Two years later. Jingbei.

In a spacious, warm room, a small boy sat on a stool, turning his eyes this way and that to look around, unable to focus his gaze on any one point.

Before long, the small boy picked up a green game card from the floor and began tearing it apart, then tossed the pieces down — and very soon the floor was covered in scraps of paper.

“Yihang.” Lin Weixia called out to him once, testing.

The small boy paid no attention, his expression blank as he continued gnawing on whatever was in his hand. Lin Weixia sat on the floor on the other side, keeping a certain distance — a distance that would give this boy, who had both autism and hearing impairment, a sense of security.

Lin Weixia connected her phone to a Bluetooth speaker and began playing music. Very quickly, a series of different sounds filled the room — deep, heavy drumbeats; melodious piano notes; the gentle murmur of traditional stringed instruments; the lilting voice of an accordion…

Each type of instrument played for about a minute. Lin Weixia hugged her knees and sat to one side, quietly observing the small boy’s reactions.

When the clear, crisp sound of traditional strings came on, the small boy remained expressionless. When the room resonated with the low, beautiful voice of a cello, the small boy Song Yihang finally reacted — he lifted his face and instinctively searched for the source of the music.

“We seem to be kindred spirits, you and I.” Lin Weixia turned off the music on her phone.

She picked up a cello that was nearby and began to play. The small boy finished tearing his papers, sat on the stool, lowered his head, and began to sway.

When his legs swung forward, Lin Weixia drew the bow lightly with her right hand, pulling out the chord of the first degree of F major. The small boy shifted to a different position — leaning the whole of his body backward, little legs also kicking out — and she moved the bow across the strings in response, producing the sound of the fourth degree.

Back and forth, over and over. The small boy thought he was the one controlling the music, and no longer remained immersed in his own world — he began to try and make contact with the outside.

After an hour of music therapy, the nanny opened the door and took the child out. Lin Weixia propped the reddish-brown cello against the wall beside her.

Lin Weixia walked out of the therapy room and stopped by the sofa in the living room, bending down to pack her felt-tip pens, teaching materials, and notebook into her bag.

The nanny came shuffling in wearing cotton slippers, carrying a steaming cup of water with a smile: “Little Teacher Lin, you’ve worked so hard. Your music therapy method seems quite effective — I just spoke to little Yihang and he looked at me.”

“You’re too kind. We’ll take it slowly.” Lin Weixia took a small sip of the hot water; the heat made the tip of her tongue go numb.

Song Yihang was a student Lin Weixia had come to know at a charity event she had participated in. A parent happened to be looking for a home-based psychological therapist for their child. The event’s organizing teacher, seeing that Lin Weixia’s individual abilities were quite outstanding, recommended her.

And so this connection came to be.

The study upstairs hadn’t been closed properly. A low, resonant voice drifted through, carrying a slight, distinguished cadence in French — it made one think of winter rime-frost.

The nanny glanced toward the spiral staircase and said: “That’s our employer in a meeting. Little Teacher Lin, why don’t you stay and have dinner — I have a soup on the stove in the kitchen.”

“I still have things at school. I’ll be on my way first, Auntie Wen.” Lin Weixia smiled and declined.

“Take care on the road.” The nanny wiped her hands and called after her.

Lin Weixia took her bag and the umbrella standing at the door, then pushed it open. A moist-tinged wind swept in — it had started raining outside.

August brought many rainy days. It had been overcast and drizzling for more than a month continuously. Lin Weixia opened the umbrella and walked on, stepping carefully on the wet ground, and continued forward.

Two years into her studies in Jingbei, she had grown accustomed to the climate here. Winters were bitterly cold, and when they came, the whole sky would be full of snowfall — as if the end of the world were nothing but endless silver-white.

Fortunately, Ning Chao had also made it to Jingbei and realized his dream of getting into the police academy — Qiu Minghua and the others were there too. Everyone would occasionally meet up for a meal.

No one had any news of Ban Sheng. He had unilaterally severed contact with everyone.

Snow fell often enough that she had grown used to it.

The most beautiful snowfall — she had already seen it.

Lin Weixia stood at the green bus stop as a bitter wind swept in. She sneezed. Her pocket let out a soft vibrating hum.

She wrestled the phone out of her pocket and pressed it to her ear. Menzi’s bright, buoyant voice came through the receiver, carrying a lively spirit:

“Darling, are you here yet? My delivery order’s already arrived. All the ingredients are laid out just waiting to go in the pot — and there’s one last bottle of red wine in the cabinet, waiting for you to come open it.”

“I’m coming,” Lin Weixia said, watching the blue bus approaching in the distance, “just getting on now.”

“Okay. Wet roads — be careful.” Menzi reminded her.

“Got it.”

After swiping her card and boarding, the bus rocked and trundled forward. The red walls and pale mist disappeared behind it. Lin Weixia’s phone gave a chime. She opened it.

It was a photo Menzi had sent of the hot pot ingredients laid out across the table. Lin Weixia’s lips curved upward. She sent an emoji back.

Life is full of unexpected turns, and becoming friends with Menzi had been one of them.

Lin Weixia was a student in the psychology department at Jing University. In the summer of her first year’s second semester, she had been walking past a row of palm trees with her cello on her back — dark hair, red lips, an ethereal quality in her bearing — and had been immediately seized by Menzi, a film directing student, to appear in a few shots for her project.

Afterward, Menzi had specifically treated Lin Weixia to a meal as a thank-you. In conversation, the two found they had quite a lot in common, and one thing led to another — they became good friends.

Menzi was a Jingbei local. Her father was a doctor and her mother a high school teacher. Because both parents had an open-minded nature, she had developed an unconventional, independent character. Choosing the directing major had also been entirely her own idea. Her dream was to shoot a documentary that could win awards.

During university, Menzi would take part-time modeling jobs on the side to earn money. Combined with her outstanding professional abilities and the resulting interest from quite a few advertising companies, she was financially well-off — quite the little wealthy lady.

Because she often needed to stay up late editing footage, by her third year, Menzi had applied to the school to live off-campus. She rented an apartment on Tanjiang East Road that served both as her studio and her living space.

She moved in a social circle where she knew a lot of people — she frequently invited friends over to throw parties at her place. Menzi went through boyfriends quickly, but never let herself get truly attached.

Lin Weixia arrived at Fanyue Residential Complex, swiped her way through, and rode the elevator to the top floor. The access card was one Menzi had left her — she’d said it would make it easier for Lin Weixia to come and go.

The moment she stepped inside, cool air swept up from the floor. Menzi was sitting cross-legged on the carpet:

“Want to watch a variety show?”

“Sure.” Lin Weixia hung her bag on the coat rack.

The two of them moved the hot pot ingredients from the dining table to the coffee table, intending to eat while watching the variety show. Menzi was rinsing tripe as she asked:

“Flight the day after tomorrow? Do you want me to drive you to the airport?”

Lin Weixia dipped a slice of Chinese yam into the sauce and took a bite — the heat made her tongue go numb: “No need. I’ve booked a rideshare. It’s quite convenient.”

“You know, I can’t figure out why you put yourself through all that. Four years of university, conscientious study, full marks, doing everything perfectly — just to secure a spot as an exchange student to America. Tuition is fully covered, sure, but it’s unfamiliar territory with only three months.”

Lin Weixia saw Menzi’s lips go red from the spice and poured her a glass of water, then explained: “It’s the University of Pennsylvania. An opportunity like that is rare.”

“And you’re planning to check Shengxia in for transit? Even for just three months, you’d want to keep her with you?” Menzi was referring to Lin Weixia’s dog.

That West Highland White Terrier was quite adorable — Lin Weixia had raised her so well that her coat was snow-white, as round and fluffy as a ball of cotton candy.

It was her third year of university now. Lin Weixia had also moved out of the dorms, renting a place outside to make it easier to prepare for graduate school.

After renting the apartment, Lin Weixia had also brought Shengxia over from Nanjiang, and kept her by her side.

“Yes. I happened to get in touch with a student over there — I was going to ask her to help me find a place to stay, but as it turned out she said there was a spare room in her apartment, and she didn’t mind me having a dog — said she even loved them. So I figured I’d bring Shengxia along.” Lin Weixia picked up some beef from the pot and placed it in the other person’s bowl.

A rainy evening. The hot pot bubbled and gurgled. After finishing their meal, the two leaned side by side and drank wine, talking.

Menzi pulled out her hair tie; a full, voluminous cascade of long curls spilled loose. She took a sip of wine and asked: “Hey — that junior you mentioned at our last dinner, the really tall one — he’s asked me three times for your WeChat. What do you think?”

“No thanks. My personality isn’t suited to relationships.” Lin Weixia turned her down.

Menzi pinched her cheek and said: “Fair enough. You’re a celestial being — you have every right not to date.”

Everyone at Jing University’s psychology department knew that Lin Weixia, the department’s finest, had a jade-like constitution and an ice-cold air about her — she rarely participated in social activities, didn’t date, kept largely to herself, living like someone sealed away in an ancient tomb.

“Hey — do you think you’ll run into your ex in America? I’m genuinely curious — what does he look like, how handsome is he, how much does he dote on you — considering you haven’t given any other man a second glance since.” Menzi nudged her arm.

The two of them had truly confided in each other, which was why Menzi knew about her past.

Even after such a long time, hearing someone bring him up — even without mentioning his name — Lin Weixia’s heart contracted involuntarily, beyond her control.

Lin Weixia leaned on Menzi’s shoulder, swirling the red wine in her glass. Her crow-feather lashes lowered, and she tucked the emotions behind her eyes away, saying:

“The world is too vast. You can’t just run into someone because you want to.”

Two days later, Lin Weixia boarded a flight to America. She landed in Pennsylvania. Her roommate welcomed her warmly and helped her swap out her SIM card, sort out her university registration, and complete all the other tedious formalities.

The climate here was similar to Jingbei — damp and cold, with frequent rain. It snowed in winter as well.

In her first month as an exchange student at Penn, Lin Weixia successfully familiarized herself with the main streets of Philadelphia. The city was divided into three main thoroughfares: Market, Chestnut, and Walnut.

She also successfully located a Chinese restaurant with a red advertising sign near Chestnut Street.

After class, Lin Weixia was either in the library or curled up at home. She would often sit with a laptop, doing her assignments. When she was hungry, she would cook frozen dumplings she’d bought from the ACME supermarket.

Her roommate was also Chinese, named Qiu Yan. Every time she came home after a party, she would see Lin Weixia curled up in the living room and would smile and say:

“You’re not going out? I’ll take you to a party one of these days and introduce you to some handsome guys.”

Lin Weixia was leaning back on the sofa, her laptop on her knees. Her fingers still hadn’t stopped typing. She was just about to politely decline with a smile when she suddenly realized her computer had crashed. She frowned and asked: “Qiu Yan, do you know anywhere I can get a computer repaired?”

Qiu Yan walked over and sat down on the sofa, casually hugging a throw pillow. Her eyes lit up with animation: “Hey, you’ve asked exactly the right person. I have a friend I’ve known for quite a while, same year as us — he’s brilliant with computers. Let me ask him to help you fix it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose,” Lin Weixia said, obsessively pressing the restart key, then jokingly added, “What kind of friend is he? Could it be—”

“You guessed it. I’d quite like to pursue him — he’s my type of bad boy, really cool. But that kind of person is so hard to read. At my age I’m actually doing the secret-admirer thing. Hey, Weixia — have you ever chased after someone?” A suspicious flush appeared on Qiu Yan’s face.

Lin Weixia’s hands stilled. She shook her head: “No.”

In the end, Lin Weixia didn’t let Qiu Yan ask on her behalf — she found a computer repair place near the school herself and got it sorted after quite a bit of effort.

On Friday, roommate Qiu Yan enthusiastically invited Lin Weixia to come along to a capsule party. She explained it was a gathering organized by a group of people to raise funds in support of the healthy psychological development of young people, and especially emphasized that this party would be fun — several handsome guys would be in attendance.

“Thanks, but what can I do — I haven’t finished my homework.” Lin Weixia waved her laptop at her with a rueful smile.

Qiu Yan expressed her understanding: “Okay then, it’s genuinely a shame you can’t make it.”

“Have fun.” Lin Weixia waved her off.

With a click, the door was pulled shut. The apartment fell into complete quiet. Lin Weixia gave Shengxia fresh water, filled up a portion of dog food, then went back to her room to work on her assignment.

After finishing, Lin Weixia came to the living room, switched on the television, and found a film to pass the time. She leaned back on the sofa, pulling a blanket over herself. The little white dog occasionally nuzzled under it and licked her arm.

Philadelphia’s nights were always so quiet. Occasionally from next door came the sound of a drunken foreigner shouting a few curses. The television was playing Game of Thrones, Season 8 — she had managed to reach the final season.

The window’s grid of panes made the pitter-patter sound of a rainy day now and then. Lin Weixia was absorbed in watching the television when from outside the door came the sound of a key turning in the lock.

Lin Weixia guessed it was probably Qiu Yan returning. Qiu Yan usually came back reeking of alcohol after her parties. Sometimes a classmate would walk her home; other times Qiu Yan would manage on her own, teetering all the way back in her six-or-seven-inch heels.

Whenever Lin Weixia ran into that, she would go and receive Qiu Yan and help support her all the way back to her room to rest.

There was a click as the door handle turned. Someone pushed the door open. Lin Weixia lifted the blanket, swung a leg over, and stood to go greet them.

Shengxia heard the sound and immediately burst into frantic barking, charging toward the door ahead of Lin Weixia, yapping away.

Lin Weixia was wearing a dark green hoodie with a stretch of pale calf showing below the hem. Her white-soled floor socks stepped across the wooden floorboards. A faint smile curved her lips as she called out by habit toward her roommate:

“You’re back—”

When she saw the figure clearly, her gaze froze.

The door swung open. A tall young man in a black windbreaker was helping a tipsy Qiu Yan inside.

“Tall, really cool, with a rebellious streak running through him at the core” — over a month of living together, Qiu Yan had often murmured in Lin Weixia’s ear about this good friend she liked but hadn’t dared to pursue, who she had been secretly admiring for a long time.

The living room light was off. The light was dim and uncertain. Three years apart, and he seemed to have changed — and also seemed not to have changed at all.

His features were sharper, the lines of his face as sleek and severe as a blade. The zipper of his windbreaker was pulled up casually past his collarbone, revealing the clean line of his jaw below.

Cold. Hard.

The pink wristband that had never left his wrist was gone. His wrist was bare, a protruding knob of bone jutting out beneath the skin.

His index and middle fingers each wore a silver ring — one engraved with Sanskrit text, one the plain silver ring she had once asked him for at the seaside, years ago.

His entire being radiated darkness — a sunken, descending quality. His every movement and gesture carried an air of someone dancing on the edge of madness.

Even more magnetic than before.

It was the easy, delinquent-spirited Ban Sheng —

And also a Ban Sheng whose eyes no longer held her.

His casual gaze seemed to invite even more desire to decipher it — to dive into the depths of his eyes and never find your way back.

Ban Sheng had one hand supporting Qiu Yan. She looked as though she had drunk quite a bit and was leaning against his shoulder with her head to one side. Qiu Yan was wearing a red fitted skirt. As it shifted in their movement, it overlapped with the dark fabric of his trousers.

Like a forbidden color.

Ban Sheng had hold of her arm and taken a step forward. Qiu Yan frowned and called out in pain. Lin Weixia looked over — the girl’s long curls had snagged on his windbreaker zipper.

“Burned?” Ban Sheng raised an eyebrow, tone easy.

“No, I just had my hair done,” Qiu Yan said softly.

The two of them spoke as if no one else were present, having completely forgotten there was a third person in the room. Ban Sheng reached into his trouser pocket for his lighter, as though the phrase “be gentle with a woman” didn’t exist in his vocabulary.

Qiu Yan startled, and the snagged hair came free.

Shengxia was very excited to see Ban Sheng and wagged her tail at him without stopping, making little whimpering sounds.

Lin Weixia stood there in a daze. Her throat was parched; she couldn’t produce a single sound. Her eyes burned, her vision blurring. She quietly clenched the tips of her curled fingers and forced back the dampness gathering at the corners of her eyes.

“Where’s her room?”

That was the first thing Ban Sheng said to Lin Weixia. His habitual cold, flat tone — stripped of feeling — made one think of an ice block forming on the surface of the sea.

Cold. Cold enough to make one’s heart tremble.

Lin Weixia raised her hand and pointed to the right. Ban Sheng supported Qiu Yan and walked past her toward the girl’s room.

A wave of fragrance, mingled faintly with cigarette smoke, drifted in the air.

With a click the door slowly closed. With a snap the light came on. Qiu Yan’s soft, tipsy laughter drifted out through the closed door’s seams.

Lin Weixia didn’t know why her hearing had become so acute. She felt as if all the blood in her body were flowing in reverse. Her feet had gone numb from standing in place so long.

She wanted to do something, but didn’t know what — and so simply stood there.

How long Ban Sheng was in there, she didn’t know. Perhaps three minutes, perhaps five. Lin Weixia only felt time stretching endlessly. Her throat was as though seized by an invisible hand, tightening inch by inch.

When he came back out, his tall, upright silhouette fell as a shadow on the floor. He knocked a cigarette from the box and put it between his lips. With a crack, an intensely red flame leaped from the lighter in the hollow of his palm. Shengxia was still excitedly gnawing at his trouser leg as a sign of affection.

Shengxia had never done this to a stranger.

Ban Sheng exhaled a plume of white smoke. A pale ring dissolved into the air overhead. The acrid note seemed to seep into her eyes. Lin Weixia felt herself enveloped by a familiar, piercing chill and found it difficult to breathe.

He didn’t look at her. He took the cigarette from his mouth:

“When Qiu Yan wakes up, if it’s not too much trouble, could you make her a sobering-up tea.”

That was the second thing Ban Sheng said to her.

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