We had purchased tickets to take the subway, then transfer to a bus to reach our hotel on our last night in Germany.
After getting off the subway, we had no idea where the bus stop was.
I approached a German passerby to ask for help. As I did, an Asian-looking young woman quietly came closer, listening without a word.
Her face was calm, almost emotionless—like someone with a quiet purpose, a gentle servant just stepping forward.
After the German walked away, she silently took the paper with our bus information, turned, and climbed the stairs.
We followed her.
She has short black hair, clean face without any spots, monolid eyes, small mouth, slim and tall.
At the top, we saw a bus stop but weren’t sure it was the right one.
Without hesitation, she dashed across the street, approached a bus, spoke with the driver, and came back to us.
“This is the one,” she said simply.
I was so thankful—I wanted to talk with her more.
But we had to catch the bus.
All I managed to say was, “Thank you so much.”
She didn’t smile, didn’t ask where we were from, didn’t try to linger.
It was as if her job was done, and that was enough.
She looked like a college student, not a traveler. No backpack, no rush.
But she didn’t seem like a local either—she hadn’t been certain about the bus route at first.
And she didn’t look like just anyone coming out of the train station.
Who was she?
She appeared at the exact moment we needed help.
Guided us without a word.
Left without taking credit—even after I thanked her.
As we climbed onto the bus, I turned back to look for her.
But she was gone.