The most recent time Yu Kaixuan dreamed of that mountain was the night he saw the cold night light pillars.

He hadn’t expected that after a day full of accidents, he would actually sleep well in the hospital, dreaming of that sensation-causing mass brawl he personally organized.

The fight happened at the foot of the mountain, a large scale of over thirty people. Four or five police cars came to arrest them. The cause had long been forgotten, and it wasn’t important anyway. That year he was not yet twenty, full of youthful vigor. With that one battle, Second Brother Kai’s reputation exploded.

Yu Kaixuan grew up in the village at the foot of that mountain. As the son of a social hoodlum who was least promising, with a sister who married well at home and a younger brother who studied well, Second Brother Kai didn’t care—getting one full meal was one meal, being awesome one day was one day.

Until he went to Old Man Wen’s bathhouse, his life began to undergo tremendous change.

Initially going to the bathhouse certainly wasn’t to become an apprentice. Purely because he had his eye on the daughter. But his body-scrubbing skills became increasingly refined, while the girl fell in love with someone else.

The first time Yu Kaixuan saw Sun Yuwen was at the entrance of the city cultural center. He held a popsicle in his mouth, leaning on his bicycle crossbar looking up, seeing his beloved girl wearing a light blue floral dress, coyly walking down the steps with a well-dressed pretty boy, each holding an armful of books, putting on a cultured appearance.

Second Brother Kai gave a loud whistle, breaking their ambiguity. In a booming voice he called Wen Wen, asking if she wanted to see a movie. Wen Wen glared at him, saying she was going to the bookstore. And Sun Yuwen just coldly assessed him, face full of arrogance.

For dealing with this kind of pretentious person, especially pretentious romantic rivals, Yu Kaixuan had his own street methods.

Challenge him to a fight. Beat the living daylights out of him.

He really came, but came alone.

Arriving at that remote cornfield, Sun Yuwen glanced at the three or five street punks behind Yu Kaixuan, his expression calm. Standing there thinking for a moment, he suddenly began removing his clothes.

He took off his light gray thin cashmere sweater with impressive luster and material, then removed his off-white casual pants, folded them neatly, along with his brown leather shoes, placing them on a clean stone at the field’s edge, pressed down with a stack of books. Then turning back, he said, let’s fight.

Yu Kaixuan was dumbfounded. No matter how thuggish, he couldn’t bring himself to gang up on a lunatic who had stripped down to just his boxer shorts. But he also couldn’t just let him off. Hands on hips, chin raised at him.

“You come here.”

Sun Yuwen walked forward one step.

“Come closer.”

He walked another step in the chilly autumn afternoon.

Thinking Yu Kaixuan was about to strike, but he dodged, circling around Sun Yuwen, striding several steps back, scooping up the clothes and books from the stone, strutting away, leaving behind a string of triumphant mocking laughter.

After that day, Yu Kaixuan never troubled Sun Yuwen again.

But what made him let go wasn’t the big joke of Sun Yuwen walking nearly naked eight kilometers home, nor the uproar of Wen Wen getting so angry she nearly had Old Man Wen throw him out of the bathhouse, but rather what he had snatched back—those books Sun Yuwen had pressed on top of his clothes.

Among those books was a thin poetry collection he had published and some new poetry manuscripts. Yu Kaixuan hadn’t even finished middle school. Normally reading a newspaper was difficult, but he read those poems over and over many times. He couldn’t give any flowery literary critique—he just understood them, was moved by them, thought they were well written.

To this day, Yu Kaixuan still believed that Sun Yuwen, that damned pervert, truly had talent.

Back then he didn’t respect the wealthy or the officials—he admired the cultured. Not only did he willingly withdraw from the love triangle, occasionally encountering Sun Yuwen he would even chat with him casually.

Later, after being thoroughly tempered by society, Yu Kaixuan belatedly understood that simple truth: a person’s artistic achievements and whether they are morally good are two different things. He had learned to demystify those halos, but the price paid was tragic and expensive.

In the deep winter of 1999, the afternoon Wen Ya had her incident, Yu Kaixuan had originally promised to finish work early to help her fix her desk.

It was Sun Yuwen who suddenly found him, saying he had bought two large bags of fresh wild hazelnuts to give to the bathhouse, but he was busy, asking Yu Kaixuan to pick them up at the farmers’ market. Yu Kaixuan crossed the entire city. Arriving at the place, waiting for ages, getting the items and looking—those hazelnuts were damp and soft, definitely not from this year. He realized something was wrong and immediately went back. It was already too late.

Wen Ya lay under that desk with the broken leg, one hand tied to the table leg, hand fiercely gripping the wood, two fingernails forcibly torn off.

Young Yu Kaixuan, carrying intense heartache, grief, and the fury of being played, eyes red, swore to personally catch that sanctimonious scum and kill him.

Sun Yuwen and Ding Yong fled separately. The Stone City police devoted most of their forces to catching the serial killer Ding Yong. The police team responsible for Sun Yuwen staked out near his home and the cultural center, not seeing a single shadow.

Yu Kaixuan felt the police were wasting their effort. In his anxiety, he suddenly remembered Sun Yuwen had once mentioned that mountain, saying the winter dates on that mountain were especially sweet. At the time Yu Kaixuan asked, “Did you also grow up at the foot of that mountain?” Sun Yuwen was stunned for a moment, saying no, I have a sister there.

So Yu Kaixuan took his photo, walked through four villages at the foot of the mountain, inquiring about the sister Sun Yuwen mentioned. It took a full day before he learned from a half-grown child that Sun Yuwen had a lover there, a few years older than him, a Korean widow.

The widow’s home was already empty, but daily necessities were all there. Clearly they left in a hurry. Yu Kaixuan noticed there were many children’s items in the house. Only after asking people around did he learn the child was over two years old, born to the widow for Sun Yuwen. Sun Yuwen came every month to give some living expenses, supporting them.

Yu Kaixuan looked out the widow’s window, looking at that familiar mountain. The mountain was about one thousand meters high. Because the mountain peak had two opposing peaks, it was called Twin Peak Mountain. This mountain belonged to the Changbai Mountain range, with rich wild vegetation and rugged mountain paths. In earlier years, some people had even seen Siberian tigers there. Over the mountain was a river, across the river was another province—a good place for fleeing and hiding.

He immediately used the neighbor’s landline to call the police, saying there were clues here. He saw the cotton quilts and a just-steamed pot of buns in the house hadn’t been taken. The mountain was cold and hungry, and with a child, he guessed they might come back for things.

While waiting for the police, he and Third Brother, the only one willing to come catch the murderer with him, hid nearby. But that night a sudden blizzard arrived. The police car was blocked on the road. Unfortunately, that Korean widow appeared.

She came back alone, packed a large bag of buns, then carried two quilts. Only stopping for a few minutes, she left under cover of night.

No time to wait for the police. Braving the blizzard, Yu Kaixuan and Third Brother quietly followed that widow up Twin Peak Mountain.

What happened afterward, whenever Yu Kaixuan recalled it, somehow he could never completely string it into a clear line of action. All details were fragmented. In those fragments, three images were most profound.

One was the vast blizzard connecting heaven and earth.

That snow fell extremely heavily, covering sky and moon, fierce and raging. They watched that woman with a long ponytail ahead, stepping deep and shallow on the mountain path accumulated with at least half a foot of snow. Surroundings rustling quietly, only hearing rapid anxious breathing sounds, as if the next second they could be buried by the heavy snow.

In Yu Kaixuan’s entire life, he never experienced such a blizzard again.

The second image was Third Brother covering his blood-drenched head, lunging toward himself in terror.

By then the police had caught up. Sun Yuwen threw off that widow, holding the child, carrying a sickle trying to flee. Yu Kaixuan was a step slow. Third Brother chased first, his foot slipped, lost his grip, viciously slashed twice by Sun Yuwen.

Blood sprayed on Yu Kaixuan’s face—warm, sticky, instantly frozen into red amber-like ice crystals. Surprisingly couldn’t smell any fishy scent—extremely unreal.

But Third Brother’s painful cries still echo in that primeval mountain forest to this day. Close your eyes and you can hear it.

The third image was that two-year-old boy’s childish yet cautious voice.

When Sun Yuwen was caught, Third Brother had already been taken to the hospital by two police officers. Yu Kaixuan followed to the end, until the dust settled, walking down the mountain with everyone in a daze.

Originally that boy was being held by a young police officer, but the officer suddenly fell on a steep slope, the child slipped from his hands, bouncing once, landing right at Yu Kaixuan’s feet. Out of an adult’s instinctive action, without thinking, he crouched down to check.

That child didn’t cry either. A pair of dark eyes looked at him timidly, as if carefully probing.

The police ahead said his ankle was sprained, asking if Yu Kaixuan could help carry him for a bit. Yu Kaixuan looked at that child again, picked him up, then heard him say something in his arms, by his ear.

“What did you say?” Yu Kaixuan asked fiercely.

That child seemed frozen, or maybe afraid, didn’t speak again.

Until carrying him down the mountain, arriving near the police car, Yu Kaixuan suddenly understood something and asked again.

“What did you just say to me?”

That child was taken away, leaving his embrace, bright and clever eyes looking at him, using childish weak child’s voice, carefully saying:

“Thank you.”

Young Yu Kaixuan really wanted to curse, “Thank your fucking ass,” but suddenly just crouched there, then sat down, instantly without any strength, covering his face crying hard.

Day had already broken, yet the snow was still falling.

That was the last blizzard of 1999.

…

“You don’t remember at all, do you?”

Yu Kaixuan’s elbow supported the pillow, his other hand touching his already aching lower back, lying on his side on the Wendu Water Resort office sofa, looking at the opposite side, the incredibly panicked and distraught child who had grown into a mature man’s appearance.

Sun Xi lowered his head, reached for a tissue to clean up his face, shaking his head.

Yu Kaixuan also didn’t understand why he suddenly told him these things. Deep in his heart, he still wasn’t willing to let Xiao Jiu be with him. But it seemed since that night under the cold light pillars, something happened, as if everything had changed.

He could suddenly see it—see that the young man before him whom he had guarded against like an enemy in the past was fundamentally someone who had nearly walked to a dead end, humble and weak.

“Do you know what happened to your mother later?” Yu Kaixuan paused, saying, “I heard after she gave you back to the old Sun family, she went to Korea to join her brother.”

Sun Xi steadied himself before slightly raising his head: “I only know she sells seafood in Korea. She remarried later.”

“Has she contacted you?”

Sun Xi shook his head.

“Haven’t seen each other in all these years?”

He still shook his head.

Yu Kaixuan was silent, heart feeling melancholy, not speaking again.

Sun Xi slowly raised his eyes, looking directly at the frank and sincere elder opposite who to some extent had rescued him. After much hesitation, he asked that question that had troubled him for over twenty years but he had never dared ask, even deliberately concealed.

“Uncle, what kind of person is he?”

“Who?”

Just as the words fell, Yu Kaixuan understood who he meant.

Sun Xi didn’t explain, continuing to ask: “Am I really so similar to him?”

Yu Kaixuan sighed heavily. His gaze shifted from that face almost identical to that person before him, moving to the thick night outside the window behind him, eyes wandering, stunned for a while.

Then coming back to his senses, looking at him again: “If you’re curious, you can go find out yourself.”

Sun Xi was stunned.

“Go see him, then you’ll know.”

“See him?”

Sun Xi seemed to be talking to himself, repeating once.

“There’s no more accurate answer than seeing with your own eyes.” Yu Kaixuan said.

Four days later in the morning, Sun Xi saw Sun Yuwen at the prison.

He had applied two days in advance, cooperated with the prison’s review, waiting for arrangements. Because Sun Yuwen was already too ill to walk, they met in a special ward.

The night before, Xiao Jiu was with Sun Xi. They barely slept all night, also didn’t do anything, just lying in bed, idly chatting about some insignificant small matters.

At dawn, Yu Jiuqi cupped Sun Xi’s face, kissed him once, then went to cook porridge and make breakfast.

When they arrived at the prison together it was exactly nine-thirty. Waiting in the reception room for a while, at ten o’clock sharp, someone called Sun Xi’s name. Sun Xi stood up. Before leaving, he turned to glance at Xiao Jiu.

Xiao Jiu squeezed his hand, smiling brightly at him, saying go ahead, I’ll wait for you, let’s go eat barbecue for lunch.

Sun Xi inexplicably asked, which place?

Xiao Jiu smiled saying, that one downstairs from us, the Japanese teppanyaki.

Sun Xi said, I want to eat Qiqihar style.

Xiao Jiu smiled, okay, then you be good.

Yu Jiuqi just sat there, calmly, smilingly watching Sun Xi follow the prison guard out of the reception room, turning a corner in the corridor, walking toward somewhere she couldn’t see.

Although the person had already disappeared, her gaze still followed him, extending, imagining, carrying anxious worried concern and heart-pounding anticipation, hoping he would muster the courage to make this trip and exchange it for a relaxed rest of his life.

After Sun Xi could no longer see Xiao Jiu in his peripheral vision, for an instant his mind went completely blank. He mechanically followed those leather boots that rang crisply when walking forward, not knowing how many corners he turned, going up another floor. Coming back to his senses, he stood before a blue iron door.

The prison guard pushed open the door, standing in the doorway, gesturing to Sun Xi, saying, go in.

Before this, Sun Xi had imagined many times the scene of truly seeing Sun Yuwen. He thought he should be very angry, or possibly excited like in a clumsy TV drama, or the complete opposite—timid, not daring to face it. But when this moment truly arrived, like an answer that had been awaited for over twenty years finally settling, the result was unexpected.

Sun Xi extremely calmly, following instructions, walked into that dark room filled with the smell of disinfectant.

Sun Yuwen, his biological father, the culprit who had tormented him for over twenty years, lay on a sickbed on one side of the room, bald head, covered with a blanket, hand receiving IV fluids, face turned toward the prison guard on the inner side.

Between them, separated by a row of rusted iron bars.

Outside the bars, Sun Xi stood there, hands clenching empty fists, looking at him. He had thought about whether he should greet him, but ultimately said nothing.

It was Sun Yuwen who spoke first.

His face slowly turned over from the other side. Sun Xi was startled. That was an extremely aged and sickly face, different from any photograph he had seen. Face waxy yellow, wrinkles proliferating, both cheeks dotted with a few age spots. But those eyes were very bright, raising up, settling on Sun Xi’s face for a very long time.

Very long, very long.

Then opening his mouth, voice gentle and calm: “You came.”

“Mm.” Sun Xi stared at that face extremely similar to his own upon careful inspection, responding.

Then they looked at each other, suddenly falling into silence. After over twenty years, a father and son who had never met, just like that, extremely calmly separated by iron bars, carefully gazing at each other. It looked as if assessing a familiar stranger.

Until even the surrounding prison guards felt strange, Sun Yuwen finally broke the silence. As if awkwardly thinking for a while before finding some thread, asking a few questions he currently cared most about.

“What’s your feeling?”

Sun Xi asked back: “What feeling?”

Sun Yuwen explained: “What’s your feeling seeing me?”

Sun Xi was stunned, not knowing why he asked this, also not knowing how to answer.

Sun Yuwen’s eyes expectant, looking at him: “Don’t you have any imagination about me?”

Seeing Sun Xi still not answering, Sun Yuwen’s eyes faded down bleakly, as if disappointed, saying: “Alright then.”

Then he slowly turned his head back, looking at the prison guard beside him, not speaking. The meaning was already very obvious—he felt this visit could end now.

At the moment Sun Xi felt intensely ignored, he suddenly realized something. Before Sun Yuwen left, he abruptly spoke, asking: “Why did you write me letters?”

Sun Yuwen didn’t turn back: “What letters?” Then remembering, “Oh, those letters.”

Sun Xi grabbed an iron bar: “Why did you write me those letters? Three years—why?”

“Because everyone is writing.” Sun Yuwen paused, very calmly yet coldly saying, “Everyone is writing. Otherwise what would you do in here? I write to you, also write to your grandmother, write to the church, also wrote to the TV station.”

Then he sighed, saying: “All the same.”

Sun Xi suppressed his voice, fiercely questioning: “All the same?”

Sun Yuwen didn’t speak again, only leaving a sickly indifferent profile. That was the last image left for the son he had mentally tormented for over twenty years.

When Sun Xi returned to the prison’s reception room again, Yu Jiuqi noted the time—only forty minutes had passed.

She immediately went up to him, assessing him. Seeing nothing unusual about him—expression calm, steps steady, even smiled at Xiao Jiu.

But Xiao Jiu just felt something was off. Holding his hand, following the original path, walking out of that stern prison.

Just walking out the prison main entrance, before reaching their parking spot, Sun Xi suddenly shook off Xiao Jiu’s hand, ran to the roadside, supporting himself against the brick wall outside the prison, violently vomiting.

He was only dry heaving, loudly dry heaving, painfully dry heaving. His body collapsed into a bow, face flushed dark red from strain, eyes completely turbid, voice miserable as if wailing, as if howling. Clearly nothing could be vomited out, yet as if vomiting out everything.

Xiao Jiu went to the car to get water and tissues, patiently staying beside him. She didn’t urge, didn’t ask, also didn’t stop him, just accompanying him vomiting out those stubborn illnesses accumulated over the years.

After Sun Xi calmed down, leaning against the wall, steadying himself for a long time before he could speak.

He didn’t say any details, any dialogue, didn’t make any description of that person, didn’t say he believed that person was extremely cold, extremely narcissistic, a thoroughly selfish person who only loved himself. Even if he repented, it was for self-moved emotion, a kind of self-pity.

Sun Xi just looked at the person standing before him in the sunlight—his girlfriend, his lover, his only remaining family—firmly saying:

“Jiu, I’m not like him. Not at all.”

It was when they were preparing to drive away, in the warm sunlight of winter noon, that Yu Jiuqi turned her head and suddenly saw the mountain behind the prison, the mountain peak with two opposing summits.

She felt it looked familiar. Although forgetting what it was called, she vaguely remembered this was where Dad grew up as a child.

So Xiao Jiu from afar took a photo of that mountain and sent it to Yu Kaixuan.

Casually also attaching a sticker expressing deep affection.

Still not enough, simply typed a line: 【Dad, I love you!】 Followed by a string of exclamation marks.

Yu Kaixuan was lying in bed at home. Seeing his daughter’s WeChat, guessing the meaning behind it, he didn’t reply to her, also didn’t ask more. Just opened that photo, enlarged it, carefully looking at those familiar mountain peaks, still with green pines reaching high, white snow vast.

Then suddenly, following that train of thought, remembering a small matter.

He remembered that year after Sun Yuwen was arrested, in the hospital, Yu Kaixuan was anxiously waiting for Third Brother’s craniotomy surgery when he encountered Wen Wen midway.

Wen Wen held a skinny picked-up baby girl, saying the child had a high fever. Anxious, jumping up and down, she put the child in the pediatric ward, cursing as she went downstairs to find the pediatrician.

Yu Kaixuan worried about that child, so he went to the ward to look. He saw on the same hospital bed, besides that baby girl, there was also a slightly older boy receiving IV fluids.

Both had fever-reducing patches on their heads, both results of being damaged by that long cold. One lay in the cotton quilt, one sat on the hospital bed, looking at each other, eyes unblinking.

Yu Kaixuan was about to go over when suddenly through the window came an extremely warm bright beam of light. Only then did he discover in shock that the blizzard that had fallen for several days had finally stopped.

Wen Wen rushed in frantically, carrying away the baby girl.

But Yu Kaixuan still stood there. Somehow, he remembered that popular hit song he had learned to pursue Wen Wen a few months ago. Honestly, he never thought that song was very pleasant, but humming it at that moment, suddenly tears filled his eyes.

He thought, if there was love in 1999, if love still existed, perhaps it was that scene just now.

That was love, the love of 1999, in its concrete form.

Yu Kaixuan had never told anyone that the boy bathing in the sunlight after the blizzard together with Xiao Jiu in the cotton quilt at that time was Sun Xi.