As they descended the mountain for the last time, an inexplicable tension hung in the air, as if everyone was barely containing their irritation.
At the base of the mountain, Shan Chong detached his snowboard. He casually flipped it up with his foot and hung it from his elbow. After a moment’s thought, he asked Wei Zhi, “What time is your flight tomorrow?”
“A little after 8 AM,” she replied.
The words “Don’t bother seeing me off” were on the tip of her tongue, but to her surprise, he merely responded with a calm “Oh,” showing no intention of offering to send her off—
Perhaps he was reluctant to spend money on gas.
Besides, an 8 AM flight meant getting up around 5 AM to prepare and head to the airport. Only a lunatic would wake up that early just to see someone off.
To be fair, Wei Zhi herself had enough self-awareness not to expect him to see her off, but the fact that he didn’t even make a perfunctory offer…
It was almost too real.
By now, the sun was setting behind the mountains, casting an orange-gold light across the snow-covered slopes that had been churned into a muddy mess. The golden rays and shadowy grooves created a jagged pattern, yet it wasn’t unattractive…
It resembled orange soda spilled over shaved ice.
Behind them stood the familiar equipment hall, with skiers coming and going as they prepared to head home after a day on the slopes. They curiously glanced at the man and woman standing silently in front of the hall entrance—
The man wore expensive professional ski gear and held a renowned Burton Custom snowboard, typically used in parks. He stood there, looking down at the young woman before him.
The girl wasn’t even wearing proper ski attire or boots, just a down jacket and snow boots. She looked like a fluffy bundle, her dark brown hair flowing freely, slightly tousled by the evening breeze that had begun to rise with nightfall.
Her gaze remained fixed on the wooden racks behind the man, where some people were leisurely using air guns to blow snow off their boards.
Although this was a scene Wei Zhi had grown accustomed to over the past ten days, she suddenly felt the urge to keep looking…
She stared intently.
It was as if she wanted to imprint every detail of that corner, even its worn spots, into her memory.
Her concentration was broken when the man standing close to her spoke: “Is there something you want to say?”
Wei Zhi shifted her gaze to look at Shan Chong—for the first time since learning he was the famous “Glasses Cloth” expert, she truly looked at him—and smiled a bit sheepishly, lightly scratching her temple. “Well, I guess I’ll be heading home tomorrow.”
The man paused for a few seconds before softly responding with a simple “Mm.”
His nonchalant, monosyllabic reply carried little emotion.
But it was to be expected.
After Wei Zhi left, he still had many students in Chongli. With the approaching New Year, more friends, students, and admirers would flock from all over…
They would gather to enjoy barbecue skewers, drink together, watch horror movies on the worn-out sofa, chat during their free time, and discuss various skiing techniques—
This winter was still so long, with the snow season having just begun.
Everyone had their own small goals to achieve, right?
So they would all keep moving forward, without a shred of nostalgia for yesterday.
Thinking this, Wei Zhi smiled again, the meaning behind it unclear. She looked up at the man standing at the end of her shadow, elongated by the setting sun, and said, “At least I found out who you are on the last day.”
“Who I am doesn’t matter,” the man replied indifferently, swallowing the words “but if you ever decide to focus on carving, I’ll block you” that he had almost uttered.
Unaware of how close she had come to being expelled from his tutelage, the young woman rose slightly on her toes and waved at him, her smile radiant. “Well then, goodbye!”
He didn’t respond further, merely glancing at her before silently waving back and turning towards the equipment hall, snowboard in hand.
Wei Zhi, however, remained rooted to the spot.
The moment he turned away, the smile faded from her face. She stood there, motionless, until his figure disappeared behind the equipment hall doors. After a brief pause, she finally turned and slowly limped away.
…
In the hotel room, the heating was on full blast.
Wei Zhi and Jiang Nanfeng had an early morning flight the next day, so that evening they were busy stuffing various scattered items into their suitcases.
“So, did you say a proper goodbye?” Jiang Nanfeng asked lazily, tossing a bag of cotton pads into her suitcase as she sat on the bed, chin resting on her hand. “Did you talk a lot? You didn’t embarrass yourself by crying, did you? You seem like the type who’d burst into tears at the slightest provocation.”
“No,” Wei Zhi replied, carefully folding a ski jacket and placing it in her suitcase. It was unclear which part of Jiang Nanfeng’s question she was denying…
Curious, Jiang Nanfeng leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she tried to get a better look at Wei Zhi’s expression.
Wei Zhi turned away, busying herself with gathering other items. As she reached for a pair of overalls in the wardrobe, the hooks caught on several fluffy green plush toys, dragging them down. They bounced off her foot and scattered on the floor around her.
Wei Zhi froze.
She picked up the turtle butt cushion and stared at it blankly for a long time, her gaze fixed on the crooked stitching on the turtle’s backside. Suddenly, she realized: Oh no, she had forgotten to return the little turtle to him.
Holding up the turtle, she turned to Jiang Nanfeng and asked, “Nanfeng, look, I forgot about this. What should I do?”
Jiang Nanfeng observed the barefoot girl holding the turtle cushion high above her head, its tail poking her forehead and messing up her bangs without her noticing.
Her hair was slightly disheveled from her pajamas.
She was still wearing her bear-patterned pajamas.
At that moment, she looked just as clumsy and adorable as the little bear on her sleepwear. Jiang Nanfeng thought that any man who saw her like this would surely be moved.
“Throw it away,” Jiang Nanfeng said coldly. “It’s not worth much, and it’s broken anyway.”
Unaware of Jiang Nanfeng’s thoughts, Wei Zhi slowly responded with an “Oh” and absently lowered the turtle, her hand unconsciously brushing over its shell—
The stains on the little turtle had long since dried.
Now it felt fuzzy and soft to the touch, with a hint of warmth.
She turned it over again, thoughtfully tracing the stitching on the turtle’s bottom…
From the day she received it, Wei Zhi had never imagined it ending up in a trash can.
So, after a few seconds of hesitation, she put down the turtle and took out her phone, sending a message to the man she had just bid farewell to.
As expected, he replied shortly after.
Instead of telling her to throw away the little turtle, his response was just two words—
Come down.
…
Wei Zhi hastily threw on a coat and went downstairs, carrying the few little turtles.
She didn’t see anyone in the lobby, so she pushed open the doors with both hands. Her eyes immediately fell on the person standing outside, hands in his coat pockets, wearing a black cotton jacket with snow on the shoulders.
She hesitated for a moment.
Just then, a gust of wind carrying the scent of ice and snow blew past, causing her to sneeze softly. She looked up, and in the orange light of the hotel entrance, she realized it was indeed snowing outside…
She didn’t know where he had come from, but he must have walked a short distance.
The sound of her sneeze made the man, who had been standing with his back to her, turn around. He saw the girl standing foolishly at the hotel entrance, wearing only a coat over what was pajamas, with three bright green turtles hanging from her arm. She was gently rubbing her nose with her other hand, her watery eyes looking at him in confusion—
The orange light from the hotel lobby cast a halo around her hair.
She stood there obediently, looking up at him.
“Why are you dressed so lightly?” the man asked, his voice low and slightly hoarse with fatigue, blending with the snowy atmosphere yet sounding exceptionally gentle and pleasant.
Shan Chong had gone out drinking with Bei Ci and the others that evening, though not enough to get drunk.
On the way back, Lao Yan, who hadn’t been drinking, was driving. Shan Chong was sitting in the back, resting his eyes, when he received the girl’s message.
After reading it, he initially thought about telling her to either keep it or throw it away, but after putting down his phone and considering it for a moment, he slowly opened his eyes and sent those two words in reply.
Which led to their current meeting.
Now, his expression was not as sharp as it had been during the day.
He seemed like a completely different person from the one who had grabbed her ankle and dragged her around.
Wei Zhi’s lips moved, but no words came out. She absently tightened her coat and took a couple of steps towards the man. Amidst the falling snow, she silently handed the turtles to him…
The man casually accepted them.
She watched as the little turtles slowly slid from her elbow, the last bit of strap gently brushing against the tip of her index finger before completely leaving her grasp.
At that moment, a snowflake landed on her eyelashes, and she felt a slight chill. She blinked.
The snowflake rolled down, melting into a drop of water that moistened her eyelashes.
She took a deep breath and said, “Okay.”
Perhaps it was the cold weather, but as she inhaled the chilly air, she could feel her lungs trembling… Fortunately, when she spoke, her voice was calm, betraying no hint of her inner turmoil.
The man stood there holding the turtles, tilting his head as he looked at her, watching snowflakes gradually settle on her hair. After a moment’s thought, the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. “Alright, go back inside. I’ll wait until you’re in before I leave.”
The same words had been spoken before, and Wei Zhi hadn’t thought much of it then—
But perhaps it was the melancholy sunset at the equipment hall earlier.
Or maybe it was the perfect chill of tonight’s snowfall.
Or it could be some other reason entirely…
Uncharacteristically, instead of following his instructions and leaving immediately, she stood rooted to the spot, her hands hidden in her coat sleeves slowly clenching into fists.
She closed her eyes briefly.
She finally accepted a reality—
Even if it was just imprinting, like a baby bird.
Originally, it shouldn’t have mattered.
But at the moment when the turtles were returned to their original owner, she realized that these ten days of life in this snow-covered city, with all its joys and sorrows, had truly come to an end…
Something was crumbling.
And it only concerned her.
Her departure wouldn’t cause even the slightest ripple in this small snow town. Tomorrow the sun would rise in the east, snow would continue to fall, and the rime ice at the top of the mountain would welcome many more people who had come to admire it…
Many, many people would hug their snowboards and venture into the off-piste areas to take photos and check-in, chatting and laughing. The ski resort would remain as lively as ever.
The sudden thought was without reason or logic—
Only she was left behind in yesterday’s tomorrow.
She found herself unable to walk away calmly as she had done that afternoon. Raising her hand to brush away the snowflake that had landed on her eyelash, she asked, “Will we never see each other again after this?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she might have regretted them.
She didn’t know if she would be mocked if this moment would be shared as a joke…
But as images flooded her mind like a rapid slideshow, she had no room to think or organize her words—
Him teaching her how to put on her boots.
Him teaching her how to strap on her board.
He followed behind her, critiquing her gaze, and reminding her of her movements.
He kneeled on the ground, pulling her up time and time again after she fell, then nonchalantly brushing the snow off his knees as he stood up.
Him with his knee against her snowboard, one hand pressing down on her board, the other on her foot, explaining what it meant to twist the board.
Him standing in front of the equipment hall, removing her cheap snow goggles and placing his M4 goggles on her eyes, telling her she wouldn’t have to wipe fog off her goggles on the chairlift every day anymore…
Perhaps this was just how skiing was—every beginner had once been guided like this by their instructor, hand in hand, pushed down slopes, introduced to the basics. Everyone had gone through this.
But she couldn’t bring herself to blend into that sea of people.
Even the night wind mixed with snow couldn’t cool her feverish, swollen brain.
“We will.”
The man’s steady, low voice resonated above her head—
“Whenever you want to ski, you can come find me. In winter, there’s Zhangjiakou Chongli and Xinjiang Altay. In summer, there’s Guangzhou, Chengdu, and Harbin Sunac.”
She looked up at him, bewildered.
The man took off his glove and, with fingertips still warm, gently brushed under her eyes—neither intimate nor overstepping.
“We’ll meet again,” he said. “So, don’t cry.”