Midwinter of the seventh year
In a matter of seconds, the first snow fell uninvited in Zurich.
It was like an unexpected reunion.
The auspicious snow has arrived today.
The bridge was sparsely populated, its lights folded into a hazy mist. Bai Luo spread his fingers, palms facing the sky, and looked up to greet the snow.
The fine snow falls on my palms, cold and short-lived.
It looks just like the first snow in Hangzhou and Hong Kong in the cold winter of 2018.
How I wish there was a country where it snowed every day, and when I looked up I saw an endless sea of daylight.
How I wish the sky would always be white, the earth would always be cold, and I would never wake up from the dream.
Beneath the Münster Bridge, the shadow of a plane tree splits the night and light. A young man stands against the light, like night blending into day, abrupt and stubborn.
He stared quietly at the back of the girl with thin shoulder blades among the shadowy figures.
It's like peeking into a dream that doesn't belong to you.
The world lost its color, everything lost its focus. Her outline grew wild, wild, out of control.
After locking her coordinates that night, Shang Yu said only one sentence before leaving the meeting room.
"She just recovered from depression. Don't let her fall into the abyss again."
The implication is self-evident.
True love is never about possession, but about restraint.
He knew better than anyone that depression was not something that could be cured by simply "thinking more positively".
It is the abyss, the suffocation of opening eyes at night, and the struggle of breathing blood.
He was the one who pushed her back.
The old illness relapsed because of him.
The light in her eyes was extinguished because of him.
He deserves to die.
Cut into pieces and there is no redemption.
How could I disturb the peace she had fought so hard to regain just because of my own selfish desires?
Fate is too good at arranging things, just as people are too good at giving up.
But some obsessions are simply out of control.
Even if you know you shouldn't do it, even if you know it's wrong.
Missing someone is a disease, it is the pain that wakes you up from a dream in the middle of the night.
He couldn't control himself and wanted to see her.
Finally, I boarded a northern train and passed through the long tunnel at the equator.
All the way north, towards the cold, towards the snow, towards her.
I just want to be a thief who steals light and take a look at her from afar.
But there was already another boy standing next to the girl.
She lives a good life, and her life is still sunny without him.
First snow in Zurich. So beautiful, and so cold.
It doesn't fall for reunion, it falls for farewell.
The cold wind cut off his breathing. Bai Luo shrugged, burying his chin half an inch in his black checkered scarf.
The phone screen was blindingly bright, and the call duration was jumping frame by frame:
57…58…59…60…
One minute is neither long nor short, but it feels like a whole season.
That's so rude.
I quickly said "Hello".
There was silence on the other side.
Yet, one could clearly hear the subdued breathing. Restrained, forbearing.
The snow fell even harder, and the sky was filled with white, coldly and thickly, covering up the filth, the mess, and the reluctance to speak in the world.
The boy under the paulownia tree has a straight back, a perfect 180° arc.
It is very much like a sycamore tree in winter, with branches reaching up to the sky, without vines or branches, not competing for spring, not flattering vulgarity.
The funny thing was, his shadow on the snow was trembling, long, gray, and extremely cowardly.
He didn't dare to go up and hug her, nor did he dare to appear in front of her.
The light and shadow beneath the umbrella were dim and cold. Bai Luo's profile was cast in a vague shadow.
The crowd behind her surged forward, pushing and shoving each other without any clear direction. She stumbled forward, putting step after step between herself and the boy.
The bridge was packed with people, all of them spectators who wanted to check in on the snowy scene. They were taking photos, screaming, and posting on social media.
She doesn't like crowds and lets the flow of people push her forward, as if she is being escorted by the world.
But it goes against the boys' wishes.
There was no answer on the other end of the phone, so she thought the signal was disconnected.
"Hello, can you hear me?"
The muffled sound was soft as if soaked in snow water.
"If you don't say anything, I'll hang up?"
That's strange, maybe the signal is really bad.
On the crowded stone bridge, a sudden gust of cold wind blew, causing the snow to flutter. The view was filled with pure white.
Just as he was about to hang up the phone, a voice as cold as snow penetrated the crowd and came from afar.
"It's me."
Two light words, without any emotion. Like waking up from a dream.
Second by second, my heartbeat went out of control, I lost my rhythm and forgot to breathe.
A watery mist filled the corners of my eyes.
Such a familiar voice.
Even if he turned into ashes, she could still discern an innate coldness that had the power of life and death from the wind and rain.
One month. Thirty-one dawns and dusks.
What is engraved on the window page is a shadow and a countdown.
Counting a day, boiling an inch, it is like boiling a dose of poison, or like refining a medicine.
The root of my tongue was numb and my throat was sore, but I knew I had to drink.
Time is the best at pretending.
Grind the unforgettable memories into blurred shadows, and press the heart-wrenching pain into silent scars.
Pretend to heal, pretend to forget.
But when someone appeared, she seemed to have lost all her sanity.
Floating clouds drift across the sky, and shadows on the snow fade away.
The wind from the Alps cannot blow away the snow, but it awakens the folded memories.
Bai Luo vaguely recalled the old stories of Hangzhou and Hong Kong.
＿＿
At that time, the wind was warm, the night was soft, and love could not be hidden.
She had a ninety-minute evening class. Bo Xi lay flat in his rented apartment, lazily replying to her message.
She posted: [This class is 90 minutes long and it’s tough.]
He replied: [I'll take a nap. Call me if you're bored.]
The classroom was noisy. She lowered her eyes, curled the corners of her lips, and typed slowly.
[What if I call you and wake you up?]
The news flashed by.
[This isn't your concern. Just be happy.]
His tone was light, but it made her fingertips tremble.
Halfway through the class, she was really bored.
It’s not that I’m sleepy, it’s that I miss him.
She quietly unlocked her phone and made a video call with Bo Xilai.
The cell phone was hidden in the hole in the table, and the camera only captured her beautiful jaw, fair skin, and clean lines.
For forty-five minutes, the two stared at each other.
Without saying a word, they saw through each other.
In the middle of the night, Bai Luo woke up thirsty and reached out to touch the glass in a daze.
Before he could even touch the rim of the cup, a hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him back into bed.
When I wanted to ask him "What are you doing?", his lips were held, and they felt cold and damp.
Someone drank some water and passed it into her mouth little by little, feeding her mouthful after mouthful.
She drank her fill and pushed him.
The next second, someone put one arm around my waist and the other hand on the back of my head. They kissed for a long time, not satisfied yet, until it was hard to tell whose lips were breathing.
The love of young people is always frank and passionate, and always presentable.
＿＿
Time erases everything.
Memories are the romantic first snow in Zurich, which melts like tears, inch by inch, and hurts inch by inch.
In the end, only my heart was left a little wet and couldn't dry.
Bai Luo walked down the ancient bridge with the crowd, and glanced ahead with his unfocused eyes.
The bus stop's awning was crowded with passers-by, each with their own thoughts.
Some people are waiting for a bus. Some are waiting for salvation. Some are just passing by.
Romantic Zurich, without any constraints, pure freedom.
Her footprints in the world have been expanded, and the sunset in the distant East has become more beautiful.
Before all the dead leaves in the world fall, can they meet again?
A cold wind suddenly came, and the ice was biting.
But no matter how cold the wind is, it can’t be colder than the warmth of memories.
Beneath the winter sycamore tree, the thin frowning eyebrows press down on the snow that refuses to fall.
No matter how dense the crowd was, his visual resolution was only for her.
The girl was strolling in his direction.
The light in the pupils expanded inch by inch, becoming a scorching sea.
He couldn't let her see him.
He quickly changed direction and hid in the shadow of the phoenix tree with his back turned.
The colorful snowflakes fell softly. Bai Luo was about to call out his name, but the person on the other end spoke first.
"Happy New Year, Bai Luo."
"I won't bother you again."
The voice was hoarse like blood foam, yet with a touch of recklessness.
"All the best in the future."
He was at a loss for words. He had a lot to say, but a lot he hadn't said, and a lot he couldn't say.
But that’s all it can do.
The goodbye that is not said is a scab of growth and a scar of life.
His body temperature dropped to zero, and he bumped his head heavily against the mottled tree trunk.
He was wearing a thin, close-fitting sleeveless black T-shirt. Bai Luo had bought it for him, and he wore it specially, as if it were a last remembrance.
I probably won't wear it again.
Some temperatures, once they leave your body, will cause burns if you touch them again.
The withdrawal reaction was unbearable. But he could only tell himself over and over again: This will all pass.
If you really can't get over it, why force yourself?
His love affairs have often failed, and he is just one more frustrated person in the world.
He wore only a black tie-dye jacket on the outside.
The wind and snow kept blowing into his collar, freezing him so much that his whole body felt stiff and painful.
The girl dyed her hair back to black, cut her hair short and neat, and cut off the tail of the past.
It means she has moved on and it’s time for him to wake up.
No one has to stop for anyone. No one belongs to anyone.
Individual independence and freedom of thought.
Snow has its own softness. Rain has its own wetness. Wind has its own coolness. He has his edge. She has her light.
All bad outcomes are probably self-inflicted.
Just treat it as an absurd dream.
The girl mixed in the neon crowd, brushed past the skinny sycamore tree step by step, and brushed past the boy who flew across half the world from Hong Kong Island just to see her.
The sea of people is suffocating, and passing by is eternal.
After hearing this, Bai Luo's eyelashes trembled in panic, like a butterfly flapping its wings.
He was saying goodbye to her.
Use the softest tone to say the most serious words.
But isn't this the result of her own deduction?
Freedom. Liberation.
Why does my heart still hurt so much, it hurts so much that it makes me numb.
Some people, it’s not that they haven’t let go, it’s that they simply can’t let go.
The sound of the wind grew weaker and weaker, as if the world was tired and no longer wanted to listen to endless self-deception.
The streetlight's light enveloped her. Bai Luo lowered her eyes, watching the snowflakes fall onto her collar and melt away in an instant. Just like her heart, it melted into water, bit by bit.
She choked.
"Happy New Year."
"Bo Qian."
No goodbyes. No apologies. Just pure blessings.
What if I hadn't boarded that flight?
Could she be walking with him in the old city on a rainy night, whispering and kissing under an umbrella?
But the stupidest thing in this world is "if".
Destiny never accepts regrets.
It doesn’t matter whether you leave or stay.
Maybe they will really meet again.
Because Zurich's first snow never lies.
Those who love each other will eventually meet again.
The phone was disconnected at some point.
Even if the call is connected, there will only be silent busy tones on both ends, which shows the desolation of having nothing to say.
Bo Xi's eyes were filled with endless darkness. He took one last deep look at the beautiful girl lying motionless in the middle of the snow.
Everything was sinking, and she was his only sense of light.
Loving her is his craziest obsession in life.
But obsession has an end.
He turned around.
Across the noise and silence, the back figure is both hot and cold.
Just like that year, he ran towards her warmth.
This caused people around him to look at him sideways.
The face of natural authority has its own thousand gazes.
“Alas, look at that Mr. Dongfang, his eyes are so deep and reserved, utterly captivating.”
"Sie sehen ihn, typisch orientalische Schnheit, aber mit einem internationalen Charakter.
Seine Gesichtsform war ein Standard-Gnse Gesicht, die Verhltnisse waren zu harmonisch.”
"Is that boy an international student? There's actually such a handsome guy in China. Do you dare to come forward and ask for his contact information?"
All around were fragments of languages from all over the world. Passersby hurried by and brushed past an oriental girl with red eyes.
The sky is dark and the wind is mute.
The black butterfly crossed the mountains and seas, flew over rainstorms and borders, but its wings were covered with mist, becoming wet and heavy.
I can’t fly over the spring, I can’t fly over the road to see him.
The cold wind ruffled her short hair and lifted a corner of her sleeve. The veins between her wrist bones were a pale blue.
She looked back unconsciously.
I want to see what the oriental boy mentioned by passers-by looks like.
The snowy night in Xu Lishi was so dark, as dark as a nightmare with eyes open.
No matter how you look at it, everyone looks like him. But no one is him.
Wucuo blinked.
Darkness dilutes the outline of memory, blurring it and making it fainter.
But she would never mistake someone.
The young man dressed in black, walking towards the long night against the wind and snow, is really a brave young man.
The fog in my eyes slowly receded. No wonder the background noise during the call was a whisper of German.
No wonder when I passed by the Wutong tree, I could smell the crisp scent of jasmine.
He came to see her.
Traveling thousands of miles, through time difference and wind and snow.
But he didn't say anything, not a single word.
Is it because you saw her walking side by side with someone else?
Are you afraid of being redundant? So you hide? So you keep silent?
How painful it must be for him.
The heart feels weightless and the heartbeat becomes disordered.
A pair of eyes as clean as snow, shattered and bled in an instant.
He's here now, should I still pretend I don't see him? Should I still pretend I don't care? Should I still endure the pain and let him go?
She can fool the whole world but she cannot fool herself.
As soon as I saw him, my defenses collapsed.
She didn't want to have any regrets anymore. Not at all.
The path they walked on was filled with blood, pain, and thorns.
I've felt pain, been hurt, and cried.
Bo Xi's back was pressed into a thin piece by the cold snow, like a frame of desaturated pictures, disappearing from her sight frame by frame.
She wants to catch up with him.
Even if the snow buries the road and the wind cuts your face.
The world became a sea of white.
Thousands of footsteps rushed forward, but only Bai Luo, against the light, against the wind and snow, against the fate, broke through the ice.
As the distance between them shortened, her heartbeat became more and more out of control.
The young man walked silently into the night, unaware that someone was running towards him desperately.
A pair of eyes filled with snow, wet, broken, and hot, looked around the city where the girl lived.
Quite beautiful.
Ten times more prosperous than Hangzhou and Hong Kong.
He thought.
I probably won't come to Zurich again.
Too beautiful, too fake, too painful.
Bai Luo chased him, as if he was chasing half of his life that was torn away, as if he was chasing his shadow that had been lost for many years.
Life is full of flavors.
She tasted the sourness and swallowed the bitterness.
Everything in the world has a shelf life.
Cute no.
She doesn't want to pass by again.
She wanted to catch him.
Fate has given them a grand reunion.
A slender shadow approached silently, and the young man was unaware.
Press another inch.
The sky above his head suddenly darkened, and the transparent umbrella surface cut through the wind and snow, bringing him back from the extreme cold.
A person with a cold body and dulled senses slowly raised his head. Like rusty gears, one by one, gnawing at hope.
My breathing stopped abruptly.
The world was silent, and he heard a voice that was softer than the texture of snow, but more piercing than the entire winter.
"Aren't you cold?"
He was freezing to death.
All the internal organs were broken and the bones were frozen to pieces.
But it's not even one ten-thousandth as cold as my heart sinking into ice water, nor even one ten-thousandth as painful as losing her.
Without hesitation for a second, he turned around and pulled the person into his arms.
It was really her, not a dream, not an illusion.
Lost and found.
But he was more afraid of losing what he had gained.
It seems like a lifetime ago.
He hugged her so tightly, his head buried deep in her neck, greedily absorbing the long-lost breath, as familiar as before.
Like someone who has been wandering for many years, he finally smells the direction of home.
Transparent umbrellas fell to the ground everywhere. Thousands of snowflakes fluttered like the rhythm of heartbeats, celebrating their grand reunion.
The snowy field is boundless, and the two shadows finally entangled and overlapped into one.
From then on, light fell on the earth.
It is impossible to tell who is the reflection of whom, and who reflects whose light and darkness.
It is even more difficult to tell who lit up whose long night and who saved whose famine.
Bai Luo could hear his own heartbeat, like thousands of new green dots growing in the broken spring.
"Ah."
"Spring is coming."
Spring is the slow-paced season when all things come to life.
The frozen soil thaws, the grass and trees turn green, and everything begins to flourish.
Two butterflies, covered with wounds, were blown green by the spring breeze and flew back into the endless spring fields.
Auspicious snow covers the long night.
The world darkened, like a lamp that had been blown out.
Only they are left clinging to each other, loving each other magnificently in the endless darkness.
The cold wind blows across, and the half-rolled and half-unrolled fallen leaves return to their roots.
He belongs to her and she belongs to him.
In a fleeting moment of life, long-cherished wishes are fulfilled.
The Pacific Ocean's terminator crosses the international date line just to reunite with you.
Everything has its time, spring flourishes and winter hibernates, people gather and separate, and love must be timely.
Wish us——
Blessed by happiness and supported by freedom.
Every morning when I wake up.
Still believe in spring.
Still growing towards the sun.
[End of full text]
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