Dai Jing quickly slipped a hand beneath the back of her head, sparing her skull from striking the ground. The same momentum sent him tumbling down as well, but just as he was about to land on top of her, he caught himself with his hands on the ground.

All of this happened in a single instant, and by the time Shen Ruoxi gathered her senses, Dai Jing’s face was right before her.

Beneath her lay the white expanse of snow, and before her was a strikingly handsome, mature face. In the brief moment when Shen Ruoxi’s mind went blank, Dai Jing’s lips found hers.

“Master Dai…” Shen Ruoxi quickly pushed him away, her movements swift and clean as she scrambled up from the snow.

The shove sent Dai Jing dropping squarely onto the ground.

“I — I’m sorry.” Shen Ruoxi stepped over to help him up. “I didn’t mean to push you like that.”

Though Dai Jing was inwardly stung, he still managed a helpless smile. “It’s all right.”

“Get up quickly — you were only just recovering from your stomach trouble. The ground is cold.”

“It’s fine. Am I, a grown man, really going to be done in by a little cold?” Dai Jing said, pushing himself up to his feet. He didn’t tend to himself first — instead, he brushed the snow from Shen Ruoxi first. “Come on.”

What had just happened left Shen Ruoxi feeling embarrassed, and so neither of them said much in the car on the way home.

Strictly speaking, Dai Jing was one of Shen Ruoxi’s patrons — and more than that, the person who had helped make her name. By rights, not only should she not have rejected his kiss, but she should not even have refused had he wished for greater intimacies.

Women who did what she did — songstresses — spent their days navigating a world of men. How many among them could truly claim to be untouched?

If Dai Jing could still hold his patience toward her now, her rebuffing him would only invite his anger once that patience ran out. She would come to be seen as ungrateful and failing to recognize a kindness.

“What are you thinking about?” Seeing Shen Ruoxi lost in her thoughts, Dai Jing could not help but break the silence between them.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just wandering in my own thoughts.”

Dai Jing suddenly reached over and gently ruffled her hair. “Silly girl — I know what’s on your mind. Are you overthinking things because you turned me down?”

Shen Ruoxi said nothing.

“I don’t see you as a songstress,” Dai Jing said, “and I would never take undue liberties with you just because I helped make you famous. I helped you because you beat me at chess — that was our wager.”

His hand settled gently over the back of hers: “I won’t force you to accept my feelings, and I won’t force you to do anything you are unwilling to do. Ruoxi, I only want to treat you as a friend — and as an unattached man, to pursue you through proper means. You are free to refuse me, but before you do, please give me the chance to show you who I am. I will prove to you that I am not simply playing around. I am serious.”

The hand resting on hers suddenly tightened its grip. “You have made me feel what it means to have one’s heart stirred. It can only be you.”

Dai Jing’s words were earnest and sincere, and even a heart of stone could not remain unmoved.

Yet Shen Ruoxi felt an overwhelming pressure. The more earnest Dai Jing was, the more she wanted to flee. She could be unfeeling toward others, but she did not want to see Dai Jing hurt.

“We’re here.” Shen Ruoxi used the moment as an excuse to draw her fingers free and pointed ahead.

The warmth left his hand, and Dai Jing felt a hollow pang — yet he said nothing, only gave a faint smile. “I won’t walk you up. These past two days I’ve let too much work slip, and I’ll have plenty to keep me busy.”

“Thank you for sending me back.”

“No need to be so formal with me. Go on in — rest well.”

Shen Ruoxi stepped through the entrance of the stairwell, then turned to look back. Dai Jing was still sitting in the car watching her, the snow outside still falling, flakes drifting in through the half-open window.

Shen Ruoxi lifted a hand in a small wave. Dai Jing raised his hand to wave back, then rolled up the window and drove away.

When Shen Ruoxi returned home, the apartment was quiet and cold.

On the table lay a stack of newspapers — the ones Xie Yan had been reading over the past few days, left in a disorderly pile. She walked over and folded them one by one, setting them on the bookshelf beside the table.

As she turned around, she spotted his clothes tossed on the bed. She went over and hung them up.

She wandered through the apartment, and everywhere she looked, she could find traces he had left behind. He had stayed here for several days, as though he had claimed every corner of the place as his own.

After tidying up his things, Shen Ruoxi finally sat down to rest and catch up on the sleep she had missed.

It was not until evening that she hastily cooked herself a bowl of noodles, ate, then changed her clothes and went to work.

The snow in Shun Cheng had been falling for two straight days. Snow had piled up on many streets, and in some places the doors and windows of homes had been buried under it.

Wherever you looked, there were people clearing the snow.

And for several days in a row, Shen Ruoxi had not caught a single glimpse of Xie Yan. This man, who had practically moved into her apartment before, seemed to have simply vanished from the earth without a trace.

At night, lying in bed, Shen Ruoxi had a disorienting, half-dreaming feeling — as though someone were still beside her, or as though he might push open her door and walk in at any moment.

She admitted to herself that Xie Yan’s presence was simply too overpowering. Even when he was gone, she still found herself thinking of him from time to time.

Xie Yan’s absence was, in some ways, a relief. She had no desire to deal with him, and still less desire to deal with his terrifying energy.

The snow that had been falling for days finally stopped, though the sky remained overcast and leaden. People said the snow would come again — and heavier than before.

Shen Ruoxi had been woken by the magpies outside the window and was lying in bed, unwilling to open her eyes, when she noticed someone sitting beside the bed. The sight made her sit bolt upright in fright.

“You — when did you get here?”

This apartment was Xie Yan’s. He had a key. Shen Ruoxi had never changed the lock, because she knew it would be useless — he could always get a copy from Sister Hong.

Xie Yan was wearing a black coat. He looked coldly composed. In response to Shen Ruoxi’s question, he said flatly, “You sleep too heavily. Someone could strangle you in your sleep and you wouldn’t know.”

Shen Ruoxi thought: Who on earth would bother strangling her?

“Shen Ruoxi, you promised me you’d go skiing. Do you remember?”

“When did I ever promise you that?” They had only talked about skiing in their childhoods. How had that become a promise in his mind?

“You promised.” His tone left no room for doubt.

“Fine — go then,” Shen Ruoxi said, too tired to argue. “No need to snap at me.”

The rigid line of Xie Yan’s face suddenly softened into a smile. “Then let’s eat first. After breakfast, we’ll head to the ski resort.”

Xie Yan turned and left. Shen Ruoxi sat staring blankly at the empty air he had vacated.

He hadn’t lost his temper, and he hadn’t said anything unreasonable — yet she had the persistent feeling that something about him was different.

By his nature, he shouldn’t be sitting here talking calmly with her. Seeing her freshly awake and looking the way she did, he should have been pulling her close. And yet he had simply walked away without a word.

Shen Ruoxi went to wash up with a head full of questions, and by the time she was ready, Xie Yan was already at the dining table with a newspaper.

When she appeared, he set the paper down and said, “Let’s eat.”

The table was quiet — only the occasional soft sound of bowls and chopsticks. Shen Ruoxi thought of how Xie Yan usually teased her during meals; now he simply ate without looking up, and the odd feeling inside her deepened.

“Xie Yan?” Shen Ruoxi leaned forward slightly to look at him. “Is something weighing on you?”

“No,” Xie Yan answered without a pause. “Eat. A gentleman does not speak at the table.”

“You haven’t lived by that rule yourself.” Shen Ruoxi said, not quite ready to let it go. “You used to be louder at mealtimes than the magpies outside.”

Xie Yan’s hand stilled for a moment, and then he murmured quietly, “Not anymore.”

Shen Ruoxi hadn’t caught what he said. Since he had chosen quiet, she would keep quiet too.

When the meal was finished, Shen Ruoxi said, “I don’t have any ski gear.”

“I’ve got something ready for you.” Xie Yan looked her way. “Just bring yourself.”

“Shouldn’t it be: just bring your legs?” Shen Ruoxi retorted. “For skiing, all you really need are legs.”

Xie Yan tilted up the corner of his mouth as well, and then stepped out of the room ahead of her.

Shen Ruoxi saw him go and immediately broke into a trot. “Hey, Xie Yan — wait for me!”

The nearest ski resort to Shun Cheng lay on the outskirts of the city, where mountains rolled in an unbroken line as far as the eye could see.

Several of the peaks had been cleared and developed into ski slopes.

After the snowfall of the past several days, the mountains were already blanketed in white — perfect conditions for skiing.

Still, the kind of ski resort reserved for the wealthy drew few visitors, and when Xie Yan and Shen Ruoxi arrived, only a scattering of people were out on the slopes.

Among the ski gear he had prepared for her, she selected a bright red padded jacket and black padded trousers.

“Xie Yan, look at these two pairs of boots — which ones are better?” Shen Ruoxi wavered between a pair with yellow accents and a pair with red accents, unable to decide, and finally turned to Xie Yan for his opinion.

At that moment, Xie Yan had just removed his outer coat, his lean, muscular torso exposed. Hearing her question, he turned around.

Shen Ruoxi had not expected him to be undressing like this. She immediately flushed and looked away, grumbling, “You’re going skiing, not swimming.”

“Red.” He paused. “When skiing, bright colors are best — if you get separated from the group, rescue workers can spot you more easily.”

“Then I’ll trust you — red it is.” Shen Ruoxi happily laced up the ski boots, not noticing that Xie Yan’s eyes rested on her with a look of profound, unreadable depths.

Once both of them were fully geared up, they entered the ski resort. Leading up the mountain was a rack railway — simple in construction, but for the area it was already considered a luxury amenity. Powered by a generator, it kept the gears turning and ferried skiers to the summit.

The trip was slow in both directions, but it saved considerable time and energy.

Visitors also had the option of forgoing this costly service and taking a footpath that wound up to the top.

“Mr. Xie, the weather isn’t great — more snow is likely. Don’t stay on the slopes too long; come down early.” One of the resort’s staff members gave them a careful reminder before they departed.

“Understood,” Xie Yan replied.

And with that, he led Shen Ruoxi onto the cable car heading for the summit.

—