Xu Yan gazed at the lake before her.
The afternoon sun illuminated the water’s surface, igniting a expanse of golden shimmer.
Yu Yiming set down the oars, allowing their boat to drift freely on the water.
Qiao Lin suddenly spoke up. “I’ve seen a water monster. There was a kid flying a kite who fell into the river, and a puff of white smoke rose from the surface. That smoke drifted toward us—I was terrified, grabbed Xu Yan’s hand, and started to run. But she was like she’d been rooted to the spot, standing there without moving an inch. So I didn’t run either; I hooked my arm through hers, thinking that if the water monster came, it could just take us both away together.”
Qiao Lin leaned over toward the lake’s surface, splashing the water a few times. “Yu Yiming, when are you going to teach us how to swim?”
The snow fell heavier and heavier, making the river appear even grayer; the frozen duck-shaped boat behind them grew smaller, and after they turned a corner, it vanished from sight.
There was a café by the roadside, and they decided to go in and sit for a while.
Pushing open the door, they found the place packed with people.
Shen Haoming said, “Hey, looks like everyone in Houhai has taken refuge here.”
Xu Yan paid and joined the queue at the spot for picking up drinks.
The boy making the coffee seemed new to the job; he spilled the hot milk.
Shen Haoming poked Xu Yan from behind. “Your cousin left her phone in the car—I’ll go with her to grab it.”
Xu Yan said, “Wait until we’ve got the coffee, and we can all go together.”
Shen Haoming replied, “No need—it’s close,” and then turned to leave.
Through the glass window, Xu Yan watched them head back in the direction they’d come from, with Qiao Lin seemingly saying something.
She stared irritably at the boy making the coffee, folding the receipt in her hand into tiny pieces and then unfolding it again.
Qiao Lin might have done it on purpose—Lawyer Wang wouldn’t help her, so she’d lost her composure, thinking maybe Shen Haoming could assist, and wanted to tell him about it.
In a surge of bitter anger, Xu Yan yanked hard, tearing the receipt in two.
The coffee boy took the ripped receipt, scrutinizing it carefully to figure out what drinks were listed.
“Don’t you even get basic training here?” Xu Yan asked huffily.
She placed the coffees on the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
What would Qiao Lin say to Shen Haoming? If things came to light, how on earth should she explain it?
Her mind was a complete blank; she couldn’t come up with any excuse, just kept pressing her phone repeatedly, watching the time digits shift.
They finally returned.
Qiao Lin didn’t sit down; she glanced at Xu Yan. “I’m going to make another call.”
Xu Yan looked at Shen Haoming, trying to glean some clue from his expression.
But he was absorbed in scrolling on his phone.
Xu Yan touched his arm and handed him the coffee from the table.
He took a sip, furrowed his brow. “This is awful.”
After Qiao Lin came back, her face remained grave; she took two sips of water and sat there dazed, cradling the cup.
Shen Haoming glanced at the snow outside and said to Xu Yan, “You shouldn’t drive in this—I’ll have the driver come pick you up.”
The car arrived, and they got in first; Shen Haoming went to retrieve the items he’d bought for Qiao Lin earlier at the children’s clothing store, having the driver stow them in the trunk.
He leaned toward the car window and said to Qiao Lin, “Cousin, if you’re not heading out in the next couple of days, come over to my place.”
Qiao Lin nodded, her eyes following Shen Haoming as he walked away and got into his own car.
“He’s such a good person,” Qiao Lin said to Xu Yan.
They didn’t speak on the road.
The driver took a detour to refuel.
With the engine off, the music from the radio ceased.
Qiao Lin stared out at the swirling snow beyond the window. “I’ll head back tomorrow.”
Xu Yan said, “Okay.”
The sun shifted away from overhead, and the wind swept across the lake’s surface, lifting the scent of the water.
The boat stirred from its midday slumber, beginning to move little by little.
Xu Yan, Qiao Lin, and Yu Yiming, as if by unspoken agreement, leaned back, curling their legs as they lay down, faces turned upward to the sky.
Perhaps they were waiting for the evening glow to appear, but gradually, it ceased to matter.
Xu Yan closed her eyes.
The lake water enveloped her like a pair of warm arms.
Its pulse rose and fell, the rhythm subtle yet powerful.
The boat was drifting slowly, but they had nowhere in particular to go—not to the opposite shore, nor back the way they’d come.
The three of them could stay like that forever, it seemed, with no one ever leaving.
It seemed like nothing mattered anymore.
Xu Yan relaxed her brow.
She no longer fretted over how deeply they loved one another.
She simply knew that she loved them.
That intense emotion made her feel she wasn’t superfluous after all.
She was one of them, even if utterly insignificant and easily discarded—she didn’t mind.
When she opened her eyes, the evening glow had already come and gone.
Only a few small clouds lingered on the horizon.
The lake’s surface was a vast expanse of gold, endless to the eye.
But in just a moment, the water began to turn gray before her very eyes.
When she turned her face, she saw Qiao Lin staring at the lake, as if she had been gazing for an eternity, or as if her gaze itself was dimming the water’s light.
Yu Yiming still hadn’t opened his eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Don’t open your eyes, Xu Yan silently blessed him in her heart.
Because soon enough, he would realize the sun had set, and the boat would have to turn back.
Their journey was over.
For dinner, Xu Yan ordered takeout.
Qiao Lin didn’t eat much; she said she wanted to lie down on the bed for a while.
After finishing her meal, Xu Yan watched TV for a bit.
When she entered the bedroom, Qiao Lin was sitting on the bed, lost in a daze.
Xu Yan went over to draw the curtains.
Under the streetlamp, a man in a down jacket was walking his dog.
It was the neighbor from across the hall, surnamed Tang.
He tilted his head back to gaze at the moon for a moment, then scooped the dog up from the ground, tucked it under his arm, and walked into the building entrance.
Xu Yan heard Qiao Lin softly ask from behind her, “Can Shen Haoming help us?”
Xu Yan turned around to face Qiao Lin. “Didn’t you ask him yourself? When the two of you went to get the phone.”
Qiao Lin shook her head. “I didn’t tell him anything. He asked if I wanted to come work in Beijing—he could arrange it—and I said no need.”
“Oh,” Xu Yan replied.
Qiao Lin continued, “He’s a lawyer, knows a lot of people; maybe he can pull some strings with the government…”
Xu Yan asked, “How do you know he’s a lawyer?”
Qiao Lin said, “He told me himself. I really didn’t ask him anything.”
She lowered her head, gazing at her swollen belly. “Lawyer Wang isn’t taking my calls anymore, the TV station hasn’t replied—I really have no options left. This has dragged on for so many years; it needs some kind of resolution…”
Xu Yan let out a single laugh. “Have you ever considered me? Do you think I get whatever I want, that my life is so easy? You want a few peaceful days—don’t I? At least you had a complete family when you were little; what did I have?”
Her eyes rimmed with red. “After all these years, can’t you just leave me alone?”
Qiao Lin began to cry too. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have come to disturb you…”
She lifted her face, sniffing back her tears. “You haven’t seen what Mom and Dad are like now. Dad wakes up in the morning and starts drinking; his hands shake so badly he can’t even hold chopsticks. Mom sits by the computer all day, posting pleas for help on every forum, reposting every so often. People call her crazy, kick her out, and she just registers again and keeps posting… I really can’t handle it anymore; my body’s falling apart—I’ve fainted on the street several times…”
She stopped, staring fixedly ahead, as if trying to bring something into clear focus.
The desk lamp shone on Qiao Lin, but her face remained in shadow, her cheeks hollowed out by the darkness.
Xu Yan gazed at her, struck by the transformation in her features.
The radiance of youth had vanished—this might be inevitable, yet it felt as though it had never been there at all.
No one could possibly imagine her as a young girl from this face.
It was as if Xu Yan were peering from the second-floor classroom window, watching that long-legged girl who always held her face slightly aloft cross the campus, walk out through that gate, and then disappear.
Where had she gone?
Xu Yan walked to the edge of the bed.
She took Qiao Lin’s hand in hers.
That hand was scorching hot, heat pulsing out from between the fingers.
Qiao Lin’s fingers were long—this surely wasn’t the first time Xu Yan had noticed it; perhaps on some distant day during their endless adolescence, she had secretly studied those hands, marveling inwardly at their beauty.
But now, for the first time, she realized these hands were perfectly suited for playing the piano—if they had encountered a piano teacher in childhood, he would undoubtedly have said so.
If a dance instructor, perhaps she would have been ideal for dancing.
This body, burdened with suffering, might also conceal some innate talent.
But talent didn’t matter; for some people, there was never a single moment in their entire life when anyone sat down to discuss their potential.
Xu Yan recalled her junior year in college, when she landed an internship at the TV station and was kept on afterward.
The director of that channel had said to her, “I don’t think you have much natural talent for hosting, you know why I chose you? Because you’ve got this drive in you, this urge to leap out from the crowd and reach for the things up high.”
Xu Yan held Qiao Lin’s hand and sat down.
She felt as though she were drawing warmth from it.
But the room was hot, the floor warm beneath her feet—nothing like December at all.
She said, “I promise you—I’ll ask Shen Haoming. I need to think about exactly how to phrase it. I’m doing this not for Mom and Dad, just for you—do you understand?”
Xu Yan squeezed her hand. “Give me some time, okay?”
Qiao Lin nodded.
After ten o’clock, Shen Haoming called.
He said, “Guess what—the gifts got switched; the bag meant for your cousin is actually the skirt for Ren Guodong’s daughter.”
Xu Yan, cradling the phone, opened the paper bag and untied the cream-colored satin ribbon.
That little dress, adorned with pearls, lay folded and still within the box.
“Should I bring it over now?” she asked.
“No need,” Shen Haoming said. “Anyway, the gift set I bought for your cousin can work for Ren Guodong’s daughter too. I bet your cousin’s having a girl,” he laughed on the other end of the line. “The skirt I bought is bound to come in handy.”
