I have a few childhood friends I’ve always been close to. Most of us still live in this small city surrounded by its eight counties, and every so often we get together for a meal. We talk about what has been going on in our lives, and we complain a little about whatever has been weighing on us lately.

Getting together again

The day before yesterday, one of these old friends called and said we should all meet up for dinner. I said yes right away. So yesterday at noon, we gathered at a restaurant that Brother Pang had picked out. It was a decent place. He ordered eight dishes, and the seven of us sat down around the table.

Among the seven were three couples and one single person. The men among us were the kind of childhood friends who grew up together before we even knew what embarrassment was. We had been playing together since we could remember anything at all. When I was four, Brother Hou and I once got lost together. Later, our parents found us at a corner two alleys away. Apparently, we had been digging at an ant hole.

As we get older, fewer of us drink. I had actually wanted to have a little liquor this time, but I was on medication, so I had to give it up. A real pity, haha. Maybe next time. I drank a soft drink instead and listened while everyone talked freely about ordinary things at home and around us. These days, I think I enjoy listening more than talking.

The kind of understanding only old friends have

The bond between childhood friends is different from ordinary friendship. We know each other too well. Almost every gesture, every little expression, gives something away. Even after decades, that part doesn’t really change.

No matter how much a person changes on the outside, some habits formed in childhood may stay for life. People say you can see the old man in the three-year-old child, and sometimes it really feels true. We are all middle-aged now, but when we talk to each other, we still sound like kids, teasing, contradicting, and arguing for the fun of it.

During the meal, Brother Hou said he wanted to go into the mountains to pick mushrooms. We asked where he planned to pick them. He said it would take a 200-kilometer drive. Everyone groaned. By the time you paid for gas and tolls, you could buy a huge pile of mushrooms already.

I said, “Why not just go hiking instead? Let’s climb Phoenix Mountain and get some exercise. I’ll cover the cost.” For locals, entry is free with an ID card anyway. Everyone laughed.

Then I started talking with Brother Hou, who was sitting beside me. I said one car wouldn’t be enough for seven people, so I would first take him back to get his car, since the road outside the restaurant was being dug up and he hadn’t driven over. Then we could all go climb the mountain together.

The two of us talked loudly back and forth for a bit, then stood up and said we were going to get the car. Only later did I realize everyone thought we were just bantering as usual. They didn’t really expect us to go through with it.

But we really did go hiking.

Climbing the mountain

And that was how a group of people in their middle age suddenly went climbing together. Brother Hou’s leg hurt, and his wife wasn’t feeling strong enough, so they waited for us halfway up the mountain while the rest of us continued.

When we were young, we once promised that we would travel together. But after one barbecue gathering, that promise seemed to be blown away by the north wind and never came back. From time to time, we still mention that old barbecue and the plan we made then. But in these years, with parents above us and children below us, it feels as if every little daily responsibility becomes more important than anything else.

While climbing, we also talked about an old friend who had once spent a lot of time with us. It turned out he had already been gone for several years. Everyone fell quiet for a moment. There was nothing to say except that time really does not spare anyone, and youth had already drifted far away.

We climbed while panting, talking about the past and the present, and all those small things that were neither painful nor especially important. Strangely, the climb didn’t feel tiring. Instead, it felt satisfying, like something in the chest had finally opened up a little.

Still the same childhood friends

The whole afternoon passed in what felt like a blink. Before leaving, we agreed that we should meet again next time, and we took a group photo together.

I remembered that the last time we took a photo like that was long, long ago, back when people were still using pagers. This time, we used a phone.

Who knows when the next gathering will be.