Happy New Year
On New Year's Eve, light snow fell in Nangang, and the entire ancient street was adorned with red lanterns and bustling with people.
Xu Ying was dragged out to the temple fair by Lin Xiaoyu. She was wrapped in a white down jacket, her nose slightly red from the cold, and she held a string of candied hawthorns in her hand. She didn't actually like these lively occasions, but she couldn't resist Lin Xiaoyu's persistent pleading—"Yingying, you've been at your new school for half a year now, and you're always cooped up at home reading. If you keep going like this, you'll become a bookworm!"
"I don't stay cooped up at home all day..." Xu Ying retorted softly, but Lin Xiaoyu pulled her into the crowd.
"Look! There are sugar paintings over there!" Lin Xiaoyu excitedly pointed to a stall not far away. "Let's go buy one!"
Xu Ying was pulled forward by her, almost dropping the candied hawthorn in her hand. The temple fair was more crowded than she had imagined; shouts, laughter, and vendors' cries mingled together, and the air was filled with the aroma of roasted sweet potatoes and chestnuts. She subconsciously took a step back, but accidentally stepped on the foot of the person behind her.
"I'm sorry!" She quickly turned around to apologize, but froze the moment she looked up.
Zong Heng.
He was wearing a black windbreaker, the collar open, revealing a thin gray sweater underneath. He looked as if he had just stepped out of some cold corner, still carrying the chill of the wind. His hair looked messier than usual, as if he had just grabbed it, with a few unmelted snowflakes still clinging to the ends.
Xu Ying opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say.
Zong Heng looked down at her, his gaze moving from her frostbitten nose to the candied hawthorn in her hand, and finally back to her eyes. His expression remained indifferent, but the corners of his mouth were slightly upturned: "What, you can't believe you bumped into me at a temple fair? What a coincidence?"
Xu Ying's face flushed instantly. She subconsciously gripped the bamboo skewer of the candied hawthorn, the sound of the sugar coating cracking ringing clearly in her ears.
"Yingying, what's he doing here?" Lin Xiaoyu came closer, curiously looking at Zong Heng with sparkling eyes.
"I don't know," Xu Ying replied softly.
"Oh—" Lin Xiaoyu drawled out the sound, gave her a meaningful look, and then turned to Zong Heng.
Zong Heng nodded in greeting. His gaze returned to Xu Ying, lingering for a second on her slightly reddened earlobes, before he reached out and plucked a piece of confetti that had somehow gotten stuck to her hair.
"Are candied hawthorns delicious?" he suddenly asked.
Xu Ying paused for a moment, then nodded subconsciously: "It's...it's alright..."
"Won't that make you sick of sweetness?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying his usual sarcasm, but his eyes were much gentler than usual.
Lin Xiaoyu chuckled to herself, while Xu Ying's ears turned even redder.
Zong Heng didn't seem to intend to stay any longer. He glanced at his watch—Xu Ying noticed he was wearing an old-looking black mechanical watch with a worn strap—and then nodded to her: "I'm leaving."
"...Mmm," Xu Ying replied softly.
He turned and left, his figure quickly disappearing into the crowd. Lin Xiaoyu immediately grabbed Xu Ying's arm, excitedly whispering, "Oh my god! The way he looked at you just now—"
"Don't talk nonsense!" Xu Ying hurriedly interrupted her, but her heart was beating faster than usual.
Xu Ying looked down at the candied hawthorn that had fallen to the ground. The hawthorn was covered in a glistening sugar shell, but now it was dusty and had rolled twice before coming to rest by the roadside. She subconsciously bent down to pick it up, but was stopped by a hand with distinct knuckles.
"It's dirty." Zong Heng's voice came from above, tinged with impatience.
She looked up and met his gaze. His pupils appeared exceptionally deep in the lantern light of the temple fair, like amber dipped in ink, reflecting her slightly stunned expression.
"But..." she whispered in protest, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the wrapping paper.
"But what?" He raised an eyebrow, bent down to pick up the string of candied hawthorns, and casually tossed it into the nearby trash can. "Eating things that fell on the ground? How old are you?"
Xu Ying pursed her lips and remained silent.
Zong Heng stared at her for two seconds, then suddenly took a cardboard box out of his pocket and stuffed it into her hand.
"I'll compensate you."
Xu Ying looked down. The cardboard box was printed with the words "Kusugado," and inside were four plump strawberry daifuku. She was stunned—this was the most famous wagashi (Japanese sweets) shop in Nangang, which sold a limited quantity each day. She had mentioned wanting to eat some during a casual chat last week, and she didn't expect him to remember.
She looked up at him, but Zong Heng had already turned his face away, his gaze fixed on the crowded people in the distance, his profile appearing particularly sharp under the light.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He grunted in response but didn't turn around.
A cheer suddenly erupted in the center of the temple fair as a lion dance troupe surged in from the street corner, accompanied by deafening drumbeats. The crowd parted to both sides like a tide, then quickly converged again. In the shoving, Xu Ying was knocked off balance and almost fell.
A strong hand suddenly gripped her wrist and pulled her back steadily.
"Watch where you're going." Zong Heng's voice rang in my ears, tinged with impatience, yet strangely reassuring.
His palms were warm, and his fingertips had a thin layer of calluses that made her wrists feel slightly hot. Xu Ying subconsciously tried to pull her hand away, but he held it even tighter.
"Don't move around." He frowned and glanced around. "There are a lot of people here. If you get separated, don't expect me to find you."
Xu Ying didn't dare move again, letting him pull her towards a less crowded area. His back was tall, his shoulders broad, and he carved a path through the throng. She followed behind him, a faint scent of mint lingering around her nose, mingling with the chill of the winter night, inexplicably making her heart race.
The lion dance troupe drew closer, the drumbeats causing the ground to tremble slightly. The crowd stirred again, and someone suddenly bumped into her from the side. Zong Heng reacted quickly, pulling her to his side and turning to shield her from the shove with his back.
"Stay close." He looked down, his breath brushing against her earlobe.
Xu Ying's ears instantly burned.
They finally squeezed into a relatively empty stall, where an old man selling sugar paintings was scooping up a spoonful of golden syrup and sketching a phoenix with outstretched wings as he turned his wrist.
Zong Heng released her wrist, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing against the seam of her pants, as if trying to wipe away some unwanted sensation.
"Where is Lin Xiaoyu?" he asked.
Xu Ying then remembered Lin Xiaoyu, hurriedly pulled out her phone, and found a message she had sent three minutes earlier:
"Sakura! I ran into a classmate, I'm going to play now! Be careful!"
She looked up and met Zong Heng's ambiguous smile.
"Are you left behind?" he asked.
Xu Ying gripped her phone tightly and remained silent.
Zong Heng chuckled, then suddenly reached out and plucked a tiny piece of confetti from her hair—probably a decorative fragment that had fallen from the crowd earlier. His fingertips brushed against her earlobe, and Xu Ying froze, holding her breath.
"What are you afraid of?" He looked down at her, his voice lower. "I'm not going to eat you."
Xu Ying's ear tips turned completely red.
Another cheer erupted in the distance, and the night sky was suddenly illuminated—the first cluster of test fireworks burst open in the clouds, and golden specks of light fell like rain, illuminating his profile.
Zong Heng looked up for a moment, then looked away.
"I'm leaving," he said.
Xu Ying instinctively followed, but the moment she took a step, she realized her shoelaces were untied. She bent down to tie them, but when she stood up, she found that Zong Heng had stopped at some point and was looking back at her.
A night breeze blew by, carrying the sweet aroma of roasted chestnuts.
His gaze lingered on her face, and after a few seconds of silence, he suddenly spoke:
"Xu Ying".
"Um?"
"You tied your shoelaces backwards."
Xu Ying looked down and realized that she had tied a knot in her haste.
Embarrassed, she squatted down to re-tie the knot, only to hear a soft sigh above her. Zong Heng suddenly knelt down on one knee in front of her, his slender fingers quickly untying the messy knot and re-tying it.
His movements were practiced; his knuckles occasionally brushed against the surface of her shoes, the touch slightly cool.
"Zong Heng," she called him softly.
"Speak." He didn't look up.
Why are you here?
His fingers paused for a moment, then neatly tied a knot and stood up.
"I already said, I was just passing by."
Xu Ying looked up at him, the light and shadow of fireworks flickering between his brows. She knew he wasn't telling the truth—the Nangang Temple Fair was in the east of the city, while he lived in a villa area in the west.
But she didn't ask any further questions.
Zong Heng looked at her, then suddenly reached out and gently flicked her forehead.
"Let's go, you idiot."
Xu Ying covered her forehead and followed in his footsteps.
The snow fell heavier and heavier, and the fine ice crystals looked like scattered silver powder under the lantern light. Xu Ying followed Zong Heng through the crowd and turned into a narrow alley, where the bluestone pavement gleamed from the snowmelt.
"Slow down," she whispered, her foot slipping as she instinctively grabbed Zong Heng's sleeve.
He paused, but instead of shaking her off, he grabbed her wrist and said, "Don't cry if you fall."
The teahouse had a sign that read "Temporarily Closed," but Zong Heng pushed open the side door as if he knew the way well. The wooden stairs creaked as Xu Ying followed him up to the second floor, where they were greeted by a hexagonal attic. Snowflakes drifted outside the carved windows, but the interior was warm and inviting.
"Do you come here often?" She brushed the snow off her shoulders and looked around curiously. On the small mahogany table were unpacked tea sets, and half-dried water stains still clung to the bottom of the white porcelain cups.
Zong Heng pulled a blanket out of the cabinet and threw it to her: "The boss owes me a favor."
Xu Ying took the blanket, her fingertips brushing against the back of his hand, then recoiled as if electrocuted. The dark gray cashmere blanket carried the scent of pine, as if it had just been aired. She lowered her head to sniff it, and suddenly heard a soft chuckle.
"What are you smelling?" Zong Heng leaned against the window, a copper hand warmer appearing in his hand at some point. "Afraid I'll poison you?"
"No, it's not!" Her ears burned, and she hurriedly wrapped the blanket around herself. A warmth, carrying a faint scent, washed over her—this blanket was clearly his.
The sounds of the temple fair drifted in from outside the window, making the attic seem even quieter. Zong Heng fiddled with the lid of the hand warmer, a spark crackling from the charcoal fire. Xu Ying stared at his well-defined fingers and suddenly noticed a fresh scratch on his little finger.
“Your hand is injured,” she blurted out.
Zong Heng raised an eyebrow, looked at his hand, and said, "It was scratched while moving goods." Seeing that she was still staring at him, he suddenly held out his hand in front of her. "What, want me to blow on it?"
Xu Ying froze, her gaze fixed on the thin, long wound. The oozing blood had already congealed, its edges still stained with a bit of machine oil. Almost unconsciously, she pulled an alcohol swab from her pocket—an emergency supply her mother had given her.
"It will hurt a little," she whispered, grabbing his wrist.
Zong Heng was clearly stunned, but he didn't pull his hand away. The moment the cotton pad touched the wound, his fingertips trembled, and Xu Ying immediately softened her movements.
"You're so delicate." She deliberately mimicked his usual tone, but didn't dare to look up.
A chuckle came from above, and Zong Heng suddenly bent down and leaned closer: "Xu Ying, your hands are shaking."
His warm breath brushed against her forehead, and her hand trembled, pressing the cotton pad too hard. Zong Heng hissed in surprise, but chuckled as he watched her flustered state.
"I'm sorry!" She let go of her hand, and the alcohol swab fell to the ground.
A firework exploded with a "bang" outside the window, and the instantaneous light shone through the window paper, casting dappled shadows on Zong Heng's face. Xu Ying then realized that they were extremely close, close enough to see her own reflection in his pupils.
Zong Heng suddenly reached out and plucked a snowflake from her hair. The ice crystal melted quickly at his fingertips, winding along his fingerprints.
“It’s melted,” he said softly, his gaze falling on her eyelashes—where a few unmelted snowflakes still clung.
Xu Ying held her breath. His fingertips hovered in front of her eyes, as if hesitating whether to brush away the snowflakes.
Footsteps suddenly came from downstairs.
"Aheng?" A middle-aged man's voice approached, accompanied by the creaking of the wooden ladder. "You tried to pick my lock again?"
Zong Heng quickly straightened up and casually shielded Xu Ying from the shadows. A man in a cotton-linen Tang suit peeked out, carrying a wine jug, and froze when he saw them.
"Oh, eloping with a young girl?"
“Old Chen,” Zong Heng glared at him warningly.
The shopkeeper squinted at Xu Ying, then suddenly laughed: "Last time you came to borrow books in the middle of the night, was it to copy poems for this girl?"
Xu Ying suddenly looked up, but Zong Heng had already grabbed a peanut from the table and threw it at her: "Too talkative."
Old Chen laughed and left, winking at Xu Ying before he went: "There's a surprise in the third shelf of the attic cabinet."
After the footsteps faded into the distance, an eerie silence fell over the room. Xu Ying twisted the edge of the blanket: "What...book?"
"I found it." Zong Heng turned his face away, his ears turning red.
She got up and walked to the mahogany cabinet. In the third drawer lay a copy of "Hai Zi's Poetry Collection," and the page she opened to was the "Diary":
"Sister, tonight I am in Delingha, shrouded in darkness..."
The margins are covered with annotations, the latest one still fresh in ink: "I want to read this to someone—but I'm afraid she'll laugh at me for being sentimental."
Xu Ying's fingertips hovered over the words, her heart pounding. Behind her came Zong Heng's irritated click of his tongue, followed by the crisp sound of a lighter being switched on and off.
"Don't look." He reached out to snatch it, but Xu Ying hugged the book to her chest and turned away.
The two bumped into each other.
Zong Heng's hand froze in mid-air as Xu Ying looked up at him. The metal casing of the lighter pressed against her back, the coolness seeping through her sweater. At that moment, she suddenly realized that this boy, who always wore a sour face to the world, would carefully copy down all the tender verses when she couldn't see him.
“Zong Heng,” she asked softly, “what is the night like in Delingha?”
His Adam's apple bobbed, his eyes darkening. Another string of fireworks exploded outside the window, their vibrant colors streaming through the windowpanes and flowing like a river between them.
"Want to know?" He suddenly leaned down, his breath brushing against her earlobe. "Someday... I'll take you there."
As the countdown to midnight began, the entire city seemed to be set ablaze.
"Ten, nine, eight—"
The shouts of the crowd surged in like a tide, and Xu Ying was pushed to the railing of the stone bridge, her back almost pressed against the cold stone carvings. Zong Heng's arm was placed in front of her, creating a narrow but safe space. The fabric of his windbreaker brushed against her cheek, carrying the chill of the winter night and a faint scent of mint—the smell of the candy he often ate.
"Seven, six, five—"
Another burst of fireworks exploded, a waterfall of purple-gold light cascading down, casting flickering light on Zong Heng's profile. Xu Ying looked up at him and found him gazing down at her, his dark eyes filled with shimmering light.
"Watch where you're going," he suddenly said, his voice so low it was almost drowned out by the noise.
Xu Ying then realized that her shoelaces were untied. Just as she was about to bend down, Zong Heng had already squatted down and tied her shoelaces in a few quick movements, as swiftly as when he played basketball.
"Four, three—"
When he stood up, Xu Ying's ears burned. The wind on the bridge was strong, ruffling her bangs. Zong Heng raised his hand and gently brushed away the stray hairs on her forehead with his fingertips, but stopped the moment he touched her skin.
"Two, one!"
The city's bells rang at the same moment, and countless fireworks soared into the sky, illuminating the night as if it were daytime. The cheers were deafening, but Xu Ying could only hear her own heart pounding.
Zong Heng's lips moved slightly.
"Happy New Year," he said.
Xu Ying wanted to say "You too," but the words that came out were: "Does it still hurt here...?"
Her fingertips gently touched the scar at the end of his eyebrow. It was from a fight he got with people from the neighboring school in the alley two months ago. At the time, she only knew that he had skipped evening self-study, but the next day she saw him come to class with a band-aid on and bruises still visible under his eyes.
Later, she heard from others that he had seen those thugs blocking her way home from school.
Zong Heng paused for a moment, then chuckled, "I haven't felt anything for a long time."
But when her fingertips traced the shallow scar, his eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly.
Xu Ying suddenly remembered that day after school, when she found him in an empty classroom and silently cleaned his wound. He hissed in pain, but still stubbornly said, "Xu Ying, could you be a little gentler?"
And now, his breath is right next to mine.
"Xu Ying." He suddenly called her by her full name.
"Um?"
"Your hands are so cold."
She then realized that her fingers were still on his face, and hurriedly withdrew her hand, but he grabbed her wrist.
Zong Heng pulled a pair of black gloves from his pocket and put them on her hands without saying a word. The gloves were clearly his size, hanging loosely on her hands, with the fingertips sticking out a bit.
"Wear it." His tone left no room for argument. "Don't get so cold you can't write again."
Xu Ying looked down at the gloves, her heart pounding even faster.
The fireworks continued, bursting forth in clusters.
Xu Ying secretly took half a step to the side, trying to create some distance, but accidentally stepped on the foot of the person behind her. The person cursed, and Zong Heng's eyes turned cold. He immediately pulled her towards him.
"Stand still," he said.
Her back was almost pressed against his chest, and even through his thick down jacket, she could still feel his body temperature.
Golden fireworks exploded overhead, illuminating the entire stone bridge. Xu Ying looked down and saw their shadows cast diagonally on the ground—her shadow was completely enveloped by his, as if she were being held in his arms.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Zong Heng followed her gaze and noticed the shadow on the ground. He suddenly chuckled softly and deliberately took a half-step forward. The "he" in the shadow immediately pressed against the "she"'s silhouette, intimately close.
Xu Ying's ears burned, and she hurriedly looked away.
"What are you hiding from?" Zong Heng's voice was mischievous. "Just a shadow."
But she could clearly hear the laughter in his voice.
As the fireworks show drew to a close, the crowd began to disperse.
Zong Heng walked ahead with one hand in his pocket, and Xu Ying followed half a step behind him, stepping in his footprints in the snow. Her gloves were still on her hands, still warm from his touch.
"Zong Heng," she suddenly called out to him.
He turned around and raised an eyebrow at her.
“Your gloves…” she made a gesture as if to take them off.
"Leave it for now," he interrupted her. "Give it back to me next time."
next time.
This word sent a shiver down Xu Ying's spine.
The snow started falling again, and fine snowflakes landed on his eyelashes. Xu Ying, as if possessed, reached out and brushed a snowflake away from him. Zong Heng froze, then a smile crept onto his lips.
"I'm leaving." He turned and waved, his figure quickly disappearing into the snow.
Xu Ying stood there, staring blankly at the gloves. When she turned them over, she noticed a small "Z" embroidered in red thread on the inside—the initial of Zong Heng's name.
She suddenly realized that this seemed to be the first time he had given her a reason to say "see you next time".
On her way home, Xu Ying received a text message from Lin Xiaoyu:
"What's going on between you two???"
She stared at the screen, unsure how to reply. Her phone vibrated again; it was a message from Zong Heng, containing only three words:
"Are you home yet?"
Xu Ying bit her lower lip and slowly typed: "Almost there."
The other party is typing...
After a long silence, Zong Heng replied:
"Don't lose your gloves."
She looked at the sentence and suddenly smiled.
Under the streetlights on a snowy night, the girl lowered her head to hide the curve of her lips, but she couldn't hide the light in her eyes.
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