Autumn moved through the university's tree-lined paths like a book whose pages turned on their own.The trees released dry leaves into the wind, and the students seemed to walk among fragments of time.
Wen Zhaonan crossed the campus with steady steps. His arm no longer hurt, and the cane—now used only for safety—sounded less like support and more like a mark of presence. That morning's class had been calm: attentive students, direct questions, curious eyes. But something lingered with him, even after he turned off the projector and gathered his slides.
Reaching Block C, he stopped in front of room 203 and knocked twice on the wooden door.
— Come in — came a muffled voice from inside.
Professor Lin was hunched over the desk, surrounded by papers, charts, and a forgotten mug of cold coffee. Wen entered unhurriedly, leaning his cane with his usual care.
— I brought this — he said, placing a small folder on the desk.
— Report from the last practical activity.
— Thank you.
— Lin glanced at him quickly before turning back to the papers.
— Ah, about the girl… Yue. Nurse Xiaoqing mentioned her to me earlier today.
Wen nodded, resting against the edge of the bookcase.
— She was placed yesterday… in the same orphanage where I grew up.
Lin stopped writing.
— Are you sure?
— I am. I spoke to the coordinator. She's someone who's been there since my time. Discreet but firm. I've already arranged books, school supplies. The basics.
Lin set the pen down.
— You never talk about that.
Wen was silent for a few moments, eyes turned toward the window.
— There's not much to say. But… some things you just feel. And act on.
Lin nodded, serious.
But before the mood could grow too heavy, Wen picked up a random folder from the shelf, leafed through it for a second — and, with a sharper look than usual, said:
— Speaking of acting… and you? Will you keep pretending you don't notice Xiaoqing calling you "Professor Lin" in that way only she does?
Lin looked up, caught between surprise and shock.
— Are you teasing me?
Wen raised an eyebrow.
— Just observing. She challenges all your protocols. You hide behind spreadsheets. It's an interesting balance.
Lin laughed nervously.
— She scares me.
— And you need someone to scare you once in a while — Wen said, turning back to the papers as if he hadn't said anything remarkable.
— Never thought I'd hear that from you.
— Neither did I — he replied, almost smiling.
— But we change.
The silence that followed was brief, light.
Wen took his cane, gave a slight nod, and headed to the door.
— See you tomorrow, Lin.
— See you… Wen.
And when the door closed, Lin was still staring at the same spot, a faint flush on his ears — and the name "Xiaoqing" circling stubbornly in his mind.
After the conversation with Lin, Wen went up to the third floor of the science building.The corridors were already quiet at that late afternoon hour. A few leaves had drifted in through the half-open window, resting near the door to his office.
He turned on his laptop.Checked notifications from the academic system, reminders from the coordination office, and a new highlighted message from the student committee of the Biomedical Science program.
Subject: Academic Week – Closing Lecture Invitation
He opened it.
Professor Wen,
The Organizing Committee of the Interdisciplinary Academic Week of Health and Applied Research would like to invite you to give the closing lecture of this semester's event.
Your academic trajectory and role as an educator were unanimously remembered by students as a source of inspiration.
We believe you can share a unique perspective on how science translates into listening, sensitivity, and responsibility.
The lecture will take place next Friday, at 6 p.m., in the university's main auditorium.
It will be an honor to have you with us.
— Student Committee, School of Medicine
Wen read the email to the end. Then he rested his fingers on the keyboard, silent.
He was not one to hesitate over academic events. But there was something about this invitation — and that theme — that demanded more than data and slides. It required presence. Memory. Truth.
And for that reason, he knew immediately whom he wanted to invite.
He clicked on "new message."
Yuyan,
I've been invited to close the Interdisciplinary Academic Week of Health and Applied Research next Friday, at 6 p.m., in the university auditorium.
I know the days have been long, but…If you can — and want — to attend, it would be an honor to have you there.
Afterwards, if you're free, I thought of having dinner out. Nothing formal. Just a quiet conversation, like the one at the tea house.
No rush.— Wen
He closed the laptop.Leant lightly on the cane.And finally, looked at the sky in silence.
The season didn't wait for anyone.But sometimes…A small gesture opened a path among the dry branches.
And it was there, in the middle of autumn, that certain stories began to bloom.