The ringing stopped halfway through the fifth ring.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end was low and clipped, with a slightly rough rasp.
Jiang Xun felt as though someone had stuffed a wad of cotton down his throat. He swallowed, the gulp absurdly loud in the quiet receiver, carrying clearly to the other end.
There was a moment of silence before Shen Wangjing's voice came again. "Jiang Xun."
Jiang Xun rested the back of his head against the wall, the shadows of the plane tree swaying across his face. He moved the phone from his left ear to his right, then back again, switching back and forth three times.
"How did you know it was me?" His voice was taut, but the last word rose involuntarily.
"Only the production crew knows this number." Shen Wangjing paused. "But you're the only one who would call me."
Jiang Xun ground a fallen plane-tree leaf beneath the toe of his shoe, trying hard to sound nonchalant. "Oh, I was just calling to see if your village had phone service yet. Duan Qizhao said they'd put in a phone line. I was worried he was making it up."
"We do."
"That's good." Jiang Xun traced a circle on the ground with his toe. "How's Grandpa doing?"
"Same as always. He's doing fine."
"What about you?"
Shen Wangjing went quiet for a moment, as though he hadn't expected Jiang Xun to ask so directly. "Same as always."
"Everything's 'same as always.' Can't you come up with another line?" A crack had opened in the floodgates, and Jiang Xun began speaking faster without realizing it.
"Has your knee healed completely? Did you use the medicine I left you last time? Don't go brushing it off again. You'll suffer if the wound gets infected. And last