第七章 小暑之前
Chapter Seven: Before the Summer Heat
In the coastal city, the morning air carried a tang of salt. Across from the port's administrative offices, the glass curtain walls of the high-rises reflected a hazy line where the sea met the sky. Dawn had yet to break, but the wind was already rising, as if somewhere in the distance someone was flipping through the pages of old unread letters.
Lin Mian followed behind Lu Yuan through the corridor, her footsteps falling in arches of light and shadow. On either side were other people walking just as silently. Dressed in suits and wearing security badges—interpreters, visa assistants, window mediators—they moved among each other, every one of them deliberately quiet so as not to draw attention.
She wasn't even sure what category her current status fell under.
"First time in this border building?" Lu Yuan asked over his shoulder. He wasn't wearing a uniform—just a crisp white shirt under a dark blue jacket, looking for all the world like an ordinary port coordinator.
Lin Mian nodded.
"Then step on it. The Review Department's elevators love to shut their doors right on the dot."
They stepped into the west-side commuter building, a seventeen-story tower with a gray-white facade and sparse, no-nonsense decor. Every two floors had its own security checkpoint and a translator observation room. In the central atrium, several flags hung overhead—yet none of them bore the symbol of any nation.
Lin Mian remembered buildings like this from when she worked on the "other side."
She had once translated the blueprints for this very place.
And now she found herself listed as the blueprint's nameless "registrant."
"Today, you'll accompany me to the temporary visa office on the third floor," Lu Yuan said, hooking an access pass around her neck. "I haven't finished translating some documents, so I need you to help me out in a pinch."
She lowered her eyes to the badge. It was a gray card stamped with the Foreign Affairs Bureau's emblem, and its label read: Special Temp Access – Accompanying Interpreter.
"…So I'm a last-minute hire?" she asked softly.
"Scared?" he challenged.
She shook her head. "No badge, no rights."
Lu Yuan burst out laughing. "Well, at least you're self-aware."
The elevator arrived at the third floor. When the doors opened, they stepped out into a fully enclosed glass hallway. On either side, rows of visa interview rooms stood separated by heavy blast-proof doors. The air carried a faint scent of ink mixed with coffee, undercut by the low hum of the air conditioning.
He led Lin Mian to Room B3. Inside, an elderly man with silver hair was waiting, accompanied by a woman around thirty who looked to be an interpreter.
The handoff was simple and orderly. After a few polite exchanges, Lu Yuan stepped back a few paces and motioned for Lin Mian to take the interpreter's seat.
Lin Mian sat down and opened the file. The first thing she saw was a port entry extension application, accompanied by a medical authorization form.
"Identity, kinship, reason for stay—if all three check out, they'll approve it today," Lu Yuan explained in a low voice from just behind her.
Lin Mian nodded and began double-checking the linguistic details with the original interpreter. Her movements were calm and methodical, her tone measured and unhurried—like a long-unused blade that was still razor sharp.
The entire interview took less than fifteen minutes, and both the interpretation and the record were error-free. Before leaving, the old man nodded to her in thanks; Lin Mian returned the gesture graciously, then rose and headed on to the next room.
It wasn't until she exited the corridor that she realized Lu Yuan's jacket was still draped over her shoulders.
"That look in your eyes is as cold as bulletproof glass," he quipped at her side. "I was worried the visa officer might mistake you for someone defecting rather than an interpreter."
Lin Mian didn't respond, only silently unbuttoned the jacket.
"You're a lot quieter now than when I first met you in the daylight," Lu Yuan continued.
"In the light of day, it's easy to let fear show," she said evenly.
"But you're not afraid of the dark, either."
She stopped in her tracks and looked at him.
"What is it?" He tilted his head with a smile.
"Do you always have such a way with words?"
"I'm wondering if you are always this good at not answering," he retorted with a shrug. "You're not a local, are you?"
"Let's just say I drifted here."
"Drifted from where?"
Lin Mian didn't answer.
Lu Yuan didn't press. He turned to gaze out the window at the port's cranes slowly moving against the sky, like a silent clock.
"Have you thought about what comes next?" he asked suddenly.
"What comes next?"
"If you're fine staying on as an interpreter in custody, that's the easiest path. But if you have plans to go elsewhere, you'll need to start paving the way now."
Lin Mian fell quiet for a few seconds.
"You're right," she said softly.
"Then how about I get you a bus pass?" he teased.
Lin Mian let out a small laugh.
They headed into the coffee area on the other side of the building. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, they could see the port's ship docking zone. A pathway marked with red and white stripes stretched from the harbor all the way into the building's foundation, like a long, thin wound.
"When you're not afraid of the light anymore, I'll take you out through there," Lu Yuan suddenly said.
"It's not the light I'm afraid of," Lin Mian whispered. "It's that once I walk out, I won't know who I am."
He looked at her and didn't laugh.
For some reason, Lin Mian suddenly thought of Qin Zhao'an—the official who always wore black-rimmed glasses and rarely spoke.
He never asked who she was, either, yet the light in his eyes always made it seem as if he already knew her name.
That afternoon, they were abruptly assigned to process an expedited visa waiver application.
The applicant was a port liaison officer for a multinational supply chain company. A sudden scheduling snafu meant he needed a short-term pass ahead of time. The documents were detailed and filled with specialized jargon, making it a challenging translation.
Lin Mian got to work first, organizing a glossary of terms, while Lu Yuan contacted the clearance team to verify data. The two of them sat side by side at a long table in the pre-screening office—occasionally exchanging notes, and at other times quietly focusing on the computer screen.
"The way you translated 'limited review waiver' just now was pretty good," Lu Yuan murmured.
Without looking at him, Lin Mian only nodded.
"Your annotations were on point too—nothing like a newbie's," he added.
"I'm not," she said simply.
He gave a quiet laugh.
By the time they finished the last page, they set their pens down in unison. Three copies of the vetted document lay neatly stacked on the table. Sunlight slanted into the office, falling in a strip between them.
In that moment, Lin Mian realized there was already a kind of unspoken understanding between them—one that required no words.
It felt like the days before the summer heat: summer not yet in full bloom, the heat not yet at its peak, but the wind already carried the first stirrings of cicada song.
Everything was still shallow; everything would deepen.