Chapter 37

On the 28th day of the twelfth lunar month, the festive atmosphere of the New Year, like thick syrup, permeated every corner of the city. Red lanterns hung along the streets, joyous music played on a loop in shopping malls, and people hurried by, their faces showing the eagerness to buy New Year's goods and the anticipation of family reunion.

Lu Xiaoyan dragged his suitcase out of the train station. A chilly air hit him, carrying a faint smell of sulfur from firecrackers. He instinctively tightened his scarf—it was a gift Qiu Yayu had insisted on giving him last autumn, saying he always wore dark colors and needed a pop of color. It was a grey cashmere scarf with a small, crooked "Q" embroidered in dark blue thread on the lower right corner.

Home was still home. Warm and clean, the dining table laden with New Year's dishes carefully prepared by his mother. His parents greeted him with smiles, taking his luggage and showering him with concern. But Lü Xiaoyan could clearly sense a hint of apprehension and undisguised worry hidden beneath those smiles. The atmosphere at home was like a taut bowstring, seemingly calm, yet taut enough to teeter on the verge of exploding.

They never uttered the name "Qiu Yayu," as if it had never existed in their family. The noisy Spring Festival Gala played on television, and his parents tried hard to find topics to talk about, from his work to photography, then from photography to the neighbor's cat. Lü Xiaoyan answered cooperatively, a forced smile playing on his lips, but his heart was a desolate silence.

The New Year's Eve dinner was sumptuous. The braised pork looked incredibly appetizing, the steamed fish was tender and delicious, and the dumplings were plump and round, crowding the plate. His mother kept piling food onto his plate, making his bowl look like a small mountain.

"Eat more, look at you, you've lost weight again."

Lü Xiaoyan lowered his head, chewing mechanically. The food lost its flavor, stuck in his throat like sawdust. He remembered last year, at this very table. Qiu Yayu sat beside him, secretly trying to hook his finger under the table, only to be caught and glare at him red-faced. She found a coin-shaped dumpling his mother had made, happily holding it up to show off, her eyes curving into crescents, saying that the new year would bring good luck. Back then, the laughter that filled the room was real, and the warmth was real too.

But now, good fortune hasn't come. The girl who brought laughter is gone.

Fireworks outside the window began to explode in rapid succession, their colorful lights reflecting on the windowpane and disappearing in an instant. Lü Xiaoyan put down her chopsticks and said softly, "I'm full." Then she got up and went to the balcony.

The cold instantly enveloped him, but it also gave his almost suffocating chest a chance to catch its breath. In the night sky, fireworks rose and fell, giving their all to bloom in brief splendor, tearing the dark night into shimmering, colorful ripples before being swallowed by deeper darkness.

The laughter of children chasing and playing drifted from downstairs, mingled with the crackling of firecrackers. Warm lights shone from the windows of every house, and the faint sounds of family reunions could be heard. The whole world was celebrating reunion, rushing towards the festivities.

He alone, like a lonely island, stood in the middle of this ocean of joy, shrouded in immense, silent loneliness.

He thought of Qiu Yayu's house. How desolate must that house be this Spring Festival? Without their daughter's laughter and joy at the New Year's Eve dinner, how would the two elderly people eat? Were they, like him, forcing smiles, silently swallowing their deep longing in a deserted corner?

He took out his phone; the screen was black, reflecting his own blurry, weary face. He tapped on the profile picture that would never light up again; the chat history was frozen from last year's Spring Festival. She had sent a bunch of firework emojis, followed by a voice message.

He clicked on it.

"Senior! Look at the fireworks outside! They're so beautiful! Shall we go and set them off together next year?!"

Her voice was clear and cheerful, full of boundless anticipation for the future.

"Snap—"

Another loud firework exploded, drowning out the faint voice message on the phone.

next year.

There will be no next year.

Lu Xiaoyan turned off his phone, looked up, and let the cold night wind blow against his burning eyes. He didn't cry, but his eyes felt dry and painful.

His mother quietly came over, draped a thick coat over him, said nothing, just stood with him for a while, gently patted his back, and then silently left.

He knew his parents' heartache and their helplessness. This kind of loss is something no one can take for them, and no one can comfort them.

The clock struck midnight. Cheers of the countdown came from the television, and the firecrackers and fireworks outside reached their peak, deafeningly loud, as if to completely dispel all the gloom of the old year.

Lü Xiaoyan stood under the dazzling yet cold sky and closed her eyes.

In his heart, facing that unreachable starry sky, he whispered:

Happy New Year, Ya-yu.

"And... I'm sorry."

I'm sorry, I couldn't keep you here.

I'm sorry to leave you alone in such a cold place for the New Year.

sorry……

The only response he received was the deafening, chilling sound of firecrackers.

The Spring Festival should be a time of warmth and family reunion.

His New Year, from the moment he lost her, was destined to be intertwined with the biting cold and silent longing.

This is a New Year without you.

This will also be the beginning of countless years to come without you.

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New Year's greetings on the first day of the Lunar New Year

At dawn, firecracker debris covered the streets like red snow. Lü Xiaoyan was urged by her mother to put on her new clothes and go to pay New Year's visits to several important elders.

He carried gifts, walking through familiar alleys. Every "Happy New Year" felt like a tiny thorn. Relatives greeted him warmly, but after the initial pleasantries, a brief, unspoken silence would fall. An aunt who had watched him grow up held his hand, her eyes slightly red, and finally just squeezed it tightly, sighing, "Child, take care."

He went to Qiu Yayu's house.

Standing before that familiar door, he hesitated for a long time before pressing the doorbell. It was Qiu's father who opened the door; he looked even thinner than the last time they met, wearing a gray sweater, as if deliberately concealing all color. Upon seeing Lü Xiaoyan, he paused for a moment, then stepped aside to let her in.

"Uncle, Auntie, Happy New Year." His voice was hoarse.

Qiu's mother came out of the kitchen, a dishcloth in her hand. When she saw him, she forced a smile, a smile that was more painful than tears. "Xiao Yan is here...please sit down." Her voice was hoarse.

The house was clean, yet eerily quiet. On the living room sofa sat a soft cushion, a cartoon character that Qiu Yayu liked. On the TV cabinet, her photo was prominently displayed, her smile frozen in the prime of her youth.

The air was still, filled with a silent sorrow. The three of them sat in the living room; a festive program was playing on the television, but no one watched. Qiu's mother got up to pour water, the kettle clanging against the rim of a cup with a jarring sound.

"Have you been busy with work lately?" Qiu's father tried to break the silence, his voice low.

"It's alright," Lü Xiaoyan replied.

Another silence followed.

“She…” Qiu’s mother returned with a water glass, but her voice choked as she uttered just one word. She turned her head away and quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “She used to… look forward to the New Year the most.”

These words were like a key, unlocking the floodgates of sorrow. Tears streamed silently down Qiu's mother's face, while Qiu's father lowered his head, his hands clasped tightly together until his knuckles turned white.

Lu Xiaoyan stared at the photo, his throat tightening. He remembered her jumping for joy at receiving a big red envelope, her clumsy attempts at making dumplings with flour smeared on her face, her insistence on staying up all night for the New Year, only to end up sprawled out on the sofa, fast asleep…

Every corner of this house still carries her scent, and every memory carries a sharp edge.

He sat for a while, but could no longer bear the heavy, almost suffocating atmosphere, and got up to take his leave. His parents didn't try to keep him, and saw him to the door.

“Xiao Yan,” Qiu’s father spoke from behind him, his voice weary and aged, “Come visit often in the future.”

Lü Xiaoyan nodded, didn't turn around, and quickly left. He knew that it wasn't just polite talk, but rather two elderly people who had lost their beloved daughter trying to grasp at their last connection with her, even if that connection itself was filled with endless pain.

Junior High 3 - Old Friends

Chen Mo invited him out for dinner. It was the same little restaurant they used to frequent in high school, full of life and warmth.

Chen Mo had gained some weight, and a mature man's composure had appeared in his eyes. He saw Lü Xiaoyan, patted him firmly on the shoulder, asked nothing, and simply handed him a bottle of beer.

"Have a drink."

After a few drinks, the atmosphere warmed up a bit. Chen Mo talked about his work and plans for marriage and children, carefully avoiding any potentially sensitive topics. Lü Xiaoyan listened silently most of the time, nodding occasionally.

Chen Mo sighed and looked at him, saying, "Xiao Yan, I know it's pointless to advise you to let go. But... don't trap yourself completely in this. Ya Yu... definitely wouldn't want to see you like this."

Lü Xiaoyan's fingers tightened around the wine glass. Water droplets seeped from the cool glass.

Don't want to?

He knew perfectly well.

Knowing and doing are the furthest distances in the world.

He forced a smile, a smile more painful than a grimace, and downed the drink in one gulp. The spicy liquid slid down his throat, but it couldn't warm his cold heart.

The fifth day of the first lunar month - Breaking the fifth day

According to custom, the fifth day of the Lunar New Year is called "Breaking Five," when people eat dumplings to welcome the God of Wealth. My family prepared dumplings as usual, and my mother even made a few with sweet fillings, saying they symbolized sweetness.

Lu Xiaoyan bit into a sweet dumpling, the cloying sweetness melting in his mouth, but it made his stomach churn. He remembered last year, when she also ate a sweet dumpling, happily leaning over to share the sweetness with him, kissing him without a word, and laughing as she said, "That way we're equally sweet!"

The soft touch and the sweet aroma of dumplings still seem to linger on my lips.

At this moment, only the cold syrup stuck in my throat, sweet yet bitter.

He put down his chopsticks and couldn't eat anymore.

Return journey on the seventh day of the Lunar New Year

The holiday was finally coming to an end. His parents saw him off at the train station, giving him endless advice and instructions, their eyes filled with deep worry.

"Give me a call when you arrive."

"Eat well when you're out alone."

"...Come back when you have time."

Lü Xiaoyan agreed to everything, then hugged his mother, noticing that her shoulders seemed much thinner than before. He glanced at his father, who simply patted his arm, everything understood without a word.

The train started moving, and the familiar city receded outside the window, gradually shrinking until it disappeared.

Lü Xiaoyan leaned against the car window, watching the fields and villages rushing past, still carrying the festive atmosphere of the New Year. Inside the carriage, there were couples reluctant to part after visiting relatives, and office workers rushing back to work, discussing their jobs—a cacophony of voices heading towards the "future."

His journey was an escape, a retreat, a retreat back to that cold fortress where only he and his memories remained.

This Spring Festival felt like a long, silent torture. Every lively occasion, every family reunion, every blessing served as a constant reminder of the immense, unfillable void within him.

The New Year is over.

Spring seems to be just around the corner.

But the winter of his life had only just begun.

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