Chapter 5: Wet Stairs

It rained on the second Monday.

Tong Yu was at the hospital gate at 6:25 with an umbrella he was not allowed to give away.

Han Zhiyuan owned no umbrella.

In March he had handed his only one to a night nurse who was crying at the bus stop.

He had walked home in the downpour with his coat over his head.

Tong Yu had watched him do it from the shelter across the road.

He had not told anyone, and he had been planning for seven months what to do on the next wet Monday.

At 6:31 a tall figure in a grey coat came round the corner of the road with his collar turned up.

He walked straight into the gateway and saw the umbrella, and stopped.

"Dr Tong," said Han. "What did I say?"

"You said nothing carried to you, Director. I'm not carrying it to you. I'm carrying it to the building, and you're going the same way."

"That is a distinction without a difference."

"It's a very small one," said Tong Yu. "But it's raining."

Han looked at the sky, which gave him no help.

He fell into step beside him, under the black nylon dome, and said nothing for the length of the car park.

Tong Yu held the handle in his left hand.

In his right was a paper cup of tea that he had bought for himself.

He walked a careful six inches away from the man.

It was the closest he had ever been to him.

At the east entrance Han held the door.

"The lift is slow," he said.

"I know, Director. You take the stairs on Mondays."

"Then you may go up by the lift."

"I'll take the stairs," said Tong Yu.

Han gave him a look that was clearly meant to end the conversation, and began to climb.

Tong Yu followed one flight behind, as a polite junior should.

The stairs were wet from a hundred people's shoes, and on the fifth-floor landing his left foot went out from under him.

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