Chapter 37: “Snowy Day Felt Hat” Part 2

Instead, after reading the very last line of the film, she gazed at Fu Tingli’s face.

—Those hazel-tinged eyes were now closed, no longer fixing her with that frank, youthful gaze amid the ups and downs of the world.

It let her examine the face closely.

She studied the skin that time had worn to a pale dullness, the full, three-dimensional lines of bone beneath, the hair forced pure black by her environment.

All the luster and confidence that had once shone on this face seemed to have faded by more than half in this one winter.

But was it completely gone?

No. It was still there, as soon as she opened her eyes. Like a resilient sprout of grass, ready to regrow at the first breath of spring wind.

Sometimes, Kong Liyuan thought she wanted to lock this person away, so that the endless vitality in her eyes would never suffer under any harsh conditions—existing only for her, forever.

Other times, she calmly recognized how wicked that impulse was. It would hurt her.

So she could give her nothing.

Kong Liyuan let out the softest sigh. When she finally looked away, the phone propped against the pillow had fallen onto the quilt.

She gently laid Fu Tingli’s head on the pillow and reached for it, only to see a “low battery” alert on the screen.

The image had frozen on the film’s final dedication line:

This film is dedicated to the greatest and most wicked love in this world.

She dimly realized she still hadn’t answered Fu Tingli’s question from before she fell asleep.

She hesitated a little.

Then, Fu Tingli—now asleep on the pillow—unconsciously nuzzled against it.

Her soft hair slipped once more through Kong Liyuan’s fingers.

Leaning against the headboard, she gazed down at Fu Tingli’s sleeping face. As always, she gently stroked her hair, then answered,

“Li Yi before. Ayang now.”

~~~

Fu Tingli didn’t feel cold at all that entire night.

The next morning when she woke, she fumbled groggily for her phone and saw a location notification: north latitude 48 degrees and 3 minutes.

But she hadn’t been woken by the cold.

Unlike in her cheap, damp, freezing rental in Shanghai, where her feet would turn to ice and she’d wake up curled into a ball.

She dozed awake slowly in the warm quilt, her body toasty, but the spot beside her was empty.

Had Kong Liyuan gotten up this early?

Fu Tingli lingered in the warm bed for a good while before dragging herself up. She pulled on a thick hoodie, then layered a heavy coat over it.

She clambered out of bed and saw that the coat she’d dug out yesterday for Kong Liyuan was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief—good, at least she’d worn it.

Fresh out of bed, her nose was a bit stuffy. She sniffed, then noticed the toiletries they’d bought yesterday had been unwrapped and used.

She looked away and rummaged in her suitcase for her own. The suitcase, neatly packed before departure, was now a mess from her rummaging yesterday and today. The well-wrapped white model sculpture had come open.

It was obvious—a rough shape that faintly resembled a bird in flight.

Had Kong Liyuan seen it?

At the thought, Fu Tingli’s heart skipped a beat. She hastily resealed the white model sculpture, shoved it to the bottom of the suitcase, and piled thick clothes on top.

Only then did she relax enough to go wash up.

After tidying herself and dressing properly, she planned to head out and find Kong Liyuan. Without a phone or any way to contact anyone, she couldn’t have gone far.

But as soon as she stepped out the door, she ran into Apa, the lady of the house.

Apa wore a thick padded robe with an intricately embroidered heavy vest underneath. She handed Fu Tingli a steaming bowl of freshly made milk tea.

Grinning, she asked in halting bits of Chinese if Fu Tingli had slept well, if the night had been cold.

Fu Tingli smiled back. Under Apa’s watchful eye, she took a sip of the scalding milk tea. It was made with fresh milk and strong brick tea.

The flavors blended richly in her mouth and spread warmly down her throat into every crevice of her body.

Fu Tingli’s eyes crinkled in a grin.

Remembering the Kazakh Qiao Lipan had taught her, she replied in her own clumsy phrases that she loved it, that it felt so good going down.

Apa’s eyes lit up, and she peered at Fu Tingli a moment longer. Fu Tingli let her look openly.

“Kazakh girl?” Apa asked.

“My mom is,” Fu Tingli said, sticking to the Kazakh she remembered, however poorly. “But I’m not very good at it. Just a little bit.”

She pinched her fingers to show “a little bit,” making Apa chuckle. Then Apa ruffled her hair with a callused hand and pointed outside.

“Your friend is out there.”

Fu Tingli followed Apa’s gesture.

The snow outside had stopped. The wide road in the middle seemed cleared, shoveled of its deep layer of snow, though thick, soft white drifts still piled the sides like fine cream.

Warm, pale golden sunlight bathed the snow, like a layer of gold gauze poured over it, and the wind set that gauze rippling gently.

Her gaze drifted with the wind, along the golden shimmer, until it focused on a hazy figure.

The woman wore a down coat reaching her knees, her head and face shrouded in a thick hood.

One hand held something; the other lit a cigarette, its spark tiny in the vast world.

No one else was out yet. Kong Liyuan wasn’t wearing a face mask, her refined, soulful face fully exposed.

She kept her head slightly lowered, stepping leisurely through the snow with a soft crunch that seemed to blend into the milk tea in Fu Tingli’s hands.

She took a quiet sip and asked Apa, “Did my friend have some milk tea?”

Apa smiled and said yes.

Fu Tingli smiled too, then caught Apa’s arm as she turned to go. Was there anything around here to pass the time?

Apa thought for a moment before saying they could head over to the cable car area, but the facilities there hadn’t been operational for ages. She wasn’t sure if they’d open in the next few days.

If they were still up for it, they could hike a bit farther to catch the sunrise and sunset.

Fu Tingli thanked Apa with a smile, downed her milk tea in one go, and stepped outside.

Kong Liyuan watched her every step of the way. Only when Fu Tingli finally ambled over to her side did she exhale a puff of white mist and suddenly ask, “Do you speak the local language?”

“Huh? What?” Fu Tingli’s train of thought broke off as a wisp of extremely faint smoke drifted right in front of her face. She realized this cigarette was even milder than the Red Wine Burst-Bead Cigarettes from before.

But Kong Liyuan kept smoking it anyway.

The milk tea she’d just chugged was still warm inside her. Fu Tingli relaxed against the cleared snow bank, tilted her head back to gaze at the sky, and then said, “A little. My mom always wanted to teach me when I was a kid, but without the immersion, I never got good at it. Just a handful of words, really.”

Kong Liyuan seemed genuinely intrigued by this. She asked about the meanings of a few of the words Fu Tingli had just mentioned.

Still groggy from waking up, Fu Tingli gave short answers. “Friend. Mom. Milk tea.”

Kong Liyuan nodded, as if committing them to memory. Then, amid the swirling white mist, she smiled faintly and asked, “No full sentences?”

Fu Tingli shoved her hands in her pockets and crunched a few steps through the snow Kong Liyuan had already packed down. “Actually, there’s one sentence I do know.”

“What’s that?”

Something about the question made Fu Tingli’s eyes crinkle into a grin. She peered up at Kong Liyuan with visible effort and rattled off a string of garbled syllables.

“What?” Kong Liyuan hadn’t understood a word.

Patiently, Fu Tingli repeated it, her hazel-tinged eyes sparkling with laughter as she watched Kong Liyuan.

There was a hint of schadenfreude in that smile, but also something utterly carefree.

“You’re not going to tell me what it means?”

Kong Liyuan thought Fu Tingli looked so full of life right then—vibrant enough that she might sprout wings like Little Bird, circle overhead, and fly off any second.

Fu Tingli dropped the teasing and let out a soft sigh, her expression turning faintly wistful. “I’ll tell you once you learn it.”

Kong Liyuan mimicked the phrase. She could tell Fu Tingli was in high spirits that morning.

Fu Tingli shook her head. “Nope, like this. Listen…”

She taught it earnestly, breaking down each sound, repeating them several times.

Kong Liyuan followed along with every pronunciation, but stumbled when putting it all together.

After several back-and-forths, once it finally flowed a bit more smoothly, Fu Tingli grinned in satisfaction. “Teacher Kong picks it up quick. Room for improvement, though. I’ll tell you next time.”

Kong Liyuan stared at her for a long moment, then let out a soft, measured chuckle.

She exhaled another slow plume of white smoke.

Mimicking Fu Tingli’s posture, she leaned back alongside her against the thick snow bank.

“You’re in a pretty good mood today,” she remarked.

“Slept like a rock,” Fu Tingli replied, squinting lazily. “Whenever I sleep well, I wake up happy.”

“No more soreness?” Kong Liyuan asked with a smile.

“Nope.” Fu Tingli stretched languidly.

Kong Liyuan watched her. Beneath the outer coat, Fu Tingli wore a hoodie.

Now, lying back slightly against the snow bank, Kong Liyuan could see the blue vest layered over the hoodie—plush material embroidered with a flock of little birds.

She looks just like Little Bird herself, Kong Liyuan thought.

Fu Tingli yawned and glanced at the item dangling from Kong Liyuan’s left hand.

It was a felt hat, plush and cozy-looking, embroidered with a few birds in exuberant flight.

“What’s that?” Fu Tingli asked.

“A felt hat,” Kong Liyuan replied. Meeting Fu Tingli’s startled gaze, she arched a brow for no particular reason.

“You trade something for it again?” Fu Tingli asked warily. She couldn’t fathom why this woman was so fond of bartering.

Didn’t she care about her own stuff at all?

“Just something unimportant.”

Kong Liyuan casually straightened the hat’s warm fleece as she answered offhandedly.

Fu Tingli opened her mouth, then closed it without a word. The felt hat did look toasty—better than the cold one Kong Liyuan had worn the day before. Plus, it had earflaps that could cover more of her face.

With that in mind, Fu Tingli nodded, then instinctively scanned Kong Liyuan for any signs of missing items.

“Not the lighter again, right?” she asked suspiciously.

Kong Liyuan glanced up at her and chuckled. “Didn’t you buy me that lighter?”

“Right.” Fu Tingli nodded. “Not worth much anyway.”

Then she noticed the cigarette smoldering in Kong Liyuan’s hand, the ember creeping toward the woman’s pale fingers.

She’d been surprised that morning to see Kong Liyuan smoking, especially since she’d worried about the brand.

“I didn’t think you’d smoke this brand,” she said.

Kong Liyuan was still fussing with the felt hat, determined to get every bit of it just right. Without looking up, she asked casually, “Why didn’t you think of that when you bought it?”

“Didn’t cross my mind then. But now… if you didn’t smoke it…”

Fu Tingli truly hadn’t considered it at the time. In hindsight, if Kong Liyuan didn’t like the brand, what would she have done?

Tossing it would be a waste, and she couldn’t smoke them herself. Besides, it was clearly a women’s cigarette.

After a pause, she started, “Then I’d probably ask Mu—”

She cut herself off at “Mu.”

Because she’d just caught the indifferent smile on Kong Liyuan’s face. The next second, Kong Liyuan plopped the felt hat over Fu Tingli’s face and said coolly, “Then you’d better not.”