Traces Left Behind in Ordinary Days
1235 Words
Arc: [Present]
The dull gray light of a Tuesday morning filtered through the gap between the curtains, spreading across the wooden floorboards of a cramped apartment.
The distant blare of car horns drifted in from the main road, mingling with the growl of a garbage truck compacting the night's refuse.
Beijing had awakened.
And with it came temperatures that had fallen to the edge of freezing.
Kate opened her eyes.
She lay still on the bed, allowing her vision to adjust to the dimness of the room. The alarm on her phone began ringing at seven-thirty sharp. She reached over and silenced it slowly.
The icy touch of the screen pulled her fully back into reality.
There was nothing dreamlike about it.
Only work.
Only another ordinary day that had to keep moving forward.
She climbed out of bed, slipped on her cotton slippers, and shuffled toward the tiny kitchenette. Turning on the faucet, she filled the electric kettle. The sound of water striking stainless steel echoed through the quiet room.
The air was cold enough that she instinctively hunched her shoulders.
While waiting for the water to boil, her gaze drifted toward the corner beside the shoe cabinet.
A large black umbrella stood open on the tiled floor.
The rainwater that had dried overnight had left faint stains across the dark fabric. The umbrella looked strangely out of place, silently intruding upon her personal space.
Kate stared at it for a long time.
The click of the kettle shutting off pulled her back.
She looked away from the umbrella and poured hot water into a ceramic mug filled with instant coffee granules. The bitter scent rose immediately.
Taking a deep breath, she left her confusion behind in that corner of the room.
Then she turned toward the wardrobe and chose a cream-colored turtleneck sweater and her favorite pair of jeans.
There were still countless picture frames and glass panels waiting to be cleaned today.
...
Across the city, within the grounds of an old and influential family estate—
Shen Yanzi stood before a full-length mirror in a dressing room lined with dark hardwood.
He fastened the cufflinks of his crisp white dress shirt with practiced precision.
His eyes lowered briefly toward the long overcoat hanging on a steel rack near the door.
Faint traces of last night's rain still marked the shoulders.
His brows knitted slightly.
A quiet irritation settled in his chest.
He rubbed the stain with his thumb, rougher than necessary, but it refused to disappear.
Looking away, he picked up a dark gray tie and looped it around his neck. He tightened the knot until it sat firmly against his collar, as though he could suppress whatever stirred beneath his skin through sheer force.
As though it were nothing more than stress accumulated from endless work.
He left the dressing room and stepped into the company car waiting outside.
"Headquarters."
His voice was calm and decisive.
The luxury sedan merged into the congested traffic of the capital.
The rear cabin remained silent.
Shen Yanzi opened a tablet and reviewed the latest quarterly financial reports. Columns of figures and blue graphs filled the screen.
He forced his attention onto the data.
Forced his mind to process business decisions.
Forced himself to ignore the persistent throbbing at his temples.
...
8:45 a.m.
The corridors of the central hospital were overflowing with activity.
Gu Yanzhou, a young trauma surgeon in the Emergency Department, sat slumped against a chair in the nursing station.
His white coat was wrinkled.
A small coffee stain marked the front of the coat.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes.
He clicked through medication approvals for his final patient with slow, exhausted movements.
"Dr. Gu, your shift ended almost an hour ago. Go home and get some sleep."
The middle-aged head nurse walked over and gave his shoulder a light pat.
She set down a plastic-wrapped tuna sandwich from a convenience store beside his keyboard.
"I've seen you running on empty since three in the morning. Eat something, then get yourself on the subway."
Gu Yanzhou looked up from the screen.
He offered her a faint smile.
A smile heavy with exhaustion.
"Thanks, Sister Li. Let me finish this order first. Then I'll check on Grandpa in Bed Nine one more time before I head out."
"The morning team already took over Bed Nine. You don't have to carry the entire ward on your shoulders."
He saved the file and let out a long breath.
Then he unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite.
The bread was stale and cold.
He swallowed it anyway.
His body needed enough energy to keep moving.
He chewed slowly while looking out toward the busy corridor.
People hurried past.
A medication cart rolled by, its wheels squeaking softly against the tiled floor.
He had dreamed again last night.
A young woman in red lying upon endless white snow.
Gu Yanzhou swallowed the last mouthful of bread.
The staleness of the bread lingered in his mouth, mixing with the exhaustion that seemed lodged deep inside his bones.
He picked up his worn backpack and slung it over one shoulder.
Then he rose and disappeared into the flow of people moving through the hospital.
The cold late-morning air struck his face the moment he stepped through the automatic doors.
Pulling his collar tighter, Gu Yanzhou descended the stairs toward the subway station and vanished into the tide of thousands moving through the capital.
...
Ten o'clock.
Kate arrived at the gallery.
The rain had stopped before dawn, leaving only shallow puddles trapped between cracks in the stone pavement.
The air outside was bitterly cold.
She had spent the entire walk from the subway station with her hands buried in her coat pockets.
Unlocking the door, she bent down and pulled up the metal shutter.
The scrape of steel echoed through the narrow courtyard.
Kate stepped inside the gallery and switched on the lights one by one.
The spotlights flickered to life.
Paintings emerged from the darkness.
The scent of old wood, floor cleaner, and oil paint drifted through the air.
She retrieved a bottle of glass cleaner and a microfiber cloth from behind the counter and began her work in silence.
Spray.
Wipe.
Move on.
She cleaned one frame after another until she stopped before the large painting in the center of the room.
The man placing a peach blossom hairpin into a young woman's hair amidst a snowstorm.
She stood there quietly.
The overhead lights caught the raised ridges of thick white oil paint.
There was no guzheng music echoing through her mind today.
Only the sound of cars passing outside.
Only the low hum of the heating system working in the corner.
Kate lifted the cloth and wiped away a faint fingerprint from the frame.
After a soft sigh, she lowered her hand and moved on to dust the next piece.
...
Shen Yanzi sat inside a glass-walled conference room on the top floor of headquarters.
His index finger tapped slowly against an oak table.
His eyes remained fixed on the financial slides before him.
Gu Yanzhou had fallen asleep face-down at the dining table in his cramped apartment.
The white coat draped over the back of a chair hung motionless.
Kate wrung out a microfiber cloth until it was damp, then knelt to scrub a faint streak of mud from the gallery's wooden floorboards.
- Writer
