4. Morning Run
No matter how late she went to bed last night, Tang Yiyi woke up promptly at six in the morning—her long-standing biological clock was not easily changed.
She stretched lazily in bed; it was her first morning waking in a new place, yet she felt remarkably at ease. Jumping out of bed, she did a few stretches at the bedside before heading into the bathroom to wash up. Once she was ready, she laced up her running shoes, opened the door, and stepped out onto the terrace.
The weather was lovely. The dawn light filtered through the clouds, bringing vitality to half the sky. Tang Yiyi took several deep breaths on the terrace, inhaling the morning mist scented with flowers deep into her lungs.
She powered on her phone, and a cascade of notification chimes sounded. Among the flood of news and advertisements, there was a new message from Wang Yufeng: “As long as you’re happy.” That message left her feeling both comforted and a little lost.
Lifting her eyes to the sky, she tucked her phone into her waist pouch and walked to the terrace railing. Using her hands to brace herself, she did several half push-ups. She was about to head downstairs when she saw a tall man step out onto the neighboring second-floor terrace.
As he walked, he stripped off his shirt, revealing broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and arms with taut, well-defined muscles—he looked powerful and strong. The second-floor terrace had a work counter and a sink. He bent over the sink and washed his head and face directly under the tap. Standing up, water streamed from his neck down his back, a few droplets tracing the line of his spine before disappearing quickly into his waistband.
Like a puppy, he shook the water from his hair, then grabbed a towel from an iron rack nearby to dry his face. As if sensing something, his hand suddenly paused; he jerked his head up to look sharply in Tang Yiyi’s direction.
Startled, Tang Yiyi spun around and dashed downstairs, pressing a hand to her chest as she muttered, “Such a sensitive man.”
When she entered the living room, Mrs. Xu was in the kitchen making porridge. Seeing Tang Yiyi, she looked a bit surprised. “You’re up so early?”
“Good morning, Auntie. I always get up at six; it’s a habit. Yesterday my aunt told me if I go out and turn right, I’ll reach the riverside path. I thought I’d go for a run.”
“Go ahead then. Breakfast is at seven. Keep an eye on the time and don’t run too far. If you get lost, remember, we’re in Magnolia Lane, all right?”
“Yes, I’ll remember.”
She let herself out the side door, closed it behind her, and paused to get her bearings. Yesterday she had entered the lane from the direction of the magnolia trees—the busy district was that way. Now she headed in the opposite direction, toward the river, which was also where the neighboring courtyard must be.
Looking up, she saw a sign over the neighboring storefront: Qin’s Pork Trotter Noodle Shop. So this was the noodle shop her aunt had mentioned yesterday. Odd—it was breakfast time but the shop was closed.
Breakfast in Yicheng was usually noodles, especially a dry-mixed variety called “Ran Noodles,” beloved by almost everyone. Because of this passion for noodles, Yicheng, though in the southwest, had developed dozens of different noodle flavors—fatty intestine noodles, mushroom noodles, fresh chili beef noodles, pea noodles, eel noodles, and more.
What set these noodles apart was not that they were dry or hand-pulled, but that they were made by machine into a type called “water leaf noodles,” alkaline noodles. Why they were called “water leaf noodles,” she had no idea.
Without dwelling on it, Tang Yiyi headed straight for the riverbank.
She had started morning runs in the ninth grade and had kept up the routine ever since—not out of obligation, but because she loved running and the morning air.
Later, she read an article stating that scientific research had found that after exercise, the body produces a substance called dopamine—the very same that the body creates when in love, which is why exercise brings such pleasure to both body and mind. After reading it, she had only one question: what do scientists do all day?
At six, Magnolia Lane was fresh and clean, nearly deserted. The shops lining both sides—teahouses, bakeries, barbershops, fruit stands—were all still closed, but it was remarkable how much was crammed into that little street.
Exiting the lane and crossing the street, it was just a short descent to the riverside trail, surfaced with rubber for running. There were few runners. As she jogged, Tang Yiyi glanced around, taking in the riverside scenery.
Yicheng, set in the southwest, was lush with greenery year-round and beautiful landscapes. The Yangtze River ran right through the heart of the city, surging onward—this was why, as Xu Bin had boasted yesterday, Yicheng would never lack water. Once she was familiar with her surroundings, she began to recite herbal formulas.
Since the second month of her studies at the College of Traditional Chinese Medicine, she had made a habit of reciting formulas during her morning runs. University exams required memorizing over four hundred formulas, but after several years, she had memorized nearly a thousand.
When Professor Huang first began teaching, he’d said, “To cure illness with Chinese medicine, you must have an order—principle, method, formula, and herbs. Principle means diagnosis; once you’re accurate, you can determine the right treatment. Once you have the treatment, you must choose the right formula. If the formula doesn’t match the diagnosis, you won’t cure the patient. And the only way to master formulas is through memorization. There is no shortcut.”
When her pedometer approached five thousand steps, she turned back, knowing ten thousand steps a day would meet her goal.
Returning to the lane, she saw the Sisters’ Hair Salon opening for business. A young woman with a wild head of hair yawned and, catching sight of Tang Yiyi, nodded at her with friendly curiosity. Tang Yiyi smiled and jogged on, spotting Xu Bin in the distance, looking haggard as he leaned against the clinic’s door frame, smoking a cigarette.