Thinking of Wanqing at Dusk: Sequel

This is a work of realism that confronts the dilemma of elder care in China.

Zhang Licheng is sixty-eight, has been retired for eight years, and has lived alone for five. His knees are shot, and he can no longer climb high places. Old Wu across the hall has a wife to help him out of the car. Zhang has no one. His monthly pension is ten thousand yuan, but medicine and groceries keep getting more expensive. What he fears most is falling ill: one illness could wipe out half a year's pension.

Back then, the woman with the clear, bright eyes, Nianqing, sent word through someone: “She wants him to live well.” His old colleague Li has passed away, and the companion he shared his life with moved out the very next day. Old Wang, who sells tofu downstairs, had a stroke. His wife pushes him outside to sit in the sun every day. Zhang watches and wonders: If I end up paralyzed, who will push me?

Retired teacher Ms. Zhou agreed to live together as companions, without getting married. But once they moved in together, they discovered that they had to adjust to each other's habits, keep their finances separate, contend with their children's opinions, and struggle to build trust. Hardest of all, everyone keeps a corner of their heart for someone else: Zhang keeps his for Nianqing, while Ms. Zhou keeps hers for her late husband.

This is a story about aging, loneliness, companionship, and farewells. It asks not only “How should we care for the elderly?” but also “What makes life worth living?” When life is counting down, when none of the missed chances can be reclaimed, and someone is still waiting for you to come home for dinner in your final days, the light shining through that doorway is the most precious sunset of all.