When Shi Meng first heard someone say "like" to him, he should have been overjoyed, but he was too clear-headed and rationally knew that the words were not meant for him.

Because there were warning signs, Shi Meng only felt a dense, stabbing pain in his heart, far less exaggerated than the earth-shattering, excruciating pain described in books.

It still took him some time to recover. Shi Meng was not good at expressing himself, so he silently prepared his thoughts in his mind, took a deep breath, and turned his head to tell Fu Xuanliao, "You've mistaken me for someone else," when he saw a drunken head leaning on his left shoulder, eyes closed, breathing evenly and deeply.

She actually fell asleep.

After spending less than half a minute thinking and another half minute trying to shake the drunkard to wake him up without success, Shi Meng had no choice but to grab Fu Xuanliao's arms and put them on his shoulders, and with difficulty carry the person off the ground.

"Let's take him home first," Shi Meng thought, "He'll catch a cold sitting in the snow."

Fu Xuanliao was two years older than Shi Meng and very tall, standing out even among the senior students at their school. Therefore, although he wasn't fat, he was still too much of a burden for Shi Meng. After trying several times without being able to reach his knees, Shi Meng had no choice but to grab his arms and pull him forward, letting his feet drag on the ground, making a rustling sound.

Just walking from the school gate to the roadside left him breathless. In the dead of night with bad weather, taxis rarely passed by, and standing and waiting wasn't an option, so Shi Meng instead supported Fu Xuanliao, who was staggering, and carried him for two more blocks.

Fu Xuanliao woke up once during this time, or perhaps he was dreaming, and asked in a daze, "Then, when did you realize... you liked me?"

Shi Meng didn't want to answer, nor did he have the energy to speak.

"Tell me," Fu Xuanliao persisted, still asking even though he could barely walk. "Tell me and I'll...tell you too."

After catching his breath, Shi Meng replied somewhat helplessly, "Three years ago."

A drunk person's mind isn't working properly. After thinking for a while, Fu Xuanliao said, "Then you're way too... precocious."

After a moment of silence, Shi Meng couldn't help but ask, "And you?"

Fu Xuanliao was completely drunk, shaking his head and groaning, "Me? Around that time too. Don't you remember? It was that time in the infirmary when you brought me..."

Before he could finish speaking, a car drove up, and the streetlights on the side and behind him lit up. Shi Meng turned his head and saw the green "vacant" sign. He quickly waved his free hand to stop the taxi.

After finally getting into the car, Shi Meng asked again, and Fu Xuanliao was so confused that he didn't even know what day it was.

"Mu Mu, stop fooling around..." Fu Xuanliao, who couldn't open his eyes, leaned against the car window. "Let me sleep for a while."

Shi Meng wasn't without temper either. After carrying this guy all the way, and then being mistaken for someone else, he puffed out his cheeks and lowered his head to play with his hands, clearly unhappy.

After playing for a while, she worried that Fu Xuanliao was not comfortable sleeping like that, so she reached out and pulled his arm to make him lean his body to one side and rest his head on her shoulder.

The cold, hard glass was replaced by a soft, human-shaped cushion, and Fu Xuanliao yawned comfortably, sleeping even more soundly.

The Shi family mansion was located in the suburbs, and Shi Meng promised an empty haul fee before the driver agreed to drive there.

After paying and getting out of the car, Fu Xuanliao's phone kept ringing in his pocket. Shi Meng helped him up with one hand and looked for it with the other, making Fu Xuanliao chuckle. Shi Meng also blushed and answered the phone in a voice as soft as a mosquito's buzz: "Hello, Auntie."

"Is that Mu Mu? Did Xuan Liao come to your house to play again?"

One by one they admitted their mistakes, and Shi Meng didn't have time to explain: "Well, it was too late, so I brought him back."

"Thank you so much." Fu Xuanliao's mother, Jiang Rong, was a gentle woman. "You can come to our house often in the future. Your aunt will buy you some dragon fruit."

Shi Meng agreed.

It took some effort to carry the completely drunk man into the house. Everyone else in the family was asleep, but the aunt who lived near the entrance heard the commotion and came out to see what was going on. She was startled to see him covered in snow from head to toe: "Why didn't you call a driver to pick him up so late?"

Shi Meng shook his head: "It's the same as taking a taxi."

The aunt helped, and the two of them worked together to get Fu Xuanliao to the guest room upstairs.

Not wanting to disturb the people who were already asleep, Shi Meng told the aunt to go to sleep, and then ran to the kitchen to reheat the remaining soup before taking it upstairs.

Despite being drunk, Fu Xuanliao still knew to seek warmth. He closed his eyes, felt his way onto the bed, and pulled the covers over himself, wrapping himself up tightly. When his head was pulled out, he complained in a drawn-out tone with a drooping mouth, "It's so cold—"

This was the first time Shi Meng had seen him act coquettishly. While it was a novel experience, it also felt like a new responsibility was on his shoulders. He used a spoon to scoop hot soup and brought it to Fu Xuanliao's lips, coaxing him like a child: "Drink this and you won't feel cold anymore."

Fu Xuanliao obediently opened his mouth.

Only one nightlight was on in the room, casting a dim yellow light that made Fu Xuanliao's facial features, somewhere between a boy and a man, appear particularly deep and angular, like a sculpture used for copying in an art class.

Shi Meng stared blankly for a while until she heard Fu Xuanliao's dissatisfied voice: "It got into my nose."

This wasn't actually the first time Shi Meng had been this close to him. Last time... after carefully feeding him two spoonfuls of soup, Shi Meng hesitated for a long time before finally asking, "Do you remember saving someone three years ago in winter?"

Fu Xuanliao was in and out of sleep, perhaps because his brain was affected by the alcohol. At this moment, he was probably more sleepy than awake, and he didn't hear a single word.

He couldn't open his eyes, and childishly pulled Shi Meng's hand, shaking it back and forth. Then he frowned and said, "Why is it so cold?"

It would be strange if I wasn't freezing after walking in the snow for more than an hour.

Shi Meng has been in poor health since childhood. He is shorter than his peers, and it is common for him to catch a cold or fever every time the seasons change. The winters in Fengcheng can even give him frostbite.

As a child, he was intolerant of pain. His hands were covered in chilblains, which made it so painful that he couldn't hold a pen. At night, when he put his hands under the covers, they would itch terribly. Yang Youlan forbade him to scratch, saying that scratching would cause his hands to rot.

At the time, Shi Meng believed it wholeheartedly, and in order to be able to paint, he would not scratch or rub his hands even when he was in pain. Later, when he came to the Shi family, he would see Li Bihan preparing a new pair of gloves for Shi Mu every late autumn and early winter. He picked up a pair that Shi Mu no longer wanted and wore them, and sure enough, he was less likely to get frostbite.

Right now, Shi Meng found something even warmer than gloves—Fu Xuanliao cupped his hand, which was a size larger than his own, warmed it in his palm for a while, and then rubbed it repeatedly.

The effect was not obvious. Fu Xuanliao's brows furrowed even deeper, and he muttered as if he couldn't understand, "It's still so cold."

Shi Meng could no longer feel the cold. He stood there, frozen, letting Fu Xuanliao knead and flatten his hands, then breathe hot air on them and continue kneading.

Noticing the change in temperature, Fu Xuanliao grinned foolishly: "It's hot."

It wasn't just the hands that were hot.

Shi Meng suppressed his restless heartbeat, lowering his eyes, unsure of where to look.

When Fu Xuanliao is drunk, he is a contradiction. One moment he is confused and the next he is clear-headed. Shi Meng, who needs to lie next to him on the same bed, often turns her head to make sure that he is really sober.

“I told you, this bed can fit two people.” Fu Xuanliao snuggled closer to Shi Meng in the dark. “You still have to go back to your own room eventually.”

This was said to someone else, but Shi Meng ignored it.

"It's so warm and cozy when two people sleep together..." Fu Xuanliao exclaimed. "Don't you think so?"

Since the sentence didn't have a specific target, Shi Meng simply responded with an "Mmm".

Fu Xuanliao laughed again, his voice low in the darkness, making Shi Meng's ears buzz and his auricles feel hot.

"Why did you stand me up that time we went to the amusement park?" Fu Xuanliao grumbled.

Shi Meng said in a muffled voice, "I didn't."

"Oh." As if he hadn't heard a word, Fu Xuanliao said without holding a grudge, "Don't stand me up again."

After a long pause, Shi Meng asked hesitantly, "Do you... still want to go?"

"Yes, I miss you, I miss you when I'm with you."

"……Um."

The two lay down hand in hand for a while, and then heard the old-fashioned grandfather clock downstairs chiming. Fu Xuanliao sent his blessings amidst the chimes: "Merry Christmas."

Shi Meng waited until the twelve counts were finished before saying, "Merry Christmas."

"Have you opened the gifts?" Fu Xuanliao asked with his eyes closed.

Shi Meng shook his head, thinking to himself that it wasn't for me.

Fu Xuanliao yawned: "Open it and see if you like it."

Shi Meng reached for the bag on the bedside table, took out the blue box, opened it, and felt a watch inside.

"Didn't you say the clock in the art studio was always breaking? With this, we won't have to worry about it." Grabbing Shi Meng's wrist under the covers, Fu Xuanliao squeezed it, then frowned. "Why are you so thin?"

Fearing he would discover her, Shi Meng quickly withdrew her hand and turned away.

"You have to eat more and you're not allowed to be picky about food," Fu Xuanliao threatened. "If you keep being picky, I'll... stop playing with you."

Shi Meng, who never picks at food, was annoyed and muttered, "Fine, I won't play then."

Fu Xuanliao clung to her again, his arms loosely encircling Shi Meng's waist in an intimate yet respectful gesture.

"No, please!" he pleaded, begging for forgiveness as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I was wrong, I was wrong, okay?"

As his consciousness drifted away and he fell into a deep sleep, Fu Xuanliao held the person in his arms tightly and kept saying, "You're not heavy at all. I was too nervous when I caught you. I was just talking nonsense... You're too thin. You should gain some weight."

At 12:30 a.m., I heard even breathing behind me.

Shi Meng raised her hand and gently wiped the corner of her eye. The back of her hand was damp with water, cool to the touch, probably from the snow that had just melted.

He couldn't sleep, his clear gaze fixed on the swaying shadows of trees in the wind and snow outside the window, wishing in his heart that dawn would never break.

But a few hours later, the snow gradually subsided, falling in sparse, paper-like flakes, and the once dark sky turned a bright white. Even though she was reluctant, Shi Meng still threw back the covers and tiptoed out of bed.

Fu Xuanliao was fast asleep when Shi Meng straightened the blankets and threw the extra pillows onto the carpet.

As Shi Meng walked to the door with her schoolbag, she glanced back. Everything was quiet, as if nothing had happened.

As he passed by Shi Mu's room, he placed the beautiful blue gift box at the door.

There was a card inside, but it didn't have his name on it.

On Christmas afternoon, the art studio was open as usual in the west room. Shi Meng sat back down in the corner. When Shi Mu came in, he looked up and immediately noticed the digital watch on Shi Mu's wrist.

A classmate shouted, "Shi Mu, did you buy a new watch?"

"No, it was a gift from a friend," Shi Mu said with a smile. "You know Zhong Lao Huai on the wall of the East Studio."

"I might as well buy a phone, the new gold one."

"Be careful, the teacher might confiscate it."

"If you don't tell and I don't tell, who will know?"

...

Later sounds were all lost to Shi Meng's ears.

He turned his head to look out the window; the snow had stopped.

It's time to wake up from this dream.

Outside the dream, the snow continued to fall, landing on the car's windshield with a barely audible clatter.

"Eight years ago, on Christmas Day." Eager to know the answer, Fu Xuanliao asked, emphasizing each word, "Where were you?"

Originally intending to brush it off with silence as before, it seems that won't work this time. Shi Meng withdrew her gaze from the window and looked at Fu Xuanliao, asking in return, "Where do you want me to be?"

Fu Xuanliao was taken aback at first, then found it amusing: "Just answer me, what do you mean by 'I hope'? Do you know what answer I want to hear?"

Of course, Shi Meng answered in his heart.

Perhaps realizing that his question was unnecessary and had revealed his true thoughts, Fu Xuanliao slapped the steering wheel with some annoyance.

"Fine, I was just asking. Say no or no if you want..."

"I forgot," Shi Meng suddenly said. "I forgot."

With his gaze unfocused, Shi Meng spoke in a way that even he couldn't understand: "Who remembers what happened eight years ago?"

Since their last birthday celebration at the amusement park, the two have made it a rule that if they stay out too late, they go straight to the Fu family's house, and tonight is no exception.

Shi Meng wondered if it was just her imagination, but she felt that Fu Xuanliao was very fierce tonight.

She stared at him fiercely, pressed him down on the bed fiercely, and thrust into his body fiercely.

When the pain came, Shi Meng would lie on the bed and bite his arm, trying not to make a sound. Hearing his groans of pain would only excite Fu Xuanliao more, and he would try every means to make him feel even more pain.

Shi Meng often angered Fu Xuanliao, and in the end, the one who was angered didn't get away with it either. After all, Shi Meng was vengeful and would return whatever he had taken.

Afterwards, Fu Xuanliao went out to get the medicine box and casually took a pack of cigarettes that Gao Lecheng had left there. He threw it next to Shi Meng when he came back into the house, but Shi Meng flicked it to the ground.

Fu Xuanliao raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised: "You really quit?"

Shi Meng ignored him.

Fu Xuanliao bent down, took a cigarette from the box, and waved it in front of Shi Meng: "Aren't you tempted?"

Shi Meng slapped his hand away, and when he sat back down on the bed, thinking he was going to tease her with cigarettes again, she impatiently kicked him.

Fu Xuanliao hadn't been idle all these years; he easily grabbed the man's thin ankle and placed it on his own lap: "Stop fooling around, let me put on some medicine, otherwise I won't be able to face my parents tomorrow."

Lying down, Shi Meng blinked: "Are Uncle and Aunt coming back?"

"What, scared now?" Fu Xuanliao was in a good mood after venting his anger and joked, "Aren't you afraid I'll tell them that you always bite me?"

Unable to pull his leg out, Shi Meng gave up struggling and turned his head away, pretending he hadn't heard anything.

Fu Xuanliao fell asleep first again that night.

When all was quiet, Shi Meng quietly turned over to face Fu Xuanliao.

Asleep, Fu Xuanliao resembled a large cat whose fur had been stroked gently, his breathing shallow, just like before.

Shi Meng couldn't help but raise her hand, her fingertips brushing against the fresh wound on the corner of his mouth. A look of bewilderment appeared in her eyes, as if she didn't understand how she could bear to let him get hurt.

Yes, I can't bear to, so I can't let him know that I've mistaken him for someone else.

Like all his peers, Shi Meng longed to possess some extraordinary ability during his teenage years.

Compared to what others desire—to leap across rooftops, possess superhuman strength, or foresee the future and live forever—his wish seemed somewhat useless and superfluous: he wanted the ability to create dreams.

This wish has now been fulfilled. Through silence and lies, Shi Meng has successfully recreated a dream for Fu Xuanliao, turning that past into the way he most wanted to see it.

With a gentle exhale, Shi Meng lightly placed his palm on Fu Xuanliao's forehead, casting a spell.

The truth is something that the dreamer doesn't care about, but the dreamer can remember it.