The Healing Sunshine (一厘米的阳光)

Epilogue - The Light at Darkness's End

May 21, 2003

Jì Chengyang

"I love you. I especially love you." Jǐ Yi's voice came from the other end of the phone.

For one instant, his hand paused.

In this moment, he felt he was not in Iraq and, rather, was in Beijing, in his home by the Third Ring Road. His little lady had, with immense earnestness, finished playing the song, "Angel," and now, shyly turning around, was gazing at him as she said, "I love you. I especially love you."

And then, there surely would be a very cute cake with the right number of candles on it.

The light of the candles' flames would shine upon his little lady's face and those eyes that captivated his soul and filled his dreams.

Someone unexpectedly knocked on the door. "Yang."

His roommate was calling his name, interrupting this brief moment in which he had allowed his mind to wander.

Before he hurriedly hung up the phone, he told Jǐ Yi, "I may be calling you less and less. When I can, I'll contact you through email."

He very quickly heard her reply, "Mm-hmm. Happy birthday."

"Hanging up now," he said.

Because there was no time. He absolutely needed to leave this room right now to go do his work.

They had been here for a long time already, but still they had never gotten the opportunity to interview anyone from the American side. This was a current situation that was very frustrating and dispiriting. Although Bush had already announced on May 1 that the major combat operations in Iraq had ended, it was clear to Jì Chengyang and his roommate that this war had only just begun.

And they still had much to do.

Grabbing his jacket from the bed where he had tossed it, he pulled open the door and stepped out. His roommate very soon told him that there was an opportunity to get an interview with the American side. "Tonight, we'll head through the night to Baghdad. I have a friend there," his roommate said.

He suddenly noticed his roommate was actually wearing, beneath his jacket, a shirt from their university days. On it, there was even their school's emblem.

"So sentimental about the past? You've still kept this shirt?"

His roommate laughed. "Yup, sentimental. I'm preserving the passion of my student days."

Jì Chengyang did not say much else The two took five minutes to gather their things, and then, pulling their bags onto their backs, they left this little hotel along with two other journalists who were from the United Kingdom and the United States.

There was a seven-hour driving distance between here and Baghdad, and at all times there was a risk of encountering armed conflict along the way. It was extremely perilous. The four of them searched for a long time before finally finding an Iraqi man, in his fifties, willing to take them there. Jì Chengyang swiftly discussed and agreed on a price with the man. Then, everyone jumped up into the vehicle and, in this dark night, headed out of the city.

Before long, the vehicle drove into the even blacker night on the city's outside.

As he cast his eyes beyond the window, he could see, near and far from them, only the road, a brook, and ruins left behind from the war.

The two foreign journalists beside him were conversing in low tones. "You still haven't eaten dinner today?"

"Yeah. My stomach's cramping a bit. Yesterday, I finished the bread that was in my bag. When we get to where we're going, I'm going to eat a nice, big meal."