The high-speed train from Shanghai to Huanzhou took ninety minutes, during which Qiao Qingyu wrote tirelessly, filling three entire A4 pages. Using a fountain pen, she wrote each stroke meticulously, concentrating as if practicing calligraphy. Though seated by the window, she forgot the scenery outside, and when lost in thought, would fix her gaze on the snow globe holding down her papers—her only souvenir from Shanghai, the size of a ping-pong ball, with a miniature Oriental Zhenzhu Tower inside the transparent sphere that, when shaken gently, would stir up white fragments like falling snow.

She had intended to record these three days in detail, but the sentences under her pen seemed to grow running feet of their own, racing past the difficulties of the first day, the nervousness and joy of making new friends, and the calm during the competition. When writing about Ming Sheng’s appearance, the feet stopped, began pacing, savoring every detail, afraid to miss even the slightest moment.

She devoted an entire page to the cold, windy night at the Bund, and half a page to Ming Sheng appearing at the cramped awards ceremony to applaud her first prize. The final two paragraphs were like sleep-talking in a dream, hazy yet direct, passionate yet profound, mixing retrospection with anticipation—she felt too embarrassed to read them a second time.

As the train approached its destination, Qiao Qingyu folded the three white pages and slipped them into a manila envelope already bearing a stamp, wrote the Chaoyang Village address and recipient name, sealed it carefully, and then placed it inside another larger white envelope.

After leaving the station, she dropped the envelope into a mailbox, sending it to Meng Xiaozeng.

The day before, while wandering through Shanghai’s old streets, they had discovered a “Time Post Office” that would mail letters to the future. Everyone in the group wrote postcards to be delivered in either one or ten years. Qiao Qingyu hadn’t been moved then, but today, after the awards ceremony, checking out, entering the crowded Hongqiao Station, and that moment when she turned back to see Ming Sheng’s motionless figure through the glass—under the wave-like surge of reluctance and melancholy, she resolutely decided to preserve something.

Time is water, most skilled at smoothing everything away; she had to transform these brief three days into words, etched into paper, never to fade.

She knew Meng Xiaozeng would stay two more days, so she mailed it to her, asking her to take it to the store. Regarding the store’s storage fee, Meng Xiaozeng readily offered to cover it in her text message.

“Since I’ve met you, I might as well come to visit Huanzhou in a couple of days, you’ll have to be my guide and treat me to a meal~,” she said in her message. “I just need to be home by New Year’s Eve.”

Whether she could be a guide, Qiao Qingyu wasn’t sure—Li Fanghao would return tomorrow, bringing Qiao Lilong. To the free-spirited Meng Xiaozeng, her life of being unable to go out alone must be unimaginable.

How to explain this suddenly appearing friend to Li Fanghao, and if Li Fanghao disapproved, how to explain her predicament to Meng Xiaozeng—these were the questions Qiao Qingyu pondered on her way home. Take Qiao Jinyu along, say they’re going to the bookstore—would that work? No money to treat Meng Xiaozeng to a meal, secretly borrow some from Qiao Huan—would that work?

Qiao Qingyu felt the speeding train was like a tunnel, with dreams at one end and reality at the other. Returning to Huanzhou by evening, the sky was gray, but it didn’t particularly bother her—she knew lingering in dreams was futile, she had simply woken up.

She held the small snow globe in her hand until it grew warm.

It was completely dark when she got off the bus. Qiao Qingyu pulled up her down jacket’s hood, hurriedly passing Boss Feng’s wife’s newsstand, her palm tightly wrapping around that round little universe, thinking, one night of freedom left, I must hide it well, protect it well-

It was dinner time, and she decided to go to the store first to eat and check-in. Qiao Huan was busy serving noodles to a table of customers and called out happily when she saw Qiao Qingyu enter.

“I just told your dad not to worry, that you’d be home soon,” after setting down two bowls of noodles, she caught Qiao Qingyu who was heading to the back kitchen, leaning in close, “Let me tell you, your mom just arrived.”

Qiao Qingyu felt every pore in her body opens up: “My mom’s already here?”

“Yeah, arrived half an hour ago, Xiaoyu just took some food home for your mom and grandpa,” Qiao Huan said. “Why don’t you take some food home too, your mom asked about you as soon as she arrived.”

“Okay.”

Walking into the back kitchen, Qiao Lusheng had just poured a plate of food into the wok, and the oil smoke suddenly rose, obscuring Qiao Qingyu’s vision and voice.

“Dad!”

“You’re back?” Qiao Lusheng shouted while wielding his spatula, “Your mom came back a day early!”

“I know!”

“Must be hungry, I’ll make extra fried rice for this batch, want some fried rice too?”

“Yes!”

As the work settled, Qiao Lusheng covered it, lowered the heat, turned to cut vegetables, and added: “I told your mom you went to the library, remember that.”

“Mm.”

“Did you have enough money?”

“Enough,” Qiao Qingyu said while taking out the remaining hundred-plus yuan from her backpack and placing it on the counter nearby, “This much left, Dad.”

Qiao Lusheng glanced at it: “You’re very frugal.”

“Also this,” Qiao Qingyu put down her backpack and took out an honorary certificate and a box, opened the certificate, and removed a transparent trophy from the box, “Dad.”

Qiao Lusheng put down his knife, and squinted as he looked closer, joy evident in his expression: “Wow, first prize.”

“Should I not take it home?”

Qiao Lusheng continued cutting vegetables, his expression serious as if deep in thought, then said: “Leave it with Qiao Huan.”

“Okay.”

Qiao Qingyu gave the certificate and trophy to Qiao Huan, along with her change of clothes and train tickets. When asked if there was anything else to leave, Qiao Qingyu touched the snow globe in her down jacket pocket and slowly shook her head.

She couldn’t bear to give the snow globe to anyone. Walking home under the dim yellow streetlights in the residential area, she felt something cool like feathers landing on her face. Looking up, she vaguely caught sight of snowflakes appearing and disappearing in the lamplight.

Was it snowing at the Bund now too?

Last night’s wind from the Huangpu River still echoed in her ears, and Ming Sheng’s warm breath still lingered in her nostrils, yet thinking about it felt like a lifetime ago.

The snow globe in her palm was hot like a small bomb ready to explode. Qiao Qingyu took out her phone and deleted everything from the past three days, gathered herself, and continued walking home.

She was ready-

Qiao Lilong sat watching television on the sofa, and when he heard Qiao Qingyu call “Grandpa,” he didn’t turn around, just grunted lowly to acknowledge her. The dining table was already clean, the sound of dishwashing came from the kitchen, and the main room’s door was open, but Qiao Jinyu’s partition on the outside was empty.

Qiao Qingyu first put down her backpack, placed the fried rice she brought on the dining table, peeked into the kitchen to greet Qiao Jinyu who was washing dishes, then quietly took a breath and walked toward the lit main room.

The plywood door was also open, and Li Fanghao’s hunched-over figure flashed before her eyes.

“Mom,” Qiao Qingyu called from the plywood doorway, “I’m back.”

Li Fanghao, busy making the bed, didn’t turn around: “Mm, have you eaten? If you have, take the quilt on the table to the living room, your dad will use it tonight.”

Qiao Qingyu took the quilt out and put it away, came back to find Li Fanghao had finished with the bedsheet and was now putting on the duvet cover.

“Mom, let me help you.”

“Don’t bother with this, organize your clothes, put what you’ll need these days in your dad’s and my room, and leave two shelves in this cabinet empty for your grandpa’s clothes.”

“Okay.”

The small room’s door wasn’t locked, but there was no space in the wardrobe yet, so Qiao Qingyu first put her clothes on the bed.

When she returned, she saw Li Fanghao starting to shake out the quilt and went to help her. Mother and daughter folded the quilt together, and Li Fanghao finally straightened up, looking at the desk with a gloomy expression: “Take the books on the desk to the small room too,” she said while stifling a long yawn, “hurry up, your grandpa says he’s tired and wants to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Moving books was heavy work, and Qiao Jinyu came to help too. When they finally finished, Li Fanghao told Qiao Lilong to come in and sleep, but the old man refused, saying it was too cold and wanted an electric heater. An exhausted-looking Li Fanghao suggested turning on the air conditioning, but Qiao Lilong said he wasn’t used to it. Seeing an argument about to break out, Qiao Jinyu quickly ran out saying he’d buy a hot water bottle.

After he left, Qiao Lilong had Qiao Qingyu put his towel, toothbrush, and slippers in the bathroom and adjust the water temperature before he finally got up to take a shower.

The fried rice had long gone cold. Li Fanghao went to the kitchen and turned on the microwave, coming out two minutes later to place the steaming fried rice in front of Qiao Qingyu, walking wordlessly toward the small room.

“Mom, take a rest first!”

“Eat quickly.”

While eating, Qiao Qingyu watched Li Fanghao start another round of changing sheets and covers—she had become increasingly obsessed with cleanliness these past few years, surely unable to tolerate the dusty state of the house. Her mother’s tired yet busy figure made Qiao Qingyu feel guilty for not preparing the room change earlier, causing all the work to pile up and fall on Li Fanghao alone.

In the room, Li Fanghao took off her coat and continued working while laying the sheet halfway.

Only then did Qiao Qingyu notice how much thinner Li Fanghao had become, her fitted sweater hanging loose at the sleeves and waist, her figure constantly bent over the bed like a frail old woman. Her movements were similar too, hands slightly trembling as she spread the sheet, then turning it over to check if she’d got the sides wrong, showing a pitifully paranoid attention to detail.

After quickly finishing her rice, Qiao Qingyu went into the small room. The open wardrobe door blocked Li Fanghao from view, and when Qiao Qingyu called out “Mom,” there was no response.

“Mom?” Qiao Qingyu raised her voice, peering around the wardrobe door, “Let me help you.”

“Mm.” Li Fanghao’s voice was hollow, her cheeks sunken, eyes lifeless, appearing completely indifferent. “Qingqing.”

“Mom, go rest.”

Suddenly Li Fanghao snapped back to awareness: “If you wanted me to rest, why didn’t you take care of these things earlier? How many times did I tell your father to get everything ready first, but coming home nothing’s been touched, look how dirty everything is! You did this on purpose, didn’t you, deliberately trying to work me to death, that would make you all happy!”

Her scolding was fierce and harsh, but somehow it made Qiao Qingyu feel more at ease. Afterward, Li Fanghao regained her usual spirit, questioning Qiao Qingyu in detail about the past six months while organizing, as if completely forgetting their two or three phone calls every week. Qiao Qingyu answered each question carefully, not daring to be careless. Just as they finished organizing the room, the front door creaked open, and Qiao Jinyu came in, shaking snow from his shoulders.

“Wow, it’s snowing heavily all of a sudden!” Qiao Jinyu called out as he entered, “Sis, come look from the balcony!”

Li Fanghao’s silence indicated permission, and Qiao Qingyu quickly retreated from the suffocating room, walking to the balcony alongside Qiao Jinyu.

Wang Mumu’s house was completely dark, and even Ming Sheng’s usually lively grandfather’s house had no lights—the tenants had probably gone home for the New Year. Looking up, Qiao Qingyu saw snowflakes falling silently through the night sky, the world so quiet.

“Where’s my phone, sis?” Qiao Jinyu asked softly.

Qiao Qingyu took the phone from her pocket and returned it to him.

“Dad said you won first prize?” Qiao Jinyu said with a gentle laugh, “Well done, sis, the trip was worth it.”

Qiao Qingyu pulled her gaze from the drifting snow: “Xiaoyu, don’t you think Mom has changed?”

“She’s aged so much,” Qiao Jinyu agreed, “looking sickly and thin… being constantly berated at the old home, no wonder she’s aging fast.”

“For this family,” Qiao Qingyu glanced back at the empty living room, “she’s spent all her youth.”

“Yeah,” Qiao Jinyu sighed, “Mom was quite beautiful when she was young. Ah, even the most beautiful youth can’t be kept, it’s worth the least… in life, making money is the only way, nothing else matters.”

His worldly tone made Qiao Qingyu smile helplessly.

“Xiaoyu,” she looked toward the snowy night sky, speaking softly, “you’ve had it hard too.”

“Why say that?” Qiao Jinyu asked, suspicious and guarded, “Are you going to…”

“Help me with something.”

“Here we go again! I knew it!”

Qiao Qingyu smiled, looked back to see the living room empty, and quickly took out the snow globe, placing it in Qiao Jinyu’s hand: “Put it on the TV, or the dining table, somewhere visible when you enter. If Mom asks, say you bought it, or a classmate gave it to you, whatever works…”

“First tell me clearly who gave this to you.”

“I bought it myself,” Qiao Qingyu said, openly accepting Qiao Jinyu’s scrutiny, “I’m not lying.”

“Something feels off,” Qiao Jinyu frowned, “Are you secretly dating someone, sis?”

“No,” Qiao Qingyu raised her hand in an oath, “Mom’s back, you think I’d dare?”

“You mean if you were braver, you would.”

This statement caught Qiao Qingyu off guard. She blinked, her speechless expression arousing Qiao Jinyu’s sympathy.

“I’ll help you, sis, but can you not date yet? You’re in your senior year… ah well, you are pretty, can’t waste your youth,” he said contradictorily, patting Qiao Qingyu’s shoulder, “Just protect yourself, don’t waste your youth like Big Sis, okay?”

Taking on an elder’s demeanor, Qiao Qingyu reached out to ruffle his head, saying with touched amusement: “Are you encouraging me to date? Don’t you know that would be like seeking death?”

“Stop talking about death,” Qiao Jinyu’s expression turned serious, “Don’t mention death so casually, sis. You can tell me anything, I’ll support you in everything. If you want to date, then date, don’t hold it in being happy in life is the most important, nothing else is a big deal… I’m about your age, we’re both so lucky, not like Big Sis before, even if…”

He suddenly stopped, sighed softly, and looked up at the sky.

“Sis,” his voice distant, “who do you think Mom loves most among us three?”

Not hearing Qiao Qingyu’s response, he continued: “It’s Big Sis, right? Mom told me that even after we were born, she still treated Big Sis like an only child in her heart, so when Big Sis left, she… ah, Big Sis suffered so much at the end, it hurts just thinking about it.”

“Xiaoyu?”

“Hm?”

“Did you learn something about our sister?”

“What?” Qiao Jinyu feigned confusion, “I’m just lamenting, Big Sis was in her prime then, such a waste.”

Li Fanghao came out of the room, ending their conversation. Seeing Qiao Lilong emerge from the bathroom asking Li Fanghao for the hot water bottle, Qiao Jinyu quickly went over—as if escaping further questions from Qiao Qingyu.

To satisfy Qiao Lilong’s desire for a hot bowl of porridge, Li Fanghao and Qiao Jinyu began bustling about like spinning tops. Mother and son didn’t speak, Qiao Jinyu automatically went to get porridge from the store while telling Qiao Qingyu to study without worry, and Li Fanghao massaged Qiao Lilong’s back as he sat on the sofa while urging Qiao Qingyu to go to her room and study. The sudden tacit understanding between them puzzled Qiao Qingyu, but she quickly found the reason—a secret had bound her mother and brother together, a secret about her sister.

They couldn’t let her know, afraid it would affect her mood and consequently her studies. In senior year, nothing was more important than grades.

This widely accepted, familiar logic reminded Qiao Qingyu of what Ming Sheng had experienced in ninth grade. She understood his anger.

Why were adults so utilitarian, able to dismiss everything except grades?

Why were adults so autocratic, able to deprive children of their right to know in the name of love?