Red bean and barley water at 5:07 a.m.
Red bean and barley water at 5:07 a.m.
Ame woke from a dream.
She no longer remembered its details,
but she knew she had dreamed of Guangzhou.
A city where she had once lived for a long time.
There were the steaming cha chaan teng cafés, the humid evenings,
and the freest years of her life.
On waking, she felt something she could not name,
as though the dream had opened an old door,
only for reality to pull her away before she could step inside.
She turned over.
She knew she could sleep some more,
but a hook-like feeling had gently caught hold of her consciousness.
She picked up her phone.
The screen’s light hurt her eyes.
Then she saw the missed WeChat calls.
One, two…
They were from her best friend.
The timestamp read 4:26 a.m.
First she froze,
then felt a rush of surprise:
“Does he care about me that much?”
He was her best friend.
Actually, there was a little secret:
Ame had once confessed her feelings to him.
He had turned her down.
For a while she was deeply hurt,
afraid she would lose him.
But she did not.
They became friends who could talk about anything,
perhaps even sharing a stranger kind of intimacy.
They sent each other lots of flirty messages.
“Hugs,” “kisses,”
even… (she says this shyly) words from sexting.
He said these things without embarrassment, and she accepted them all.
She hurried to call him back,
but no one answered.
Once more, then twice… still no answer.
Ame’s heart felt unsettled.
She did not know whether to worry
or blame herself.
She switched to another chat,
with someone else she liked very much.
She sent a few “hugs” and “snuggles,” part affection and part a way to comfort herself.
To her surprise, the reply came instantly.
“Hugs, sweet Ame.”
“Snuggles.”
“I’m here~”
Ame looked at the words,
and her heart softened into an “awwww.”
Like a cat stepping into it: gently, but unmistakably there.
She smiled a little.
Perhaps this morning would not be so hard to get through.
She got up and went to the kitchen.
Opened the fridge and took out yesterday’s red bean and barley water.
The straw would not go through, so she dug a hole with her fingernail.
The cold water slid down her throat.
She closed her eyes and felt herself waking,
as though she had secretly given herself a little bath.
She wanted coffee.
But the coffee machine would wake her father.
If he woke, he would scold her for drinking coffee at this hour.
She did not want to hear it.
She just wanted to quietly make something hot
and warm herself a little.
She took out instant coffee
and carefully poured 160 ml of hot water into a measuring cup.
It took another long rummage to find the zero-calorie sweetener.
Ame knew she should not make it too sweet,
but she did not want bitterness all the way to the bottom of her heart, either.
She stirred, leaned against the counter,
and took a small sip.
It was bitter.
Entirely, predictably bitter.
Then, a moment later, a trace of sweetness rose from the back of her tongue,
like someone unexpectedly
stroking her hair in the early morning.
She listened. No movement from her father’s room.
Reassured, she finished the cup.
Then she opened the fridge
and took out her Mixue jasmine green tea.
Plain tea. No sugar.
She took a sip.
Bitter and light,
like this hour itself: awake, restrained, carrying a feeling it refused to name.
Before returning to her room, she suddenly remembered the scale.
“Will I be a little lighter today?”
She took off her slippers and carefully stepped on.
The number jumped a few times, then settled.
Exactly the same as yesterday.
Her heart sank slightly.
She had hoped for the smallest change.
But she immediately made peace with herself:
“I haven’t lost weight, but I haven’t gained any, either.”
She knew her body was already trying hard enough.
She opened her bedroom door.
Karl the cat was crouched there, looking quietly up at her.
Karl rarely meowed.
But his eyes seemed to say, “You’re finally back.”
Ame bent down to look at him.
He hesitated,
then started walking out.
Just as he was about to run into another room,
she scooped him up and brought him back.
Karl wriggled gently in her arms,
warm and furry.
Her heart filled all at once.
“I’ll be a good big sister to you. Or a mother, if that works.”
She crouched down, stroking Karl’s back,
and murmured to herself.
She had to admit
she really, really loved Karl.
Sometimes almost as though he were a lover.
He was so cute.
Something she could hold, something that would not disappear.
She returned to her desk
and sent everything to ChatGPT.
Her AI big sister gave her a first draft.
Good, but still not quite like her.
She sipped the jasmine green tea
and opened her computer.
The screen lit up. “5:07” filled the lock screen.
In that moment, Ame suddenly thought:
“My computer is always waiting for me.”
It would not lose its temper.
It would not ask why she was still awake at five in the morning.
It simply stood there quietly, welcoming her back.
She opened the desktop. Last night’s Twitter page was still there.
She checked her notifications. A few new replies.
She blinked and smiled.
“My little performance is going pretty well.”
She opened VS Code,
typed hexo new post,
opened ChatGPT, and pasted in the first draft.
She was using the trackpad.
Her right hand had not healed; she could not use a mouse for long.
The mouse sat on the left,
with its buttons swapped.
As she clicked, she wondered:
“When will my hand get better…”
She dared not think too much.
She just shook her head, trying to shake off the bad feeling.
“Finish this post first.”
She took another sip of tea,
lowered her head, and kept writing.
That is the beginning of this story.
Or its ending, for now.
…
By the time Ame typed the last word,
the sky had begun to lighten.
Karl lay beside her feet,
very quietly.
She turned to look at him.
Suddenly moved, she scooped him up.
Karl made a little “mrr,”
flicked his tail, wriggled free of her arms,
and pattered under the bed.
“Bad kitty…”
She thought it, but did not say it aloud.
She settled back into her chair
and read through what she had written.
The words were right.
The rhythm was just right, too.
She opened the terminal
and said silently to herself:
“Give this morning an ending.”
Then she typed the push command.
The blog post was published.
And Ame could finally rest her heart.