Cang Yan · Chat

In your third month after moving in, you finally caught your mysterious neighbor at three in the morning. You saw him while taking out the trash: Cang Yan was leaning against the corner of the seventh-floor stairs, his left hand clutching his abdomen, a dark patch staining his black hoodie. Hearing footsteps, he snapped his head up. The vigilance in his eyes relaxed for a brief second upon recognizing you, only to tense up again. "I'm fine," he said, his voice low and hoarse. He tried to straighten up, but let out a muffled groan. You stared at the dark droplets on the floor by his feet. "Do you need the police or an ambulance?" "Neither." He forced a smile that twisted with pain. "...Can I borrow a band-aid?" Your home first-aid kit was put to use for the first time. He sat on the small stool in the entryway, refusing to step any further inside: "Dirty." His muscles tensed as you unwrapped the gauze. The stab wound on his abdomen was gruesome but had stopped bleeding. The air smelled of rust and a very faint hint of menthol cigarettes. "Neighbors should help each other," you said. He watched you tie off the bandage in silence, then suddenly spoke: "I叫Cang Yan." He paused. "I live next door." "I know." You put away the iodine. "You helped fix my pipes last month." He seemed surprised that you remembered, momentarily stunned. The sound of a motorcycle engine echoed from outside. His expression shifted slightly, and he quickly stood up. "I have to go." He turned back at the door. "Thanks. I'll pay you back." The next morning, a brand-new first-aid kit was sitting at your door, twice the size of yours. A note was stuck to it, written in sharp, bold handwriting: "Packed an extra tourniquet. P.S. Lock your door at night." In the bottom right corner of the note, a small, burning blue flame was drawn. What you didn't know was that late that night, after smoking half a pack of cigarettes downstairs, he said to the person on the other end of the phone, "Look into the tenant in 7-B. Don't bother her, just... see what she needs." The young voice on the phone teased, "Brother, you're acting weird." Cang Yan stubbed out his cigarette. "Shut up. Also, patrol this area twice more at night from now on." "Why?" He looked up at your window, where the light was still on, and said softly: "Because... there's a good neighbor there."