Ah Heng often wondered if memories could ever fade. If not, it would be truly terrifying. It meant she would never be able to forgive herself.

Those scenes kept revolving in her mind.

“Ah Heng, no matter where you go, you must never let your father take a plane, understand?” That was her mother, with a very serious expression.

Ah Heng nodded, her eyes gentle as she nodded vigorously, saying: “Mom, I remember.”

Mom stroked her hair while busy packing their clothes. After a while, she spoke again: “Don’t forget, it’s forbidden! Repeat it to me again.”

Ah Heng looked at her, seriously repeating word by word: “Absolutely, must not, let Dad take a plane.” Like a child learning to speak for the first time, then carefully asking, “Why?”

Her mother hugged her, gently, smiling: “Ah, that’s because your father—”

Father coughed lightly beside them, calling out “Yun Yi” to interrupt her words, picked up the travel bag, took Ah Heng’s hand, nodded, and walked away. Mother watched them, even their silhouettes seeming warm and cozy.

In her heart, her parents stood in the same picture deeply in love, completely belonging to Wen Heng, seemingly only in that moment.

She stopped at the grave in the cemetery, crouching down, quietly looking at the black and white photo on the tombstone. Handsome, rugged, upright, a real man—this man who gave her life, who deeply loved her father of the Wen family—this was all she could define about his brief life.

Oh, she forgot one line: the pitiful man killed by his daughter.

Death, dying—the depth of these words was also something he taught her.

She couldn’t even argue against it.

He had said: “Don’t tell your mother, she should be proud. This is a secret between father and daughter, a secret only I and my little Ah Heng know.”

Two years later, on January 8th, her last day in B City, the endless winter days brought heavy snow again, the world a vast expanse of white.

The inscription on the tombstone had long become blurred in the snow. She gently wiped away the snow with her hand, her fingertips sliding over the uneven engravings.

She had no right to participate in erecting the tombstone, even though the person lying here forever had given her the Wen surname.

Surviving wife Wen Yun Yi

Unfilial children Wen Si Wan, Wen Si Er

She smiled, thinking it was the end, but when her finger moved to the next line, she froze.

Six lonely characters in beautiful regular script, sharp and piercing, the result of repeated carving.

Wen Heng, written by Yan Xi.

Her nose stung as she hugged the tombstone, her lowered forehead pressed against that bone-chilling cold, her clean sleeve touched by snow, suddenly cold.

She thought she had only walked the distance of a turn, but looking around, it was an endless expanse of sea.

Parting while alive—if it wasn’t because feelings were unrequited at the time of parting, then, could she understand it as both of them still being alive at the time of parting?

Not far away came the sound of footsteps, deep and shallow, heavy and muffled in the snow.

Ah Heng scattered snow to smooth over footprints, walking to the tree on the opposite side, completely hidden by a row of tombstones ahead.

In this weather, few people came to the cemetery. She peeked out slightly, seeing the silhouettes of five people. They held umbrellas, unclear in the snow, but she could make out two men and three women.

They stopped, standing where she had just been.

The woman in front closed her umbrella and placed the bouquet she was carrying before the grave. White flowers adorned her hair bun as she spoke with bitter remembrance: “An Guo, I’ve come to see you with the children.” The young couple behind her knelt on the icy snow ground, crying uncontrollably.

Such openly sorrowful tears made one… envious.

Looking at them, Ah Heng only remembered endless coldness. It seemed when they left her, they didn’t show even a thousandth of this current grief.

Her silent mother, was unmoved even after she knelt at the Wen family’s door for two days and nights.

Si Wan frowned, finally only saying “Ah Heng, enough, Mom doesn’t want to see you now” before tightly closing the door.

Si Er looked at her with pity in her eyes, like watching the dying life of a kitten or puppy. She had said: “I told you before, don’t be delusional. Family, Yan Xi, friendship—everything in this dirty courtyard, don’t be delusional about any of it. I told you before.” What fell from her hand was the Z University admission notice.

The wind carried snow, extending violently, burying the past, spinning with funeral music at the horizon.

In the wind, distant voices became thin syllables, reaching her ears intermittently. Mrs. Wen embraced the couple standing in the back row and spoke: “An Guo, don’t worry anymore, Xiao Xi has a girlfriend, she’s a good girl. I specially brought her to see you today, she’s no worse than our Ah Heng, rest assured.”

That couple—the black-haired youth in a brown coat held an umbrella, beside him stood a petite girl tightly clutching his coat hem, a playful and dependent posture.

The girl teased: “Yan Xi, even your former father-in-law has accepted me, you can only marry me in this life, you know?”

Yan Xi.

Yan… Xi.

Ah Heng thought, what a beautiful name.

When they were young and innocent, she often wrinkled her little face at everyone else in the world: “Oh, let me tell you, Yan Xi is so annoying, really, so annoying.”

It was like holding a treasure in her hands, unable to resist showing off how good her treasure was to the world, yet afraid others would covet it and turn to criticism—such childish thoughts.

Yan Xi was so, so good.

Ah Heng lowered her head, sniffling, tears welling in her eyes. Turning to leave, she stepped right into a tree hollow, startling the crows nesting in the dead branches. A mass of black swirled around the tree in the snow.

Afraid of drawing attention, Ah Heng shrank inside. Fortunately, the hollow was large enough.

“Is someone there?” It was Si Er’s voice.

Footsteps approaching.

Ah Heng’s lips were dry, and her pupils contracted as she stared fixedly outside.

A pair of brown leather boots, getting closer and closer. Too close—she could even see the creases in the denim at the person’s knees.

Finally, they stopped.

She buried her face towards the darker depths, covering her nose with her hand, and holding her breath. Yet she could hear the person’s breathing, slightly heavy in the snow.

He stared intently at the tree hollow, fists clenched.

“Yan Xi, what is it?” Si Er asked.

He completely blocked the tree hollow, turning his back to block Si Er’s view, expressionless as he spoke flatly: “Can’t see clearly, probably a wild rabbit’s nest.”

“Oh? I love little rabbits, they’re so cute.” Si Er was suspicious, stepping forward to take a closer look.

Ah Heng looked through the faint light—that youth’s coat looked so warm, so very warm.

He moved aside, arms crossed, eyebrow raised: “Might be a weasel, weasels are quite cute too.”

Si Er’s expression changed. She glanced from afar—it was indeed too dark to see clearly—then turned and walked away.

The faint milk-like fragrance lingering at her nose, the familiar comfort just a reach away for an embrace.

Ah Heng felt her chest tighten uncomfortably.

Don’t move, absolutely… don’t move.

He stood quietly holding the umbrella handle, looking at the tree hollow for a long, long time. In a daze, even his large eyes became gentle. Finally, he silently put down his umbrella, then took off his leather gloves and bent down to gently place them at the hollow’s entrance.

Turning away, lonely footprints lead forward.

One tree, one flower, beneath the Bodhi tree, passing by, standing still to become Buddha. This time, truly truly, I don’t know you.

In the distance, that petite girl threw a snowball at him, her face beaming: “Yan Xi, I didn’t know you were so kind to small animals. I like you more and more, what should I do?”

What should I do?

Yan Xi wiped the snow from his face, looking down, speaking indifferently: “Then just keep liking me.”

When Ah Heng returned to H City, Gu Fei Bai picked her up.

He looked at her, his expression still as calm as usual, but his eyes were several degrees colder.

He asked: “Where did you go?”

Ah Heng thought about it—six days reading in the hotel, the last day visiting the grave—nothing worth mentioning, so she summarized simply: “Just wandered around.”

Gu Fei Bai saw the umbrella beside her and spoke flatly: “Was the snow heavy in B City?”

Ah Heng nodded slightly, making a sound of agreement.

He narrowed his eyes: “Doesn’t look like something of yours. Haven’t you always hated pink?”

Ah Heng smiled lightly: “Left behind by a kind person who cares for wild animals, I just happened to pick it up.”

Gu Fei Bai smiled faintly: “Other people’s things might have germs, how can you just pick them up? Throw it away.”

Ah Heng stood frozen in place.

He said: “I can buy thousands or tens of thousands, three hundred and sixty-five days, give you one each day. This one, just throw it in the trash, how about that?”

Ah Heng frowned, hearing a hint of challenge in Gu Fei Bai’s words.

“What, reluctant to throw it away?” Gu Fei Bai glanced at her coldly.

Ah Heng handed him the umbrella, smiling faintly: “Throw it away then. Do whatever you like with it.”

Gu Fei Bai studied her, his voice emotionless: “What about you, are you also for me to do with as I please?”

Ah Heng stepped back, her expression smiling but without any trace of joy: “Fei Bai, that joke isn’t funny. You know I’m flesh and blood, equal and free like you, there’s no reason for me to be at your disposal.”

Gu Fei Bai put his hands in his pockets, lowered his head, and after a while, laughed: “I want to learn from soap operas and hug you, kiss you so breathtaking that it doesn’t matter if you die or I die. But, Wen Heng, you’re so boring.”

Ah Heng was stunned, ah, then smiled: “Fei Bai, this isn’t our way, only fast-paced instant love needs kisses to ignite passion.”

The small light in Gu Fei Bai’s eyes instantly extinguished, dimming: “But between us, there isn’t even passion.”

He opened his mouth, determined to say something, but Ah Heng smiled, speaking softly: “Fei Bai, whatever you want to say can wait until later, mm, anytime after midnight on January 10th. Right now, I’m very tired.”

The roar of a plane taking off nearby drowned out all other sounds.

She looked into Gu Fei Bai’s eyes and coughed lightly, a blush crossing her face, gentle as landscapes, with small awkwardness and sincerity.

She said: “I am suitable to be a wife. Ignoring passion, could you please consider it seriously again?”