Second Chances
written by: Jianan Z
It plays virtually like a clichéd cinematic family reunion, doesn’t it? Crossing the widely open gate to the arrival hall, one hand drags a quite heavy checked trolley case while the other pulls a lightweight carry-on. As he gets closer to the thick line of waiting people at the front, he slows his steps to a halt. For a few following moments, among the crowd in winter clothing, he spots two familiar faces waving at him. Enclosed by the thinly and shallowly woven but expanding and deepening wrinkles, he discovers his parents’ aged but pleased eyes. Jiayi is home. Again.
Three days earlier, when he walked out of Hof 8.3 on the Spitalgasse, the temperature reached nearly 20 degrees. It was his first warm noon in Vienna since winter came last year. That clear, sunlit air was a catching sensory input, which prompted people roaming and chatting around in T-shirts. Jiayi sat himself on the bench that faced the fountain in the centre. He leaned forward with forearms resting on his thighs, passively subsumed under the warmness, and densely flashed back to some recent memories. He knew he must call his parents soon to explain the situation, and he did so. It took him roughly an hour via WeChat until he hung up, heaved a deep sigh, stood up, and heard a female voice speaking loudly from behind him:
“Hey! Don’t blame yourself!”
Jiayi turned round and saw a lady, whom he hadn’t even noticed, sitting on the same bench holding her lunchbox. He failed to make it clear to himself whether this strange lady out of nowhere was talking to him or someone else. Did she mean – me? He was simply unable to answer her, but merely looked at her for less than one or two seconds, during which he memorised her animated smile. He then turned away while the rays of sunshine kept dazzling and confusing him. Did this white lady with medium-length, brown, curly hair, who had a silver ring under her nose, understand Mandarin, or could she read hearts? If not, how could she even say that to me? It just doesn’t make any sense – like other awkward incidents that just occurred! Jiayi pondered without any clue. No, she wasn’t speaking to me…He negated it in his mind now, but later he would’ve begun to assume the opposite.
In the same afternoon, the warmth slowly but surely faded along with the sunshine by watching the clock, which wasn’t comparable to what he felt from Jana’s farewell hug at Hof 8.3’s entrance door after the morning seminar. That warmth he soaked up inside her embraced arms had a way longer half-life – like a fermata drawn above a bright-colored chord. Nevertheless, it would’ve been strummed once and dying out in months if nothing was going to change, and that would be already the Fine of the score.
He pinned his hopes on a D.C. when the strings still vibrated lively alongside Jiayi’s 19 hours of travelling with flights two nights later. Arrived in Changchun, it’s a 5-degree overcast and windy morning in late March. His T-shirt and the light hoodie are no longer warm enough. Taking his luggage, he walks out of the airport with his parents together. Now, this reunion moment has aroused an aching feeling in him that they understand. His return was unexpected. In the past 12 years, he hadn’t been home in winter and spring. So, he had always missed his hometown’s snowy and blossomy days when he was 7 hours behind in Europe.
“Don’t think too much, just go with the flow. We’re glad that you’re back!”
His dad says delightedly from the front seat of the car, which is driven by his much-senior cousin, whom Jiayi hadn’t met in over a decade. Through the window, he stares at the outside. By seeing a huge slogan on the highway billboard that “Remain committed to our mission and unwaveringly follow the Communist Party of China,” he feels sick and unreal.
“It’s like a dream, dammit! Yesterday I was in Vienna, swimming and buying all the souvenirs, and today I’m home!”
He adds, “I somehow feel I’m destined to come back…There must be some missions that I need to complete…”
“It might be fate…By the way, a girl is coming back soon, she works in Italy. She can be your mission…” His mom answers him – so closely – like her quarrel on the phone with her son three months ago never existed – like he never cut her out of the talk months long in the aftermath.
“Well…” Jiayi knows exactly why there’s always a rift between him and his mom, and it has never changed. He doubts whether his return was to mend their relationship or to avoid something bad in Vienna. He wishes and fears a second chance. As for now, he can’t do nothing without a visa.
- Second Chances - January 5, 2026
