After hanging up the phone, Lin Weixia took the dog home on a leash. Once inside, she turned on the heat, boiled a pot of noodles, and after finishing her meal, sat down at her desk and opened her laptop to enrich her professional knowledge as usual.

Lin Weixia was mainly studying psychological issues and treatment plans for special-needs adolescents during their growth and development.

After propping her head up and watching forty minutes of instructional video, the page began playing a 190-second advertisement. Her mind started to wander, and she thought back to the phone call she’d just had.

Lin Weixia tore off a green sticky note, her thick lashes drooping as she picked up a pen and drew a very fierce shark on it, writing beside it: Shark Observation Log.

As she was mulling over the promise she had let Ban Sheng down on, and what he truly liked, Lin Weixia suddenly remembered something that had happened at his home on Valentine’s Day back in high school.

At the time, Ban Sheng had been smoking with one hand while giving her a tour of his room.

Besides those nebula photographs, his room also had a globe and a blank wish list hanging on the wall.

He had said they would each write one wish on it.

The first wish Ban Sheng wrote was: Find Mom once I grow up.

Lin Weixia picked up the pen and thought for a long while. Just as she rose on her tiptoes to write on the wall, the boy carelessly plucked the pen from her hand and, in sweeping, uninhibited strokes, wrote:

Go to Jingbei to see the snow with Lin Weixia.

“That’s my wish now too,” Ban Sheng said, looking at her.

Remembering this, Lin Weixia wrote that promise down on the sticky note, and then several more came to mind — she recorded them all, one by one.

She looked at the first promise written on the note: See the snow together in Jingbei.

Jingbei’s climate had always been unpredictable. Last year’s snow had come early; this year it was running late. It was only the beginning of November now, and the meteorological bureau had yet to issue any snowfall forecast.

Lin Weixia picked up her phone and checked the recent temperatures, discovering that for the next fifteen days it would be overcast and rainy, with temperatures around 23 degrees Celsius — conditions that didn’t meet the threshold for snowfall.

She couldn’t help feeling a little deflated.

Just as Lin Weixia was fretting over this, her phone screen suddenly flashed with an advertising push notification: Surprise announcement! The first snowfall of the season at Julu Mountain is on its way! This Saturday, Jingbei residents are welcome to come check it in, and the Little Bear Coffee Treehouse will be offering photo opportunities…

She suddenly remembered — Julu Mountain was the highest peak in Jingbei, and because of its altitude, location, and temperature differential, the snow on Julu Mountain fell a little earlier every year than anywhere else in the city.

So she could invite Ban Sheng to go there.

Lin Weixia searched for the Little Bear Coffee Treehouse recommended in the advertisement, then carefully put together a detailed guide, filling an entire page of notes, and finally went to sleep contentedly.

The next morning, Lin Weixia made herself a sandwich, then headed off to school in high spirits with her textbooks tucked under her arm.

When Lin Weixia arrived at the classroom, the bell had not yet rung. She sat down at her seat and began tearing open the wrapper to eat her sandwich.

Other students filed in one after another. One classmate sat down beside Lin Weixia, looked at her, and smiled:

“Weixia, what’s gotten into you today? You seem to be in a pretty good mood. The past two days you looked so downcast — those pretty eyes of yours were drooping, it made me feel sorry for you.”

“Did they?” Lin Weixia smiled slightly.

After class, Lin Weixia sat at her desk and sent Ban Sheng a message, typing in the chat box:

Do you have class today?

Two minutes later, her phone screen lit up — Ban Sheng had replied:

One class at 10:40.

Lin Weixia looked at the message and realized it was currently her break between classes, so she typed back: Then I’ll come find you. She thought for a moment, pressed the delete key, and changed the period to a question mark.

Then I’ll come find you?

Before long, Ban Sheng sent back a message, brief and direct:

Building 3, Room 415.

Lin Weixia tucked her phone into her pocket and went out with the flow of people. Holding onto the stair railing and walking for six or seven minutes, she made her way to Teaching Building 3.

She climbed up to the fourth floor, breathless all the way.

Lin Weixia happened to run into a large group of male university students coming out of class, talking and laughing amongst themselves. She glanced over — each of them had a copy of Simulated Electronic Technology tucked under their arm.

Lin Weixia spotted Ban Sheng among the crowd in an instant. He was very tall, wearing a light-weight windbreaker with the zipper casually half-pulled up, revealing half of a black butterfly tattoo. His expression was languid, his bearing arrogant and magnetic.

Without thinking, Lin Weixia wove through the crowd toward him. Ban Sheng turned his head and caught sight of her too.

Lin Weixia came to stand in front of him. For some reason she felt a little nervous and was still hesitating over how to open her mouth when she noticed the foot traffic was about to knock right into her. Ban Sheng grabbed her and pulled her into an empty classroom nearby.

The door let out a creak as it closed. The light dimmed, leaving just the two of them.

Lin Weixia tilted her head up to look at him and spoke, her voice catching for a moment:

“This Saturday I know of a place where it’ll be snowing. Do you… want to go together?”

After saying it, Lin Weixia held his gaze steadily and waited for his answer. She always looked calm on the outside; in reality, her heart was fluttering wildly, and she swallowed involuntarily without realizing it.

Ban Sheng looked at her for two seconds, caught Lin Weixia’s small nervous gesture, and let out a quiet laugh:

“What are you nervous about?”

At that moment, the class bell let out a bright ding-ling-ling. Ban Sheng lowered his head and looked down at her, his gaze intent as it settled on Lin Weixia’s face — lingering long enough to make a person’s cheeks grow warm. His voice was low:

“Sure.”

Everyone had gone to class, and the hallway was completely empty. Ban Sheng, holding his rolled-up textbook in one hand, stepped past Lin Weixia, his shoulder grazing the fabric of her clothing, and reached out to open the door. He was just about to walk out when he found he couldn’t move.

He tilted his head slightly and found the hem of his black shirt was being gripped by slender, pale fingers. Gripped quite tightly — the fabric beside it had crinkled. Something stirred in his throat.

He looked at her without saying a word.

“I’ll send you the address,” Lin Weixia said softly, then paused, her voice a touch awkward. “But I don’t have you on WeChat yet.”

The cold wind outside rattled the windows. Lin Weixia clutched his shirt, and still no response came. The sky outside was a pale grey, and as if mirroring the atmosphere inside the room, it seemed to grey another shade deeper, the light dimming further.

The hand holding the hem was getting a little tired. Just as she was about to let go, Ban Sheng suddenly spoke:

“I haven’t changed it.”

With that, Ban Sheng’s gaze signaled Lin Weixia to release her hand. It took her a moment to register, and she let go. He left for class, and Lin Weixia stood rooted to the spot in a daze.

He hadn’t changed his WeChat.

After the college entrance exams had pulled them apart, Lin Weixia had stopped seeing his Moments updates, and couldn’t even click into his profile — tapping that avatar only allowed her to send a message.

She had assumed at some point that Ban Sheng had abandoned that WeChat account. She never imagined he had kept it all this time.

In arriving at that conclusion, Lin Weixia felt a mixture of relief and a faint, inexplicable ache.

Saturday afternoon at three o’clock, Lin Weixia stood in front of her mirror and applied a light touch of makeup, then carefully traced her lips with lipstick, making herself up with care.

Shengxia wagged his tail and ran excitedly around her. Before she headed out, Lin Weixia crouched down and petted the fluffy little head, saying:

“Next time I’ll bring him to see you, alright?”

The little white dog seemed to understand. His big eyes wide open, tongue lolling, he ran around even more joyfully.

Lin Weixia walked out of the house and came to the green bus stop. She waited for a while, then a blue bus slowly pulled in. She boarded, sat in the back, rested her head against the window and stared blankly, and after a while took out her phone again to double-check her written guide for any errors.

After riding for over an hour, a clear broadcast voice announced: Julu Mountain, Qingyuan East Road stop — passengers alighting, please prepare to exit.

Lin Weixia stepped off with the flow of passengers. After less than ten minutes of walking, she spotted a red Julu Mountain sign hanging on a yellow boulder.

To the left of Julu Mountain was a temple called Pujia Temple; to the right was the scenic area. A large crowd stood in front of the sightseeing bus, and many tourists were carrying yellow ginger flowers up the mountain to pray at the temple.

Lin Weixia set off along a small path on the right side, climbing steadily. After quite a long ascent, she finally reached the halfway point of the mountain and spotted, in the distance, a coffee shop designed to look like a brown treehouse.

A few clusters of snow in different shapes were piled on the roof, and as far as the eye could see, fine white flurries drifted down, only to melt almost instantly against the warmth of her neck.

There really was snow on the mountain.

As she drew closer, Lin Weixia saw quite a few tourists checking in and taking photos there. Inside the coffee shop were also areas for couples’ message boards and love locks and the like.

The later it grew, especially on the mountain, the sharper the drop in temperature became. Lin Weixia couldn’t help shivering and pulled out her phone for a glance, discovering she only had one bar of signal up here on the mountain, and even that was too congested with all the people around to get messages out.

Eventually, her phone signal disappeared entirely.

Afraid that Ban Sheng would arrive and not be able to find her, Lin Weixia sat down on a long bench in front of the coffee shop. As time crept forward, the snow fell thicker and thicker, and the leaves on the distant trees grew heavy with transparent ice crystals.

Out in the wide open space, couples stood together taking photos — usually the boy behind the camera shooting the girl, while the girl struck cute poses.

Lin Weixia sat alone on the bench watching them, quietly thinking to herself that when Ban Sheng arrived, the two of them would take a photo together in the snow.

Time slipped away without a sound. The sky turned grey, and then dark.

Lin Weixia looked up — the time they had agreed to meet had already passed by half an hour.

A bitter gust of cold wind swept through. Lin Weixia shuddered and instinctively pulled her coat tighter around herself.

Eventually, Lin Weixia was so frozen she was trembling, her face drained of color, and she went inside and ordered a cup of coffee.

The scalding milk coffee slid down her throat and warmth slowly began to return to every corner of her body. Lin Weixia sat at the bar counter nearest the outside wall, glancing through the transparent glass every now and then to peer at what lay beyond.

Behind her, a young couple newly in love bought a joined-heart knot and hung it up on the board. The girl took out her phone and snapped a photo, then smiled and said:

“Come on, let’s head down the mountain and get dinner.”

“Sure, give me your bag.”

As the hours stretched on, all the tourists on the mountain had cleared out. The shop was almost empty and nearly closing time — but Ban Sheng had never appeared. Lin Weixia dropped her paper coffee cup into the trash and pushed open the door to leave.

The shop owner called out to her: “Miss, are you waiting for someone?”

“Yes, I’m waiting for someone,” Lin Weixia said, her lashes flickering slightly.

“Then don’t wait too long — it’ll be dark soon, the park is about to close, and we’re about to go off duty. It’s not very safe for a young woman alone on the mountain. You’re welcome to come down with us,” the shop owner said warmly.

Lin Weixia nodded. “Alright. Thank you — I’ll just wait a little longer.”

Lin Weixia walked back out and sat on the bench, watching the entrance to see if that familiar figure would appear.

But it didn’t.

A wave of disappointment rose in her chest. She wondered — had something suddenly come up, or had he… had second thoughts?

Could it be that Ban Sheng had realized that, after all these years, he was just fine without her in his life?

So he simply hadn’t shown up.

She waited another half hour. In the end, the park management staff blew their whistles to urge the remaining visitors in the scenic area to leave promptly.

Lin Weixia walked down the mountain in a daze. Halfway down she happened to come across a scenic area worker, who gave her a ride down the rest of the way.

At the foot of the mountain, Lin Weixia opened the door to the cold. A gust of wind hit her and she shivered.

Lin Weixia stood at the roadside, kicking idly at a pebble with her foot, waiting for the last bus of the night.

Before long, a black GTR appeared in the distance, coming at high speed — like a black phantom — hurtling toward where Lin Weixia stood.

The tires spun and kicked up pebbles as the car flew along the roadside. Lin Weixia assumed it was just passing through and instinctively stepped back.

But the car screeched to a stop right in front of her. The door swung open, and a tall, lean figure stepped out, eyes dark and heavy as they fixed on her.

Ban Sheng’s jaw was taut, as if he was holding something back. He was about to say something when he caught a glimpse of her face — drained pale from the cold — and he closed his eyes briefly, drawing the emotion back inside.

Lin Weixia looked at him and lowered her eyes. “You came. I waited a long time for you.”

“Didn’t you notice you’d gone to the wrong place?” Ban Sheng said.

Lin Weixia looked up, bewildered. “What?”

Ban Sheng found this person equal parts infuriating and amusing. He slipped one hand into his pocket, and with the other cupped the back of her head, his voice carrying a thread of barely-suppressed exasperation:

“Look properly.”

A broad palm pressed close and cradled the back of her head, the man’s wrist grazing her cheek as he did. The moment he touched her, Lin Weixia went completely still.

Her head was gently but firmly turned. What came into view was a blue road sign planted beneath a winter holly tree not far away, which clearly read — Qingyuan Winter Road.

In a flash of sudden clarity, Lin Weixia realized she had taken the wrong bus — she had boarded one going in the opposite direction.

Julu Mountain in Jingbei was divided into two peaks, north and south. The two locations shared the same name, the same coffee shop, the same scenic area.

The only difference was that the road where Lin Weixia stood had a temple.

So she was the one who had gone wrong.

Ban Sheng had gone to the address Lin Weixia had sent him — the real Qingyuan East Road. He had waited there for what felt like forever, until his phone drained from one last bar to completely dead.

He had assumed Lin Weixia had stood him up — but then, in a flash, it occurred to him: Lin Weixia had absolutely no sense of direction.

And so he had driven over at full speed.

Today, because of this string of mishaps, he had criss-crossed nearly half of Jingbei.

“I’m so sorry,” Lin Weixia said, looking at him with a face full of remorse.

Ban Sheng tucked his hand back into his pocket and called out to her: “Let’s go.”

Just as he was about to set off, Lin Weixia grabbed his arm, as if remembering something. “Wait.”

“Close your eyes first.”

Ban Sheng glanced at her sideways, that familiar indolent arrogance surfacing — he wasn’t about to play along.

Lin Weixia let out a soft sigh, then straightened her expression, her tone going slightly serious:

“Then you’re going to miss it.”

Ban Sheng found it amusing and was just about to ask what she was up to, when his vision was suddenly filled with a blur of white.

Lin Weixia produced a handful of white snow from seemingly nowhere.

More precisely — snowmelt.

She raised her gloved hand, rose up on her tiptoes, and scattered it above their heads. Soft as feathers, it drifted down over the two of them — settling in their hair, on their clothes.

Ban Sheng looked down at the person before him. Lin Weixia wore a wool coat, and beneath her black beret was a pair of bright, laughter-lit eyes. A red scarf was wrapped around the lower half of her face.

Clumps of snow pelted down on her head too, pattering noisily, and Lin Weixia’s cheeks were frozen pale, shot through with faint red — her nose was red too. Her clothes had gotten a little wet from the snowmelt, and a single white snowflake had come to rest on her lashes.

Some of the snowmelt had landed on his coat as well.

Yet this disheveled Lin Weixia was still smiling up at him, her voice carrying a note of quiet pride:

“Is this the first snow you’ve seen in Jingbei?”

Ban Sheng reached out a hand. Ice-cold fingertips touched her cheek — then carefully brushed the snowflake from her lashes.

Lin Weixia shivered at the touch, and then she saw it: the coldness he always wore on his face cracked at last. He finally smiled — just once — a helpless sound escaping him, carrying the faintest trace of something indulgent, like a sigh:

“Silly.”