013 Fleeting Encounters, Lasting Traces

With a foundation of hopeful anticipation, the sense of loss felt all the more profound. On this clear, bright day, a sudden weight seemed to settle heavily in the air, making even each breath feel long and burdensome.

I quietly drew a deep breath and took my seat in the front row as usual. Midway through the lesson, when the teacher called on a few students to answer questions, I seized the chance to subtly turn my head, pretending to listen while my eyes kept flickering toward the seat beside Ayoub.

As always, it remained empty and deserted.

Yet, what was I truly hoping for?

Our interactions were thin and fleeting, our connection shallow and trace-less. In this unfamiliar city, there was nothing here truly worth my longing.

The teacher assigned the seminar topic, but our trio was reduced to just two. We moved to the library, where I watched Ayoub distractedly fiddle with his phone; neither of us had the slightest intention of engaging in any discussion.

Pushing the materials aside, I spoke plainly, “You can’t leave all the work to me. You and Musa have to take on some of it.”

Only then did Ayoub put down his phone. He showed no frustration, nor did he respond directly. Instead, he smiled and said, “Musa’s been really busy lately, barely has any free time. See, he hasn’t even been attending classes.”

“What’s keeping him so busy?” I had been wondering about this for some time.

Ayoub blinked and smiled mysteriously, “Well, you’ll find out soon enough.”

With that, I felt it was best not to press further. Seeing Ayoub so cheerfully amused, it probably wasn’t anything bad. Since there was nothing really worth worrying over, knowing that Musa was fine at least spared me from needless thoughts.

The discussion was effectively over before it even began. I had already known Ayoub was just here to coast through and that Musa, busy as he was, left the seminar presentation ultimately to me.

This thought brought a pang of melancholy. Being alone in a foreign land was hard enough; now I had to carry the burden of coursework for both of them.

No sooner had I stepped out of the library than my phone rang—Yin Qianyan calling at just the right moment. Sliding to answer, I heard her mention a gathering.

“You newcomers have about a week here. We’re planning a reunion for the Chinese new and old students. Everyone’s come to Dubai through the four-year program, so this is a chance to get to know each other.”

I was eager to find a sense of belonging and thought it a wonderful idea, promptly agreeing. Then I asked, “Where will it be held? Do you have a place?”

“The boys’ dorms strictly forbid girls, so we can’t go there. But the hotel has no such rules, and the suite is spacious enough, so we’ll hold it in my room. It won’t be many people, more like a family gathering.”

“Do you need me to do anything?”

Yin Qianyan thought for a moment and then assigned a task: “You and Lian Pian should go buy ingredients. It’s best to go to Dragon City; other places might not have everything. Our seniors haven’t had Chinese food in ages and really miss it.”

She listed a variety of dishes, which I noted down carefully. On the day of the gathering, Lian Pian and I went to Dragon City to shop. Meat and vegetables were easy to find, but the real challenge was tracking down scallions, ginger, garlic, vinegar, cooking wine, and a whole series of Chinese seasonings. After wandering through much of Dragon City, we finally gathered all the ingredients.

The trip was exhausting. To avoid such a long and arduous journey next time, I bought extra ingredients and stored them in the mini-fridge in the hotel suite. That way, if the craving for Chinese food struck again soon, I wouldn’t have to sweat and toil all over town once more.