Chapter 69

Ye Chengxing heard Li Jia’s answer and responded with another laugh.

She hadn’t calculated the exact timing of New Year yet, only roughly gauged it from the dates earlier.

New Year held a special significance for her, different from anything else. Though in this world, on this date, it might not mean much to Li Jia, she had brought it up partly in hopes of making the day memorable for them both.

She didn’t know precisely when her body would fully weaken, but she knew it wouldn’t last until next spring—let alone something like Li Jia’s birthday.

Though she had prepared those birthday gifts and messages for the coming years out of that earlier misunderstanding about leaving, in this moment she sincerely felt the mix-up had served a purpose. At least, once she was truly gone, something would remain behind.

Those arrangements she’d made in anticipation of departure had unexpectedly turned into preparations for her affairs after death.

Ye Chengxing glanced at the two snowmen she and Li Jia had built side by side.

She had only just realized, a moment too late, that she’d been so absorbed in other things that she’d slightly overlooked Li Jia’s feelings while they were together. But…

This snowy day, with New Year drawing near, stirred a sudden wave of nostalgia in her. Unbidden memories of the past flooded her mind, and she wondered if those she held dear were still safe and well.

But life always brought moments of difficult choice. The best path was to follow one’s heart and press on openly.

Ye Chengxing tucked those emotions away, withdrawing her hand. Even though Li Jia had said she wasn’t bored, she might just be too considerate to admit she wanted to go back because of Ye Chengxing. So Ye Chengxing took the initiative, giving her an easy out. “Want to head back and watch a movie?”

Li Jia met her gaze, pausing for a beat before letting her eyes drift back to the two snowmen.

Truth be told, calling them two snowmen was a stretch. One was more like a proper snowman, while the other was just two lumpy snowballs awkwardly jammed together into something bizarre.

Side by side like that, the contrast was even starker. One was round and plump from top to bottom, with a nose and eyes, utterly endearing in its chubby charm. The other? You wouldn’t even guess it was meant to be a snowman.

“Building snowmen is fun,” Li Jia said, “it’s just… mine doesn’t look very good.”

As if to prove her point, no sooner had the words left her mouth than the head of her snowman toppled off on its own.

Li Jia: “…”

Ye Chengxing couldn’t hold back her smile at the sight. She picked up the thread seamlessly. “Xiao Li’s snowman has so much personality—quite the little rascal.”

She slipped her gloves back on and beckoned Li Jia to squat down beside her.

“Snowballs come together bit by bit like this—see, now it’s nice and round.” She knelt next to her, eyes crinkling with a gentle smile, guiding her hands as they packed the snow together. “The head and body need to be secured in the middle. Just plopping it on top might make it fall off, though there’s a good chance it will anyway.”

“And with proper fixing, the line between head and body stands out more. Otherwise, it just looks like one big connected blob.”

Her voice was warm and patient as she spoke, and soon two neat snowballs took shape.

Li Jia followed her instructions, fastening the head securely to the body.

Ye Chengxing was quick to praise. “That shape is perfect—Xiao Li, you’re amazing.”

With that, she picked up a small carrot from the side and handed it to her with a beaming smile. “Now, let’s give the little snowman its nose.”

Li Jia took the carrot and carefully set it in place, her movements uncharacteristically gentle, as if afraid she’d poke right through the snowman with too much force.

Ye Chengxing watched her, a quiet smile playing on her lips.

In moments like this, Li Jia seemed to carry a spark of genuine youthful vitality, like a real girl full of life.

Ye Chengxing watched, on the verge of handing over the buttons next, when she realized the spot where they’d left them was empty.

She lowered her gaze and searched.

But they were gone.

Nowhere to be found.

Ye Chengxing paused. “Xiao Li, let’s go back and grab some new buttons. The ones we left here are missing.”

Li Jia had just finished setting the carrot nose when she nodded in agreement.

Seeing how absorbed Li Jia was, Ye Chengxing would have gone to fetch them herself if not for the chain connecting them.

But she couldn’t, of course. The pale golden chain ensured they couldn’t stray too far from each other.

They made their way back inside the villa.

Li Jia walked beside her and suddenly spoke up. “Would black beads work better as eyes?”

Ye Chengxing laughed at the suggestion. “Then let’s grab those.”

They picked up a few black beads, but after a moment’s thought, Li Jia opted for the buttons instead.

Not just buttons—they also grabbed scarves and hats.

“It just… feels like they’ll look better with these.”

Li Jia glanced away as she spoke, her tone carrying a rare hint of awkwardness.

Ye Chengxing’s lips curved in a smile. It was rare to see this childlike side of her. She could easily picture Li Jia’s inner debate while picking out the items, so she matched her enthusiasm. “I think so too—they’ll look great. Let’s hurry back and dress up those two snowmen.”

They returned to the back garden.

It had to be said: with their new “accessories,” the snowmen were transformed, instantly adorable.

Plump white bodies topped with fuzzy hats, red scarves wrapped around their necks, and those black obsidian beads serving as eyes, with a few more embedded as buttons on their “clothes.”

The two snowmen stood close together, almost shoulder to shoulder.

A powerful sense of reluctance suddenly welled up in Ye Chengxing—a sharp certainty that she’d never see this scene again.

She turned to Li Jia. “Xiao Li, how about we take a photo with these two snowmen? What do you think?”

Even as the words left her mouth, Ye Chengxing paused in surprise. She realized they had never taken a proper photo together.

Li Jia’s easy, cheerful expression faltered at the suggestion, replaced by a faint look of evasion. “A photo… maybe in a bit.”

She planned to let her go home soon, so they could take some proper pictures right before then. If they did it now, it would remind her that Ye Chengxing would be leaving in a short while.

She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to hold herself back from stopping her.

So… better to wait a little longer.

There was still time, after all.

Ye Chengxing wasn’t surprised by the response.

Ever since their relationship had truly changed—ever since Li Jia had refused to let her leave—she hadn’t seen her phone. Everything here was perfectly prepared, and Ye Chengxing had no strong attachment to it anyway. She’d handled what needed handling, so she let Li Jia have her way.

If anything, she figured Li Jia must have plenty of her own matters to attend to. Yet for this stretch of time, Li Jia had stayed completely by her side, as if determined to live here with her.

But in a little while…

Would she even get the chance?

Ye Chengxing studied Li Jia’s expression. She wanted to say they could use a regular camera if she was worried about giving her the phone, but she noticed something off with the Omega—her face had gone pale.

She didn’t know what Li Jia was thinking, but if it was this difficult for her, Ye Chengxing wouldn’t push. “No problem—we’ll do it when you’re ready.”

She glanced at the two snowmen again, a touch of regret in her heart.

But she didn’t let that regret show too much. Her eyes curved in a casual smile, as if it had only been a passing suggestion. “Let’s head back inside then. It’s pretty cold out here. How about some hot milk tea?”

As she spoke, she reached for Li Jia’s hand—but the moment she moved, dizziness washed over her. Her vision blurred, and her body swayed unsteadily.

Li Jia was right there, catching her instantly before she could fall.

Ye Chengxing could hear Li Jia saying something.

She steadied herself, ears ringing faintly. She tried to respond but couldn’t make out the words, though she didn’t need to guess—they were surely born of worry.

Shaking off the sudden discomfort, Ye Chengxing wanted to pat Li Jia and reassure her she was fine. But her body wasn’t quite cooperating, her arm heavy to lift. Instead, she turned her head and pressed a soft kiss to Li Jia’s cheek.

“I’m okay,” Ye Chengxing said, slowing her words to sound light and casual. “Must be the aftereffects of squatting too long.”

She met Li Jia’s dark eyes and let out a soft laugh, blinking playfully. “Actually, it was just a little joke to see how you’d react.”

In those few sentences, the sensation had fully faded. Ye Chengxing moved to stand from Li Jia’s arms.

But Li Jia held her even tighter, pausing before murmuring a very soft acknowledgment.

Ye Chengxing breathed in the sweet white peach scent wafting from her.

Though they both knew her weakness would only grow, in this moment she realized how much heavier the shadow of death loomed than she’d imagined.

Their time together was already so short. If it was overshadowed by gloom… better to keep things light, savor the joy of these final days. Unless she truly couldn’t get up anymore—then they could face it.

With that thought, seeing Li Jia still wasn’t letting go, Ye Chengxing nuzzled against her teasingly. “I know you like hugging me, but let’s do it back in the room. It’s freezing out here.”

Li Jia finally loosened her hold at that. “Then we’ll hug in the room.”

Ye Chengxing had only meant to get them inside. She hadn’t expected that after setting down their coats, gloves, and scarves, they’d barely step into the room before Li Jia pounced, sending them tumbling onto the bed together in an embrace.

Ye Chengxing propped herself up a little, drawing out her words in a playful lilt. “Xiao Li~”

Li Jia lifted her eyes from Ye Chengxing’s embrace, her Omega hands still around her waist. Hearing the call, she rubbed her hair against Ye Chengxing’s skin. “…Want a kiss.”

The brush of hair against skin brought a tingling itch.

Ye Chengxing tilted her head, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, then trailing slowly downward until their soft lips met.

The room fell so quiet that only the sounds of their kissing and the faint rustle of fabric remained.

When they parted, Ye Chengxing met Li Jia’s gaze and leaned in to kiss her eyes as well.

Then she heard Li Jia murmur lowly, “Sister, don’t make jokes like that anymore.”

Ye Chengxing realized she was referring to what had happened in the back garden earlier.

She smiled and ruffled Li Jia’s hair. “Alright, I promise. No more jokes like that from now on.”

After all, it hadn’t truly been a joke to begin with—she had simply wanted to keep the atmosphere from growing too heavy in that moment.

But bringing the matter up again, Ye Chengxing paused for a couple of seconds before continuing. “Still, supposing the day really comes when I die, you…”

She hesitated, uncertain how to put the rest into words.

Yet in her heart, she harbored an inexplicable intuition: a gut feeling that if she truly died, Li Jia would follow her into death the very next instant.

The arm wrapped around her waist tightened as those unfinished words trailed off.

After a long silence, Ye Chengxing heard Li Jia’s voice, hoarse and raw, as she replied, “I couldn’t go on living without you. I’d die right alongside you.”

Though Ye Chengxing had dimly sensed something of the sort deep down, hearing Li Jia put her thoughts into words still drew a complicated sigh from her lips.

Alpha’s voice came soft as a murmur.

“It might sound cruel to say it, but I’ve always hoped you’d live on well…”