Lao Zhao Sealing the Windows

In Beijing city, the most feared thing is a strong wind. Not the moist breezes from the south, but the kind unique to the north: dry, harsh, carrying sand and dust, howling like wolves. Especially if you live in a tall building, the wind slams against the windows relentlessly, rattling them, making even the glass tremble.

Lao Zhao lived on the thirty-second floor. 'Lakeview Garden' – the name sounded quite poetic, but really, there was no lake outside his window, just a stretch of grey, hazy buildings, and down below, people and cars like ants. Lao Zhao wasn't tall, a bit plump. Before retiring, he was a machinist at a factory, with steady hands and a meticulous mind. Retired now, with nothing much to do, he kept busy tidying up at home. The flowers on his balcony were healthier than anyone else's; the kitchen knives were sharpened to a gleam; he'd even take small scissors to snip off loose threads on the sofa cover.

This day, the weather forecast predicted strong winds overnight, with gusts reaching Level 11 or 12. Lao Zhao's wife, Li Shen, was in the kitchen making dumplings – pork and cabbage filling. Hearing the broadcast, she looked up at Lao Zhao, who was reading the newspaper in the living room, and said, "Old man, did you hear? Strong winds tonight. Make sure the windows are shut tight."

Lao Zhao grunted "Mm," put down his paper, and walked to the window. The thirty-second floor offered a wide view, but the wind up here was terrifyingly strong. He tapped the window frame – plastic-steel, looked sturdy enough, but Lao Zhao felt uneasy. Level 11 or 12 wind, what did that even mean? When he was young at the factory, he'd seen tin roofs ripped off by the wind like pieces of paper. Could this glass hold?

The more he thought, the more precarious it seemed. Halfway through his dumplings, Lao Zhao stood up and started pacing the room. Seeing his restlessness, Li Shen said, "What are you stewing over now? Isn't it enough to just close the windows properly? We've lived here nearly ten years, has the wind ever actually broken the glass?"

Lao Zhao waved dismissively. "You don't understand. This building is high, the wind force is different. Besides, it's not about the ten thousand times nothing happens, but the one time something might."

He was a man of action. First, he checked every window in the house, tightening all the latches until they wouldn't budge. Then, he found some leftover foam sealing strips from a previous renovation and meticulously applied them around the window seams. Finished with that, he still felt it wasn't enough. He dug out several rolls of wide adhesive tape, the yellow kind, and taped crisscross patterns over the window panes, making them look like fortified bunkers ready for battle.

Li Shen watched, shaking her head. "You, always worrying needlessly. Making it look like a spiderweb. Tomorrow you'll have a hard time tearing it all down."

Lao Zhao ignored her, burying himself in the task. He even found a few leftover wooden planks from renovations. Though the sizes weren't quite right, he managed to temporarily reinforce a few windows he deemed most 'dangerous' on the outside using wire. The large floor-to-ceiling window in the living room required the most work. Lao Zhao brought out a ladder, climbed up and down, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Alright, alright, take a break," Li Shen said, handing him a freshly brewed cup of jasmine tea. "Look how tired you are."

Lao Zhao took the tea, blew on it, and took a small sip. It was ordinary tea, made from broken leaves, but it was hot and very refreshing. He looked at his afternoon's 'masterpiece,' feeling much more secure. The dark planks and bright yellow tape shut out the outside world. The room immediately became much dimmer and quieter.

That night, the wind arrived as predicted. At first, there was a faint whistling in the window cracks, like someone whistling outside. Then, the sound grew louder and louder, whoo—whoo—, turning into a furious roar. The wind pounded against the glass with dull 'thump-thump' sounds, sometimes letting out sharp 'creak' noises. In the hallway, you could hear the clatter of improperly secured windows or items on balconies in other apartments being blown about.

Li Shen grew a little scared and sat close to Lao Zhao. But Lao Zhao was calm, even a bit smug. He pointed at the window. "Hear that? If I hadn't reinforced them, who knows what would be happening right now."

The room was stuffy because the windows were sealed so tightly, not a draft could get in. The TV was on, but the sound seemed quieter than usual. Lao Zhao got up and turned on all the lights, brightening the room and dispelling some of the oppressive feeling.

"Let me go cook you a bowl of yuanxiao," Li Shen said. It was the Winter Solstice.

"Okay," Lao Zhao replied.

The black sesame-filled sweet dumplings (yuanxiao) had soft, glutinous skins and sweet fillings. Lao Zhao ate slowly, listening to the wind howling outside, while inside it was warm and secure. He suddenly felt the wind wasn't so terrifying after all. What was terrifying was the unease in his heart. Now, with the windows sealed, it felt like that hole in his heart had also been plugged.

The wind blew all night. The next morning, it stopped. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the tape, casting strange patterns on the floor. Lao Zhao pulled back a sliver of the curtain to look outside. The sky was as blue as if it had been washed clean. Down below, the ground was spotless, not even a fallen leaf in sight – all blown away by the wind.

He began dismantling his 'defenses.' Tearing off the tape left sticky residue that needed to be wiped away bit by bit with alcohol. Taking down the wooden planks left marks from the wire on the window frames. The foam strips also had to be carefully peeled off. Li Shen helped nearby, still muttering, "Look at the trouble you went through. Now you have to spend half the day cleaning up."

Lao Zhao chuckled softly, not arguing back. He felt quite content. Although it had been a lot of work, he had slept soundly last night. That made it all worthwhile.

His neighbor, Lao Wang, knocked on the door and poked his head in. "Lao Zhao, that was some wind last night! Is everything alright at your place? Heard a lot of banging and clattering from your side yesterday afternoon."

Lao Zhao, wiping the tape marks off the glass, replied without looking back, "No problem, everything's fine. I sealed up all the windows."

Lao Wang craned his neck to look, then laughed. "Hey, that's quite a trick! Like preparing for war. Was it necessary?"

"Better safe than sorry," Lao Zhao said, his tone casual but carrying the conviction of experience.

Having wiped one window clean, Lao Zhao pushed it open. A rush of crisp, cold air surged in, carrying the scent of sunshine. He took a deep breath, looking out at the deep blue sky, and pondered whether, for the next big wind, he should prepare even sturdier planks and wider tape in advance. Living up high like this… the view was great, but you always had to guard against the wind. Just like life itself – it looked stable, but that little bit of unease in your heart, you had to find your own ways to block it up. Even if others thought it was needless trouble, your own peace of mind was worth more than anything.

He picked up the rag and continued wiping the tape marks off the next window, working very carefully, very slowly, as if completing an important piece of work.