Lu Zimu.

Still Lu Zimu.

It was still the young her and the young Long Ziyi—just the two of them, looking as loving as they do now. The heart that had been suspended in midair floated downward, bringing with it a very direct sense of loss. Ban Wei’s voice began to become clear in her ears again, and she responded absently.

The two of them had known each other much earlier than she had thought.

Of course—only Lu Zimu would not care that Long Ziyi was single yet had a child, and would maintain a pure romantic relationship with her. Sometimes men were just disappointingly predictable without exception. She changed albums and pulled out a new photo album from another yellow envelope. If she hadn’t stumbled upon these excellent photos today, Long Ziyi was planning to keep them at the bottom of her trunk for life, never showing them to her. This new album’s timeline was even earlier. Opening the cover, the very first photo showed Long Ziyi in her second trimester of pregnancy. She pulled a cushion from the sofa to support her lower back, preparing to look through it wholeheartedly. But just as she settled down, something felt wrong—Lu Zimu was in this photo too.

Sitting beside Long Ziyi, wearing a T-shirt in a color that matched Long Ziyi’s maternity dress, making a playful expression while pointing at Long Ziyi’s belly. Long Ziyi was supporting her waist with one hand, laughing. A line was written on the back of the photo.

Six months, our Angel.

…

Flipping further back, there were photos from even earlier. When Long Ziyi’s morning sickness was severe and her belly hadn’t shown yet but she was crying from the nausea, Lu Zimu was still there beside her, holding the camera, rubbing Long Ziyi’s back.

—Nurturing life is hard yet great. Our Angel, when you grow up, you must listen to your mother.

There when her belly was slightly showing, bending down to put socks on Long Ziyi.

—Your belly is alarmingly large, you can’t bend over anymore. I’m really worried you’ll be a chubby baby.

There when her belly was round, helping Long Ziyi prepare her hospital bag.

—More nervous than the person about to give birth.

Even there during the delivery, capturing a photo of hands touching—her small fist meeting Lu Zimu’s hand after birth.

—6.21, an angel descended to earth, named with seven.

At first, she thought Long Ziyi was quite impressive, managing to attract someone as interesting and devoted as Lu Zimu even during pregnancy. But the more she looked, the more she felt this relationship had started too early, was too intimate. Outside the building, the wind howled. She switched to another album. The very first photo after opening it struck her heart like a hammer, forcing out the suspicion that had been lurking in her chest.

How was it that Long Ziyi already had photos with Lu Zimu even before she was pregnant?

So.

How did Lu Zimu tolerate Long Ziyi’s one-night stand and still manage to meticulously document the entire pregnancy?

Then, just as she was thinking this, she flipped to another photo. Bright sunshine, young Long Ziyi and Lu Zimu standing in front of an American-style building. Lu Zimu had her arm around Long Ziyi’s shoulders, Long Ziyi was holding her arms while looking back at the building’s entrance. Both had expectant, happy expressions on their faces. On the back of the photo, a line in slightly blurred pen ink: February 1997, California.

Ban Wei attended high school in California.

“I’m sending you a photo.”

The sudden interruption made Ban Wei, who had been chattering nonstop, pause. By the time he reacted, he’d already received the photo. He replied: “What? What’s this? Who? Hey, isn’t that your mom? Your mom when she was young…”

“Do you know what place this is in the photo?”

“This place?”

“Yeah, take a look. It says it’s in California.”

“I can’t tell right away. Are you in a hurry about this? If not, I’ll send it to my mom to look at. She’s very familiar with California. Five minutes?”

“Okay, please give my regards to your mom.”

“Will do.”

While talking, she continued flipping through. But the photos after this started becoming strange—they had all been deliberately cut. Some photos that were originally group shots had been turned into solo photos of Lu Zimu. Several had been torn apart and then glued back together—they were photos of Lu Zimu and Long Ziyi from their youth.

The two had known each other since high school.

The fingertips holding the photo paper felt a bit cold. She breathed, her eyelashes slowly moving up and down, until Ban Wei’s call came through again. Just as she answered, there was also the sound of a door opening at the entrance. She looked up.

“California Cryobank,” Ban Wei was very efficient, answering as soon as he connected. “California’s sperm bank. It’s a really famous place. My mom has a same-sex couple as friends who wanted a child and did IVF there. Long-auntie was quite progressive, doing this so early…”

Probably realizing something, Ban Wei’s words became slower and slower, until he finally stopped speaking altogether, returning a belated “uh.” And Long Qi also saw Lu Zimu at the doorway. She was wearing soft slippers, carrying a teapot, entering the study as usual. She hadn’t expected anyone to be inside at all and was genuinely startled by Long Qi sitting by the cabinet. She hadn’t steadied herself against the door frame when she saw the photos in her hands and the expression on her face. She had wanted to greet her casually as usual without any generation gap, but the words seemed stuck in her throat. She dragged her steps to a halt. Only the water surface in the teacup rippled.

“Okay, I understand,” she slowly replied to Ban Wei. “So it’s a sperm bank.”

…

…

So Lu Zimu understood too.

She hung up the phone.

Head lowered, touching the photo, she said nothing. Lu Zimu also said nothing. The central air conditioning beeped once with a delayed start. Warm air pushed into the room, gathering lightly at the ceiling. Below the ceiling, it was still cold—a bone-piercing chill. She and Lu Zimu faced off in this chill. After ten seconds of standoff, she spoke: “So just like your relationship with my mom—if I don’t discover it, you’ll never tell me, right?”

“…”

“Why deceive a child with a one-night stand story?”

…

Her legs were nearly numb from sitting. Only then did Lu Zimu say: “Your mom didn’t let me tell.”

“What’s so hard to talk about in this? Compared to a one-night stand, what’s so hard to talk about in this?” The second repeated question had a slightly higher pitch than the first. She looked at Lu Zimu. “Did she think it was fun? Did she want to establish an image of herself as a carefree, dissolute, irresponsible mother? She’s been making up stories to deceive me since I couldn’t even write the words ‘one-night stand.’ In the first kindergarten class when we drew ‘my family,’ other kids drew their neat and tidy families of three. I drew a foreign father based on foreign movies, and she had to cross it out with red pen, saying he didn’t want me. Did she think that was particularly fun?”

“Ziyi wasn’t in a good mood back then.”

“Have I ever been in a good mood?”

…

This counter-question made Lu Zimu fall silent for a moment. Long Qi stared straight at her, eyes slightly red.

Click—

Another door-opening sound came from the entrance.

Even without turning around, Lu Zimu knew who had returned. Long Ziyi first set down her bag, changed into slippers, then slowly walked over, tossing out “What are you standing there for?” Her figure with arms crossed appeared at the doorway. Following Lu Zimu’s line of sight, she looked over. The moment she saw Long Qi, the laziness on her face vanished. She quickly entered, that hand rising like lightning, ready to strike. When her palm landed on the forehead, she saw the red eyes glaring at her and the photos in her hands.

She stopped two steps away.

“You went through my boxes, Long Qi?”

The first sentence she asked.

She laughed coldly. Long Ziyi’s barely stopped steps suddenly surged forward, snatching the photos from her hands with a swish: “This is what you get for rummaging!”

“So what if I rummaged!” She yelled back.

Long Ziyi immediately slapped her forehead: “You spent two days with someone else’s mom and now you don’t recognize people, is that it! Your IQ hasn’t grown but your temper has. Do you have any manners?”

“Did anyone teach me from childhood!”

“Ziyi didn’t want you to hate me.”

She looked over at Lu Zimu who had spoken. Long Ziyi quickly turned around: “Why are you still standing there? Show this big star out. The small house can’t accommodate her anymore. Invite her to eat someone else’s rice, drink someone else’s water, and recognize someone else’s woman as her mother!”

“Ziyi didn’t want you to hate me.”

“Lu Zimu!”

“I was the one who didn’t want you back then.” Lu Zimu said.

She remained sitting on the floor. Long Ziyi’s chest was heaving. The room finally gained a few seconds of quiet. Lu Zimu said: “Life changed too much after having you. You were growing every day. Your eyes were asking questions every day. I couldn’t handle it—how to teach you, what kind of worldview to instill in you, how to comfort you when you cried, how to answer when you asked why you didn’t have a father, how to draw ‘my family’ in your first kindergarten class. I was too young then, had too many ideas, was too scared. I still wanted to write a few more good scripts. Taking care of you every day left me no energy to focus on creating. It was me who, after careful consideration, decided to have a child with Ziyi. It was also me who, after six months of thinking, proposed breaking up with Ziyi. You were two years old then.”

…

“The money you sent every month before…”

“Yes, it was guilt.”

After a long pause, she sniffed hard and glared at Long Ziyi: “And then? You couldn’t afford to raise me either, so you dumped me at my aunt’s place, right?”

“No, I could afford to raise you.”

Long Ziyi didn’t look at her.

“Ziyi.”

“Shut up.”

Long Ziyi looked straight at Lu Zimu, seemingly angry at her overly frank confession just now. Because of this, she simply gave up and spilled everything herself: “Having you from a one-night stand at seventeen was just to make you think I put you with your cousin because of financial difficulties. Actually, I was twenty-three when I had you, financially well-off. Lu Zimu and I had you while being able to guarantee you excellent education and superior living conditions. But I wanted more. With you, my position at the company would end at a small project manager. I wanted a better life. I wanted to fight for it without burdens. I wanted to date excellent people and dilute the harm caused to me by the previous cowardly relationship.” Only at this last sentence did Long Ziyi turn her head to look into Long Qi’s eyes. “So I couldn’t keep you. I gave you money but couldn’t accompany you.”

“You couldn’t accompany me, yet you couldn’t miss a single pickup or drop-off for the twins.”

“I can’t be a good mother with you.”

Long Qi slowly nodded.

“So, when you were in love, you had me, planning my life like playing house. When you were troubled, you abandoned me. You let me struggle in an environment with no father to raise me and no mother to teach me. You also planned to hide it from me for life, letting me mistakenly think that someday I could know who my biological father was. I thought I was at least conceived in one night of true feelings. But fucking hell, in the end, I don’t even have that.”

Both Long Ziyi and Lu Zimu said nothing, breathing heavily. She finished speaking with red eyes, feeling it was enough, meaningless now. She nodded, stood up, her trembling fingertips smoothing back the hair on her forehead, wiping away the two tears that immediately slid down, sniffing hard.

…

“I wish I had been a one-night stand.”

Brushing past Long Ziyi’s shoulder, passing Lu Zimu, she grabbed the scarf from the living room sofa and left, opening the door.

Early winter. It was snowing.

It was actually snowing.

After two consecutive days of extremely low temperatures, it finally erupted in these tiny ice crystals, swirling in the wind, falling on hair. She wasn’t dressed warmly—just a single, wind-permeable sweater. The scarf clutched in her hand, eyes red, she walked along the snowy residential complex road. Behind her, the automatic door clicked shut with a click. There was no sound of it opening again. No one followed.

Six o’clock in the evening. Deep blue twilight. Flowing traffic. Lights just coming on.

Car honking sounds, soft falling snow sounds, the friction of down jackets when pedestrians brushed past, the low whispers as people who recognized her turned back occasionally, then taxi radio sounds, tire-on-snow sounds, and finally distant laughter and joy, along with the cold wind sound close to her ears.

When it became completely quiet, it was eight o’clock at night. Langzhu Manor.

She sat on a wooden bench under a streetlamp.

Orange light draped over her shoulders. Two houses away was Villa No. 68 in the midst of a family banquet. Music came from afar. She kept her head down, hair hanging, the lit phone screen held in her palm. Jin Yiken’s number lay in her contacts, but she didn’t dial.

She had been sitting like this for half an hour.

Thinly dressed, fingers stiff, nose tip frozen red, a thin layer of snow covering her hair. She wanted to see him but couldn’t see him. She knew if she called he would definitely come, but she couldn’t make this call. Her heart ached, her eyes were moist, enduring wave after wave of cold wind, skin numb from cold.

This winter came too early, too fierce.

…

She didn’t know how much time had passed when the sound of falling snow disappeared from her ears.

The light also diminished a bit. Footprints were trampled into two lines on the snow-covered road surface. Under the orange-yellow lamp, a person holding an umbrella appeared, their shadow falling. She slowly raised her head. Her neck was somewhat stiff from the long static position. She met Dong Xi’s eyes. She wore a misty blue sweater, a thick white scarf wrapped around her, long black hair scattered between the scarf. She held a transparent umbrella. Snow fell on the umbrella surface with soft rustling sounds.

The night was thick.

For a moment, there were countless worries and concerns, but in the end she just looked at her with red eyes. Dong Xi didn’t speak either, gripping the cool umbrella handle. She didn’t ask why she had come or what was wrong. She held a bag of cat food in her hand—apparently she had just been to the pet shop near the manor. A quiet chance encounter on the way back. So without a word, she came before her.

Her body trembled slightly.

And Dong Xi didn’t stay long.

She bent down and handed the umbrella handle into her palm, then her body withdrew from under the umbrella.

And left.

As she walked, the paper bag containing cat food rustled softly, accompanied by the crunching sound of footsteps on snow, gradually fading into the distance. Long Qi never spoke, her frozen hands unable to grip the umbrella properly, letting it float casually against her shoulder.

Her palms gently rubbed against her knees.

When she heard approaching footsteps on snow again, it was five minutes later. She turned her head. Through the transparent umbrella surface, between the gaps of snowflakes, she saw Jin Yiken.

Wearing a single gray-white sweater, emerging from the passageway of his villa, walking very fast. Dong Xi was following behind him. Because of Jin Yiken’s excessive speed, she jogged a few steps, long hair and scarf scattering in the wind and snow. Then, at a distance of five meters in front of Long Qi, she slowed down. Unlike Jin Yiken who had been moving quickly all along, she was panting, stopping at the edge of another streetlamp’s light.

And Jin Yiken came directly under the umbrella, crouched down, and held Long Qi’s hands. His especially warm palms immediately wrapped around her entire frozen red hands, and in that second, also wrapped around her entire heart with a boom. Her dry eye sockets instantly became sore. The moment she saw him, the second she met his eyes, the resentment, stubbornness, and grievance she had felt toward Long Ziyi all completely collapsed. She cried.

Without speaking, just crying.

Uncontrollably shedding tears. Jin Yiken also didn’t speak. Like Dong Xi, he didn’t ask questions or say much. He pulled her hands and helped her up.

“Your parents are…”

“Don’t worry about that.”

She asked the first half of the sentence, but was interrupted.

Her feet were so stiff they had no feeling. She stumbled when she started walking but he held her firmly and she didn’t fall. Dong Xi watched them. She lowered her head and put her hand into her clothes pocket.

When the three brushed past each other, Dong Xi pulled Jin Yiken’s sweater sleeve and took out a hand warmer from her pocket. He took it and tucked it into Long Qi’s palm, saying thanks. He said it very quickly. Dong Xi watched them walk away.

She never took another step forward.

He brought her into the villa through the back door.

As soon as she entered, there was floor heating and the central air conditioning running throughout the house. Warmth enveloped her entire body. Guests were gathered in the front hall, laughter and chatter rising and falling beyond a wall and doorway. Perhaps hearing the door close, some uncle or elder called his name. He didn’t respond, directly leading her up the stairs.

No one noticed she had entered.

Only one person—encountered at the second-floor stairway entrance.

Jin Shaogao, who had just finished his homework, was swinging his headphones, about to go downstairs, when he ran right into the two of them face to face. Stunned, Jin Yiken’s steps didn’t stop. His index finger pressed to his lips, giving his younger brother a clear and direct gesture for silence. Jin Shaogao didn’t dare make a sound. He continued pulling her up to the third floor.

He filled the bathtub in the attic with hot water.

He let her soak in a thorough hot bath. Only then did her brain regain a little reaction. Under the steam and mist, she spoke intermittently about Long Ziyi’s situation.

Then she talked a bit about Lu Zimu’s situation.

Finally, she began talking about the blood test. Her wet hair stuck to her neck. She curled her knees in the bathtub, voice choking, truly and properly speaking what was in her heart. She said she was afraid, especially afraid.

“Being cared for by people is so difficult. Any little thing can shake a person’s faith. There weren’t many people who loved me to begin with. Why can’t you let me be happy peacefully? Why give me such tests, making me see with my own eyes how many people remain by my side? Why make me live so bitterly? I already lived lonely enough for the first twenty years. Why can’t each and every one of you accompany me properly?”

As she spoke, tears fell. Her eyes reddened, words incoherent.

Jin Yiken kept listening.

Sitting on the sofa outside, elbows resting on his knees, glancing at her from time to time. The attic fireplace was lit. The wood crackled. Most of the time he was thinking.

When she finished crying, she finished her bath.

Outside the small attic window, snow fell silently. He didn’t let her leave.

She originally thought he would take her downstairs after her emotions stabilized, but he didn’t. While her eyelashes were still wet, he said “later,” and then took off his shirt in front of her.

Firelight illuminated his shoulders and body, illuminated his hair slightly disheveled from being rubbed by the sweater collar. He kissed her face, slowly moving to her lips. Then, the two kissed on the sofa.

Chins overlapping, kissing closely, without a trace of lust but very warm. Her brain had become sluggish from the long bath. She neither reciprocated nor resisted. His hand explored inside her sweater, unhooked her bra clasp, then straightened up and took off his innermost T-shirt.

Bare-chested, he leaned down in front of her, forehead against forehead. The breath exhaled between their noses formed a ball of white mist. His fingers brushed aside the hair strands sticking to her neck. She kept looking into his eyes, until her bent knees pressed against his waist, and only then did her brain briefly recover a sliver of rationality.

She frowned.

But Jin Yiken’s decision was made too quickly, too unstoppably. The hand blocking him was held with fingers intertwined, pressed against the sofa. Her shoulders trembled. Her forehead nestled against the side of his face.

At this moment, nine o’clock at night.

On the first floor of this villa: distinguished guests filled the hall, songs and music flourished, toasts were exchanged, undercurrents surged.

In the attic: the stove melted snow, breaths interlaced.

His sweat fell into her collarbone. The two of them just clung to each other like this and had intercourse. Four months of abstinence made this unplanned intimacy particularly romantic. Long Qi went from red eyes to flushed face. The tears she shed slowly mixed with the sweat on her neck.

…

Why can’t each and every one of you accompany me properly—to this question, Jin Yiken gave her an answer with no way back.

This cold night was hurtful. This cold night was also enchanting.

Some people were intimate as could be, some people would never see each other again. The time it took for one snowflake to melt could catalyze as much passion and tender love as it could spawn tragic separations and reunions. Dong Xi was still under the streetlamp, sitting on the rectangular wooden bench covered in snow. Someone from home sent a message urging her to come back for dinner for the second time. She replied saying the cat food was out of stock and she needed to wait a little while.

Wu Jiakui, filming a night scene on set, hadn’t gotten a single scene in three hours. She huddled in her oversized down jacket, playing with the tiny Yorkshire Terrier on her lap. Her assistant was excitedly taking photos of the snowy scenery. She remained indifferent, just watching.

Ban Wei, still getting drunk at a nightclub, the model beside him secretly scanned his WeChat QR code from his agent. When the message notification sounded, he immediately looked, then disappointedly cursed “Damn,” completely ignoring the model’s instantly reddening ears as he raised his head and downed a glass of alcohol.

Fang Xuan finally broke free from her parents’ shelter. She had concluded her first deal with Wu’er and was laughing heartily, wanting to treat Wu’er to spicy crab.

Ge Yinling threw all the things Fu Yu’ao had given her into the trash bin downstairs from the dormitory.

Long Ziyi was having dinner with her twins. The twins were fighting with chopsticks, noisily. She slammed the table, saying if they didn’t eat properly she’d send them to their father’s side and they’d never come back.

Lu Zimu turned off her phone, blocking all manuscript deadline messages. She stayed alone in the study, looking at photos of Long Qi from childhood.

…

Jin Yiken was sweating.

Long Qi’s breathing was ground fine by his movements, muffled sounds pressed against their touching faces.

And on the second floor of this villa.

In a study equally quiet except for the sound of falling snow, a wife and husband, one sitting and one standing, lightly clinked wine glasses. The wine was astringent and intoxicating. The person who had accompanied her for half a lifetime, after one final hand-kissing gesture of courtesy, finally placed the agreement that had been held behind his back onto the desk, signed, stamped.

Downstairs in the board meeting, laughter and conversation. In the study, the former couple gazed at each other peacefully.

“Thank you.”

She said.

Her ex-husband made no sound.

Only when leaving did he tap the paper with his thick fingers—two heavy taps, one light.

“Happy birthday.”

…

…