Summer came again. I went to the model shop—the young boss and I had become friends.

“Still can’t find Gao Haiming? The note you wrote over two years ago is still here,” the boss said.

Over two years already?

“If you see him, please give him the note,” I said.

“This box of models—someone specifically requested you assemble it.” The boss handed me a Tomcat fighter plane model.

“Specifically?” I was stunned.

“You’ve already assembled two for her. She really likes them, so she specifically requested you. She’s that girl who sends a fighter plane to her boyfriend as a birthday present every year.”

“Are they still together?”

The boss nodded.

“Alright, I’ll assemble this one for her for free,” I said.

I took the model home. Ever since Gao Haiming left, I’d taken over his work, assembling models for people. I’d once asked him when he’d stop assembling models for people—he said when love disappeared. I wouldn’t let love disappear.

Leaving the model shop, I bought a book and read it at a café. Right there in the café, I ran into Cheng Die’en. She was alone.

She saw me from afar and came to sit in front of me.

“Have you seen Xiaojue?” she asked me.

“What’s the matter?”

“We broke up. Didn’t he tell you?” she said darkly.

I shook my head: “I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“He fell in love with a woman far inferior to you and me,” she said disdainfully.

“How can I compare to you?” I laughed.

She looked awkward.

“No man has ever dared dump me before,” she said.

“Sometimes, you can only give up,” I said.

She was stunned. This was the sentence she’d said to me that day.

She felt ashamed in front of me. I wasn’t happy about it—regarding everything about Xiaojue, I no longer felt anything.

Yu Deren got married on December 23rd. Mengmeng specially rushed back from Japan to attend his wedding.

Three years—she was already a hugely famous singer and had gone to Japan last year to develop her career. I had died and come back to life.

Only, wandering the ends of the earth, she’d weathered much. On her wrist was still tied that red cord.

“I still can’t bear to wash my hands—afraid I’ll wash away the dust on my skin,” she said.

“I can’t bear to sweep away the dust on my shoulders either,” I said.

Yu Deren married his colleague. The wedding was held at a Catholic church. Watching him happily lead his bride out of the church, I discovered for the first time that he’d grown up. In his new wife’s arms, he appeared so steady and noble. A man, as long as a woman loves him, appears noble.

Xiaojue came alone to attend the ceremony.

He handed me a check for three hundred thousand dollars.

“What’s this for?” I asked him.

“It’s the money for your supporting my education. I’ve always wanted to pay you back all at once.”

“Take it back.” I stuffed the check into his hand.

“This is what I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything. You were right—when I supported your education, it was just an investment. Investing money, investing feelings. When an investment fails, you can’t get your money back, right? All investments have risks. When you invest, you should know you have to bear the consequences.”

“You’re really different from before,” he said, looking at me with a very respectful gaze.

I looked carefully at Xiaojue and discovered his face was actually very large, his forehead narrow, his ears very small, the distance between his eyebrows narrow, his jaw protruding, his beard sparse. He was the spitting image of the criminal type that criminologist Cesare Lombroso’s research pointed out. The one who looked like a criminal wasn’t my father—it was him.

Heavens! Why had I ever fallen in love with him?

“Are you alright?” He saw me staring at him.

“I’m fine. Maybe it’s because I don’t have to support anyone’s education anymore. When a person is too desperate for money, they look very disheveled,” I said.

“I never meant to hurt you—”

“Forget it. You don’t understand what real heartbreak is.”

Real heartbreak is that I wronged a man.

After attending the wedding, I went to see Gao Haiming’s mother. She said he hadn’t sent any more postcards but had called.

“I told him you miss him very much,” his mother said.

“If he wants to see me, he’ll come back,” I said.

“He’s too willful—he doesn’t know how heartbroken the person waiting for him is,” his mother said.

“I deserve it,” I said.

“A woman’s youth is limited,” she said.

“Only after he left did I discover he was the person I loved most. I once thought he was just a life preserver.”

“That you can finally love him is also a good thing.” She looked at her husband in the armchair and said.

I went up one floor and entered Gao Haiming’s home. Everything was the same as when he left. The Wild Weasel was covered in dust—I couldn’t bear to wipe it away.

People who wander the ends of the earth age quickly. Gao Haiming, are you still there?

On the evening of December 24th this year, I slept in the Christmas stocking. Santa Claus didn’t bring Gao Haiming.

On the evening of December 25th, I attended a party Fang Yuan held at that Italian restaurant in Wan Chai where Gao Haiming and I used to go.

I ordered angel hair. Would the angels bring him back to me?

“Still waiting for Gao Haiming?”

I nodded.

“Are you sure he’ll come back?”

“I’ll keep searching,” I said.

“You use all your leave to look for him.”

“So my leave is very fulfilling,” I said.

“He knows you love him so much—he’ll come back.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw him in my dream yesterday.”

He winked.

“Nonsense!”

Days of longing and worry—how could they pass easily? I’d just finally realized that love grows with longing.

The prize I drew at the party turned out to be a box of fighter plane models.

Holding my Christmas present, I left the restaurant. Coming out, standing far away was a person wearing a gray-blue coat, smiling at me.

It couldn’t be.

That person walked over and stood in front of me.

It couldn’t be.

He hadn’t changed from three years ago, except his hair had grown much longer, like angel hair.

He stood in front of me, a scarf around his neck. I could almost hear his breathing.

“Huan’er—” white vapor puffed from his mouth.

He was a real, solid person.

I threw myself into his arms. He held me tightly. I couldn’t believe he’d come back.

The Christmas stocking myth had actually come true.

“I missed you so much—” I said.

“Me too—”

“Why did you come back?” I was angry at him.

“I still owe you something—”

“What?” I was puzzled.

He took a can of Mount Fuji air from his pocket.

“The thirty-third can of air. Did you forget? I still owe you one can of air.”

“Three years ago on Christmas Eve, were you at that hotel on Mount Fuji, in room 606?”

He didn’t answer me.

“Why did you avoid me? You’re so cruel.”

“I thought I could stop loving you.”

“You could,” I said.

“I couldn’t.”

“I thought you’d never come back.” I swept away the dust on my shoulder. I could finally sweep away the dust.

“I thought so too,” he said, gazing at me affectionately.

“I want to take back something I said three years ago.”

“Which sentence?” he asked me.

“I can’t love you,” I said.

“I also want to take back something I said that day.”

“Which sentence?”

“You don’t love me at all,” he said.

“Who said I love you?”

“Fang Yuan said so.”

“So you saw him—no wonder he just said you’d come back. But you coming back isn’t necessarily a good thing.”

“Why?”

“You’re unemployed.”

“Unemployed?” He was puzzled.

“Your job assembling models for people—I’ve already taken it over. Now people specifically request me to assemble models.”

He laughed.

“Am I poison, aren’t I?” I asked him.

He shook his head: “I’m willing to drink it.”

From his pocket he took out the paper crane I’d left at Mount Fuji, and the note I’d left at that angel hair restaurant in Prague.

“You received them all?”

“I thought you wouldn’t look for me,” he said.

“I knew you wouldn’t disappear. You said all matter doesn’t disappear from the world—it only transforms into another substance.”

He held me and kissed me hard.

It was the embrace and passionate kiss I’d missed for three years.

“Will you leave again?” I asked him.

He was about to speak when I stopped him from continuing.

“Next time you want to leave, please let me say goodbye first.”

I burrowed into his coat and said:

“The one who says goodbye first always has the upper hand.”