The first snow fell eight years ago on Christmas Eve.
The older generation in Fengcheng doesn't like celebrating Western holidays, but the young people are enthusiastic about them. On Christmas Eve, a fake Christmas tree was erected next to the school bulletin board, attracting many people to stop and take pictures, mostly junior and senior high school students.
Girls would come in twos and threes, blushing as they hung gifts tied with colorful ribbons or envelopes sealed with wax on the trees, inevitably drawing a chorus of cheers.
Some students with nothing to do spontaneously organized a security team, standing in front of the Christmas tree with megaphones: "Real name claim, real name claim, everyone should know what's going on. If the letter doesn't have your name on it, it's not me who will be embarrassed."
Far from the hustle and bustle, Shi Meng stood alone in a quiet corner, his breath rising and dissipating in front of him. He pulled his hood up high, tucked his hands into his sleeves, taking all possible measures to keep warm, as if he intended to stay there permanently.
The bright lights reflected in his eyes, and even the distant noise seemed intimately connected to him. After confirming once again that the blue box at the top of the tree was temporarily unclaimed, Shi Meng raised his hand to rub his frostbitten nose with his sleeve and exhaled a breath of warm white air.
Shi Meng knew that the box wasn't for him.
After school yesterday, Fu Xuanliao and Shi Mu went somewhere to play, and they didn't return until after dinner at the Shi family's house had ended.
The two chatted and laughed as they went upstairs to the second floor. Shi Mu went into the suite, and Fu Xuanliao went into the guest room. The guest room was right next to Shi Meng's room. This room used to be Shi Sihui's bedroom. She went to university in another city, and Shi Mu asked the housekeeper to clean up the room so that it would be convenient for Fu Xuanliao to stay there occasionally.
This made it easier for Shi Meng to keep a close eye on Fu Xuanliao's movements. This morning, as soon as the alarm clock next door rang, Shi Meng got up as well.
Unfortunately, she didn't time it right. When she finished packing and was about to leave, she realized she had forgotten to bring her paints. Shi Meng hurriedly went back to get them, and when she came out, she bumped into Fu Xuanliao, who was also coming out of the door next door.
In the past, Shi Meng would always leave first in such situations. Not wanting to attract attention, he would always wait in the bushes outside the courtyard first, and only after seeing Fu Xuanliao leave would he tiptoe after him.
This time, they miscalculated. The two unexpectedly bumped into each other in the aisle, less than three meters apart. Before Shi Meng could react, Fu Xuanliao spoke first: "You're up so early too." Holding a blue gift box, he made no attempt to hide it. "Where are you going?"
Over the years, Shi Meng lived like an invisible person in the Shi family, and usually had little interaction with Fu Xuanliao, a frequent visitor to the Shi family. They had even less to say to each other at school. The two were in different grades, and Shi Meng was an art student, so he spent most of his time in the art studio, which was divided into east and west rooms. Shi Mu usually went to the east room.
Therefore, when someone who usually only appears in sight from behind suddenly faces him head-on, Shi Meng is immediately stunned, then takes a step back and stammers, unable to answer.
Speechless at his reaction, Fu Xuanliao muttered, "Am I that scary?"
Shi Meng wanted to say no, but was a step too slow, and Fu Xuanliao, who was in a hurry to leave, beat her to it.
"I'm leaving now. If it's convenient, please tell my uncle and aunt that they probably haven't gotten up yet."
As he spoke, Fu Xuanliao, carrying a backpack on one shoulder, strode past Shi Meng and headed towards the stairwell.
He stepped down the stairs, then stopped as if remembering something, turned his head to look in the direction of the corridor, startling Shi Meng so much that he almost retreated again.
Fu Xuanliao put one hand in his pocket and raised the blue gift box high with the other.
"If your brother asks, just say I went for a morning run," he said with a smile, as if he knew Shi Meng would agree. "Remember to keep it a secret for me, kid."
Just last month, Shi Meng celebrated his sixteenth birthday. Although he is not tall, he dislikes being treated like a child.
So today he followed as usual, but deliberately kept a few meters' distance, kicking pebbles as he walked, reminding himself not to keep staring at that figure's back.
But his smile reminded Shi Meng of the time she hid under the table in the attic, and he deliberately distracted everyone else and reached out to call her out. Shi Meng liked his smile like that and couldn't help but look at it.
It was just past seven o'clock when Shi Meng arrived at the school gate. Across the street, she watched as a lush green Christmas tree was unloaded from a vehicle by a school worker and erected next to the bulletin board. Shi Meng was still a little dazed. Then she saw Fu Xuanliao take advantage of the fact that no one was around, throw his schoolbag on the ground, nimbly climb up the railing, turn around and hang a blue gift box on top of the Christmas tree, tying it securely with a rope.
Shi Meng then understood why he had left home so early.
Art students also have to take academic classes. In the morning, there are three periods of Chinese, math, and English. Shi Meng didn't listen carefully at all. He was in the classroom, but he wished he could keep his eyes glued to the bulletin board.
When Shi Meng went to the cafeteria for lunch, she took a detour and circled around the school gate to make sure the box was still there before she could settle down and continue her afternoon classes.
At 3 p.m., we moved to the art studio in the main building. Shi Meng, unusually, did not huddle in the corner but chose a window seat so that he could easily look up and see the situation at the school gate.
There were few students today, and the East Studio was closed. When art teacher Sun Yanfeng led his favorite students, who were stationed in the East Studio, into the room, Shi Meng was resting his chin on his hand, looking out the window. Hearing that name, he suddenly came back to his senses.
"Shi Mu, let me see your painting!"
The school's art studio sets a theme each week, and students create paintings around that theme. Shi Mu's first stroke always attracts everyone's attention.
Five or six students surrounded Shi Mu and his easel, bombarding him with questions about composition and color. Finally, Sun Yanfeng, annoyed by their noise, waved his pointer and ordered them back to their seats, and the studio returned to quiet.
During class time, there weren't many people at the school gate, so Shi Meng spread out her drawing paper, picked up her charcoal pencil, and began to sketch.
The only sounds were the scratching of pens on paper and the occasional whispered conversation. Shi Meng adjusted the easel to face the light and caught a glimpse of Teacher Sun bending over to instruct Shi Mu on her painting. After watching for a while, Shi Meng lost interest, looked away, and stared out the window for a few more minutes.
He doesn't like being in crowded places, as it hinders his thinking and reduces his efficiency. In an hour and a half, he only managed to sketch a rough outline and didn't even use the paint he brought.
While packing up his art supplies, Shi Meng moved slowly and seemed a little tired. When a classmate behind him passed by in the aisle, he casually remarked, "The composition of your painting is similar to Shi Mu's," which cast a shadow over his already gloomy mood.
No teenager at this age likes being constantly forced to compare themselves to another person their age.
Being compared to Shi Mu has become an inescapable fate for Shi Meng since she was eight years old.
From appearance to height to academic performance, and even their shared love of painting, Shi Meng has become accustomed to being placed in a lower position for comparison. He is five centimeters shorter than Shi Mu, he is the same age as Shi Mu but two grades below him, his painting style is similar to Shi Mu's but he is always thought to be imitating him... and so on.
Shi Meng felt that if all of this stemmed from his being an illegitimate child, it was simply too absurd, given that these factors were completely unrelated. Compiled by the Yuxi team; please stay tuned.
However, the world has no time to answer his questions, nor will it accept his one-sided account.
People establish hierarchical order according to their own standards, and they love to follow the crowd and stick together. They believe that if there is a connection, then there is a connection, and "truth" is always in the hands of the majority.
As Shi Meng reached the door, her teacher, Sun Yanfeng, called out to her: "Let me see your painting."
Shi Meng hurried away, saying, "I haven't started drawing yet."
"I saw you draw a few strokes in class just now."
"Not satisfied, wiped it off."
Sun Yanfeng looked at Shi Meng with his hands behind his back, and Shi Meng stubbornly met his gaze.
He didn't press the issue in the end. Sun Yanfeng sighed softly, "Your painting style does indeed bear some resemblance to Shi Mu's." He asked tentatively, a familiar hint of pity in his eyes, "Have you considered changing your painting style? Or... do you have any other painting genres that interest you?"
Shi Meng practically ran out of the studio, dashing downstairs in one go.
The north wind whipped wildly at his face, blowing his hair wildly, before he finally stopped at the edge of the playground, leaning on his knees and panting heavily.
He couldn't quite describe his current feelings—anger, disappointment, or sadness. Having lived in the Shi family for eight years, he was used to it, so he remained calm.
Take a deep breath, calmly forget what just happened, and then calmly walk to the school gate, find a quiet corner, and look at the bulletin board.
Winter days are short and dark, but the view here is excellent. Not only can you see the blue box on the Christmas tree, but you can also unexpectedly witness Shi Mu being picked up by her mother.
She's his mother, not mine, Shi Meng thought, even though people always say I look a lot like her.
Li Bihan treats Shi Mu very well. According to the housekeeper, there was an accident back then, and the madam gave birth to the eldest son before her due date. The premature baby was weak, and the madam felt very guilty about it. Over the years, she has made up for it by giving him the best of everything.
The best living conditions, the best educational environment, and the best maternal love.
The tall, elegant woman gently placed her soft hand on Shi Mu's shoulder. The driver beside her opened an umbrella over their heads, and the woman pulled her son close to her, completely enveloping him in the umbrella.
Shi Meng saw her profile; her smile was a tenderness he had never had the chance to witness.
It wasn't until the two got into the car and watched it drive away that Shi Meng noticed a few cool drops on his head, the melting water trickling down his forehead.
It's snowing.
While guarding the blue box, Shi Meng was so bored that even counting couldn't fill the long hours. She also thought about things she usually didn't have time to think about.
For example, how did his mother, Yang Youlan, who didn't live in the Shi family home, spend her day? Will she remind him again when they meet next time: "Remember to give way to your brother, it's your duty."
For example, regarding that "accident" back then, if Yang Youlan had known that her tantrum would result in Li Bihan giving birth earlier than her, would she have chosen to tone it down or switch to another hospital?
For example, if Teacher Sun liked Yang Youlan so much, why didn't he stop her from giving birth to the child? Instead, he acted as her protector and tried his best to help her send the child back to the Shi family.
For example, why does everyone like Shi Mu, even Fu Xuanliao?
But Shi Mu has already been picked up and is probably home by now.
His mother was so thoughtful; there must have been a warm fireplace in the house, and she would have prepared hot soup and soft blankets for him.
Standing in the cold wind, with snowflakes falling all over his head, Shi Meng wasn't envious at all. His room could enjoy the residual heat from the fireplace, and even if the soup was completely cold, they would always leave him a bowl.
He stared wide-eyed at the Christmas tree adorned with beautiful lights, scrutinizing its spire.
Shi Mu is gone, everyone is gone, and that blue box is mine now.
He waited and waited, watching the people in front of the Christmas tree come and go, the minute hand of the clock tower in the distance go round and round, and the snow piled up like mountains by the bulletin board and shop windows.
When we got to the Christmas tree, the students who had spontaneously stayed to watch over it had already dispersed. The security guard at the gate poked his head out of the booth and shouted, "It's snowing, hurry up and go home."
Shi Meng nodded in agreement, but didn't leave. Once all the lights on campus were turned off and no one was paying attention, he threw his schoolbag on the snow and slowly climbed up, following the path Fu Xuanliao had taken that morning.
It wasn't an easy task. The railings were slippery and there was nowhere to stand. He had to rely on his arm strength to climb up, and then he would reach the box with one hand, his limbs would go weak and he would be completely exhausted.
Hearing footsteps threw her into a panic, and she lost her footing. Before she could save herself, Shi Meng, who was holding the box, fell backward.
The expected pain did not come; instead, the gasp behind him made Shi Meng's body stiffen, as if he couldn't move.
"Hiss... It's so heavy."
The person who caught him was clearly not feeling well either; Shi Meng could tell from the breath that he had been drinking.
When did he arrive? Why was he drinking? Was it because the person he was expecting didn't take the gift, or...?
Before Shi Meng could figure it out, an arm wearing a school uniform jacket reached out from the side, and the warm palm accurately grasped Shi Meng's hand holding the gift even in the dim light.
The heartbeat abruptly ceased from the clamor and noise, then resumed a moment later, rushing straight towards the boiling cauldron.
Fu Xuanliao gasped for breath and asked in a gruff voice, "On my birthday, was it you who slipped a gift into my desk?"
Like a thief arrested by the police on the street, he covered his head and didn't dare to turn around. After a long while, he finally let out a very soft "hmm".
"Last year, and the year before, was it you too?"
"Um."
Hearing the answer he wanted, the person behind him breathed a sigh of relief.
The snow was still falling, trapping the two people who were pressed tightly together in place.
“I knew it…” Fu Xuanliao leaned forward and hugged the person who was trembling in his arms. His tone was fierce but also revealed a hint of grievance. “I knew it. You like me too.”
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