‘SEE YOU MORNING’ 078 The Lost Scenery

The work starting on Monday officially began Lin Yuhui’s job at Shanghai Wen's Environmental Protection Technology Co., Ltd. His main working relationships were with other professional engineers, such as mechanical engineer Li Yong, ventilation engineer Han Feng, and so on.

Unsurprisingly, in late autumn and early winter, there were people coughing and sneezing everywhere. Lin Yuhui was of course prepared, always wearing an N95 mask, but that didn’t seem out of place. Yesterday’s racing live broadcast had scrolling subtitles on the side of the screen promoting COVID-19 prevention measures, including wearing masks, so he wasn’t the only one in the office doing that.

Of course, he also knew that the filtration level of an N95 mask was insufficient to block the virus. According to online sources, some said hydroxychloroquine sulfate could bind to the spike protein of COVID-19, preventing it from entering human cells. But that was a drug used to treat rheumatism or lupus erythematosus. He was very resistant to taking medicine indiscriminately. Yet he also knew that mountain climbers taking Viagra experienced side effects that could prevent pulmonary edema. So, for survival, he had to go out to work, and because his own heart didn’t pump blood well, his tolerance to the virus was lower than others. Therefore, he had to make more preparations, including taking medication in advance to maintain an effective concentration in his body fluids.

After a few days of work, Lin Yuhui discovered why they needed him here. Everyone seemed very busy; no one had the willingness or ability to communicate with collaborating professionals, let alone handle the details of the professional integration process. So he became that person. After several days of work, Lin Yuhui also noticed the problems in this private enterprise. It turned out that the so-called flexible working hours meant that after work you still had to go online for meetings. Management didn’t know what employees did, so they made them write daily work reports. No wonder no one wanted to meddle in other people’s business.

In fact, the workload was quite full. Soon a week of work had passed. The work presented no challenge to Lin Yuhui. What was valuable was verifying that hydroxychloroquine sulfate was effective against the influenza virus. Working in such an environment, he surprisingly hadn’t caught a cold. The flu virus is also a coronavirus, so it seemed to work. Based on his experience, there was a type of cold virus that greatly affected heart muscle cells, but his own immune system couldn’t clear it. Because of his parents’ foolish decision to have his tonsils removed, he had long lost the ability to raise his body temperature to fight viruses. But he had to live, life had to go on, so he had to patch up his deficiencies and keep moving forward.

This weekend he needed to get a Pudong Bank debit card as his payroll card. Over the years, Lin Yuhui had already accumulated bank cards from many institutions. His workplace was too remote—just a branch bus line. He even had to pay attention to the direction on the bus stop sign rather than looking at the direction the bus was traveling, because the route was so winding.

In such a remote place, a bus came only about every half hour. But remoteness had its advantages: few people, available seats, the bus drove fast, and he could ride the wind and enjoy the scenery.

When the bus left the industrial zone, both sides of the road were still lush green at the end of November. Lin Yuhui looked out at the fierce north wind blowing past the lost scenery, which seemed like his own drifting life journey—flashing hastily before his eyes.

Now past the age of forty, the age of no doubts, alone, neither flattering the powerful nor kneeling to pretty skirts. When the hardest partings between life and death had faded with time, his heart could hardly stir up a single wave. Only, only deep in that still heart, he still harbored a silent hope—the hope of meeting, of meeting the missing half of his soul.

Originally, this trip required a transfer, but he didn’t want to. Tired of the rigid rules and regulations, he just wanted to go his own way. He chose the first bus and then got off at the stop closest to his destination on foot.

The roads closer to the city center were much wider—six lanes in both directions, plus a bus rapid transit lane. But the trapezoidal concrete barriers between the motor vehicle lanes and the sidewalks seemed to cut apart two walking worlds: on one side, the tension of the metropolis and the rhythm of wealth; on the other, the distance between a person’s journey and their gazing. Passing the transfer bus stop, passing the subway entrance, passing the pedestrian overpass, passing the winding side road with lush greenery, ahead lay the forest of steel and concrete. The rule of money was the law of the jungle there. After layers of exploitation, the low-level worker had little left.

The staff at Pudong Bank were serious and warm. Fortunately, Lin Yuhui’s Philips smartphone with Android 6.0 could barely handle the required banking operations. Getting the bank card and binding the app didn’t take much time, but the journey back to his lodging already had him arriving almost at dusk.

Even though he was tired after running around all afternoon, he still had to satisfy his body’s basic need—hunger. It was too remote here. The only options were the roadside stalls along the main road. There was also an automatic vending machine on the first floor of the dormitory, but cookies and instant noodles were even less healthy.

Lin Yuhui first walked down the side of the road nearest to him. But there was no real food—just some boiled skewers, grilled skewers, potato slices on bamboo sticks, baby cabbage, fish balls, chicken carcasses. In his eyes, none of it counted as real food.

He had eaten grilled skewers before. When he was little, his grandmother bought them for him—lamb skewers, fifty cents each, with seven or eight thumbnail-sized slices of meat covered in sesame seeds. They tasted very good, but it was impossible to get full on them. Back then, fifty cents could buy many things. Cheap popsicles cost two to three cents, later five cents for better ones, and a large ice cream bar cost ten cents.

Regardless of the taste and nutrition of the food, there were still plenty of customers—all night-shift workers from nearby factories. Some were groups of three or five male friends drinking and boasting; others were men and women flirting together. No matter which group, they were happy with their lives.

Through observation, Lin Yuhui strengthened his judgment: the women here were not suitable for him. Even in such an environment, he would not pursue them. Moreover, they would not be faithful to one person. They cared more about the feeling of being flattered by many men, and even frivolous verbal provocation or unwelcome wandering hands gave them a sense of achievement in their charm. Lin Yuhui knew very well that such women were not stable, and it seemed they themselves had no desire for permanence.

There are two ways to live in this world: get your kicks and then die, or steadily achieve your life goals. Clearly, those without long-term plans choose the former when they are young. Obviously, they haven’t thought about how to accept the death that follows—that is the direct result of getting your kicks when young.

After walking to the end of this night market, he only bought some tangerines. Lin Yuhui had to go back to the intersection, cross the road, and buy the food he usually ate on the other side.