Chapter Twenty-Two: Completion
Two weeks slipped by in the blink of an eye.
After work, Brother Lu loudly announced plans for dinner together the following evening. The office instantly erupted in applause and whistles.
Liu Yu exhaled, habitually squeezing his left arm, straightening his back, and inching away from Yu Guangchun beside him.
Yu Guangchun, oblivious, patted Liu Yu’s shoulder, then turned to joke with the colleague at the next desk.
Liu Yu felt the skin where he’d been patted burn—not from pain, but as if something inside wanted to break through and escape.
“Liu, you’re leaving on time today.” Brother Lu nodded at him with a smile.
Others turned toward him, laughing and praising Liu Yu’s hard work and diligence over the past weeks.
He tried to smile, but fatigue left the muscles of his face powerless.
He did leave on time that day, even hurriedly escaping while Yu Guangchun was gathering his things. His brisk and frantic steps slowed only after he’d exited the office building.
His legs felt weighted with lead. Staring at the congested stream of cars on the road, he hesitated for several seconds at an intersection before choosing the subway to go home.
The subway was even more crowded than the streets. Liu Yu felt like a sardine in a can—one of those old-fashioned ones from decades ago—packed so tightly with the other passengers that not a sliver of space remained.
Even so, he didn’t miss the quiet, late evenings after overtime.
After leaving the subway, he walked some distance, ordered a takeaway dinner at a small shop by the street, and waited a long while. Several delivery riders rushed in and out before his rice bowl finally arrived.
His roommate wasn’t home yet, so Liu Yu had a rare meal alone.
Without Yu Guangchun’s endless chatter, the silence felt blissful.
He burped, eyed the plastic meal box spread across the table, and sank into a lazy torpor, not wanting to move.
His eyelids drooped; his consciousness blurred as his head lolled against the sofa.
...
“Hey, Liu Yu, you’re back early today!”
The shout startled him awake. He snapped his eyes open.
“Just finished eating?” his roommate asked, coming in.
“Yeah...” He was about to answer when he caught sight of the clock by the door and blurted, “It’s ten already?”
“Sure is. When did you get home? Fell asleep?” his roommate called, heading to his room.
“Took a nap,” Liu Yu replied, rubbing his face and tidying the disposable meal box.
“Back early today?” his roommate’s voice carried from the other room.
“My project’s finally done. At last!” Liu Yu declared with emphasis.
“Congrats! So what about your colleague? Are you switching teams, or is he? You guys don’t have any kind of elimination system, right?” His roommate came out holding pajamas. “Want to shower?”
“You go first,” Liu Yu answered, then responded to the earlier questions, “Not sure yet. The project just passed today, and the manager’s hosting dinner tomorrow. I was thinking—should I bring it up with him tomorrow, or wait until after…”
“Better to say something soon. Otherwise, you’ll just keep ending up in the same group.” His roommate, now in the bathroom, called through the door, “Did you ever mentor juniors back in school? It’s such a pain. Teaching people hands-on—sometimes I’d rather just do the work myself. We’ve got someone like that in the group next door. They basically pretend he doesn’t exist. He’ll definitely have to leave next month. He knows it, too—heard he started sending resumes back home last year.”
Liu Yu froze, taking a moment to understand his roommate’s point.
He lowered his head and gazed at the just-discarded plastic meal box.
His roommate worked at a big tech company, with strict performance reviews and clear procedures for everything. Not like his own small firm, where performance evaluation was non-existent.
Yu Guangchun was incompetent and inefficient, but as long as he didn’t make mistakes and finished things eventually, he could stay on without fear of being fired.
Liu Yu didn’t know how long he’d drifted off, lost in thought. His roommate emerged from the bathroom and called his name before he finally stirred.
“Congratulations on escaping the pit,” his roommate said, towel-drying his hair, giving a thumbs up and flashing a brilliant smile.
Liu Yu tried to smile back, but the effort still felt strained.
“Get some rest. I’m off to bed too.” His roommate yawned, retreated to his room, and closed the door behind him.
Liu Yu shuffled into the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror, dazed. He’d lost so much weight that the line of his jaw was visible—the last time he’d seen that bone was when he’d shot up in high school. The dark circles under his eyes looked frightening. At least his hairline hadn’t receded, though a few glaring white hairs stood out.
He plucked out two strands of white, braced himself on the sink, and bowed his head in exhaustion.
His roommate was right. Having a partner like Yu Guangchun was worse than working alone. If it were just him, the work would have been done ages ago. Fixing Yu Guangchun’s code was pure torment.
He must speak with Brother Lu tomorrow.
Liu Yu nodded to himself with resolve and straightened up.
...
“You all are having dinner together tomorrow? The project’s finished?” Sheng Yao placed a heated bento in front of Yu Guangchun.
Yu Guangchun smiled, “Yes, it finally passed today. Manager’s treating us to something nice tomorrow night.”
“Where are you eating?”
“Riverside Hall, just up ahead. We always go there.” Yu Guangchun unwrapped the plastic from his meal.
“So you’re saving money today?” Sheng Yao chuckled.
“Haha, no. My son has tutoring, so he’s eating out. My wife’s gone to see her parents. I’m just grabbing something simple. Convenient.” Yu Guangchun countered, “Not busy today?”
“That’s just because you got off early. It’ll get crowded soon.” Sheng Yao tugged at his convenience store uniform. “You’ve got a partner on the project, don’t you?”
“Sure do. That kid left early. What young guy wants to hang around with an old geezer like me?” Yu Guangchun spooned a couple bites of rice, then pointed at Sheng Yao. “You’re an exception, though.”
Sheng Yao smiled faintly.
He was no longer young.
New customers entered the convenience store, so Sheng Yao returned to the counter.
When Yu Guangchun left, he waved goodbye.
Sheng Yao, busy at the register, nodded in response.
He managed both tasks at once—ringing up customers while pondering the information Yu Guangchun had just let slip.
Liu Yu’s workload was easing up now; perhaps there’d be a chance to speak with him. Recently, Liu Yu had been so busy—rushing in early, rushing out late—it had made observation easier, but left no opportunity for a “reunion.”
Working at the convenience store in this office building, Sheng Yao often ran into Yu Guangchun and sometimes other colleagues of Liu Yu, picking up bits and pieces about the situation.
In truth, he didn’t need to ask around. Every day, just watching with his own eyes, he could see Liu Yu growing thinner and thinner.
It was so different from himself, from Bai Xiao, Boss Le, or the stray dog Guai Guai.
Yet to colleagues like Yu Guangchun, all they saw was a hardworking young man, striving as if for the college entrance exam. It left Yu Guangchun full of sighs and reflections.
Where did the real problem lie?
Was it Liu Yu himself, or something to do with the doctor…
Sheng Yao lowered his gaze, unable to shake the image of an empty syringe and the indecipherable, densely packed handwriting in the medical file.