The sleet pattered against the window with a soft, rustling sound. It was the first snowfall, arriving at the tail end of 2006.
Wei Qingyue had at last pinpointed that elusive sense of familiarity — it came from the letters. It was as though reading these words, a quiet, reserved face rose behind them, always wearing a vaguely apologetic expression.
Early in the morning, the school custodians were clearing the pathways. In the flower beds, some tenacious roses were still blooming — crowned with white snow, their crimson petals showing beneath — a strangely ill-fated, haunting beauty. As Jiang Du and Wang Jingjing passed near the flower beds, she lingered for a few seconds, pointing at the flowers and saying: “Look — there’s one that hasn’t wilted.”
This was the rose’s last act of defiance. Under frost and snow, it could not hold on much longer.
Wang Jingjing also sighed: “It’s still blooming in this cold? I can’t remember — do roses bloom in spring or summer?”
A gust of wind swept up powdery snow from the trees, scattering it down in a flurry, making the eyes squint — but the fine, cold flakes against the face were cool and refreshing. The corridors were left with traces of snow tracked in on students’ shoes, which quickly melted into irregular patches of water. Students from every class were mopping with dry mops. As they mopped, the boys started behaving like little children, chasing and swatting at each other, the entire hallway erupting into noise.
The snow had fallen right on time for the foreign holiday — Christmas and Christmas Eve — along with the fashion, imported from who-knew-where, of giving apples. Those large red apples, with “Merry Christmas” printed on them, wrapped in decorative paper, sold for five yuan each — highway robbery. Teacher Xiao Xu had emphasized to everyone that they shouldn’t be caught up in foreign holidays and should celebrate their own traditional festivals instead. The principle was sound enough, but some students paid no mind and privately exchanged apples anyway.
Jiang Du had no interest in joining the festivities of this sort of holiday. Wang Jingjing did. Seeing that Jiang Du was unenthusiastic, she kept nudging her arm: “What’s with that expression — you look like it’s Tomb Sweeping Day.”
As it happened, they ran into Zhang Xiaoqiang and her group at the small shop, who were busy pulling red headbands adorned with fluffy antlers onto their heads — incredibly cute. The group of girls exchanged greetings, then wandered through the gift shop picking things up at random, holding items up against each other, and laughter spilled everywhere.
“Look, Zhang Xiaoqiang has such good grades, and even she likes celebrating Christmas. Stop being so aloof!” Wang Jingjing snickered, then without warning plopped a Santa hat onto Jiang Du’s head. With her fair skin, the red hat made her complexion look even more luminous and translucent — her brows perfectly arched, her lips perfectly shaped.
Jiang Du looked at herself in the mirror and was just about to say something when she abruptly yanked the hat off. In the mirror, behind her, a pair of familiar eyes had appeared — and they were looking directly at her.
Her hair instantly fell into a disheveled mess. While Jiang Du was still standing there dumbstruck, Wang Jingjing also spotted Wei Qingyue and let out a little shriek, quickly calling out a greeting:
“Hey, Wei Qingyue! You come to stores like this too?”
Wang Jingjing made no effort to hide her astonishment — her eyes lit up with excitement. Wei Qingyue noticed the Santa Claus plush toy in her hand, smiled, and said he was there to buy something. The auntie who cooked for his family had brought her little granddaughter along last time, and the child had made a fuss about wanting a Christmas tree — she had heard about it from somewhere and didn’t really understand what a Christmas tree was, but Wei Qingyue had promised to buy her one with lights that could glow. The auntie had been embarrassed and kept refusing, saying the child had just casually blurted it out and not to take it seriously.
That time, the auntie had brought her granddaughter along out of necessity — the child’s mother was ill and there was no one else to watch her. Wei Qingyue had found the little girl impossibly loud, loud enough to give him a headache, but he hadn’t been able to say anything. Having made the promise, he felt he should keep his word — even though the other party was only a small child. Adults generally thought it acceptable not to honor promises made to children, just like his mother, who had promised to bring him abroad one day. Year after year passed with no follow-up.
Children were not without awareness.
Soon, Zhang Xiaoqiang also noticed Wei Qingyue, and quite naturally walked over to chat with him, helping him choose a Christmas gift.
The group of girls each picked out a few small things — nothing expensive, well within a student’s budget.
When Wei Qingyue went to pay, he suddenly glanced over at them and said: “Let me cover everyone’s.”
The group froze. The top student is this generous?
Everyone knew his family had money, but Wei Qingyue had always seemed so distant — he barely even spoke with girls. Yet now, he was… The girls exchanged glances with each other, hardly able to believe it.
Because it was Wei Qingyue, they were all more hesitant and awkward than they would have been with anyone else. With a different boy, they would have happily played along and taken advantage. But in front of Wei Qingyue, no one could quite let go. Seeing everyone too shy to act, Zhang Xiaoqiang took the lead — with breezy ease, she set the things in her hand on the counter and said: “Top student, then pay for us, please.”
Only Jiang Du remained standing near the mirror, watching the scene quietly. Wang Jingjing was practically beside herself with excitement, pulling her forward: “Quick, come on — Wei Qingyue’s paying for everyone, let’s go.”
Jiang Du didn’t move. Wang Jingjing was frantic, grabbing at her like a cat on a hot stove, pressing something into her hands: “Just get this Santa hat — it looks good on you.”
“I don’t want it.” Jiang Du gently pushed it back.
“Hey, you two, come over here — the generous benefactor’s going to leave soon.” Zhang Xiaoqiang laughed and waved them over. Beside her, Wei Qingyue’s gaze drifted their way too — light falling across his face, his eyelashes trembling faintly.
Zhang Xiaoqiang urged her: “Jiang Du, just pick something — everyone else already has.”
It was true — everyone had chosen something, and Wei Qingyue was paying for them all, so there was nothing particularly special about it. But in that moment, a stubbornness arose in Jiang Du from she didn’t know where: she didn’t want it. She didn’t want this kind of gift, and moreover, she didn’t even like Christmas as a holiday to begin with.
Jiang Du only smiled faintly and shook her head, then gave Wang Jingjing a gentle push from behind and walked out of the gift shop first. As she passed Wei Qingyue, she sensed the boy’s gaze falling on her, straight and unhurried, like snow — weightless, soundless. Yet Jiang Du was close to crying. She knew this might be the only real, genuine interaction she would have with him throughout her high school years — a gift paid for by him, which she could have treasured for a lifetime.
But that, precisely, was not what she wanted. Lumped together with everyone else, indistinct, faceless — he probably wouldn’t even remember, one day in the future, that on Christmas 2006 he had generously bought small gifts for a group of girls.
It was with this immense, aching sense of loss that Jiang Du walked out of the shop, into the fierce cold wind, the sharp clarity left behind by the snow.
Behind her — the jostling crowd inside the shop, the laughter and voices. But none of it belonged to her.
Evening self-study grew even more chaotic. The class monitor ran to the front and knocked on the desk several times. Restless hearts refused to settle. Someone had peeled an orange — the bright, clean scent of its flesh drifted through the classroom — and everyone was passing out pieces. Lin Haiyang brought a large wedge over for Jiang Du.
Wang Jingjing, meanwhile, was fiddling with the plush toy she’d picked out, and couldn’t help questioning Jiang Du: “What on earth was the matter with you today? You were so difficult — even the academic committee member tried to persuade you. You didn’t give Wei Qingyue any face. I bet those girls are already saying you were putting on airs. I’d wager they’re saying exactly that.”
Perhaps there was a small element of putting on airs — but she was hurting in ways no one could imagine. Jiang Du said nothing, just smiled, and began eating the orange with genuine focus. The sweet-and-sour flavor spread across her taste buds, while her chest felt blocked, as though she were swallowing the edge of a blade.
“Is it good? Here, two more for both of you.” Lin Haiyang tossed over two more oranges, accidentally hitting the plush toy, which infuriated Wang Jingjing — she immediately lobbed them straight back at him.
Lin Haiyang protested: “What was that for — even if you don’t want them, Jiang Du does!”
Those two eternal bickerers — like fighting roosters, never a day went by without them squaring up to each other. Jiang Du ate until her hands were sticky. The classroom was again a scene of complete indifference to studying, so she simply went outside.
The wind was dark-hued, the air dry and cold. She tucked her mouth into her scarf. Passing the doorway of Class One, she quickly stole a glance inside — it seemed a bit chaotic in there too.
She made her way to the main building, where it was quieter. A few figures drifted through the school grounds, and somewhere, a burst of sudden laughter erupted, sharp and brief, then cut off — who was out there larking about. The noisier the surroundings, the more deserted it felt. Jiang Du thought of the New Year’s Eve she had spent at her maternal great-aunt’s house, watching the lights of ten thousand homes from the window. In the living room, her great-aunt’s family was watching the Spring Festival Gala. She had gone back to the guest room early, listening to the sporadic bursts of laughter, while in her heart, it was as though snow fell endlessly, cold and desolate, without pause. Her great-aunt was genuinely kind and warm toward her, but she had no sense of belonging there. She was a guest, and she felt that surely no one truly welcomed a stranger in their home on New Year’s Eve. So she never lingered in the living room, barely drank any water to avoid needing the bathroom, not wanting anyone to feel the presence of an extra person drifting about.
When her grandmother said she could go home, she ran back at once.
Next week would be New Year’s Day. Her grandparents always called it the Solar New Year — and once it passed, the Lunar New Year wouldn’t be far behind, and she’d be another year older.
Jiang Du’s head was full of scattered, random thoughts. She stood in front of the main building and noticed that the flower beds on either side had been killed off by the frost long ago.
“Jiang Du.” Someone called her name.
A tall, slender figure stood under a streetlamp, somewhat obscured by the dim light. Jiang Du looked at Wei Qingyue in startled confusion — what was he doing here?
“I thought it looked like you. Sure enough, it is.” Wei Qingyue walked over. He seemed like a dragonfly passing by, pausing here briefly.
There was a lingering smell of cigarette smoke about him. Jiang Du knew he must have been hiding somewhere to smoke.
“I came to wash my hands — just ate an orange,” Jiang Du said, a little unnaturally, her hands stretched outward, quite cold.
Wei Qingyue smiled. “Came all this way just for that? Just now — why didn’t you pick out a gift?”
Caught off guard by the question, Jiang Du was clearly unprepared. In her haste, she said: “I don’t have any particular feeling about Christmas. There wasn’t anything I liked. No point wasting your money.”
“Is that so. I assumed all girls liked little trinkets and things.” He thought for a moment, finally remembering something. “Don’t you have a charm on your pencil case?”
That was the little Tweety Bird.
Jiang Du didn’t know how to explain. To do so felt like it would take a lot. She was silent for a few seconds, then said, a little quietly: “I have some things I don’t like. But I also have things I do like.”
Wei Qingyue seemed not particularly concerned about this. He gave a light sniff, exhaling a small cloud of white vapor, and said: “Would you mind passing along a letter for me? To—” he paused briefly, “—to Wang Jingjing. Your classmate.”
Something shattered before her eyes in that instant, like an entire sky of stars exploding at once, and Jiang Du was momentarily blinded. She looked up, and beyond Wei Qingyue, the vast dark canvas of the sky was there — in fact, there were no stars at all. It was her imagination.
Just as she had never once imagined that Wei Qingyue would write back.
Jiang Du stared blankly at him, and in that moment felt an entirely new kind of ache. He had written back. Written to Wang Jingjing.
“Is it inconvenient?” Wei Qingyue’s tone was still perfectly natural.
She went rigid, unable to say a single word.
“If it’s not convenient, I can…”
“It’s convenient!” Jiang Du suddenly cut him off, her voice coming out too quickly. She lowered her head and tugged at her scarf, trying her best to prevent Wei Qingyue from noticing anything unusual about her.
“Thank you.” Wei Qingyue made another joke at her expense. “In that case, I really should get you a gift — after all, I’m troubling you.”
Would she become the kind of person who ran errands between them? First Lin Haiyang, now her.
Jiang Du’s eyes stung sharply, her breath catching — yet in her mind, there was no great resistance, nor any other coherent thought. She didn’t know what the emotion was that was flooding her at that moment.
“No need. You’re too kind.” She said slowly.
Wei Qingyue fished something out of his trouser pocket — a crumpled letter, written on a sheet torn from a journal, no envelope. As he handed it to Jiang Du, the girl looked up at him once more.
Their eyes met in silence.
“You and Wang Jingjing are close friends, aren’t you?” Wei Qingyue had more to say. Jiang Du nodded.
“At the end of the letter, I left my messaging account number. Tell her to add me.” The boy stated it plainly and directly.
He had developed feelings for Wang Jingjing? The thought shot through Jiang Du’s mind like a falling star. She gripped the letter tightly, as though holding something precious that belonged to someone else, and quietly walked back to the teaching building.