Prologue

Chapter 1: Reunion

As the end of the year approached, fine snow fell gently, and people hurrying home were all stuck halfway.

In the car, a trembling folk song played on repeat. No one spoke; the atmosphere was a bit awkward.

William Carter rested one hand on the steering wheel and glanced ahead, only to see the line of car rears stretching to the horizon, brake lights flickering on and off, with no telling when they’d break free from the jam. He glanced sideways; in the passenger seat, Mr. Brian Cooper was propping his head with one hand, lost in thought. After so many years apart, Brian Cooper showed no intention of acknowledging him.

William Carter sighed inwardly, then, with impressive driving skills, used a small gap by the roadside to turn the car around and darted into a nearby alley.

Brian Cooper was finally startled, turning his head to glance at him.

William Carter, watching him from the corner of his eye, immediately said, “Taking the side road might be a bit faster, I thought…”

Brian Cooper cut in with a cold laugh, “Eager to get rid of me as soon as possible?”

William Carter: “…And pick up some flowers on the way.”

The two of them spoke almost simultaneously, then both fell silent. William Carter frowned, as if about to lose his temper, but held it back.

“Still the same as ever, why get mad at him?” William Carter thought, focusing on navigating the messy little alley.

The northwestern wind and barking dogs echoed each other, the folk singer’s voice weak and about to give out.

William Carter parked in front of a flower shop called “Grandpa’s,” pulled out his phone, and dialed a number: “Hey, it’s me. I’m outside your shop, bring me a few pots of kumquats, orchids, whatever—you know, for the holidays.”

A loud voice boomed through the receiver, filling the cramped car with an overbearing presence: “Little William, you’re still in the mood to buy flowers! I read the stars last night and did a fortune for you—you’re in for big trouble!”

William Carter: “...”

The shop’s street-facing window opened in response, and a trendy young man with a small mustache poked his head out. The brainless shop owner put down his phone, took a deep breath, and shouted even louder: “Brian Cooper is back, did you hear?”

William Carter wished his arm could stretch two meters longer to slap this guy back into the window frame.

The passenger side window facing the shop slowly rolled down, and Brian Cooper showed his face: “I heard.”

The shop owner’s expression looked like a strangled chicken.

Then, the now-silent shop owner and the stone-faced Brian Cooper helped William Carter move a few pots of flowers into the trunk. As they were leaving, the shop owner scratched his head for a long time before cautiously pulling William Carter aside: “So, uh, our class is having a reunion next week. Are you going?”

Right now, William Carter just wanted to get away from these awkward people. He lifted his eyelids and replied absentmindedly, “We’ll see.”

Shop owner: “Come on, you haven’t shown up in years.”

William Carter got annoyed just looking at him, didn’t answer, waved his hand, and drove off.

Half an hour later, William Carter finally dropped Brian Cooper off at his hotel. Brian Cooper got out without a word and stood quietly by the side, watching him.

William Carter secretly breathed a sigh of relief: “Alright then, get some rest. I’ll be off.”

Brian Cooper nodded, then reached into his coat pocket, only to find his cigarette pack empty. He instinctively called out, “Hey…”

William Carter stopped the car, which had already rolled half a meter: “Yeah?”

Brian Cooper swallowed the words “Do you have a cigarette?” because he remembered William Carter didn’t smoke.

William Carter didn’t smoke, only drank when necessary for social occasions, never got himself into trouble he couldn’t handle, and even as a kid, knew when to hold back in a fight—he’d always seemed unreliable, but in reality, he was steady and never crossed the line.

William Carter: “Anything else?”

Brian Cooper lowered his eyes slightly: “You never go to the reunions. Is it because you don’t want to see me?”

William Carter: “...”

Brian Cooper, this blockhead, probably would never learn how to leave room for himself or others.

William Carter replied stiffly, “I was too busy the past few years, couldn’t make it.”

“Not busy this year, right?” Brian Cooper stared at him. “I’m going too. Are you coming?”

As Brian Cooper spoke, a thin mist of white breath rose from his lips. Standing there in winter, he looked like a black-and-white sketch missing red and green—good-looking, yes, but his gaze was sharp as a blade, his tongue even sharper, a beautiful yet deadly human weapon. William Carter almost felt stabbed in the eyes and could only reply vaguely, “Can’t say yet, depends if something else comes up.”

Brian Cooper said nothing more, silently standing there, watching as William Carter politely said goodbye and left again.

“Will you look back at me, just once?” he thought silently. “If you look back at me, I’d climb to the rooftop and jump right now.”

But no one can read minds. William Carter rolled up the window and drove off cleanly.

Brian Cooper didn’t jump off any building that night.

The awful car folk song kept looping endlessly as William Carter drove through the encroaching dusk, his vision blurring—it seemed to be getting foggy.

This was the thirteenth year he’d known Brian Cooper. They’d had good times and bad, dreamed of forever, and also wished to never see each other again.