“Jiang Wen, did you find it?” she shouted.

“Use my phone to call it.” He directed her.

Two minutes later, to the melody of “Don’t Fall For Me, I’m Just a Legend,” Jiang Wen stood dumbstruck for a few seconds. He gritted his teeth, dropped to one knee in a pile of snow, and dug the noisily ringing phone out.

Right as it hit the line about being alone but never lonely because loneliness kept him company, he took a deep breath and killed the call, his face dark.

Feng Ning sat on the bench, staring back at Jiang Wen across the distance with a deeply meaningful look.

He handed her the phone. His fingertips had gone red from the cold.

Feng Ning’s expression instantly switched to a fawning one, and she accepted it eagerly, cradling it in her hands like something precious, checking it over with concern.

Fortunately, domestic knockoff phones might be cheap, but they were built to survive drops and knocks—it hadn’t suffered any damage despite sitting out in the freezing snow for so long.

As they climbed the stairs, Jiang Wen finally couldn’t hold it in and asked, “Why is your taste this bizarre?”

Feng Ning looked a little blank, lifting her head slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Your ringtone…”

“Oh, right.” Feng Ning suddenly perked up, her tone excited. “I think it sounds great! I really relate to some of the lyrics, honestly.”

“…”

“Back in middle school, I loved singing that one at karaoke for my fans.”

Jiang Wen glanced sideways at her. “Fans… plural?”

“Yeah.” Feng Ning looked thoroughly pleased with herself, though he couldn’t see it. “I was practically a celebrity back in middle school! I had some really devoted fans—Shuang Yao and Zhao Weichen among them—who even wanted to set up a fan club for me at one point. But I’m not one for the spotlight, so I firmly turned it down!”

As she talked, her breath brushed against the skin behind his ear, tickling faintly.

Bumping along on his back, Feng Ning could see, from behind, the short black hairs at the nape of his neck, his half-translucent earlobes, and a short stretch of high, straight nose bridge.

“Oh, right, do you remember that guy who set my hair on fire?” Feng Ning said cheerfully. “He chased after me for ages, right? Then when I graduated middle school, after dinner we all went to karaoke, and I sang that exact song just for him—’Bro’s Just a Legend.'”

“And then what?”

“Then he was so stunned by me that after that, he never contacted me again once high school started, hahahahaha.”

After laughing, Feng Ning sighed. “Though I heard from other people that once he got to high school, he went through at least four or five girlfriends. Sounds like he’s living a pretty great life now.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

She said, seriously, “To brainwash you.”

“Brainwash me with what.”

“Regret is common at an age when you don’t understand much of anything yet.” Feng Ning’s words drifted lightly by his ear. “Whether you like someone or not, it’s all just a passing moment. Don’t take it too much to heart, okay?”

He was silent for a few seconds, then asked, “Did you fall on your leg, or your brain?”

“Hm?”

Jiang Wen’s tone carried undisguised disdain, colder than the snow falling outside. “It’s a wonder you can even say something so sappy without embarrassing yourself.”

Feng Ning: “…”

Choked speechless by his sharp tongue for a moment, she huffed indignantly. “Hey, since when did I not know how vicious you are?”

“Since when did I not know you were this dense.”

Feng Ning let out an angry laugh despite herself.

Even though the connection between them had started with her calculated, deliberate scheming—approaching him with the intention of “educating” him—the more time they spent together, the more she’d realized Jiang Wen wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as she’d imagined. He could be a bit lacking in manners, but sometimes he was actually funny, even kind of endearing. So even though he was being harsh right now, she secretly felt relieved.

—His words, in every direction, didn’t sound like someone who was “trapped.”

And how could Jiang Wen possibly fail to catch the point she’d just been making. She was actually being roundabout about it now, not nearly as blunt as before.

Who didn’t have some pride left?

His whole life, in other people’s eyes, he’d always been fortune’s favored child, and yet his pride had been trampled on again and again. Jiang Wen had already grown disheartened over it.

And now, with just a little bit of closeness between them, she kept avoiding him like the plague, drawing the line again and again. The fire he’d been suppressing deep down for so long had been stirred up little by little, all over again, by her.

He spoke without thinking, his temper flaring: “I must have been blind before, not to notice how tasteless, self-absorbed, and full of yourself you are. Please, spare me the garbage teenage-heartbreak quotes you picked up from who-knows-where, trying to lecture me with them.”

What had started as a decent heart-to-heart, how had it turned into two kindergartners hurling insults at each other? Feng Ning snapped back to herself—wait, had something gone wrong somewhere?

She hadn’t even said anything that bad, so how had she managed to set him off like this?

Feng Ning struggled a bit, saying angrily, “Fine, some people couldn’t get what they wanted from me before, whatever—but now you’re going as far as personal attacks?”

“Who couldn’t get what they wanted from you!” That one line set him off again, mortified and furious.

“Hey, hey, hey, I didn’t say it was you—you’re the one admitting it yourself.”

Jiang Wen made as if to let go of her. “Get down, walk yourself.”

Knowing when to fold, Feng Ning decided not to argue with him further, putting on a magnanimous act. “Fine, fine, my mistake, my mistake.”

Nearly at the classroom door, Jiang Wen dumped her down roughly. Feng Ning, caught off balance, stumbled a couple of steps before barely managing to steady herself.

Just as he was about to walk off, she called out to stop him.

Jiang Wen halted.

“Even though you insulted me and cursed me out every which way today, I, the great Feng Ning, do not hold grudges against petty men—my heart’s big enough to sail a ship through.” Feng Ning patted her chest.

Jiang Wen closed his eyes for a moment, drawing on a lifetime’s worth of upbringing to hold himself back. He turned and walked off.

She hollered after him, “Thanks for helping me find my phone today! Merry Christmas, Jiang Wen! Happy every year, forever!!”

With New Year’s approaching, the school kindly granted a half-day off. Following Qide’s tradition, each class hosted its own New Year’s party in the classroom.

The class’s arts and culture representative had a student council meeting that afternoon and no time to decorate for the party. She’d found Meng Taoyu, the class’s easiest-going pushover, and, after much pleading, finally wore her down into agreeing to go buy the decorations—streamers, balloons, party poppers, and the like.

After collecting the class funds from the class president, Meng Taoyu left the school gate and flagged down a taxi.

The driver started the meter and asked where she was headed.

Meng Taoyu, inexperienced with this kind of thing, thought it over. “Do you know anywhere nearby that sells small decorations?”

The driver thought for a moment, then turned the wheel. “I know a place!”

When they arrived and she got out of the car, Meng Taoyu found herself staring at the somewhat run-down blue sign at the market entrance, utterly stunned.

Th—this was Changzheng Market?

Changzheng Market had two main streets—one called Luo Street, the other East Street.

Meng Taoyu was timid by nature, always well-behaved, never daring to venture into anything remotely chaotic. Back in elementary or middle school, she’d heard from others that the south side of the city had a notorious district for the underworld crowd, prone to large-scale brawls, chronically chaotic yet bustling—that was East Street of Changzheng Market.

She checked her watch; if she went somewhere else now, there wouldn’t be enough time left to decorate the classroom. Meng Taoyu was caught in a bind.

After a long stretch of hesitant wavering, thinking that surely nothing would happen in broad daylight, she worked up her courage and went in. Along the way there were foot massage parlors, hair salons, and street food stalls not yet open for business. Everything seemed perfectly normal, nothing like the den of danger she’d imagined.

Not daring to wander too far, Meng Taoyu found a random general store and picked out some candy and sunflower seeds. She browsed around, checking items off the list the arts representative had given her.

She’d rarely shopped alone before; at checkout, she stood there dazed, not knowing how to haggle, just accepting whatever price the shopkeeper quoted.

Finally finished, she headed back out, letting out a long breath of relief. As she walked down the street, two or three people trailed behind her, pitching products. Meng Taoyu, good-natured as ever, politely declined each time, waving her hand. “Sorry, I don’t need that right now.”

Just as she was about to make it out, a man crossed his arms and blocked her path.

She’d barely gotten the word “sorry” out when the man smiled. “All alone, little sister? How about a game of pool with your big brother here?”

Meng Taoyu clutched the plastic bags in her hands and hurried a few steps to the side.

The man matched her pace, blocking her half-heartedly. “Just one game—big brother’s had his eye on you a while, first time here? Or are you a student?”

Meng Taoyu’s body visibly stiffened, and she started to panic. She looked around helplessly for help, but the people passing by seemed entirely unfazed, as if this were nothing new.

She turned to run, only to find people had already gathered behind her—the small-time thugs surrounding her broke into laughter in unison.

“What do you want?” Meng Taoyu’s legs had gone weak, and she didn’t even know where to look.

“Play a round of pool with big brother.”

The circle around her tightened. Tears threatened to spill. “No, I need to get back to school, I’m not going.”

Someone laughed. “Brother Nan, don’t go harassing students.”

Brother Nan stepped closer. “Just for fun, nothing else.”

An idea suddenly flashed through Meng Taoyu’s mind. She said, quietly, “Don’t block me—I’m, I’m here to find my brother.”

The man’s interest sharpened. “Finding your brother, huh? Who’s your brother?”

“My brother…” Meng Taoyu, face pale, shut her eyes and took the gamble, figuring she had nothing to lose. “My brother is Meng Hanmo.”

Who would’ve thought, the moment that name left her mouth, Brother Nan stared hard at her and repeated it. “Meng Hanmo?”

A flicker of hope rose in Meng Taoyu’s chest again, and she nodded eagerly. “Mm-hmm, that’s him.”

Right at that moment, someone at the outermost edge of the crowd shouted, “Brother Mo!”

What were the odds of something this coincidental?

Meng Taoyu’s face flooded with shock; she widened her eyes to double-check.

It really was him.

Meng Hanmo had a cigarette between his lips, one hand in his pocket. The instant his gaze landed on her, she felt a rush of excitement and nervousness, and tears actually spilled out before she could stop them.

“There’s a student here says she’s your sister?” the person who’d shouted asked.

They cleared a path. Two men still flanked Meng Hanmo. He narrowed his eyes, looking Meng Taoyu over, paused, and said, his voice low and slightly hoarse, “Oh. My sister.”

The teasing from the group cut off instantly.

The whole “handoff” process went remarkably smoothly. Meng Taoyu followed along with them.

Chen Xi still remembered her too. “You’re Ningzai’s friend, right? Coming all the way to East Street alone, that’s pretty bold of you.”

Having just narrowly escaped danger, tear tracks still drying on her face, Meng Taoyu nearly buried her chin into her chest. “Our class is having a New Year’s party, I came to buy some things for it.”

“Got everything you need?” Meng Hanmo asked, unhurried, turning his head after finishing a cigarette.

Meng Taoyu didn’t dare meet his eyes, lifting the plastic bags in her hand slightly. “Should… should be about everything.”

Chen Xi laughed. “Pretty smart of you, knowing to drop Brother Mo’s name on East Street.”

His remark left Meng Taoyu flustered all over again. She stammered an apology, “Sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

Something about that struck the group’s funny bone, and they all burst out laughing.

They didn’t often get to interact with a good girl like Meng Taoyu; even a couple of exchanged words felt novel to them. The little girl’s gloves and scarf were both pink, and her down jacket even had a hood with two little rabbit ears. She looked just like a little rabbit herself.

Once they’d had their fill of laughing, Meng Hanmo tilted his head lazily. “Let’s go.”

“Huh?” Meng Taoyu blanked for a second.

“I’ll take you back to school.”

Chen Xi said, “The keys to the Passat are with A’Hu, he went out to pick up stock.”

Meng Hanmo gave a noncommittal grunt.

Watching them walk off, Cuntou put on an exaggerated look of surprise. “What’s going on with Brother Mo today, so gentle.”

The road had patches of snow, so the car moved slowly. Meng Hanmo sat up front, one hand propping up his head.

Meng Taoyu kept both hands neatly on her knees, watching his profile, staring blankly for several seconds.

When he turned his head, she suddenly snapped back to herself, her face flushing deep red. To cover it, she picked up her phone and started scrolling through the class group chat.

Feng Ning happened to be sitting at the classroom entrance and witnessed, firsthand, Jiang Wen being surrounded in the hallway by several girls, handing him scarves, handmade cookies, chocolates.

Absentmindedly, she thought to herself, winter really was a romantic season—falling snow drifted so gently, giving everyone the sense they could hold hands and grow old together.

Zhao Binlin came up from behind and dropped a card on Feng Ning’s desk.

Feng Ning opened it right away, caught a whiff of perfume, and grinned. “Wow, Zhao Binlin, look at you being so fancy?”

“Yeah, what about yours?”

“My what?”

Zhao Binlin sounded surprised. “You’re not writing New Year’s cards for anyone?”

Never realizing he had such a sentimental side, Feng Ning raised an eyebrow. “I don’t write cards, doesn’t mean much.”

Mostly it was because cards cost money—an ordinary one already ran a full yuan, and the nicer ones were over ten yuan. All that for a scrap of paper, and yet so many people still bought them.

Zhao Binlin protested loudly. “No way, I already wrote one for you—you owe me one back.”

Feng Ning tapped her chin, putting on a thinking pose. “Fine, give me ten minutes.”

The classroom had started being decorated for the party, growing louder and louder. Zhao Binlin, sweating from the heat, took off his jacket and tossed a folded red sticky note, triangular, at Jiang Wen.

He didn’t register it at first, frowning. “What’s this?”

“New Year’s card I got from Feng Ning.” Zhao Binlin waved a green sticky note of his own. “She wrote one for you too while she was at it.”

Jiang Wen made a noncommittal sound and, without opening it, tossed it directly onto the pile of gifts on his desk, paying it no mind.

Zhao Binlin casually set the sticky note on the desk and turned to talk to someone else.

Jiang Wen picked it up to look.

It was another drawing—a boy hugging a basketball, wearing a pair of AJ sneakers on his feet. He glanced at it dismissively, folded the note in half, and tossed it aside.

Keeping up a facade of indifference, he pulled out his phone and played a few rounds of a game, until the screen showed “game over.”

Jiang Wen leaned back, turned off his phone, and slowly picked one gift to unwrap.

He finished one, tossed it aside, picked up the next.

Gradually, the gifts ran out. All that was left on his desk was the one triangular sticky note.

His face showed no expression, his fingers idly tapping the edge of the desk. Finally, he picked it up and opened it.

【Wishing classmate Jiang Wen a happy New Year, happy every year!】

Just a bare line of text, nothing else, not even a signature.

The other sticky note lay right there beside it. Jiang Wen picked it up and looked at it again.

The figure on it was lively and cute, wearing a number-eight jersey, even the dimples on the face drawn in.

Ten seconds passed. He let out a cold laugh.

Jiang Wen tore Zhao Binlin’s sticky note to shreds.