Chapter Text
The kitchen light slips into Li Zhao Yu’s bedroom, illuminating his penmanship in red ink. It’s evening, it has been for a while, but Zhao Yu hasn’t moved to turn on his bedroom lights; his students' journals keep him seated. The city lights from outside his bedroom window suffice as lighting anyway.
Rather, he’s attached to his seat and the stack of student journals crowding his desk, having focused on the task for hours. Occasionally, he leans his elbow on his table and remembers ruefully the rings of spilled coffee are left by his mug now stained on his shirt. They mark the hours past when he’s picked up to sip from his drink until it's run out, leaving a permanent stain on the desk's paint. Crumpled tissues litter his desk from failed attempts of removing coffee stains.
The city glows beyond his bachelor's pad apartment, a milky way on earth in the night, the life he's missing at 35, but he doesn't stop to appreciate the view. He hasn't thought about it for a while now.
It's only when his phone rings that Zhao Yu finally removes his eyes from his work. He answers the call without checking the caller's name. At this hour, only one person dares to call him.
"Are you coming?"
"Ling Ying," Zhao Yu stares at the stack of journals on his desk. "I don't think I can."
"Busy?"
"What else?" He wets his lips, feeling thirsty. His coffee has run out an hour ago. "I'm sorry. I swear, I'll make it up to you."
Ling Ying laughs. If she's disappointed, she doesn't sound it. "We'll be retired by then."
Zhao Yu huffs, "I'm not cruel."
"Don't worry about it, gēge(1). These things take time. I'll be here when you're ready."
He withholds the sigh weighing his shoulders down, careful not to alarm the woman. Instead, he smiles. It tires him. "Thanks, mèimèi(2)."
The call ends, and silence returns to Zhao Yu again. His company: the city lights, and the papers piling in his coffee-stained desk. It's lonely, but it's familiar. When night comes, he doesn't fall asleep until he's too tired to change out of his work clothes.
Liam Byrne's University's baroque architecture clashes with the modern architecture of its neighbor. Nonetheless, it stands proud, boasting a century-old commitment to the arts and science, a painting of black and red. Two hundred acres of land is dedicated to its students' education.
Every weekday morning, Zhao Yu drives to LBU in his 1997 Prius, feeling the same churn in his stomach from anticipation from 10 years ago. He's applied, and since become a senior Chemistry professor. Seeing the main building the first time has felt like staring at a labyrinth with countless entrances but devoid of exits; to leave LBU feels impossible. How, when a century's worth of history and knowledge lays itself at his disposal.
After parking near the dormitory, he takes the scenic route to the main building. It's his only chance to admire the flower bushes and blooming trees. A busy day awaits him.
LBU's main building west wing leads to the department of sciences. Zhao Yu brings only his laptop, wallet, and water to work. needing nothing but. His office, rather, his cubicle, faces the kitchen entrance, and a window facing east, where the rising sun shines beyond the trees, and the LBU entrance. His textbooks, and a pack of coffee paired with a mug is left on his office desk, with his class schedule, school year calendar, and printer papers.
Today, his students' journals from last night clutters his otherwise bare desk. Tayane Alves, or Tatá, is his cubicle neighbor, whose workspace is the total opposite of his. Colorful papers and posters make up her mess of a table, with sticky note reminders crowding every other corner. Together, they make two sides of one coin, the coin representing chemistry professors.
Since their class schedules align, Zhao Yu and Tatá hang out at the laboratory stock room before laboratory classes. Alongside teaching master's classes, they teach first years, which keeps them occupied at the analytical laboratory during afternoons like this. The stockroom sits between two laborities, where the classes get their solutions and materials. Behind a tall cabinet for acids, there's a kitchen and sink for the lab-in-charge. There's a white jacket on the hanger beside the computer table positioned near the door with a crown embroidery on one of its sleeves.
While waiting, they snack on a bag of chips and conversation. Today, Tatá discusses an email with Zhao Yu.
Despite his prescription glasses, he squints to read it. "A teacher's conference?"
"Yup!"
"And you're showing this to me because?"
"Obviously, someone has to represent the Chemistry department," she rolls her eyes.
"Me?" Zhao Yu points at himself.
"Aye," comes Jaime, the laboratory-in-charge. When the English man enters the stock room, Tatá yelps, and clears the table as fast as she can blink while Zhao Yu hits his knee on the table trying to stand. Jaime has his arms crossed, and his eyes glaring at the table. Beside him, a poster reads, 'No eating allowed,' a sign they've deliberately ignored. "You're getting crumbs all over."
"Jaime!" she stutters, hiding the chips Jaime already saw behind her back, while Zhao Yu nurses his new injury pathetically. "We were hungry."
"That's what the canteen is for," Jaime scolds. "Now, you either eat outside or I'm not preparing your solutions."
That proves the magic words, because Zhao Yu and Tatá scramble outside like deers hearing the first round of a shotgun. Of course, the guilty doesn't act it, because they're snickering and bumping each other through the door. If Jaime notices another bag of chip with his name written on a sticky note, he doesn't let them know. They owe him for keeping the laboratory intact anyway.
In the hallway, Zhao Yu and Tatá lean on the railings, overlooking the campus.
Currently, they're on the west wing where the Biology, Chemistry, and Physics department are sharing. On the east wing, Fine Arts and Architecture course are taught. Forming a U-shape is the main hall, across the gate entrance where the offices and libraries are found. A courtyard is built in front of the entrance where students can sit in between classes or play sports recreationally.
All of this looks miniscule from a distance. The heat of September noon washes the campus in a soft, yellow glow.
Tatá hands her phone to Zhao Yu so he can reread the invitation letter.
"Are you telling me Sabine can't attend?"
"Overseas."
Sabine is the head of their department. Apparently, she's too busy for department head matters. The idea makes Zhao Yu frown.
"Wow, I didn't think it was possible to express 'she thinks she's too good for teacher's conference' in a face, but you just did."
"No, I did not."
"Look," Tatá puts her fists on her hips after taking her phone. "You can propose a budget increase for the department, like you always wanted to. It's a teacher's conference; everyone's going to be there."
Zhao Yu pauses. The Chemistry department has lacked budget for the past semester. The laboratory apparatus are outdated, and their software subscriptions are due for cut. He needs to attend the conference.
"You're making a 'I have to be there' face," Tatá points out suspiciously.
"You're seeing things," Zhao Yu says, but he's smiling.