Chapter 9 Before dawn, Ren Xiyao was...

Before dawn, Ren Xiyao was awakened by the noise of the morning market downstairs. She turned over and buried her face in the fluffy down comforter, the scent of lavender that her mother had just changed the night before lingering in her nostrils. This was the first time in four years that she had spent the Lunar New Year at home, and even the shouts of the vendors at the morning market sounded especially warm and familiar.

The cold winter air in Harbin frosted the eyelashes of fishermen on the Songhua River, and the noses of pedestrians outside were red with cold. The cobblestone pavement of Central Street was buried under snow like cotton balls, and the cold air seeping into her boots felt like needles pricking her as she walked on the crunching snow. Icicles on the onion domes of the church were at least half a foot long, and the streetlights shimmered with a fuzzy halo in the snow. Everything was familiar to her, filling her with a sense of security.

"Yao'er, get up and have breakfast!" Mom's voice came from downstairs, accompanied by the crisp sound of a spatula clattering.

Ren Xiyao rubbed her eyes and slowly got up. Her room remained the same as before, with figure skating and short track speed skating medals hanging on the wall and various certificates on the bookshelf. A rich variety was on display. A poster of the Suocheng Winter Olympics was pasted above the bed. She reached out and touched the "2014" on the poster, letting out a soft sigh.

Downstairs, Old Ren was busy in the kitchen, wearing an apron with small floral prints, which looked rather comical. He was frying pancakes, the oil sizzling and filling the living room with a delicious aroma.

“Dad, this apron of yours…” Ren Xiyao couldn’t help but laugh out loud: “Old Ren, it’s been so long, and you still haven’t gotten your own apron? It’s been so many years, and this is the apron I picked out when I first started clamoring to learn how to cook.”

“It’s a shame we don’t come in here often. Your mom found this somewhere and insisted I wear it, saying she was afraid the oil would splatter on my new sweater.” Dad shrugged helplessly: “Come and try it, you love fried dough.”

Ren Xiyao sat down at the dining table, where her mother had already set out the bowls and chopsticks. The table was filled with her favorite foods: red sausage, fried dough sticks, candied sweet potatoes, and a bowl of steaming tofu pudding.

"Your aunt will be over in a bit; she says she's going to make dumplings for you," Mom said, putting some food on her plate. "They're your favorite three-ingredient filling."

Just then, the doorbell rang. Auntie stood at the door, carrying several bags, a bright smile on her face: "Yao'er! Let Auntie see if you've lost weight!"

Ren Xiyao went to greet her aunt and was immediately embraced. Her aunt had a faint scent of perfume, a familiar one she had known since childhood. When she was little, her mother worked in the public sector and it wasn't convenient for her to travel abroad. Her father's business was in China, and only her aunt was in the import/export business, always traveling between China and abroad, so it was always her aunt who took Ren Xiyao with her.

"Auntie, how old am I? Why are you still like this?" Ren Xiyao laughed as she dodged her aunt's "clutches".

"No matter how big she is, she's still my niece." Her aunt pinched her cheek. "Come on, help us make dumplings."

The kitchen quickly became lively. Aunt and Mom chatted while making dumplings, Dad assisted, and Ren Xiyao was in charge of rolling out the dough.

"With Yao'er's skills, she could open a dumpling restaurant someday," her aunt teased, watching Ren Xiyao's movements.

“That won’t do, our Yao’er is going to be an Olympic champion,” her father immediately replied.

Ren Xiyao smiled but didn't speak. She focused intently on rolling out the dough, the lively laughter of her family filling the air. This atmosphere allowed her to temporarily forget the heavy topics weighing on her mind these past few days.

In the afternoon, Ren Xiyao accompanied her father to put up Spring Festival couplets. The winter in Harbin was bitterly cold, but she felt especially warm at that moment. Her father climbed the ladder, and she stood below, holding it for him, occasionally reminding him, "The left side is higher," or "The right side is crooked."

"Yao'er, when you were little, you loved watching Dad put up the Spring Festival couplets the most," Dad said as he adjusted the position of the couplets. "You always rushed to put up the 'Fu' character."

“I remember.” Ren Xiyao looked up at her father. “Back then, I couldn’t reach it, so you lifted me up. It’s been so many years, and I haven’t been back for so long.”

The father fell silent. In truth, everyone in the family knew. These past years had been difficult for the child. He knew it too. He wanted to comfort her, wondering why she was allowed to stay for the New Year this year, but he didn't know how to begin. Because he understood that these were experiences the child had to go through as she grew, that she had to gradually see the harsh realities of life and ultimately, what kind of person she would become. He didn't want to raise her like a hothouse flower, nor did he want to simply tell her that the outside world was wonderful—that was wrong.

Just then, Mom's voice came from inside: "Why aren't you coming in yet? You'll catch a cold." Father and daughter exchanged a smile and replied, "Coming!"

As soon as she entered the door, she heard her aunt exclaim, "Oh dear, I forgot to buy firecrackers! Yao'er, go buy some!" Ren Xiyao gave an OK sign, got dressed, and went out. Her parents' voices, reminding her to be careful, mingled with the ringing of the phone as Ren Xiyao replied, "Okay." She picked up her phone and saw the caller ID.

Kwon Ji-yong

"Ren Xiyao, are you saving the Spring Festival couplets?" Kwon Ji-yong's voice came through the crackling of electricity, with a faint thumping sound of something being knocked in the background.

She nearly stumbled: "How did you know I was...?"

"A video website posted about Harbin's ice lantern exhibition, and one comment said that people in Harbin put up Spring Festival couplets in the afternoon."

My aunt's voice came from afar: "Hurry up! Otherwise, the supermarket will close soon!"

"Got it!" she yelled at the person behind her before realizing she hadn't covered the phone properly. The person on the other end was already laughing so hard they almost choked: "Auntie is even more anxious than our club president about the album."

Ren Xiyao was stunned, and said with some surprise, "You can understand? Isn't this Chinese?" Quan Zhilong said with a hint of smugness, "Don't underestimate me. I understand, hurry up."

The supermarket was packed with people, and she weaved between the shelves, phone in hand: "The red-packaged one... not this kind, I want the one from Liuyang... yes, the 'Earth Red' one on your left."

"You're going to blast the ground red for the New Year?" came the crisp sound of porcelain clinking from his end. "I just finished the ancestral worship with my mother, and now the table is full of rice cake soup."

"We need to feed the Kitchen God first." She stuffed the firecrackers into the shopping cart, and two boxes of glutinous rice balls almost slipped out. "By the way, what's your Chinese level anyway? You can understand this..."

Before he could finish speaking, the supermarket loudspeaker interrupted him: "Buy two frozen dumplings, get one free! Fresh meat dumplings are 20% off!"

He suddenly said, "Wait a minute," and hung up. Ren Xiyao hadn't even put her phone down when a video call came in.

The glass window reflected the fireworks display behind him. In the video call, he held up a piece of rice cake, with a sacrificial table covered with bellflowers in the background: "Do you put coins in your dumplings? My aunt just broke her tooth after eating a copper coin."

“We wrap everything, including tangerines, candies, and even money, each with a different meaning. Last year, my dad…” She suddenly fell silent as the old man in front of her, craning his neck to look at her phone screen, stopped.

"The candy is so sticky." He casually twirled the kimchi on the tip of his chopsticks. Then he bent down to scoop up some rice cake soup, his ear tips turning red from the steam: "Want to video chat about ice sculptures tomorrow? I've never seen a real one..."

My mother called in: "Did you buy firecrackers all the way to outer space?"

She only managed to say "Happy New Year" before hurriedly hanging up. When the shopping cart wheel got stuck at the checkout, she noticed a new voice message on her chat app.

"It's -18 degrees Celsius in Harbin, and -5 degrees Celsius in Seoul." His voice was like it was soaked in rice wine: "You said the white breath you exhale over there should be three times stronger than mine here."

At the New Year's Eve dinner table, the family was enjoying a harmonious and joyful time. They raised their glasses in celebration, exchanging blessings. No one discussed serious topics. Everything seemed peaceful and serene.

She got up, walked to the window, wiped away the fog, filmed a video of teenagers running around and setting off fireworks outside, and typed a reply: "Harbin has enough snow to build ten Ice and Snow Worlds."

The moment the fireworks exploded, a new message popped up: "You'll be back soon, right? I'll take you out for something delicious."

Ren Xiyao laughed: "Oppa is treating?"

“Of course, I’ve been learning a lot of Chinese lately, so I go to Chinese restaurants. I shouldn’t order the wrong dishes if I use Chinese.” Kwon Ji-yong’s tone became more relaxed.

After ending the chat, Ren Xiyao's smile faded, and she stared blankly outside. The snow was falling heavier and heavier, blurring the scenery before her. Only a vast expanse of white remained. This was a scene unique to Northeast China. For some reason, she always felt that Quan Zhilong was mysterious. He always seemed to have many things he wanted to say but didn't. Every time she chatted with him, it seemed like he was joking, but behind the jokes, he seemed to be hiding something. She didn't know how to describe that feeling; she just felt that he was keeping many things to himself.

Her mother slowly walked up to her and handed her a glass of red wine. She put her arm around her shoulder and said, "When you were 14, you insisted on switching sports, and I was so angry! I finally convinced you to stop figure skating, but you still wanted to be an athlete. Your grandparents are still unhappy about it. They've made an excuse to go to Sanya for the New Year and haven't come back. The truth is, they just don't want you to suffer like this."

Ren Xiyao showed her mother several large red envelopes (digital cash gifts) in her phone chat, saying, "They're all thinking of me. I know I was being willful. They just don't want me to get hurt."

The mother stroked her daughter's hair, looking at her daughter who had unknowingly turned 20: "Not entirely. We know a little about what sports teams are like. We only wanted you to have a hobby that would help you stay healthy, but who would have thought that, after all this time, you still couldn't escape it? Sigh!"

Ren Xiyao smiled and said, "That day when I went to see the team leader, she said that some people never find out what they truly love in their lives, so they live mediocre lives. But I've already understood my love for skating at such a young age. So I should have even more respect for it. I think that's absolutely right. If you get something, you must cherish it. One competition is still skating, another is still skating, and besides, I always have a backup plan. Right, Mom?" She said it as a question, but in reality, Ren Xiyao was absolutely certain.

Fireworks burst in the sky. The clock struck twelve, shattering the frozen surface of the Songhua River. A notification popped up in the training team's group chat: training would resume on the third day of the Lunar New Year. She rested her head on her mother's shoulder. The distant neon lights illuminated the message she had just received in the chat window.

A note from the author:

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The pacing will be a bit slower at the beginning, but it will become more compact later. In longer stories, sometimes trying to explain everything and foreshadow every detail can lead to a less smooth flow. Thank you all for your support! [Hands clasped in prayer][Hands clasped in prayer][Hands clasped in prayer]