In the wee hours in Boston, it was freezing, and the vast night sky seemed quite still. There were a few lonely stars that looked a little cold and cheerless too.
Han Yifeng was in his pajamas as he stood by the balcony railing. There was half a cigarette that had just been lit up between his fingertips. He watched silently at his phone dimmed. After a while, he sighed and tossed his phone onto the table.
How long had it been? He seemed to have forgotten how long ago he had left that city.
A month or two? Half a year? Or was it one year?
Still, many things seemed to feel as if they just happened yesterday.
His work on this end was almost stable now. He just had to move back and forth San Francisco and Boston often. Since his son, Han Zhexuan, had grown up a bit more now, he knew how to walk and could even call him 'Father'. His grandparents also frequently flew to San Francisco to see their grandson.
