“You don’t have to say anything, I believe you.”

I’ve always believed in you. You’re the best girl in the world.

“Do you remember when we were kids, racing tricycles together in the courtyard of the residential compound? You were always the one to gather everyone.”

Charlotte Lee smiled, her nose still red.

“Of course I remember. But I was a girl, so I was always slower, but I refused to admit defeat. Every time I shouted ‘Ready, go,’ I’d immediately be left behind by all of you.”

“Yeah, and then you’d shamelessly swing your tricycle into the middle of the road and shout at the top of your lungs, ‘This is so boring, you’re all so childish!’”

Charles Johnson pinched his nose and mimicked Charlotte Lee’s sharp childhood voice, earning a punch on the forehead from her.

“Andrew Lane would always jump up and scold me for cheating, and everyone else said I was cheating too. Only you stood by my side.”

“Yeah,” Charles Johnson gave a wry smile, “I was the only shameless one…”

They sat side by side on the rooftop of the elementary school attached to the teachers’ college. The playground that once seemed so big now looked like a shabby children’s amusement park.

In the distance, the winter sun slowly sank into the forest of steel and concrete, shrouded in mist.

“My mom and dad… I guess you know too.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s probably going to be tough for a while, but I’m not afraid anymore.”

“I know.”

“Call it running away or being a coward, whatever. Anyway, for the next half year, I don’t want to go to school anymore.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t want to explain or clarify the cheating thing either.”

“Mm.”

“I’ll get a good score on the college entrance exam and show them.”

“You definitely will.”

Charlotte Lee turned her face: “Charles Johnson, are you for real or not?”

He didn’t ask what she meant, just smiled: “For real.”

For real, even when she twisted his arm and shouted, “Charles Johnson你大爷的!”

He was a knight without a steed or a lance, traveling a long way after a willful princess.

It didn’t matter if the princess had long hair or short, liked apples or slept forever.

Nor did it matter which frog or king would take her away in the future, to “live happily ever after.”

The future was too unpredictable. Charles Johnson was not Andrew Lane; he never looked ahead with grand ambition.

As long as, right now, they were still together, together for every today.

Then, tomorrow, they wouldn’t be too far apart.

After all these years, after so many cities, all he ever wanted was to find someone to whom he’d willingly give a bottle of blue water.

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Alan Carter Side Story: Blue Water

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While sitting in the restaurant waiting, his girlfriend texted him to break up.

She was perfect in every way—gentle, poised, beautiful, and elegant. They got along well, had similar temperaments, and had even discussed buying a house together.

But somehow, things fell apart yesterday.

He remembered it happened when they were talking about the house. His girlfriend suddenly became shy. Alan Carter knew her family wasn’t well-off; her parents were ill and barely managed a small business. She had worked hard on her own, and her family still carried a heavy burden.

Just as he was about to comfort her and tell her not to worry, her pride flared up.

“I might not have much money right now, and my parents’ business needs cash flow. I don’t want to owe you anything. Put your own name on the house, I won’t take a cent.”

That stubborn face was admirable, but Alan Carter suddenly lost all interest.

Alan Carter Side Story: Maybe it was because she still drew a clear line between them.

Maybe it was because she still clung to vanity and prideful lies in front of him.

Maybe it was for no reason at all.

Maybe it was just because she said, “I’m not like you. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon. Looks like we’re just not the same kind of people.”

He shrugged, noncommittal.

Two years of relationship ended in this uneventful December. Alan Carter didn’t feel much regret. Or rather, he regretted that he didn’t feel regret.

Soon his phone vibrated again.

This time it was Zoe Young.

“I’m at the door, where are you?”

Two days ago, Zoe Young came to Shanghai for the first time to attend a five-school student forum. They hadn’t been in touch for a while, so Alan Carter suggested dinner and a trip to Jinmao Tower to see the night view.

Shanghai, more beautiful the later it gets.

Outside the window, Shanghai’s night was dazzling, as if starlight had been scattered all over the ground. The car lights formed a warm, brilliant river, carrying the city’s lifeblood in a slow surge.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked mischievously, winking.

“Yes,” Zoe Young answered frankly, “He came with me. But since he doesn’t know you, I thought it’d be awkward, so I didn’t bring him along.”

“Where have you been?”

“The schedule’s tight, not much free time. Every outing is self-arranged, squeezing onto the subway early in the morning—I’m almost squished into a memorial photo.”

Alan Carter couldn’t help but laugh.

“But Andrew Lane especially likes taking the subway. He says it’s warm and lively.”

Alan Carter knew this Andrew Lane must be Zoe Young’s boyfriend. He studied the girl across from him, pretending to be angry, and smiled: “He probably just wants to squeeze in next to you, right?”

Zoe Young was stunned: “Why are you getting creepier as you get older?”

Alan Carter turned away, face a little green: “…That’s normal.”

For some reason, after the joke, both of them fell silent, after such a lively exchange. Their silent postures were strikingly similar, as if stamped with the same watermark.

“I’ve always wondered why you wanted to come to Shanghai. It doesn’t seem like much now, but back then, it felt so far away to me.”

Alan Carter reached out, spreading his fingers, pressing his palm gently against the glass.

“Maybe because it doesn’t snow here.”

Strangely enough, not long after he said that, under the beautiful orange spotlights, fine snowflakes began to drift down.

Alan Carter was stunned. He remembered, on the way here, hands in his pockets, looking up at the sky. Just like his hometown, it was a heavy gray ceiling, but no matter what, Shanghai’s chill never seemed enough to bring snow.

And now, it just started snowing.

He smiled awkwardly, turning to see Zoe Young’s focused gaze.

“Alan Carter, do you remember how, every time it snowed heavily, we’d be a mess carrying our instruments to rehearsal?”

He didn’t answer, but memories surged like clouds.

Even now, Alan Carter still sometimes dreams of that snowy day at home. His grandfather carrying the violin, holding his hand tightly, braving the December wind of the northern city, trembling as they crossed the little road covered in thick ice.

The dream always stopped there, the road so wide it felt like he’d never cross it in a lifetime.

That year, Alan Carter was in fourth grade, preparing for the national winter camp competition for young violinists. The teacher told his father that violin lessons would increase from once to twice a week. He used to visit his grandparents every Saturday at noon, but now the extra lessons took up that time. His father took the opportunity to tell Alan Carter, “When the competition’s over and you have time, then go visit your grandparents.”

Back then, Alan Carter looked up and stared seriously at his father, whose face resembled his own by seventy percent, but was expressionless. He moved his lips, knowing full well that any protest would be brushed aside by the man in front of him with a flawless excuse.

So he said nothing, just lowered his head and said, “Okay.”

The man reached out and gently ruffled his hair. Alan Carter turned his head away but couldn’t dodge, and that act of avoidance made the hand on his head drop, grabbing the glass vase on the table and smashing it hard into the corner.

The crisp sound, along with his grandparents’ cries of alarm, brought everyone rushing out from their rooms to see what had happened. The sound of slippers scraping the floor came from all directions toward the living room. Alan Carter’s father’s face was calm, with no trace of the earlier anger. He just bent down and whispered very softly in Alan Carter’s ear, “If you didn’t look like me, I definitely…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. But the meaning behind those broken words was clear, and Alan Carter’s heart slowly sank.