Clack-clack, clack-clack—the wheel spins the chain, the chain spins the hub, and amid the steady tick-tick of rolling beads, a little bike zips through the city streets and alleyways.
Sophia sat sideways on the back seat, her left arm around Adam's waist, her right hand tucked in her pocket. Calm as ever, she said, "I've said it a million times, but let me say it again—this thing is called a bicycle, or a pedal bike, not just 'a car.'"
Up front, Adam pumped the pedals with all his might, working up the hill. He panted but answered smoothly, "Parking is a nightmare these days, so I leave the fancy cars at home. This one's way more convenient. For getting around, you don't always need a Rolls-Royce, right?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"Don't sound so perfunctory!"
Sophia hugged Adam's waist from behind, feeling his taut abs—the surge of life force pulsing right into her palm. She gave his thigh a friendly slap, "How's your knee holding up?"
"With Doctor Sophia on the case, of course it's all healed up."
They crested the hill at last. Adam huffed and puffed, then gave a mighty push, sending them flying down the slope. Whoosh—early summer evening wind brushed past, bringing a cool breath.
Sophia watched Adam's sweat-soaked back, her right hand quietly tightening in her pocket. Something cool and hard was pressed in her palm. Suddenly, Sophia spoke up: "I got paid."
"Oh." Adam didn't even look up.
"It's not much, but I got you a little present."
"Oh?" Adam perked up instantly, turning his head in surprise. "A present? Let me see! Let me see!"
"Here it is." Sophia pulled her right hand out of her pocket, and the sunlight caught something shiny—a completely unwrapped harmonica. She looked serious: "I remember you said you love music."
"Uh..." Adam quickly turned his head back, hiding his drifting gaze. When did he say he liked music...? Oh, right, he remembered now! But he only said it casually, so what now? "Well... I play piano and violin at an international level, of course, but a regular instrument like this? Someone of my status wouldn't bother learning it."
"It's fine, I've already learned it. Let me play for you." Without another word, Sophia raised the harmonica to her lips and started playing, not caring that it was in the middle of the street or among the crowd. The melodious harmonica tune drifted out, gentle and beautiful. The wind lifted her long black hair, strands dancing in the breeze, as she lost herself in her music—peaceful and graceful.
After a while, Adam turned and asked seriously, "What song is that?"
"Do you like it?"
"I do." Adam nodded sincerely, earnest as a child.
"It's a song by Teresa Teng, 'Goodbye My Love.'"
"Den...Li Jun?" Adam tried to pronounce the Chinese name.
"Teresa Teng." Sophia corrected his pronunciation, staring earnestly: "Teresa. Teng."
As they spoke, the bike reached home.
Adam made a graceful aristocratic gesture: "Here we are, back at our luxurious manor villa! Please dismount, madam!"
Of course, this was no luxurious villa—just an old, rundown house in a shabby neighborhood. Half-broken steps led to the door, and beyond it a staircase climbed up. Adam carried the bike upstairs, the wooden boards creaking beneath his feet, as if they might snap at any moment.
On the street, things were fine, but as soon as Adam opened the door to the house, his mood darkened.
The old house was narrow and worn. When they first moved in, even the lights didn't work, and Sophia had to fix the fuse box herself. The plumbing was even worse, so Adam—once a pampered young master—had to roll up his sleeves and unclog the toilet. Every time they came home, they had to climb a long steep slope, and the location was far from the town center—nothing was convenient.
At night, even with the lights on, you could hear scratching behind the wooden boards—the sound of countless American cockroaches crawling around. The mutant mega-roaches Teacher Yang and Xiao Geng met in Chengdu were bad enough, but the original giant roach was the American cockroach. The moldy wood of this old house was the perfect paradise for them. If there was even a crumb left in the kitchen, they'd swarm out of every crack like a horror movie.
If this rundown old house had one advantage, it was this: cheap rent.
In an age of soaring inflation and ruthless bank rates, Adam spent three days searching to find this rental. He only got it because the landlord favored fellow white folks, turning away three Black couples.
A super scientist and a super rich kid—if their current life could be summed up in one word, it would be: broke.
In Sandiego's memory, Adam was at rock bottom at this point. The Adam he knew was running a small company, working hard. But what Sandiego didn't realize was that before they met, Adam had already lost almost everything. Forget being a rich kid, forget the small business—his current job, if the son of Zade found out, would blow his mind.
Tick-tick. Adam flipped the bike over and set it on the ground. Dressed in shorts and a tank top, a towel slung over his shoulder, he worked on the bike under the dim light. His hands were covered in grease, but he had no time to wash up, and he was sweating buckets, but there was no way he could turn on the AC.
This rental didn't even have air conditioning.
In the kitchen, Sophia expertly stir-fried. Adam sighed, glanced at Sophia's profile—the ethereal girl who should've lived in paradise was now multitasking. Cooking, doing laundry, and staring at the whiteboard on the wall, lost in thought.
Adam set down his greasy rag, eyes lowered, deep in thought.
"Dinner's ready." Sophia's voice snapped Adam out of his reverie.
"Okay, great."
After dinner, Adam washed the dishes. When they first moved in, he was clumsy—his old life was worlds away from this oil-and-soy-sauce reality. But now, he'd mastered making the plates shine and even saving extra water.
"I saw you checking the whiteboard while cooking," Adam said, his words fewer than before, voice a bit low. "Still wrestling with some complicated academic problem?"
"Not really." Sophia scribbled on the whiteboard with a pen. "I'm researching bicycles."
"Bicycle?"
"I'm researching how to make it easier for Adam to pedal." Sophia scribbled on the whiteboard. "Hmm, looks good—this modification should do the trick."
"Oh..." Adam scrubbed the dishes, a warm smile spreading across his face.
Suddenly, Sophia slapped a patch onto Adam's knee. "Here, stick it on—take care of your joints."
"What's this?"
"Intense exercise can damage your knees, and bad form wears out cartilage. Chondroitin is pricey, so I improvised and made this patch for you. It should help a little."
"Oh, new medicine? By the way, what's in this patch? It works great!" The patch radiated warmth, and Adam's eyes softened. "If it's so amazing, maybe we should make more and sell them. We'd get rich quick!"
"Rich? Sounds good." Sophia pinched her chin, looking just like Teacher Yang, then nodded sharply. "Alright, we'll make more. It's made with cockroach powder."
"Cockroach powder... Cockroach? Wait, that means—" Adam was shocked.
"We've got tons of American cockroaches here, and they're valuable medicinally. So I caught a bunch, dried them, ground them into powder, and made the simplest—"
"Stop!" Adam suddenly shouted, grabbing Sophia's hands. He stared at them in silence. Surrounded by grease and detergent, Sophia's fingers weren't as soft and fair as before. He couldn't imagine her catching cockroaches, grinding them into powder, making medicine.
"What's wrong?" Sophia looked at him, probing. "Grossed out? Don't be—I took them to the lab and ground them up fine..."
"No, it's not that. I just..." Adam's eyes reddened, not sure where to look or what to say. After a long pause, he took a deep breath and smiled. "I just remembered, I can play common instruments too. I picked up a guitar at the thrift market today—sounds pretty good. How about we play that song together?"
"Sure! Wait, let me draw out the sheet music!" Sophia nearly jumped for joy—her happiness was always so simple.
[goodbye_my_love,]
[My love, goodbye.]
[Goodbye_my_love,]
[Who knows when we'll meet again.]
Gentle, soothing music filled the shabby little house, and the night passed in peace. The next morning, Adam dressed, grabbed the bike, and headed downstairs before dawn.
"I'm off! I'll be back to take you to work after delivering newspapers!" Adam waved to Sophia, then sped off on the adjusted bicycle, now easier to pedal. The warm patch was still on his knee. Today, besides newspapers, he'd deliver food, packages, and do odd jobs.
All because he got elite family education as a kid. Damn, not even a diploma...
Adam faced the wind, his eyes deep.
I used to plan on taking you back to America for a good life...