Pei Shuyi’s ear was pressed against his chest. When he spoke Cantonese, the vibration from his vocal cords traveled through his collarbone—muffled, tingling.
Miraculously, Pei Shuyi actually stopped crying.
“Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”
Jiang Congli was worried she might harm her health from crying.
But in truth, Pei Shuyi had only cried for a short while just now, and even if there were any effects, they would be minimal.
Pei Shuyi shook her head, her forehead resting against his collarbone as she mumbled, “No.”
Jiang Congli reached out and gently wiped the tears from her face with his thumb.
That night, they agreed that Jiang Congli would return to Hong Kong in three days, while Pei Shuyi would remain on the mountain to recuperate.
However, Jiang Congli would make time every week to come to Qingtan Mountain and spend two days with her.
There were still three days before their separation, and during these three days, the two of them were practically inseparable.
Every time they ate, whether in the Old Madam’s Serenity Room or in Pei Shuyi’s quarters, their hands remained clasped together under the tablecloth from start to finish, never letting go even while drinking porridge.
Pei Shuyi’s daily routine had now been completely adjusted by Jiang Congli.
She would naturally wake up around seven or eight every day, yet Jiang Congli still insisted on knocking on her door every morning.
Even the day before their parting was no exception.
Today, Jiang Congli wore a dark gray overcoat, with a scarf draped over his arm.
The morning light fell on his shoulders, making him look different from usual.
“We’re going down the mountain today,” he said.
Pei Shuyi leaned against the doorframe, looking at him in confusion.
“I’m taking you on a date today, Shu Yi.”
The world at the foot of the mountain was different from the one on the mountain.
Beijing was crowded with people, cars, and noise. Pei Shuyi hadn’t been down the mountain in a long time, so she held onto Jiang Congli’s arm and looked at everything along the way.
But her hand never left his.
She knew in her heart that after today, he would return to Hong Kong, so she cherished every minute and second they had together.
Jiang Congli took her to an old shop in an alley.
The storefront was small, filled to the brim with items, from bowls and plates to tea sets and small trinkets.
Pei Shuyi browsed inside for a long time, picking up a small blue-and-white porcelain bowl with a little goldfish at the bottom. She turned it over, examined it, and then put it back.
Jiang Congli stood behind her. “If you like it, buy it.”
Pei Shuyi walked around the shop once more before returning to pick up the bowl.
When it was time to pay, Jiang Congli settled the bill, wrapped the bowl in shockproof film, and placed it in a bag.
For lunch, Jiang Congli took her to a small restaurant in a hutong.
The entrance was modest, but the inside was clean and tidy.
The owner recognized him and greeted him as “Mr. Jiang” as soon as they entered, his gaze lingering on their clasped hands.
“My girlfriend,” Jiang Congli introduced proactively.
The owner was perceptive and didn’t ask further, complimenting Pei Shuyi a few times before finally seating them at a table by the window.
Outside the window stood an old locust tree, most of its leaves already fallen.
Jiang Congli ordered the dishes, all of which were her usual favorites.
When the osmanthus cake arrived, she took a bite and paused, the taste all too familiar.
She looked up at Jiang Congli in surprise.
“The osmanthus cake from Qingtan Mountain… is it from this shop?”
Jiang Congli didn’t deny it. “Yes.”
Before leaving, Jiang Congli specifically packed several boxes of pastries to take with him, planning to give them to Aunt He after returning to Qingtan Temple in the evening.
When Pei Shuyi refused to take her medicine or wake up early, these pastries would be used to coax her.
I wonder if Aunt He can handle her during the days I’m not around.
In the afternoon, Pei Shuyi chose a dialect film to watch, which told the story of an elderly couple’s life over several decades.
There were no dramatic plot twists—just cooking, eating, basking in the sun, bickering, and making up.
In the end, due to the war, the male lead went to the battlefield, and the old madam waited by the graveside for her husband for ten years.
Finally, she passed away to go find him.
When the movie ended, Pei Shuyi’s eyes were slightly red, and she remained seated without moving.
This film wasn’t particularly popular, so there weren’t many viewers. Within a few minutes, almost everyone had left.
Jiang Congli didn’t rush her.
What she didn’t know was that he had barely watched the movie.
He had been messaging Han Cheng the whole time. With her staying alone in the mountains, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
Heater, humidifier, the brand of tissues she usually used, the water she was accustomed to drinking… The list grew longer and longer. The more he thought about it, the more he felt he needed to prepare everything, afraid she might run short of anything.
By the time Pei Shuyi turned to look at him, he had already put his phone away.
“Feeling better?” He gently touched her cheek.
“I’m fine, it’s just a bit touching,” Pei Shuyi replied, her voice muffled.
Jiang Congli took a tissue and wiped the corner of her eye, then took her hand and led her out of the cinema.
As they stepped out of the mall, Jiang Congli suddenly stopped and looked up at the sky.
Pei Shuyi followed his gaze—
It was snowing.
Tiny snowflakes drifted down from the gray sky, falling into the glow of the streetlights.
Pei Shuyi reached out her hand, and a snowflake landed in her palm, melting before she could even get a clear look.
She reached out again, and it melted once more.
“It’s snowing!” Her voice carried a rare joy.
Jiang Congli watched her as she looked up at the snow.
The streetlight’s glow fell on her face, illuminating her eyes and brows brightly.
A snowflake clung to her long eyelashes, not yet melted, like a tiny star resting on her lashes.
Pei Shuyi hadn’t seen snow in a long time.
Boston had snow too, but back then, she was confined to a hospital bed and couldn’t see it.
Before that, she was abroad, and the snow there was different from Beijing’s.
The snow in Beijing was more beautiful.
For once, Jiang Congli didn’t rush her to leave.
She watched the snow for as long as she wanted, and he stood there the entire time, his gaze never leaving her.
“Shu Yi.”
“Hmm.”
“Let’s not go back tonight.”
Pei Shuyi turned to look at him.
Snowflakes drifted between them.
“I have an apartment here, a large flat with floor-to-ceiling windows…”
“We can watch the snow from inside.”