this and said, “You messaged me after four this morning. You weren’t actually up then, were you?”

“Yes,” Shi Fei confirmed.

Lao Liu gave a thumbs-up, impressed. “That’s tough! People who get up early earn more respect than those who stay up late.”

“It’s just that I went to bed early,” Shi Fei said.

Lao Liu looked at his phone and noted a message he’d sent after nine the previous night. “I messaged you yesterday, but you didn’t reply. You didn’t fall asleep, did you?”

“I was very tired yesterday and went to bed early,” Shi Fei nodded.

Lao Liu clicked his tongue. “Your schedule is healthier than a kindergartener’s!”

Indeed, early risers tend to get sleepy early as well.

By afternoon, Shi Fei yawned repeatedly.

Finally, at six o’clock, he saw Lao Liu packing up.

“You’re leaving already?” Shi Fei asked.

In their commercial design field, serving many clients meant overtime was common.

Ten o’clock wasn’t late, nine was just right, eight was nothing, and seven was barely overtime.

Lao Liu packed up his cup of wolfberry tea. “I’ve got a family gathering later. I’ve been busy lately, working until ten every night. It’s rare to have a bit of free time now.”

“Some people don’t go home even when they work overtime. Don’t they have families?” Shi Fei suddenly said.

Hearing this, Lao Liu laughed and said, “You joker, get lost!”

After Lao Liu left, Shi Fei yawned his way through work until seven before finishing his tasks.

He said goodbye to a few colleagues and headed home.

At the community gate, he ate a bowl of noodles, then returned home to freshen up. It was already past eight.

The apartment was empty except for him.

At thirty-three, his parents lived in his hometown. He had no wife, no children—just himself in this city.

Like a ghost wandering through the urban maze.

He was used to it.

Lying in bed, scrolling through his phone for a while and checking his social feed, drowsiness soon overwhelmed him.

He tossed the phone aside and drifted to sleep.

Would Qingqing appear in his dreams this time?

His consciousness grew hazy, sinking downward, drifting through a dark ocean.

Suddenly, he “awoke.”

Before his eyes was snow.

Heavy snow.

Snowflakes swirling, the cold wind like knives, instantly chilling him.

Dreaming of a snowstorm in August—perhaps the air conditioning was set too low?