Sent to the countryside, I turned the health center into a top-tier hospital.

Chen Ping responded with a "goodnight" and hung up the phone.

He put his phone on the bedside table, turned off the light, and lay down on the bed.

The mattress was still the same firmness, the pillow was still the same height, and the blanket still had a faint scent of laundry detergent, just like before.

He turned over to face the wall, where the shadow of the wedding photo was faintly visible in the streetlight outside the window, like a thin outline imprinted on the wall.

He closed his eyes, his breathing gradually calmed down, and after an unknown amount of time, the shadows of the streetlights outside the window moved slowly across the wall. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier until they finally closed little by little.

When Chen Ping woke up the next morning, the sunlight outside the window had already squeezed in through the gap in the curtains, casting a bright spot on the floor.

He squinted at the ceiling for a while before slowly realizing where he was.

The familiar ceiling, the familiar chandelier, even the folds in the curtains were exactly the same as he remembered.

He reached for his phone on the bedside table, turned on the screen, and glanced at it; it was almost nine o'clock.

I slept very soundly, barely even dreaming. It was as if my body had automatically found its most familiar channel, and I completely relaxed the moment my head hit the pillow.

He sat up, rubbed his face, sat on the edge of the bed for a while, then got out of bed, drew back the curtains, and went to the bathroom to wash up.

I looked pretty good in the mirror; the dark circles under my eyes had faded considerably. This was probably the most restful sleep I'd had since I'd stayed at the Siping Township Health Center for so long.

Chen Ping was brushing his teeth and washing his face. He had just started drying his face with a towel when the doorbell rang.

He paused for a moment, wondering who it could be at this time.

He walked to the door and peeked out through the peephole. Su Meng was standing outside, holding two plastic bags, looking down at the ground.

He opened the door, and Su Meng looked up and smiled, lifting the things she was carrying higher: "I just bought these downstairs, steamed buns and millet porridge, your favorite braised pork with scallions. The millet porridge has sugar in it, and it's still hot, eat it while it's hot."

As Su Meng spoke, she walked past him into the house, placed the plastic bag on the coffee table, and took out the items one by one.

The steamed buns were in a paper bag, and the millet porridge was in a disposable bowl. The lid was slightly ajar to let in steam, which escaped and turned white.

"You don't need to buy it up, I can just go down and eat it myself," Chen Ping said somewhat embarrassedly.

"If you go down now, the steamed buns will be all gone." Su Meng said, glancing at Chen Ping. "I came to queue up at seven o'clock to buy the steamed buns, and they're in someone's insulated box now."

"You slept well last night, didn't you? Why are you only waking up at this hour?"

"I slept well. You came so early, why didn't you come up?" Chen Ping said with some guilt.

"I knew you were still half asleep. I came upstairs when I saw you draw back the curtains, so you could sleep a little longer."

"You must not have been sleeping well in Siping Township. Now that you're home, make sure you get some sleep."

As Su Meng spoke, she walked directly into the master bedroom, quickly unfolded and folded the quilt, straightened the pillows, and smoothed out the sheets, her movements very efficient.

Chen Ping stood beside the coffee table watching this scene, still clutching the towel he had used to wipe his hands.

The way Su Meng bent over when folding the quilt, the way her fingers moved when she reached out to straighten the corners of the sheets, and her habit of casually tidying up the magazine on the bedside table—everything was as natural as if she had done it a thousand times.

She is indeed the owner of this house; this home belongs to her, and it is only right that she does these things.

But as Chen Ping stood in the living room looking at her, he suddenly felt as if time had been turned back by something, and it seemed as if nothing had changed.

It seemed like he had just gotten up, and she was tidying up his room. They were going to go to work together soon; he went downstairs to get his car, and she followed behind with her bag.

That moment of distraction prevented him from immediately looking away.

After folding the blankets, Su Meng turned around and glanced at him: "What are you standing there for? Hurry up and eat, it won't taste good if it gets cold."

Chen Ping snapped out of his daze, sat down on the sofa, picked up a steamed bun, took a bite, and found it still warm, with a fragrant meat filling and a soft, fluffy dough.

He lowered his head and took a sip of the porridge. The millet was cooked until thick, with a layer of rice oil floating on top. The temperature was just right, and the sweetness was just right as well.

At this moment, Su Meng came out of the master bedroom, holding the box of expired condoms in her hand.

"This box of condoms is expired. Get a few new boxes from the hospital another day, I..."

Su Meng was stunned before she could finish speaking.

She suddenly remembered that she and Chen Ping had divorced long ago and no longer needed condoms.

Su Meng threw the condom into the trash can, turned around and went into the bathroom, not knowing what she was going to do.

Chen Ping kept his head down, as if he hadn't heard anything.

After breakfast, I collected the plastic bags and threw them into the kitchen trash can.

Su Meng came out of the bathroom. She had just washed her face, but her eyes were a little red, as if she had been crying.

"Where are you going today? I'll drive you. I don't have anything to do today," Su Meng asked.

Chen Ping shook his head: "No need, I have some personal business to take care of, I'll just take a taxi."

Su Meng didn't insist any further, but simply saw him to the door and stood by the door frame watching him enter the elevator.

The moment the elevator doors closed, Chen Ping saw Su Meng's lips move slightly, as if she wanted to say something but then swallowed it back.

The elevator descended, the floor numbers jumping one by one, and he stepped out when it reached the first floor.

When I pushed open the unit door, the sunlight immediately flooded my face, warm and cozy, with the unique brightness of a late autumn morning.

Chen Ping hailed a taxi, gave Cui Ying's address, and the taxi sped off towards Cui Ying's house.

Just after the car had driven a short distance, Chen Ping seemed to suddenly remember Su Meng and hurriedly reached into his pocket, but couldn't find the key.

He paused for a moment, recalling what he had done before leaving the house. He had casually placed his keys on the shoe cabinet in the entryway when he changed his shoes, and then forgot to take them.

The taxis had already driven quite a distance, but Chen Ping didn't ask the driver to turn around. He simply took his hands out of his pockets and put them back on his knees, watching the street scenes outside the window rush past one by one.

Su Meng stood by the front door upstairs, looking at the bunch of keys.

The gray keychain, paired with the old access card, was exactly the same as the one she gave him yesterday.

Su Meng stepped forward, slowly took the key in her hand, her eyes filled with an indescribable expression.

She didn't know whether Chen Ping had deliberately left the key behind or simply forgotten to take it with him.

But no matter what, the key is no longer in Chen Ping's hands, and perhaps from now on, Chen Ping will never return here.

Su Meng looked down at the key in her palm. The metal felt cool to the touch and left a shallow mark on her palm.

She stood there for a long time, the sunlight streaming in through the window and falling on her.

Clutching the key in her hand, a tear slid down Su Meng's cheek and rolled down her face.

Su Meng didn't wipe it away; it just flowed on.