I am a lonely vagabond, born and died alone.

At different times, in different places, and in different worlds, I meet different souls.

We meet again in the vast sea of people, at this moment.

I sit here, and you sit across from me. I sense your gaze, your breath. I know that it’s my gaze, my breath. I have you, and you have me.

Why do I get lost? Why do I wander?

 Why do I pursue it?  Why do I seek answers?

This is the meaning of existence, and it’s meaningless!

You don’t know that we are meeting again and again, but I know.

You don’t know that we separate again and again, but I know.

You don’t know that you are eternal and immortal, but I know.

You don’t know that you are perfect and complete, but I know.

We have different identities, that’s true, but it’s not real.

We experience different lives, that’s true, but it’s not real.

My dear, our meeting is lucky and inevitable. Likewise, this is also a dream! 

The doctor looked at me solemnly and said, “I am so sorry, Miss Zhou. I am afraid I brought some bad news to share with you.” He handed me an inspection report. I noticed his hand trembling slightly and his voice carrying regret.

I took the report and turned to the last page, where I saw four bolded words, “Advanced stage lung cancer!”

“You said this is bad news?” I couldn't help but burst into laughter.

“Zhou… Miss Zhou? Why are you......”

I noticed he was staring at me in surprise, his expression filled with confusion. I understood him because not everyone could comprehend this laughter coming from deep within.

His face suddenly changed, and he quickly explained, “Miss Zhou, we have been conducting tests for several days, even using PET-CT scans, but the results still show a mass in the right lung, and it has already…”

He went on and on as if he was afraid I wouldn’t believe him. According to his description, the typical symptoms of lung cancer are coughing and blood in the phlegm.

But my situation is a bit different. Besides a hoarse voice, occasional chest tightness, shortness of breath, and fever, there are no other symptoms. However, this does not negate the inspection results. After all, the human body is very delicate, and some people can have lung cancer without any symptoms.

I smiled and waved my hand, explaining to him that my hoarse voice was due to the aftermath of my adolescent voice change, not a recent development. Moreover, I did not doubt his diagnosis result. Careful, patient, and rigorous are the characteristics of a doctor. I have always admired doctors, to me, they are all angels in white coats.

His expression was somewhat disappointed as if he had not seen any expected scene happen. It seemed like my indifferent laughter stimulated something deep inside him.

I know that everyone lives their own story, the protagonist of their own world. I couldn’t help but think of the doctor’s trembling hand when he handed me the report. “Perhaps, advanced stage lung cancer has a different meaning for him.” A thought floated in my mind.

This made me feel amused like I was comforting my own daughter after she had suffered. So I tried to comfort him, of course, in my own way - by keeping silent.

I noticed his face slowly breaking into a smile, and his demeanor relaxed considerably, a look of relief on his face. Excitement filled me; it was as if I had just cast a spell that altered something. It was like polishing a delicate key that finally unlocked a treasure chest.

As I left the office, I couldn’t quite recall all that he said to me. Only one thing stuck with me: as he saw me out, he said, “Miss Zhou, I hope we’ll meet again.”

He didn’t urge me to undergo surgery. Perhaps he thought it would be a heavy burden for me, not to mention the pain it caused. For me, it did not hold much significance.

Perhaps he thought that with my family background, I couldn’t afford the expensive surgery fees. I couldn’t help but smile as I thought of how he subtly asked about my financial situation over the past few days. “He is really good at empathizing with others!”

I am grateful to live in a metropolis where I can see clean and spacious roads, as well as streets meticulously decorated with greenery.

The road is divided into two sides. Vehicles on the side nearest to me are few and far between not only in front but also behind, a sharp contrast to the congested another side.

However, for some reason, the vehicles on my side drive very slowly. Occasional glimpses of drivers’ expressions through the open windows convey a leisurely demeanor, which is out of place in the fast-paced city.

On the other side, the cars are all lined up, congested together, like slow-moving snails carrying such great pressure on their small bodies that it takes only a few glances to take one’s breath away.

I silently thought that perhaps some drivers could envy those on the other side. However, even if they wanted to turn around, it would be impossible. The road has its own rules. If they turn around now, even if they don’t collide with other cars, they will be punished by the traffic police for the violation of “driving in the opposite direction on the road”. Neither situation is what they want.

In front of me is a metallic waste bin, with green, red, blue, and gray divided into four compartments, indicating the classification of waste.

On the ground is a plastic bottle, seeming to be from a well-known mineral water brand. It lay on the ground, twisted into a tangled ball, unable to return to its comfortable state because the cap was tightly sealed. As the breeze rocked it back and forth, it emitted a soft sound, as if welcoming my arrival.

“Interesting that the owner of the bottle could exert so much effort to twist it like this but couldn’t put it in the garbage can.”

I walked over, smiling, and getting closer. I saw water droplets lingering inside the bottle and the words on the trash can, with four compartments written respectively for kitchen waste, hazardous waste, recyclable materials, and other wastes.

I seemed to see myself placing the bottle in the “recyclable materials” compartment, and as I threw it into the garbage can, it collided with the metal outer wall, making a pleasant sound.

Well, perhaps the sound is not pleasing to some people, but for me, it is no different from Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. They are both equally beautiful to me.

Then…

I walked straight past the garbage can, past the plastic bottle, without stopping, bending over, or even glancing at them. My mind went blank, until I walked down a street and suddenly realized that a moment ago, I wanted to throw a plastic bottle into the garbage can!

A thought floated in my mind, “Am I really free? Can I do what I want?”

I don’t know!

Perhaps the owner of the bottle was the same as me, able to twist it into the shape he wanted, but unable to put it into the garbage can. At that moment, something happened, or some things happened, intertwined together, with some factors even invisible to the naked eye, entangling each other and preventing him from throwing the plastic bottle into the garbage can. And that wasn’t wrong, because it had already happened.

I got on a bus and, perhaps too lucky, in the past few years, I have rarely encountered a seat except for the starting station. Even if someone gets off the bus during the journey, it is never my turn to sit, and there is always someone waiting for this “rare” opportunity. Over time, I even lost the thought of sitting when boarding the bus.

Today is Sunday, and there are many people on the bus, like tightly packed sardines in a can with no room for more.

There is a man in front of me talking on the phone, he is incessantly talking about his business, as if afraid that no one will hear him.

I can’t quite hear what he is saying, maybe because I’m not interested, and the crowding makes it impossible for me to see what he looks like. I heard the young man next to me sneer, “What’s he pretending for? If he’s so rich, why does he need to take the bus?”

Sitting side by side behind me is an elderly couple in their sixties, and the auntie is also talking on the phone. Her face is smiling brightly like a child, excitedly talking about what vegetables she bought today and saying she will cook her husband’s favorite crispy braised beltfish and rock sugar lotus seeds when he comes back in the evening.

After hearing what the other person said over the phone, her expression quickly turned disappointed, she said a few more words and reluctantly hung up the phone.

The uncle next to her quickly asked, “Is our son coming back tonight?” His tone was somewhat careless, but the expectation in his eyes gave him away.

At this moment, someone coughed, and I couldn’t help but shift my gaze. The reason I looked over was that the cough was obviously fake and deliberately imitated the throat, which made me feel very interested.

The source of the sound was an elderly man in his seventies. Although his body was a bit hunched, his eyes were bright and he looked very energetic. The cough was obviously directed at the young man beside him.

The young man closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, swaying his head slightly back and forth with the bus’s motion. I laughed, thinking he was doing a good job pretending.

Although there was no expression on the old man’s face, the dissatisfaction in his eyes was about to explode.

“Cough!” He coughed heavily again.

The passengers whispered when they saw this, mostly about how this young man had no morals and didn’t know how to respect the elderly.

Finally, the young man couldn’t pretend anymore. He weakly waved his hand and said in a hoarse voice, “Sir, please stop coughing. I haven’t had lunch yet and have taken three buses. I still have to work later. Could you please let me rest for a while? Please !!!”

The passengers were stunned by what they heard and suddenly looked at the old man with strange eyes, as if he was a heinous criminal, without any pity for the young man. They felt justified in their condemnation because the audience is always right.

After the young man finished speaking, he closed his eyes again. The slightly raised corners of his mouth made him look like a victorious general just returned from the battlefield. His face was written with two words: smug satisfaction.

The old man was unable to come up with a response and his face became unpleasant. He turned his head with a heavy snort and walked towards the back of the bus, but he did not bother the young man again. Listening to his heavy breathing, I surmised that his heart was extremely unsettled at that moment. Why did he leave? Perhaps he felt like he had encountered an “impolite monster” that left him breathless.

I held my bag with one hand and tightly grabbed the hanging loop with the other. As I am relatively small in stature and the bus was crowded, after only a moment, I was sweating all over. Fortunately, the distance between each stop was not long, and every now and then I was able to move back a bit, which was a rare blessing!