A Heng opened the window, gazing at the icicles hanging from the eaves, feeling a strange sense of uncertainty in her heart.

In the blink of an eye, it was already her second winter in B City. During the first year, time seemed to pass too slowly; in the second year, it felt too fast.

Yan Xi received an email just before the winter break.

It was an iron-gray and azure blue card, noble yet understated, with only these words: “No snow at home, Vienna’s continuous this year, Wan Er Xi Yi, let’s enjoy together.” Inside was tucked an airline ticket.

Yan Xi’s fingers reflected against that color, creating an elegant yet eerily bewitching effect.

A Heng smiled, asking who it was from.

But Yan Xi kept coughing; having caught a cold again this winter. As he coughed, his face didn’t flush but remained pale: “Lu Liu.”

That was the first time A Heng heard Lu Liu’s name from Yan Xi’s lips.

Si Wan had mentioned him as their childhood friend; Xin Da Yi had said he was a youth whose eyes contained the movement of many stars; Si Er had called him her immortal brother; Grandfather had said he was a child better than his Si Wan, Si Er, and A Heng combined.

But she had never heard Yan Xi mention him. Even when others brought him up, he would pretend not to hear.

A Heng pushed a glass of hot water into his palm, sighing: “Take a sip before speaking.”

But he bit the glass, pondered, and mumbled with a nasal tone: “My good friend.”

“What?” A Heng was confused.

Yan Xi smiled, nodding, affirming his statement: “I said Lu Liu is my good friend.”

“Oh.”

A Heng held the ticket, turning it over repeatedly: “It happens to be the day our winter break starts.”

Yan Xi’s eyes showed a smile, but his lips carried a hint of coldness.

A Heng opened her mouth to ask something, but the doorbell rang, somewhat sharp on the cold, brittle winter day.

She went to open the door, and Si Wan stood outside, wearing only a white T-shirt, his lips somewhat pale.

“Where did you come from, aren’t you cold?” A Heng was surprised; in below-zero temperatures, this attire was far too strange.

The young man looked unwell, gave A Heng a gentle glance, and walked hurriedly straight to the living room before stopping. He stared at the gray-blue card in Yan Xi’s hand, raising an identical card clutched in his left hand: “Sure enough, you received one too.”

Yan Xi coughed and smiled, eyebrows raised: “Si Wan, Lu Liu invited us to vacation in Vienna. Did he tell you he’s covering all expenses? Otherwise, I won’t go.”

Si Wan’s expression contained its fluctuations, his long hands in his pockets, looking down to find he was still wearing cotton slippers, smiling bitterly: “That’s natural. When has Lu Liu ever done anything to make people worry? Moreover, Aunt Lin will be going to this time.”

But Yan Xi turned away, his tone slightly halting: “Isn’t she returning to America?”

Si Wan exhaled: “Seems the American branch is running well, and Aunt Lin hasn’t seen Lu Liu for nearly two years, she misses him very much.”

A Heng sat on the sofa, originally winding a ball of yarn, but looked up.

Again… two years?

Yan Xi fell silent, standing by the window, reaching out his hand to make one palm print after another in his breath on the glass, endlessly amused.

Si Wan watched him, and though feeling it inappropriate, still asked: “Do you… want to go?”

Yan Xi responded carelessly, black hair swaying over his brows: “Doesn’t matter, spending New Year anywhere is the same. Just need to add one more ticket.”

“For whom?”

He jerked his chin, pointing at the sofa, with an ambiguous smile: “Who else could it be? A Heng isn’t dead yet.”

Si Wan looked in the direction he pointed, where that girl sat quietly.

He had almost… forgotten her presence before.

A Heng looked up at Yan Xi, slightly startled: “Me? I can’t.” She smiled in explanation, “Father called yesterday, said he can’t come back for New Year this year, and asked me to spend it with him.”

Si Wan smiled too: “So soon? Father also just told the family yesterday he won’t be back for New Year.”

On the day winter break began, the temperature dropped below zero, and frost formed but still no snow, indeed as Lu Liu had said.

When she saw Yan Xi at the front door, Xin Da Yi urged him to get in the car as they were rushing to catch the flight. This youth walked to the car, remembered something, turned back, stood at the door, and gazed for a long while.

“What are you looking at?” A Heng asked him, puzzled.

Yan Xi smiled, squinting at the iron plate before him: “09-68, memorized.”

“Memorize what?”

“Our house number.”

“What for?”

“In case I forget the way home…”

“Silly.” A Heng curved her lips, but grabbed his hand and ran forward with all her might, “Hurry up, don’t you see Da Yi’s head is steaming with impatience.”

The paper bag in A Heng’s right hand rustled in the wind.

Yan Xi pointed at the paper bag: “What’s this?”

A Heng smiled, lowered her eyes, and released his hand, passing him the paper bag, speaking to Xin Da Yi who had his head sticking out the window: “Da Yi, just two minutes.”

Xin Da Yi sighed helplessly: “It’s only a few days away, do you two need to be so reluctant to part?”

A Heng took out a gray rabbit fur scarf from the paper bag, rising slightly on her toes—she was 1.73 meters, he was 1.79 meters, six centimeters, no matter how you measured it, always a distance.

Yan Xi’s eyes sparkled, his first words not of joy but a question: “Does Si Wan have one, does Da Yi have one?”

A Heng answered perfunctorily: “Mm, yes, already gave them theirs.”

So the young man pouted.

But she felt mischievous, took the light-colored elegant scarf, and wrapped it around both his fair neck and slightly dry lips. The subtle sunflower patterns on the scarf bloomed brilliantly in the brittle air. There was also a pair of gloves, hanging around his neck, still gray, with rabbit-eared figures with big eyes crocheted on them, childishly cute.

Yan Xi mumbled: “What’s this, so childish.”

A Heng smiled: “Are you very mature? If you don’t want them, give them back.”

Yan Xi hugged the gloves like guarding against thieves: “Once it’s in my territory it’s mine!” His complaints were continuous, but his mouth was nearly grinning beyond the scarf.

“Good grief! Are you ever going to finish!” Xin Da Yi raged, dragging Yan Xi into the car, and waving to A Heng.

Yan Xi widened his eyes, hitting the seat: “Auntie, don’t act smug just because you got lucky, our A Heng knitted scarves and gloves for all of you, what more do you want? Keep talking and I’ll hit you!”

Xin Da Yi wept: “Who the hell has seen that dead girl’s scarves and gloves? She only asked what I wanted, and never mentioned it again…”

Si Wan helplessly started the car and drove off in a cloud of dust.

Yan Xi pressed his entire face against the rear window, his handsome features instantly flattened, grinning like a fool, pounding on the window vigorously: “A Heng, A Heng, wait for me, I’ll be back very soon!”

A Heng was troubled, thinking, finally sent this young master off. Then, wickedly thought, hopefully, Little Ya gets lost in Vienna and comes back some days later.

Then, she… wanted to strangle herself.

On the twenty-eighth day of the lunar year, she arrived alone in her father’s city, unexpectedly finding the south frozen, extraordinarily cold.

A Heng had taken the train for nearly three days.

Her mother had originally wanted her to fly, but considering A Heng had never flown before and would be traveling alone with no one to look after her, she worried and dropped the idea.

She had thought she would be going to a naval ship, but her mother laughed: “You’re still a child, how could you go to such a place?”

Later she learned that her father had originally been on leave for the New Year, but a good friend from the Southern Military Region had invited him long ago, and there seemed to be something important, so he stayed.

When she got off the train, she didn’t see her father in the distance but saw a young man in a green military uniform holding up a sign high, with two extremely beautiful and proud calligraphy characters written in a flourishing style: Wen Heng.

Every time A Heng recalled this later, she felt embarrassed—she had never imagined her name could be written in such a sharp and fierce manner.

That young man stood exceptionally straight and proud in his military uniform, radiating sharp authority.

She walked up to him, hesitating about how to introduce herself, feeling awkward as if they were strangers after all.

“Hello,” A Heng smiled slightly.

The young man didn’t speak, staring at her for a long while, as if trying to see through her, before finally speaking coolly: “You’re Wen Heng? Wen An Guo’s daughter?”

A Heng nodded, looking up at the young man, but was startled.

His face was covered in acne, a red patch, full of youth.

“Follow me.” He turned, leaving only his back view.

A Heng huffed and puffed carrying her suitcase as she walked forward, smiling slightly without saying anything.

At least he couldn’t be a human trafficker, that’s what she thought at the time.

Of course, thinking back later, even she wondered why she had followed without even asking his name.

This was… perhaps too trusting.

Years later, when that person became tied to the same rope as her, always trying to kick her off it, he loved to ask one question: “Wen Heng, do you know what makes you most annoying?”

She shook her head, naturally not knowing.

“Your obedience. I’ve never seen a woman as obedient as you!”

A Heng felt somewhat depressed. How had being obedient become annoying…

Along the way, A Heng tried to make conversation several times but was silenced by one glare from the green uniform. Somehow, it reminded her of Yan Xi’s wide-eyed glares, so she looked at this person with an irrepressible smile.

Ah, she probably looked like a lunatic.

Thinking this, she dozed off against the car window.

Fortunately, this person wasn’t a fraud.

When she woke up, the first person she saw was her father.

“A Heng, how did you sleep so deeply? Xiao Bai carried you back to the dormitory, and you didn’t even stir,” Wen An Guo teased his daughter, making this his first greeting.

A Heng was embarrassed, blushing for a long while before asking: “Um, who’s Xiao Bai?”

From behind Wen An Guo emerged a middle-aged man in military uniform, with a straightforward smile, thick eyebrows, and large eyes, his military rank insignia gleaming on his shoulders.

“The young man who brought you back, my nephew,” the man smiled, carrying a strong tobacco smell, seemingly a heavy smoker.

A Heng looked around, wanting to thank him, but the green uniform was nowhere to be seen.

“Uncle, you are?” She smiled too, climbing out of bed to stand properly behind her father.

Wen An Guo patted his daughter’s shoulder: “The one who’s been hosting us, your Uncle Gu, the Chief of Staff of the military region, my good friend from the military academy.”

“Hello, Uncle Gu.” A Heng smiled sweetly.

A Heng’s days in the military region went smoothly. Her father and Uncle Gu often drank together. Seeing her bored, the girls from the cultural troupe often dragged her along to play. Being around the same age, they developed something close to intimate friendship.

These girls had become soldiers at such a young age and were much more mature than school girls. They patiently helped A Heng adapt to military life like older sisters, very thoughtful and warm. Only when talking about boys they liked did they become chirpy and childish.

Xiao Bai is terrifying! This was their unanimous conclusion after much chatter.

A Heng found it amusing and asked them what was terrifying about him.

“His looks, personality, intelligence, family background—everything is terrifying!”

This was their unanimous answer.

A Heng was confused. Her only impression of him was from their first meeting—his cold and proud manner when speaking, everything else was blank.

Looks—”Face full of acne, terrifying, right?”

Personality—”He’s been here visiting relatives for half a month and hasn’t spoken ten sentences to us combined, isn’t that terrifying?”

Intelligence—”My hometown friend’s third aunt’s aunt’s daughter goes to the same university as him, he got into Z University’s Medical School at fifteen, reportedly has an IQ of 180, sisters…”

Family background—”His uncle is our Chief of Staff, and his father is the director of Z University’s affiliated hospital, if it weren’t for that discounted face, sisters, he’d be a golden VIP card impossible to find even with a searchlight…”

The cultural troupe girls always had powerful descriptions.

A Heng burst out laughing, her laughter rich like ink paintings, swaying back and forth.

Suddenly, everyone noticed something and started coughing violently behind her, as if their throats were being squeezed. A Heng turned around, her smile not yet faded, to see the subject of their gossip.

He looked down at her coldly for a long while, the little acne on his face gleaming brightly.

“Your mail.” He handed her a letter and turned to leave.

A Heng felt guilty for laughing at this unfamiliar person behind his back, influenced by others’ gossip.

How inconsiderate…

“Xiao Bai, I’m sorry…” she called out sincerely, full of apology.

Though he had been walking away proudly, at the sound of “Xiao Bai,” he seemed to suddenly sprout wheels of wind and fire, vanishing in an instant. A Heng had the illusion that his green uniform sleeves almost flew off from his speed.

So he was terrifying!

A Heng received an email every five days from Vienna.

The first one showed snow-covered mountain peaks, crystalline and pure. That young man, in ski gear, slightly bent, making a peace sign, wearing sunglasses—yet she was certain his face was radiant. The message read: “A Heng, this snow is for you, from Vienna.”

The second showed the Golden Hall, musical instruments gleaming, reliefs solemn, men and women elegant and refined. He wasn’t in the photo, only a glimpse of a white suit corner adorning the photo like a subtle fragrance. Each stroke of his writing was neat and earnest: “A Heng, when I’m home, I’ll play the piano for you.”

The third showed layer upon layer of grape-covered trellises stretching beyond sight, a dewdrop blooming before the eyes. Under the trellises was a group of young figures, one of them in the sunlight so bright it hurt her eyes. This message was written messily with excitement: “A Heng, I secretly drank the wine here, it’s a state federation vintage aged sixty years.”

The fourth showed an exquisite palace, flowing with golden splendor, connected to water, rippling with light. At that moment, New Year’s fireworks were being set off, and he pointed at the clock striking twelve, shouting something at the camera. She could only see from the frozen text: “A Heng, Happy New Year, you’re another year older.”

The fifth showed Vienna’s sky, thoroughly blue, warm and cunning like a baby, simple and pure. He said: “A Heng, when I return home, I want to see you first.”

Then, she rubbed her eyes, facing her father, almost in tears: “Dad, when are we going home, when are we going home…”

It was the year 2000, the end of a century, the beginning of a century.