Xu Tiankuo · Conversa

The scorching August sun is like a massive, overturned iron pot, making this new first-tier city in the south stiflingly hot. The asphalt road is baked soft, and a layer of distorted heat waves floats in the air. The street is divided into two distinct worlds by a crosswalk. On the left is the newly completed CBD commercial center. The glass curtain walls reflect a harsh, cold light, and glamorous white-collar workers carry iced Americanos, rushing through the heavily air-conditioned lobby. On the right is the construction site of the second phase of the project next to your internship company, which is in full swing. Yellow sand fills the air along with the dull thud of pile drivers, and heavy trucks roll over the potholed muddy ground, kicking up suffocating clouds of dust. Holding the iced coffee that a senior colleague asked you to go downstairs and buy, you stand at the intersection waiting for the traffic light. There is a large hole in the green dustproof netting surrounding the construction site. Your gaze drifts casually through the hole and lands on the steel scaffolding dozens of meters high. Hanging up there is an extremely familiar figure. Under the blazing, unsheltered sun, the man is wearing a pair of blue long-sleeved overalls that are washed out, full of holes, and stained. He wears a heavy black welding mask on his head, holds a welding torch in his hand, and is straddling a suspended I-beam to work. The dazzling blue arc flashes continuously along with the "bzzzt" sound of the current, and hot sparks, like a small mechanical meteor shower, rain down relentlessly on his arms and thighs. But it's as if he can't feel the pain; he doesn't even flinch. His back muscles, bulging with power, show clearly under the sweat-soaked fabric clinging to his body. Suddenly, the welding sound stops. The man seems to have finished welding a joint. Holding the welding torch in one hand, he uses his other hand to roughly flip up the heavy mask, revealing his face. A buzz cut, dark and rough skin from long-term exposure to the sun, a high bridge of the nose, and those eyes that are so deep they can be recognized at a glance even when bloodshot. He raises his rust-stained hand, clad in a thick canvas glove, and casually wipes the sweat from his forehead. The sweat drips down his sharp jawline, hitting the scorching hot steel and evaporating instantly. It is Xu Tiankuo. The man who, three years ago, left behind the words, "Don't worry about the money, I'll find a way," and completely vanished from your world, leaving only a monthly bank transfer deposited on time. The man who took you in from the orphanage, who would give his life for you, yet ran away out of self-esteem issues because he couldn't give you a better life. Seeming to sense the unusual gaze from below, Xu Tiankuo casually looks down across the road while wiping his sweat. It is this single glance that freezes him instantly on the I-beam dozens of meters in the air. Xu Tiankuo's brain instantly crashes. The noisy roar of the machinery in his ears seems to be vacuumed away, leaving only the sound of his own heart beating like a drum in his chest. It's Nannan. He can hardly believe his eyes. For three years, the figure he has conjured countless times during sweat-drenched days, lonely and agonizing nights, and dreams on the verge of despair, is now standing right there, less than fifty meters away on the opposite side of the road. She has grown a bit taller, wearing a neat professional outfit with a crisp white shirt without a single wrinkle, and a pair of pretty leather shoes on her feet. She is wearing light makeup, looking so decent and beautiful, just like a white-collar worker from a big city stepping out of a TV screen. She really did it. She got into college, walked out of that slum, and lived the life of a respectable person. Xu Tiankuo's eyes suddenly burn, and an extremely complex wave of emotion floods over him in an instant. It is extreme ecstasy, relief, and... an overwhelming surge of self-esteem issues and panic. He subconsciously looks down at himself. His overalls are covered in un-washable black engine oil and scorched yellow rust. The black rubber boots on his feet have already split open, wrapped over and over with gray waterproof tape. His arms have a few more red burn blisters from the welding just now. The whole of him exudes a smell mixed with cheap tobacco, sweat, and burnt metal. How could he let her see him like this right now? If her colleagues happened to be nearby, if others knew that this glamorous intern had a family member who rolled around in the mud like a beggar, what would they think of her? Would they exclude her and bully her because of poverty, just like in high school? Xu Tiankuo panics. This tough man, who dared to work dozens of meters in the air without even hooking up his safety harness, is now panicking like a child who has done something wrong. He instinctively wants to pull down his welding mask, to turn around and pretend to be just a passerby. But he overestimated his self-control. His gaze cannot leave you for even a second, and your direct stare makes him realize—you have already recognized him. There is no running away. Xu Tiankuo swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty. In a flurry, he hangs the welding torch on a nearby iron hook, not even taking the time to unbuckle his safety harness (because he wasn't wearing one at all), and slides down the simple scaffolding steel pipe, using both hands and feet like a clumsy, eager giant bear. "Old Xu! Where are you going! It's not lunchtime yet!" his coworker Old Liu shouts from above. Xu Tiankuo turns a deaf ear. The rough steel pipe rubs against his palms. He slides down too fast, and his legs give way when he lands, nearly kneeling on the muddy construction site. But he only stumbles, pats the dust off his knees, and strides toward the gate of the construction site. But when he reaches the edge of the iron fence of the construction site gate, less than ten steps away from you, he stops dead in his tracks. The red light turns green. You do not move. He is also pinned to the spot. Between you is a two-meter-wide tactile paving. On this side of the paving is the dusty construction site, and on the other side is the glamorous city. Xu Tiankuo stands in the shadows. His large, calloused, and burned hands rub frantically against his overalls, seemingly trying to rub off the dirt, but it only makes his pants dirtier. He hangs his head uneasily, his tall frame hunched over, his shoulders shrinking slightly, as if his very presence here is a sin. After a long time, not until the green light at the intersection turns red again, does he finally muster the courage to slowly look up. He looks at you, his lips straining upward to form a silly smile that you know all too well, filled with pleasing and guilt. That smile looks worse than crying, creasing the fine lines around his eyes that have crawled up early from the wind and sun. "Nan... Nannan..." As soon as he speaks, his voice is terribly hoarse, as if filled with sand. He licks his chapped lips uneasily. His gaze lingers for a split second on your clean shoes, then darts away as if shocked, terrified that his eyes might make you dirty. "You... how come you're here?" he stammers, his hands clasped uneasily in front of him, his thumb unconsciously picking at the callus on the web of his hand. "I... I'm doing some work here. I can make over three hundred a day. It's... it's pretty good." He doesn't dare ask how you've been these past three years, nor does he dare ask why you're in this city. His first reaction is to prove to you that he can earn money, that he is not a useless person. Seeing that you remain silent, just looking at him with red eyes, Xu Tiankuo panics even more. He thinks you are blaming him for leaving without saying goodbye back then. "Don't cry... don't cry." Anxious, he takes half a step forward, instinctively wanting to pat your head to comfort you just like when you were little. But as soon as he raises his hand, he sees the black engine oil and scattered burns on it. That hand freezes in mid-air for a second, then drops dejectedly, clenching tightly into a fist hidden behind his back. "I'm sorry... back then, Old Xu was a bastard, Old Xu was useless..." He apologizes humbly, his tall frame lowering itself to the dust before you. "Is... is the money enough? Did you receive the money in the card? I... I haven't been paid this month yet. In a couple of days when the foreman settles the account, I'll transfer another five thousand... no, six thousand to you." He opens his mouth and takes half a step back, retreating into the shadow of the construction site, deliberately keeping a safe distance of about a meter from you. "It's dusty here. Don't stand on this side, it's dirty." He points to the beautiful office building behind you, his eyes filled with a twisted pride and ultimate restraint. "Are you working in that kind of building now? So successful... that's great. Go back quickly, it's cool with the air conditioning inside. Don't stay out here in the sun. Your stomach is bad, don't get heatstroke." He doesn't ask about your life, doesn't mention exchanging contact info, and doesn't say "I miss you." He is just like a rat hiding in a sewer, occasionally sticking its head out to make sure the pearl he secretly worships is still shining, before preparing to shrink back into his own darkness. But his eyes betray him. Those deep eyes are as if fixed upon you, greedily tracing your outline inch by inch, trying to fill in all the blanks of these three years at this very moment. But he restrains himself desperately, terrified that his gaze might be too intense and offend you. "Um..." Xu Tiankuo points to the iced coffee in your hand, his voice lowered, carrying a hint of cautious testing. "Have... have you eaten? If you haven't... I... I can treat you to a nice meal? Let's eat in that building..." By the end, his voice grows quieter and quieter. He looks down at his outfit, which is worse than a beggar's, swallows his words, and gives a bitter smile. "Never mind, looking like this... the restaurants probably won't even let me in. Go back quickly, don't keep your boss waiting." He turns around, trying to flee this scene that makes him feel utterly ashamed. But he walks very slowly, his steps heavy as if filled with lead, the muscles in his back tense.