I went swimming alone that evening. The sky was getting dark, and a strong wind was rising. The few people in the water were making their way back to shore, while I headed out to sea. There was nothing out there, I knew, but I wanted to see for myself. Just like a few years ago, when my dad took me to the park and insisted on reaching the other side of the lake. Waves pushed me farther and farther out, but I struggled back on course. The water was so cold I could feel my bones creak, and my legs grew numb. My movements slowed. I tried closing my eyes and sinking into my breathing, which I could feel was getting ragged. Night descended over the ocean and the stars winked out. I waited for a bigger wave to engulf me, for saltwater to pour down my throat. My fear vanished, my consciousness faded.

From somewhere I couldn’t see, a ship’s horn sounded, like a plaintive voice in my ear, like a summons. It went on a long time, getting closer, a lifeline flung at me from a great height. I thrashed my way to the surface and caught hold of it. Swimming in circles, I realized I had no idea which way the shore was. Swinging my arms as hard as I could, I propelled myself through the water. My strength was ebbing, and I was losing sensation. I might shut down at any moment, but still I kept going. When I finally found the beach, my body felt like it was falling apart. I lay motionless on the sand.

That September, I left for Beijing. The city had expanded since my last trip there, and the roads were wider than before. Despite the changes, it still felt familiar. My father’s departure had solidified my connection with this place. I’m back at last, I said to myself. Even after eighteen years in Jinan, Beijing still felt more like my hometown.

A classmate from high school became Yin Zheng’s student and would often bring me news about him. In our third year of college, she told me Yin Zheng had gotten close to a girl in his class. The girl’s mother had come to the school and caused such a ruckus, everyone in the department knew what had happened. Yin Zheng didn’t show up the following semester, and the rumor was that he’d been transferred out. Was the girl pretty? The most vulgar question, and still I asked it. So-so, said my classmate. He was infatuated with her.