The New Year

[@Qiuqiu: He really is good-looking. Can you help me get his contact information? I’ve decided—he’s my 365th husband.]
[@Pachadog: Homesickness is a cell phone—handsome guys inside, me outside.]
[@Miameow: If there’d been a guy this handsome at my school, I would have nursed a three-year crush and spent all my pocket money buying him drinks.]

Ye Mian read these comments, grinning foolishly, so overjoyed that she nearly slid off the sofa. Yet her gaze lingered on the photo, reluctant to turn away.

Back at Jiangcheng No. 1 High School, quite a few girls did have crushes on Jiang Chen. Virtually anytime he left the classroom, his desk would be stuffed with all sorts of drinks.

Once, during class, the teacher had even joked that if he saved up all those drinks, he could open a beverage shop.

She herself had once given Jiang Chen a bottle of milk, unable to escape the fate of quietly falling for him.

In any case, after all these months apart, just as she’d hoped, he seemed to be doing quite well in a foreign land.

The boy who once wandered the old city, slender as a reed, seemed to drift further and further from her.

A gentle warmth welled up in Ye Mian’s heart.

He was a financial prodigy, famous from a young age.

He possessed the brightest talent and ability; if not for his family’s burdens, he would have been someone adored by thousands.

Now, unshackled from those constraints, one photo alone was enough to make him unforgettable.

On a dim, snowy night.

A soft longing stirred Ye Mian to open Jiang Chen’s Moments, only to find he never posted anything.

There was nothing but a solitary, empty line.

Ye Mian popped a preserved plum into her mouth; the tart, salty taste made her eyes crinkle. She opened her own Moments and shared a song.

“Summer Wind.”

After a moment’s thought—

Not wanting to disturb the festive mood in her feed, she set it to be visible only to Jiang Chen.

She pressed play, and the lyrics she wished to express drifted through the warm air:

Why aren’t you here?
I ask the mountain breeze if you’ll return.

“Ding-dong.”

A new message notification chimed.

She glanced down, immediately sat up, and opened WeChat.

Her heart fluttered.

Jiang Chen, without a word, had transferred her money.

Two thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight.

Transfer note: Happy New Year.

She opened the transfer and, without hesitation, returned it.

Instinctively, she felt sorry for Jiang Chen, celebrating New Year’s so far from home. No matter how much money he had, Ye Mian still felt she shouldn’t accept such a large sum.

But as soon as she returned it, he sent it again.

Ye Mian blinked, grew stubborn, and returned it once more.

He sent it back.

She returned it, just as insistently.

—They went back and forth for a long time.

Somehow, in this playful exchange, she found amusement; she pictured Jiang Chen repeatedly sending the transfer, as if she’d discovered a different side of him.

After half a minute—

She popped another slice of apple into her mouth, waiting to see if he’d send it again.

Unexpectedly, instead of another transfer—

Jiang Chen called her on video chat.

Startled, her hand shook and the phone nearly slipped to the floor.

Her heart raced wildly.

What kind of move was this? Had she pushed the big boss too far?

She found the best-lit angle, took two deep breaths to steady herself, and answered.

Ye Mian lifted her gaze and immediately met the man’s eyes on the screen—dark as the long night.

That gaze was as familiar and dazzling as ever—gentle and clear. Outdoors, under the light, his black hair contrasted sharply with his fair skin.

The white snowscape and his gaze were equally inscrutable.

Ye Mian thought she heard him sigh helplessly, though perhaps she imagined it.

Jiang Chen remained steady and warm as always. Once he saw her face, the corners of his mouth curved into a slight smile. Propping his chin on his hand, he spoke in a low, lazy drawl, “You’re really honest, aren’t you? Not even accepting a New Year’s red envelope?”

“…”

Ye Mian snapped back to herself and replied softly, “Honestly, you didn’t accept mine either, did you?”

Jiang Chen smiled, his meaning unreadable.

“…”

Ye Mian raised her brows slightly. Why is he smiling?

Jiang Chen studied her closely. In the months apart, she seemed to have grown even more beautiful—her features more striking and noble, exuding poise and spirit.

Meeting her eyes, Jiang Chen let the previous topic fade and asked quietly, “Have you eaten?”

Ye Mian glanced at the time—it was already close to midnight. She realized she hadn’t eaten, but facing Jiang Chen’s question, she nodded, “Yes, I have. What about you?”

Jiang Chen shook his head. “I’ll eat in a bit.”

Ye Mian remembered the time difference between them.

Looking at Jiang Chen, she suddenly thought of the post she’d just seen on Weibo. Smiling, her eyes curved as she asked, “Are you by the river right now?”

At her words, Jiang Chen’s gaze shifted sideways, his chin lifting slightly. “Mm, I am.”

“Are there trees beside you? A bridge? An old man playing a bugle?” Ye Mian, feigning mystery, described the scenery in the photo and watched Jiang Chen’s reaction with mischievous eyes.

Jiang Chen was clearly taken aback. He glanced around, confirming she couldn’t possibly see all that just from video. The straight line of his lips softened, and he returned his gaze to her, his tone gentler than usual, “How did you know?”

Ye Mian held her breath. This man was playing the heartthrob card, not playing fair.

Her mind went blank and she confessed, “I saw you on Weibo.”

Jiang Chen raised his brows in surprise. “I don’t have Weibo.”

“Right, but someone over there posted a scenic photo, and you happened to be in it. I scrolled right past it—wasn’t that a coincidence?”

She tried to sound restrained, but her voice rose at the end.

Ye Mian’s cheeks burned. She didn’t mention searching the live plaza on purpose—taking advantage of the fact that Jiang Chen didn’t use Weibo.

How could she have stumbled on news from thousands of miles away without searching keywords?

Jiang Chen stared at her, a faint smile flickering in his eyes. “Mm, it is a coincidence.”

In Wencheng’s winter,

The wind below zero degrees doggedly tugged at everything outside, the night as dark as ink.

Because of the holiday, red lanterns and window decorations hung from most windows as far as the eye could see.

Ye Mian watched the clock on the wall inch toward midnight and smiled at Jiang Chen, “It’s almost twelve. Want to watch the fireworks with me?”

Jiang Chen replied mildly, “Wear something warm.”

“I will.”

Ye Mian put her hat back on, wrapped herself in a scarf, tucked her cute cat socks into her winter boots, and, prepared, opened the door to the balcony.

Winter’s biting night wind rushed to meet her.

She shivered but stepped outside nonetheless.

On Jiang Chen’s end, the wind seemed to rise too. He lifted his hand to his lips, drew on a cigarette, and the smoke, swirling, was swept away by the wind as soon as it left his mouth.

The cigarette burned down, leaving only a spark in the cold wind.

Ye Mian timed it just right and aimed her camera out the window.

The Spring Festival Gala was counting down to midnight.

(End of this chapter)