018 A Hotel Rendezvous, a Restless Heart

That evening, the light outside the window carried a dry, crisp sensation that tempted me to head straight toward it. The melodious call to prayer from the mosque enveloped the entire city; though I could not understand the meaning, every note vibrated through my soul.

I had been in Dubai for several weeks, and despite the five daily prayers—dawn, noon, afternoon, sunset, and night—I had never truly paid them any mind. This twilight, however, was the first time I listened to the call with intent. The agonizing hunger had left my body gaunt, yet the warm message seemed to nourish my depleted spirit. In that moment, I completely forgot that this was a city of glitz, glamour, and extravagance, wishing only to be moved by this purity and serenity of the heart.

I closed my eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply the vibrant air mixed with the sweetness of the waning sunlight. It turned out that Ramadan truly could refine one’s state of mind and purify the soul.

However, after the exhaustion of today, I no longer wanted to endure the hunger.

This was a battle between body and spirit, and I was destined not to mistreat myself for the sake of a foreign culture.

The call to prayer ended, but the resonance lingered in my heart. Nearby, men in white thobes finished their prayers and returned to their seats to eat. I, however, was no longer in a hurry to touch the fries in front of me. Instead, I stared at my phone, reading Musa’s message once more before dutifully replying: "I’m at the KFC closest to the school, the one after you turn right."

A few seconds later, I received his slightly hesitant reply: "This... KFC is too crowded. Could we go somewhere else?"

My fingers froze. I frowned, failing to understand why a crowd was a problem.

But as I looked up and scanned my surroundings, I noticed the men in white thobes sitting at separate tables or in small groups, keeping their distance from the women in black abayas. The situation became clearer.

Come to think of it, for a Muslim man in a white thobe to hand food to an unmarried Chinese girl in a crowded KFC was indeed an unusual sight.

With that, I lowered my head and replied: "Go to the hotel where the female graduate students stay. I’m in room 321."

In Dubai, the place with the fewest people is the street under the scorching summer sun. Yet, at this sunset hour, apart from a hotel room, I couldn't think of anywhere else that might be secluded.

Only after sending the text did I realize it carried a suggestive tone, sounding rather like, "I've booked a room and am waiting for you."

My palms grew slightly damp. At this point, I could only hope that cultural differences would prevail, and that he wouldn't interpret it that way, or would simply assume I was stating a location.

A moment later, I received Musa’s reply: "OK."

The word made my face flush and my heart race. I hurriedly buried my head, shoving the fries and burger into my mouth until my empty stomach felt somewhat satisfied. After bracing myself for a few minutes, fueled by newfound energy and a noisy heart, I strode out of the KFC and practically ran back to the hotel.

When I reached my door, Musa was already waiting. He wasn't standing still, though; he was pacing the corridor, pretending to wander about as if he were just passing by.

His behavior made me suppress a giggle. I greeted him, "Hi, Musa."

He stopped and offered me a gentle, warm smile. "Hi."

For a moment, there was silence. I felt stiff and awkward, still wearing a silly smile as I stared at him, lost in thought.

"Hi," he said again, waving a hand in front of my eyes.

I snapped back to reality, grabbed my bag, and began digging through it while stammering out an excuse: "I... I was just wondering which bag I put my room card in..."

I had only brought one bag with me, and I wasn't even wearing a coat with pockets.

It was a truly clumsy excuse.