The documentary crew had people from various countries, and meetings were conducted in English. Shao Xue’s exceptional listening skills allowed her to navigate the different heavy accents—whether French or German—with ease. The director’s name was Leon, just like the main character in the movie Léon: The Professional she had watched as a child.
“That’s a very famous French name in China,” she told him.
“And the woman?” he asked.
She thought for a moment. “Sophie, Sophie Marceau.”
Leon gave a dramatic, mock-breathless look. “She was my first love.”
Shao Xue burst into laughter and headed into her room. They were staying in a Black-owned guesthouse in an affluent area of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia’s capital. Flowers bloomed in the courtyard, and vines climbed the fences.
When they first arrived, Shao Xue wasn’t accustomed to the locals’ slow pace. The group had gotten off the bus and stood in front of the small villa, anxiously waiting for the female owner who had promised to meet them. They were joined by a local guide, known as “the bird of Addis Ababa” because he was always on the move. He spoke fluent English and assisted Shao Xue with translation.
The guesthouse was an entire villa, and the crew filled the second floor. The master bedroom on the first floor was occupied by the owner and her daughter. The little girl, eight years old, had her hair styled in two braids and wore colorful dresses. After Shao Xue finished her shower and let her hair down, she sat in the living room to play with the girl. The child asked Shao Xue, “Are you Chinese?”
Shao Xue nodded.
"I like it there." She smiled, revealing a row of white teeth. "I want to study there."
After setting down the toy in her hand, the little girl asked, "Have you ever seen the Northern Lights?"
Surprised by the sudden change in conversation, Shao Xue tilted her head, thinking for a moment.
She had seen the Northern Lights.
It was during a Christmas holiday. Her roommate, tired of seeing her work every day, dragged her to Finland to witness the aurora. Northern countries beyond the Tropic of Cancer felt as distant as the edge of the world. When they arrived, polar night had engulfed Helsinki, and people danced and celebrated in the endless darkness.
The Northern Lights were like a luminous green whip held by the universe, erratically lashing the Earth's atmosphere.
The sight left a deep impression on her mind.
So, she nodded again, "Yes, I’ve seen them."
"You're amazing, going to such faraway places." The little girl looked at her in admiration. "I wish I could be like you."
Despite their different skin tones and appearances, Shao Xue saw a familiar light in the girl’s eyes—a light that reminded her of herself standing before the grand snow-covered Hall of Supreme Harmony, stirring a feeling she couldn’t resist as she reached out and ruffled the girl’s hair.
Through all her stumbling, Shao Xue had grown into someone who embodied another person’s dream.
Leon came downstairs to get some water, catching her playing with the little girl. He ruffled his messy curls and urged, "We have filming tomorrow. Go to bed early."
Shao Xue yawned, nodded, and returned to her room.
The first filming location was the National Museum in Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia.
The museum had its own English-speaking guide. Shao Xue’s skills were mainly needed in situations where no one spoke English, so in regulated tourist spots like this, she didn’t have much to do. Leon’s team pushed their equipment forward, while Shao Xue stood idly by the massive skeletal photograph at the entrance.
The brown fossilized bones formed an incomplete figure. At the bottom of the photo was an inscription with profound meaning: Welcome Home.
The local guide, known as “The Bird,” sidled up to her. "Surprised?"
"What are you doing here?" Shao Xue had gotten to know him over the past week. "Both translators are slacking off."
"The museum has its own guide," Bird said with a smirk. "These museum guides really don’t like us. They think we’re stealing their jobs. I’d rather slip out of their sight."
After understanding the dynamics, Shao Xue turned her attention back to the photograph.
"Why does it say 'Welcome Home'?"
Bird didn’t answer directly. Instead, he asked, "Do you know who this skeleton belonged to?"
The incomplete skull, ribs, and pelvis were all that remained. Shao Xue shook her head, confused.
"Lucy, Australopithecus afarensis, around 3.5 million years old."
Faced with such an ancient relic, Shao Xue couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe.
Bird smirked and asked, "Shall I speak Amharic? You can understand, right?"
"Of course."
And so, a moment later, the native language of this land echoed in Shao Xue’s ears as Bird recounted Lucy’s story.
"Near the capital of Ethiopia lies the Afar Depression. In the summer of 1974, after a long and arduous excavation, the team finally unearthed this oldest human fossil. To celebrate the event, they played The Beatles' Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds all night, thus giving Africa’s Eve a modern name."
"Why call her Africa’s Eve?"
"She was an adult woman who had once borne life. Within her pelvis rested the earliest known womb."
Africa’s Eve. Shao Xue couldn’t help but smile.
Humanity originated in Africa. If this theory holds true, then everyone present—whether European, Asian, African, or from North and South America or Oceania—was distantly related to this skeleton.
In Chinese culture, people emphasize the importance of tracing their roots and honoring their ancestors. Similar sentiments exist abroad, where people take pride in their heritage. It seems natural for people to seek out where they came from, and instinctively pass on what was left to them by the previous generation.
In China, we talk about Nüwa creating humans, and we call ourselves the descendants of Yan and Huang.
Leon, a Christian, believes that God created the world in seven days.
But if we set aside religious beliefs and trace our origins through DNA, could it be that our ancestors really came from the African continent?
From Africa, from Lucy’s womb. 3.5 million years ago, the Earth, and the Afar Depression, were desolate. Amid the sparse or dense wilderness, did Lucy, standing upon the Earth’s arterial pathways, look up at the sky and foresee her descendants’ conflicts and divisions for countless reasons?
Or did she simply cradle her swollen belly, murmuring in a long-forgotten language, “My child, my child.”
You’ve finally returned home.
Shao Xue had been wandering for five years and had not returned home.
As a child, she didn’t understand homesickness and never thought Beijing was all that great. Ancient trees and red walls—scenery she had grown tired of seeing. She wanted to go out, to see the Northern Lights, cathedrals, and everything her hometown didn’t have.
Later, as a drifter, busy with studies and work, she didn’t have time to miss home.
She’d video chat with Yu Dong Ge and like her old friends’ posts on social media. The bond of blood and connection, though suppressed by modern life, remained unbroken, if distant.
She hadn’t expected to feel homesick in a foreign land.
She thought of the heavy snow in the Forbidden City and the long winding alleys. The branches of the apricot trees hung low, burdened by the weight of the fruit, while the parrots and imperial cats screeched desperately beneath the glazed tiles.
She recalled sitting in the backseat of Zheng Su Nian’s car, passing by ancient houses like a gust of wind. She remembered the scent of old plants that lingered on him, how he straightened his back in the warm breeze, allowing her to rest her head against him.
All those grand thoughts about humanity, stirred by the passage of time, gradually faded. In the end, she was just an ordinary person. Three and a half million years felt too distant; she realized how insignificant she truly was.
She had often wondered what made her different from Zheng Su Nian.
She was a difficult person. What she thought in her mind often couldn’t be understood by others, even if she shared it. Like with Zheng Su Nian—she knew something in their personalities didn’t quite align.
He wasn’t accustomed to change.
Whatever he set out to do, he would keep doing, as if engaging in a self-imposed form of suffering to understand life. Whether it was during his school years or later in the restoration studio replicating ancient paintings, he would continue until he reached a state of transcendence, almost like a spiritual practice.
Shao Xue, on the other hand, needed constant change.
She needed to keep wandering, accumulating experiences until she could paint a vast canvas, from which she would find her own sense of meaning. Whether it was the auroras, the Volga River, or the vast plains of Africa, she always pushed herself, in her studies, her work, her travels, trying to escape her previous life.
She used to think they were living their lives differently.
But standing before the Mother of Humanity, she suddenly realized how laughable she had been.
What set her apart from Zheng Su Nian wasn’t the way they lived their lives, but the way they perceived them.
Both of them used the passage of time to perceive life. Zheng Su Nian sensed the flow of time through the unmoving, preserved ancient paintings, while she experienced it through the dancing auroras, the ceaseless rivers, and the vibrant life of Africa.
In the end, their paths led to the same destination.
They measured life in the same way—not by money, not by any worldly standards. Just as Zheng Su Nian had chosen to carry on Jin Ning’s unfinished work instead of pursuing the traditional path of higher education, she had chosen to give up a stable job in favor of this uncertain journey as a translator in Africa.
After years of wandering, she didn’t expect to understand this in such a situation.
The Bird had no idea about her inner conflict. He nudged her and asked, “What’s on your mind?”
Shao Xue smiled. “I was thinking about someone.”
“If you’re thinking about him, why not go find him? It’s a guy, right?”
She thought for a moment and quietly replied, “Too late.”
No one would foolishly wait for her like that.
This love, which had neither a clear beginning nor a proper end, yet ran through her life like a thread, was something she had withdrawn from first.
On Zheng Su Nian's newly installed LCD TV, a cheetah pounced on an antelope grazing by the river. In an instant, the antelope’s hind leg was torn open, blood splattering everywhere.
“What are you watching?” Bai Yun Sheng put down Er Hei, who had just been scolded for scratching the keyboard, and walked over to Zheng Su Nian.
Zheng glanced at the bottom corner of the screen. “Wild Africa.”
“Are you insane? It’s mating season again, huh?”
Zheng Su Nian ignored him and picked Er Hei up onto his lap. “I’ve been wondering why this cat has gotten so fat lately. How are you feeding it? It’s going to end up with high blood pressure and cholesterol.”
“Forget the cat for a second,” Bai Yun Sheng plopped onto the sofa beside him, “How did the blind date your dad set up go?”
“Yesterday’s blind date?” Zheng thought for a moment. “She said I didn’t make enough money.”
Zheng Su Nian didn’t know why his father, Zheng Jin, was in such a hurry. Ever since he turned 25, his father had been nagging about marriage. This year, he finally couldn’t wait any longer and, with the help of some dog-walking grandmothers in the neighborhood, arranged a blind date. The girl clearly hadn’t wanted to be there either. They sat in awkward silence for a while before Zheng said, “Maybe you should just tell your parents I don’t make enough?”
The girl nodded and said, “Then you can tell your dad you think I’m ugly.”
Zheng laughed. “You don’t have to be so harsh.”
“I told you, you should have joined me in business!” Bai Yun Sheng slapped his thigh. “I have a knack for money. If I hadn’t pushed you to buy a house two years ago, do you think you’d ever be able to afford a down payment on your salary with the way prices are now?”
“There you go again.” Zheng shot him a glare.
Bai Yun Sheng's Bai Ji Jewelry had opened two years ago. He had taken Xue Jiang Pan’s advice and targeted high-end clients from the start—mostly older, well-established people. He was skilled at business, and with Xue Jiang Pan’s connections, in just two short years, he had opened stores in both Beijing and Suzhou.
The cities had changed drastically in those two years. Many of his family’s old shops had been demolished or sold. Bai Yun Sheng rode his bike through his hometown and leased a shop in the old district that hadn’t been torn down yet.
The 200-square-meter store was decorated with traditional Chinese charm. Some elderly customers would step inside, burst into tears, and tell their children, “This is exactly how the old Bai Ji used to be!”
Even Zheng Su Nian, who came to witness the grand opening, couldn’t help but be moved by people’s nostalgia for old brands.
Bai Yun Sheng was always traveling on business these days. When he wasn’t around, he would leave Er Hei with Zheng to take care of. Despite seeming carefree about life, Bai Yun Sheng had one flaw—whenever he drank too much, he would start looking for Gu Yun Jin.
After Gu Yun Jin left, he did go to Suzhou to find her, but she was already long gone. The family of Master Chu knew about the situation, only telling him that before she left, Gu Yun Jin had visited Master Chu’s grave. As for where she had gone, even they didn’t know.
In today’s world, it was so easy to find someone—through phones, WeChat, countless online connections. But when someone truly wanted to disappear, they could do it so completely.
Gu Yun Jin had little attachment to this world. She had lived her twenty-something years with only two anchors: Bai Yun Sheng and Master Chu.
And now, she had let both go.
He was down for a while, and when he came back, he was this money-obsessed jerk we see today.
Bai Yun Sheng never gave up the apartment he rented inside the Fifth Ring. Everything was still neatly arranged, and he would go there occasionally to clean. Perhaps he thought that if Gu Yun Jin, who had left with the key, ever wanted to return, she could still unlock the door and come in.
Zheng Su Nian thought this was nothing but wishful thinking.
In any case, Bai Yun Sheng now—young, handsome, with a bright future—had truly earned the title of "Boss Bai."
“Why don’t you take your Er Hei and get out of my place? I’m tired of cleaning up all its fur.”
Zhou Siyuan's apricots were ripening this season.
The apricot tree grew lush and full, with branches practically overflowing past the courtyard wall. During his lunch break, Zheng Su Nian stood by, holding a plastic bowl, watching a group of young newcomers jumping around to knock down the apricots, while following Zhou Siyuan, asking for some fruit.
“Do you want some?”
“It’s for Teacher Shi.”
“I knew it.”
Zhou Siyuan selected a few good ones for Zheng Su Nian, while Fu Qiao Mu was outside with Zhou Yan Xi. Bringing their child to work wasn’t easy, but whenever the grandparents had something to do, Zhou Yan Xi would end up at the office with them. The little rascal, now at an age where he could tell whom he could mess with, knew Zheng Su Nian had a soft spot for him. Covered in watercolor, he ran over to smear it on Zheng Su Nian’s clothes.
“You’re so annoying!” Fu Qiao Mu scolded, poking the boy’s forehead. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I want Uncle Zheng to buy me an ice cream!”
Zheng Su Nian grabbed him with one hand and lifted him. “Let’s go.”
Zheng Jin poked his head out from behind. “Su Nian, we’re out of shampoo at home. Could you pick up a bottle while you’re at it?”
“Sure!” Zheng Su Nian yelled back, his voice booming as Zhou Yan Xi ruffled his already-messy hair.
The height of summer had turned the ground in front of the Xi San Courtyard into a mess of fallen apricots. Ants industriously carried away the rotting fruit, forming a winding trail across the stone tiles. Holding Zhou Yan Xi, Zheng Su Nian carefully avoided stepping on the ants as he crossed the courtyard, which made the boy’s speech come out in fits and starts.
“Uncle Zheng... I... like... a girl... in my class.”
“Oh?” feigning great interest, Zheng Su Nian stopped dodging around so much. “Tell me more.”
“She’s always bothering me,” Zhou Yan Xi whispered into his ear, “and I like her too, but next year we’ll be in different classes when we move up, and we’ll be separated.”
So young, yet already understanding the pain of parting.
The convenience store wasn’t far. After buying the ice cream, Zhou Yan Xi clung to his leg as they wandered into the toiletries aisle. Zheng Su Nian hesitated between several bottles of shampoo.
Zhou Yan Xi could only reach the bottom shelf, so when he started sniffing through all the options, Zheng Su Nian didn’t pay much attention—he wasn’t in the mood to bend down. After smelling each one, the boy pulled on Zheng Su Nian’s hand. “Let’s buy this one.”
“Why?” Zheng Su Nian asked.
“This one smells nice.”
Curious, Zheng Su Nian squatted down, took the bottle from the boy, and smelled it himself.
Then, he sniffed it again.
Zhou Yan Xi, clueless, tugged on his arm. “Why aren’t we leaving?”
Zheng Su Nian ruffled the boy’s hair. “Anything else you want to eat?”
The little one, puzzled, responded, “Huh? Did I do something good?”
“Chips? Candy? Cookies? Seaweed?”
“I want all of it!”
“Alright, we’ll buy it all.”
With an excited shout, Zhou Yan Xi threw himself headfirst into the snack aisle.
How many years had it been since then?
The hum of the hairdryer filled the air, interspersed with Zheng Su Nian’s voice.
“What kind of shampoo is this?”
“Smells nice, right? I’ll show you when I get home.”
“No need. I was just asking.”
…
It really did smell nice.
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