Chapter One

“Liang Yuanxing, wake up.”

“Hm?” He lifted his head, meeting the gaze of the doctor in the white coat standing by his hospital bed, his eyes a little dazed.

“Please confirm your name,” the doctor said.

“Oh, right—Liang Yuanxing.” Because the doctor wore a surgical mask, Liang Yuanxing instinctively looked into his eyes.

Yesterday, Liang Yuanxing was admitted to the hospital after a motorcycle accident. He’d lost a lot of blood and was rushed in through the emergency room. After a night’s stay, he was cleared to be discharged today.

The doctor handed him a slip of paper. “This is your discharge form. Take a look. Don’t let the wound get wet for five days, stick to light meals, the stitches are absorbable—no need to have them removed… What happened to your camera?”

Liang Yuanxing was cradling his most expensive possession in both hands—a Leica SL3. Perhaps his expression had been so bitter, as if it were the camera being hospitalized and not him, that the doctor felt compelled to ask.

“My camera bag fell out when I crashed,” Liang Yuanxing replied, bowing his head to tinker with it, muttering, “I don’t know if it’s broken.”

“Let me take a look.” The doctor said, “Keep your discharge form safe. Since this wasn’t a traffic accident, you might need it for insurance claims.”

Trusting the doctor’s profession by instinct, Liang Yuanxing handed over his camera, exchanging it for the discharge form. The camera, together with its lens, was fairly hefty, but the doctor took it steadily.

He watched as the doctor restarted the camera and walked over to the window. The October morning was bright and clear. Although the lower reaches of the Yangtze were often said to have no autumn, that wasn’t entirely true. Outside the inpatient building, a man-made lake shimmered below, a few caramel-colored leaves floating on its surface, drifting gently in the breeze.

“How long have you had this camera?”

“I haven’t even used it yet,” Liang Yuanxing replied, a little aggrieved. “Just got it two days ago, and now this.”

“No wonder.”

“Huh?” Liang Yuanxing tensed up. “Is it broken?”

“No, it’s fine.” The doctor snapped a photo, then adjusted a few settings in the camera menu as he spoke. “You’re using a third-party lens, so the image stabilization automatically shut off. You need to set the focal length in the lens settings to activate it.”

Realizing he’d been fiddling with someone else’s camera settings without asking, the doctor paused. “I just turned it on for you.”

Liang Yuanxing replied naturally, “Alright, then leave it on.”

After finishing the adjustments, the doctor took a photo of the artificial lake below. He leaned slightly, tall enough that the window ledge was at his waist. He set the ISO, turned the dial, completely focused—he looked like a true professional.

“All done.” The doctor checked the camera screen, almost to himself, “The color output on this camera really is excellent.”

He returned the camera to Liang Yuanxing, adding, “By the way, if you want to use manual focus in the future, remember to set the focus ring to linear.”

Liang Yuanxing took it back and smiled with his eyes. “Thank you, doctor. Are you into photography too?”

The doctor slid his hands into his coat pockets. “Just… a hobbyist.”

“Me too.” Liang Yuanxing obediently folded the discharge form, grabbed his backpack from beside the bed, and tucked the paper into the inside zippered pocket.

The young doctor pinched the bridge of his nose through the mask, and the little checkup interlude ended. Just then, a middle-aged man came into the room, carrying milk and fruit straight to Liang Yuanxing’s bed.

“Xiao Liang!” His first greeting was so loud the patient in the next bed shot him an annoyed glare. He quickly lowered his voice. “Are you alright? Can you walk? I’ll carry you downstairs?”

“No, no, uncle.” Liang Yuanxing waved his hands. “I can walk. It’s just a cut, no issues with bones or tendons. I can manage on my own.”

To prove he was truly fine, Liang Yuanxing got out of bed himself and stood steadily on the floor. The man examined him, visibly relieved, but then turned to the doctor and asked, “Doctor, are you sure his foot is alright?”

The doctor glanced down at Liang Yuanxing’s ankle. “Just rest and keep a regular schedule.”

The man looked at Liang Yuanxing. “How’s your routine?”

“My routine… is complicated,” Liang Yuanxing replied earnestly.

The doctor turned his head and smiled, gave the camera on the bed one last look, and left the room.

Liang Yuanxing stood at one eighty, a head taller than the man, so leaning on him was actually comfortable. But since they weren’t family, he felt awkward using the man as a crutch. Once the discharge was settled, he all but hopped out of the hospital on one foot.

“There, the car’s parked over there. Come on, let me carry you!” the man insisted.

“No need, uncle.” Liang Yuanxing couldn’t help but laugh. “You don’t need to see me off. I’ll just get a cab to the traffic police station. Once I get my motorcycle back, I’ll be on my way.”

“Let me take you!”

“Really, it’s not necessary!”

In the end, the uncle couldn’t persuade him. Liang Yuanxing flagged down a taxi, slung the camera bag across his body, shouldered his backpack, and hopped into the back seat.

The man could only stand helplessly by the curb, watching the taxi merge into traffic before letting out a long, quiet sigh.

“That man?” a nurse mused. “He’s not family—he’s the son of the driver who caused the accident. His father was driving one of those old folks’ cars. But he paid compensation right away, even in the emergency room.”

Duan Qingshen looked up.

Another nurse pointed to a sandwich behind the counter, asking the staff to get it for her, then continued, “That young guy has a good personality. Last night, when bed fourteen needed an ECG, you know how loose the corridor outlets are—you have to hold the plug in. He helped out, even hopping over on one leg.”

Duan Qingshen recalled the ECG record for bed fourteen—it was in the early hours. No wonder Liang Yuanxing said his routine was complicated. He smiled, tugging his mask higher.

“Mr. Duan, your coffee is ready—please pick it up here.”

“Thank you.”

The café was on the hospital’s ground floor, bustling with patients and their families. Duan Qingshen took his coffee and headed for the elevator. The two nurses still waiting for their meals exchanged glances. “Is that the Dr. Duan who handed in his resignation a couple months ago?” one whispered.

“Seems like it.”

Meanwhile, Liang Yuanxing arrived at the traffic police station to retrieve his motorcycle. The officer eyed his unsteady steps with concern. “You sure you can ride with that foot?”

“No problem! I’m discharged, so I’m good to go!” Liang Yuanxing beamed, eager to see his motorcycle, nearly bouncing for emphasis.

The officer stopped him with a hurried wave. “Alright, alright, don’t hurt yourself again. Since it’s your left foot, don’t shift gears—just keep it in first and coast back.”

“Will do!” Liang Yuanxing replied cheerfully.

Because he wasn’t a local and looked even younger than he was, the officer eyed him with some doubt, frowning as he added, “Take it slow, alright?”

“Absolutely!” Liang Yuanxing flashed a grin—utterly unconvincing.

The officer hesitated, but thought, He’s an adult—he should know better. He handed over the release slip. “Hey, I heard you’re traveling by motorcycle? Where are you headed?”

“I’m off to Dunhuang.” Liang Yuanxing’s smile was bright as the sun; yesterday’s accident hadn’t fazed him or cast any shadow.

Nothing could stop him now—he was a happy, unemployed young traveler.

“But I do need a couple of days to recover. I’ve booked a guesthouse, so I’ll ride over first.”

The officer smiled, nodding in approval. “Good, take care of yourself.”

He placed the last slip on Liang Yuanxing’s motorcycle trunk. “Alright, sign here and you’re free to go.”

“Just one last signature and you’re all set.” In the office, the department head adjusted his glasses. “Xiao Duan, I gave you all the advice I could two months ago. Later, I thought it over myself: when you’re young, you should try different paths. That’s also being responsible for your own life.”

Duan Qingshen signed, handed the document back, and looked up at the director with earnest gratitude. “Thank you for understanding, sir.”

The director smiled. “No need for thanks. You’re here covering for Dr. Jiang, right? She’s really having a tough time with her pregnancy. Alright, let’s go. I’ll walk you to the elevator.”

“No need,” Duan Qingshen said, rising. “It’s really not necessary.”

“I insist.” The director came around his desk. “You’re a good kid. I know the pressure you’re under. Resigning takes courage. Come on, I’ll see you to the elevator.”

Leaving the director’s office, Duan Qingshen walked beside him. He’d already changed out of his white coat, now wearing a simple gray hoodie and jeans.

“So, what are your plans?” the director asked, pressing the elevator button. “Not your whole life, just in the short term—what are you up to next?”

Duan Qingshen answered honestly, “I’m going to Shandong first. A high school friend is getting married—he asked me to take some wedding photos.”

“Oh!” The director nodded. “That’s great. I remember your father saying you even won awards for photography back in the day.”

“That was a long time ago,” Duan Qingshen said. “Not sure I still have the touch.”

“Your high school friends are getting married—you should think about finding someone too.” The director patted his shoulder, thinking. “You’re almost thirty, aren’t you?”

“I’m already thirty,” Duan Qingshen replied. “But I’m not in a rush.”

“You may not be, but your parents are.”

The elevator arrived.

As he crossed the iron tracks at the hospital gate, Duan Qingshen suddenly felt something heavy fall from his chest. His days as a doctor were over. For a moment, he was stunned.

He took a deep breath, relieved. The vines that had long bound him had finally burned away, though his skin was scorched and raw from the effort. But it didn’t matter—he was free at last. From the day he’d been forced into medical school by his college entrance exam choices, it had all led to this end.

Bikes and scooters stretched in long rows outside the hospital’s main entrance, with a line of taxis waiting for passengers by the curb. Patients wheeled themselves into the hospital, someone held up a sign offering rooms for fifty yuan, and a security guard waved at people to move their scooters from the emergency access. Life bustled on; he had stopped.

A three-case ADV motorcycle cruised leisurely past, utterly out of place amid the busy scene. Duan Qingshen took a final look back at the outpatient building before turning to leave.

No sooner had he left than the slow-moving motorcycle found a spot and parked. The young man removed his helmet, limping as he made his way into the hospital.

At the third-floor nurse’s station in the inpatient wing, a nurse looked at him in surprise. “Hey? Why are you back? Did your wound reopen?”

Liang Yuanxing was both anxious and unable to walk quickly, so he was slightly out of breath. He unfolded his discharge slip and pointed to the “attending physician” section. “Excuse me, where can I find Dr. Duan Qingshen?”

“Dr. Duan?” The nurse blinked. “He resigned.”

“He resigned?”

She nodded. “Dr. Duan was just covering a shift today—you were his last patient. So, how’s your wound?”

“It’s… okay…” Liang Yuanxing nodded, feeling lost and powerless, his head drooping. “Sorry to bother you.”

“No trouble,” the nurse replied.

Liang Yuanxing left the inpatient wing slowly, helmet in hand, making his way back to his motorcycle. He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and gazed at the lock screen.

His phone wallpaper was a photograph: dunes stretching to the horizon, undulating like waves. The sun was half-set behind the sands, the world washed in vast, withered gold. Windblown grit blurred the boundary between sunset and dune, like a patch of dropped frames, or nature’s own digital noise.

The photo’s title was “To the Northwest.” The photographer: Duan Qingshen.

Three years earlier, Liang Yuanxing had come across it by chance on the cover of a geography magazine. He’d later found the digital version online, and it had been his phone wallpaper ever since.

Back then, he decided that one day, he too would go to the Northwest.