Gonjax's cell phone vibrated at 4:17 in the morning. It was not an alarm clock, but a special notification sound - like honey dripping into warm water, gentle but not to be ignored. He touched his phone with his eyes closed. When the screen lit up, a faint greenish black was reflected in his eyes, and the note column read "Zhou Yan".
"We're downstairs." Zhou Yan's voice came through the receiver, hoarse as if he had just woken up, but still more alert than the half-cold tea in Gonjax's cup. "It's windy today, so wear thicker clothes."
Gonjax said "Hmm" and shivered slightly as he lifted the quilt. In the early morning of September in Beijing, the air conditioner was turned off, and the wind leaking through the cracks in the windows was wrapped in the autumn cool and penetrated into the cracks of the bones. He put on his quick-drying long sleeves and grabbed the windproof jacket hanging on the back of the chair. The energy gel in his pocket hurt his waist - he had prepared it for Zhou Yan last week and forgot to take it out.
He is a "runner", but he is different from those who pay by the hour at the gym. Most of the clients he serves are people like Zhou Yan: they have rich families and valuable time and money, but they still want to compete on some "non-utilitarian" things. Zhou Yan wants to run the North Marathon next month, with the goal of breaking three hours. This is the third year he has tried to achieve this result. The first two times, he failed at 35 kilometers.
When Gonjax went downstairs, the headlights of the black SUV were hitting the sycamore tree at the door of the unit, and the shadows of the leaves were shaking on the ground like a book. He opened the car door and got into the passenger seat. Zhou Yan handed over a bottle of warm water: "Didn't you sleep well last night?"
