Jiang Cheng buried his chin in his collar, and the breath he exhaled from his mouth and nose turned into smoke as it cooled, spreading to his still handsome eyebrows and eyes.

He saw Pei Xi's post and came here to try his luck, but he didn't expect to actually run into her.

His hands, tucked into his pockets, clenched tightly, and his chest ached intensely.

He stared at the traffic for a while, the sounds of horns and tires rubbing against each other rising and falling, but the surroundings seemed like a vacuum.

After watching for an unknown amount of time, Jiang Cheng finally lifted his foot, turned around, and slowly walked along the lit streetlights.

When he reached the entrance of the Big Fish Internet Cafe, he turned into the alley and went upstairs.

There is a hotel here that is open all year round.

Jiang Cheng booked a room, got the key, and went inside. The room was simply furnished, but it was fairly clean.

He took off his coat, and his phone suddenly pinged in his pocket; someone had sent him a message.

Jiang Cheng took it out and glanced at it; it was Jiang Shuyu.

"Where did you go? I just went back to the studio and found no one there. It gave me a fright."

Jiang Shuyu didn't go home for the Chinese New Year because after graduating from university, he didn't honestly look for a job but chose to start a business with Jiang Cheng, which his family was very dissatisfied with.

So he was too lazy to go home and listen to their nagging.

He won't go back until he achieves results.

Jiang Shuyu's girlfriend found a job in Jingjiang, and the two rented an apartment together. Besides work, he would spend his time with his girlfriend shopping and having meals together after get off work, unlike Jiang Cheng, who seemed to want to sit in front of the computer 24 hours a day.

Jiang Shuyu originally thought he had worked hard enough, after all, when he was in school, he was the only one among his peers who had achieved financial freedom through entrepreneurship.

Compared to Jiang Cheng, he was nothing.

Jiang Cheng moved directly into the studio. Whenever he saw Jiang Cheng, he was always sitting in front of the computer coding. There was no other possibility.

So when he discovered that Jiang Cheng was not in the studio, he was shocked; it was something that had never happened before.

So I immediately messaged him to ask.

Jiang Cheng replied, "I've returned to Yulin City."

Jiang Shuyu: "? You left so suddenly?"

Jiang Cheng thought it was very sudden; the plane ticket was bought on short notice that morning.

But it wasn't actually sudden, because he had been holding back for far too long.

He hadn't seen Pei Xi in person for over half a year, and he couldn't hold back any longer.

He feared he would die if he didn't see her again.

Jiang Cheng took a deep breath, and a hint of tenderness flashed in his dark eyes as he thought of the scene of Pei Xi buying roasted sweet potatoes.

"When are you coming back?" Jiang Shuyu asked.

"tomorrow."

"Just for one day?" Jiang Shuyu was a little surprised. "Stay for several days? You really don't care at all about the cost of your round-trip airfare."

"There's no need."

He was already satisfied when he saw Pei Xi.

He promised Pei Ruoyun that he would not contact her or meet her; the distant observation he had just witnessed was a stolen happiness.

Heaven has been very kind to him; there are few people in the world more fortunate than him.

He can't ask for too much.

One glance is all it takes.

Jiang Shuyu stopped talking, and Jiang Cheng sat on the edge of the bed and began to browse Pei Xi's social media accounts.

Whenever he misses her, he sits in front of the computer and looks at the video, scrolling through it from beginning to end.

He read through it countless times until he could recite every single post from memory.

For example, in the summer, she posted a picture of Want Want milk with its advertising slogan: "If you keep looking at me, I'm going to drink you up!"

For example, after autumn arrived, she posted a picture of the yellowing sycamore trees in front of the dessert shop, saying that the weather was getting cold and she wanted to drink hot mango pomelo sago.

For example, in November, she posted a status update without a picture.

There are only four words on it: Happy Birthday.

He witnessed her fan base grow larger and larger, and all the fans under that post were wishing her a happy birthday.

But only he knew that it wasn't her who celebrated her birthday that day.

He suddenly remembered the birthday wish he had made in the urban village.

He thought it would never happen.

But it seems to have come true.

That day, Jiang Cheng stared at those four words for a long time, until his eyes ached, and then he finally mustered up the courage to comment: You should be happy too.

He was certain that his account was inconspicuous enough, and that Pei Xi had enough fans. His five short words were just a tiny, indistinguishable snowflake, lost among countless others, and no one would see them.

Jiang Cheng didn't know how long he had been looking through the pages; before he knew it, it was completely dark outside.

The small restaurant downstairs was still open, with the sounds of noisy customers and the rumbling of the kitchen exhaust fan coming from inside.

Jiang Cheng then realized that he hadn't eaten since morning.

He returned to the homepage and was about to turn off his phone when he suddenly saw that Pei Xi's account had updated with a new post.

It's a video with a cover image of a deep blue night sky.

She said, "Let's watch the fireworks together before we finish preparing the New Year's Eve dinner."

Jiang Cheng's heart skipped a beat.

He clicked on the video, and after a few seconds of silence, a bright yellow firework burst forth in the deep blue night sky.

It wasn't large, but it was enough to illuminate that small patch of night sky.

For some reason, Jiang Cheng's eyes suddenly felt hot.

His fingertips trembled slightly. He steadied himself before typing a comment: "Very good."

These three unremarkable words, just like the previous "You should be happy too," were instantly drowned out by the flood of comments and disappeared without a trace.