"That day, he said a lot of things to me — things he'd never said before."
"The person you're talking about... is he still in this building?"
"He moved out. He hasn't come back for a very long time."
"Would you like to see him one more time?" Chen Ge gently tugged at the hem of his coat. "I think you probably have a lot you'd want to say to him. After all, he's the one who left you freezing cold, unable to feel any warmth."
"I..."
"It's all right. I'll help you. I promise I will." Chen Ge braced himself against the wall and slowly stood up. "If he hasn't left Hanjiang, within one week I'll bring him to you. After you've seen him, I can take you somewhere much warmer."
The woman didn't answer, and Chen Ge didn't press her. "Now I have one more reason to stay alive. Keep the coat — I'll come back."
He took a step forward, about to continue upward, when the woman's voice rang out behind him once more: "Don't go any further. You won't be able to come back."
"Won't be able to come back? Why?"
"Because above the thirteenth floor is the fourteenth floor."
A coat was pushed into Chen Ge's hands, and the chill and dampness slowly began to fade.
"What was she trying to tell me?" Chen Ge gripped the coat tightly. "The residential buildings in Jiangyuan Community don't have a fourteenth floor — above the thirteenth floor should be the fifteenth floor. But she said above the thirteenth floor is the fourteenth floor. Does that mean the fourteenth floor actually exists?"
He had already come this far. Chen Ge wasn't going to retreat. He knew he was close to the truth.
Silently counting the steps in his mind, Chen Ge arrived at the thirteenth floor. It was quiet here, just like an ordinary apartment building hallway — nothing out of the ordinary.
He continued onward toward the fourteenth floor. Halfway up, his nose twitched. He caught the scent of freshly cooked food.
He couldn't tell what it was made from or what dish it was, but his brain seemed to identify the aroma in an instant, as if it were branded deep in his memory.
"It's drifting down from the fourteenth floor. Someone's cooking?"
Step by step, he climbed upward. Whether from physical exhaustion or mental fatigue, Chen Ge felt as though the staircase between the thirteenth and fourteenth floors was extraordinarily long.
The number of steps was the same as any other floor. The number of times he lifted his leg was the same. Yet it took far more time.
When his fingertips brushed the wall, the once-smooth surface revealed cracked, peeling paint. The hallway also seemed to be cluttered with a great many miscellaneous objects.
Everything around him gave Chen Ge a feeling that was simultaneously familiar and foreign.
He repeated the motions of lifting and placing his feet like an automaton, following that aroma of food, and finally arrived at the fourteenth floor.
The moment he steadied himself, the sound of a door hinge turning echoed down the corridor — a clattering, rattling noise — and an iron door swung open. Then a man's voice called out from deep within the hallway:
"Chen Ge, you're home?"
The instant he heard that voice, Chen Ge's mind went blank. He whipped around to face the corridor.
He had heard this man's voice for over twenty years. "You're home" — he had lost count of how many times he'd heard those words growing up.
He had engraved that voice deep in his heart, carved it into his very bones.
"Dinner's ready. You just came up the stairs and your mother already heard your footsteps."
His nails dug into his flesh. Chen Ge slowly raised his arm and grasped the black cloth blindfolding his eyes.
He wanted to look. He had never wanted to open his eyes so badly in his life.
His grip on the black cloth grew tighter and tighter, and dark blue-green veins rose to the surface of his hand.