What I Expect Isn’t Snow, but a winter with you.
The violin rendition of “What I Expect Isn’t Snow.”
In this moment, Ji Zhenshi’s music intertwined with the swirling snowflakes, creating an unforgettable finale in the snowy expanse.
Ji Zhenshi had come prepared, which was why she seemed so composed.
The violin came alive in her hands, as if it had grown flesh and blood. It pierced through eardrums and lodged deep in the listeners’ hearts.
In her grasp, the violin gained a soul, drawing forth the most exquisite music of the human realm.
She slowly raised her gaze and locked eyes with the young lead singer.
For a fleeting instant, they paused. Then, in perfect unspoken accord, they reached a consensus without a word.
The next second, Ji Zhenshi swept into the climax. Vocals joined in, and they soared together.
What I expect is to forever lean close against your shoulder. What I expect is simply to be by your side.
The light, ethereal vocals blended seamlessly with the enchanting melody. Though they were strangers who had only just crossed paths, the music sparked a resonance of souls, a vibration in perfect harmony.
They hadn’t rehearsed, yet their synergy was flawless.
Perhaps it was the electric atmosphere reaching its peak. This serendipitous encounter on the bridge became a legendary performance—one unbound by technique or age, driven solely by the profound shock of a melody fusing with the snowscape.
“Care for an encore? The crowd’s energy feels too alive to end it so abruptly. For us performers, their enthusiasm is the best feedback, don’t you think?”
As the piece ended, Ji Zhenshi moved to set the violin aside. But the lead singer beside her suddenly spoke up with an invitation.
Having collaborated, the young woman’s gaze had shifted. No longer did she look at Ji Zhenshi with curiosity at some oddity; now her eyes brimmed with eager anticipation.
It stemmed from their rare chemistry, and from how the violin seemed to infuse the live vibe with fresh magic.
So the lead singer took the initiative, negotiating earnestly. “I’m not all that professional, so I can’t judge your skill. But we clicked so perfectly by chance. If you’re up for it, take your money back—let me treat you to join us for one more song?”
After all, without any rehearsal, syncing via a single glance bespoke Ji Zhenshi’s masterful stage presence and adaptability.
In short, it was fate. She didn’t want to let Ji Zhenshi slip away.
Ji Zhenshi hesitated for a moment, instinctively glancing toward Li Yunli in the crowd. She gave an abashed smile. “I’d have to check with my girlfriend first. Sorry about that.”
The earlier jam had been spontaneous. Now came a formal invite to collab with a pretty peer—and Ji Zhenshi still smarted from the jealousy she’d stirred during their ski trip.
She couldn’t risk making her wife-to-be jealous again, or she’d end up on the sofa for sure.
Ji Zhenshi refused to sleep on the sofa. Not being able to hold her beloved was worse than death.
“What? Girlfriend?” The lead singer echoed in surprise, momentarily questioning her own ears.
“Of course.” Ji Zhenshi replied crisply, arching a brow. Amid all the watching eyes, she strode into the crowd and draped an arm around Li Yunli’s shoulders—the one who had been quietly watching her all along.
Ji Zhenshi beamed like she was unveiling a priceless treasure. “Truth is, I played that for her. It was my New Year’s gift. Plus, my girlfriend’s the jealous type, so I need her say-so.”
Girlfriend’s the jealous type…
Ji Zhenshi glanced down to meet Li Yunli’s eyes. “Right, Sister A-Yun?”
They both recalled that skiing episode at once.
It had only happened once—where did “jealous type” come from?
Li Yunli narrowed her eyes. Introduced so boldly before the crowd, she couldn’t embarrass Ji Zhenshi, so she forced a cooperative smile.
Naughty Xiao Zhen, spreading that about her.
As they stepped forward together, the onlookers—who loved a good show—erupted in excitement, arms linked as they chanted and egged them on.
Free talent show plus CP fodder? It lit a fire under everyone.
Someone in the throng, ever the instigator, shouted, “So romantic—give us a kiss! Give us a kiss!”
Crowds always thrived on this spectacle. Nothing much was happening, yet the hype was electric.
A flush crept across Li Yunli’s cheeks. She hadn’t expected Ji Zhenshi to embrace her so freely in public, nor the crowd to cheer like this. Her gaze darted away, avoiding eye contact.
“Kiss! Kiss!”
“She played violin to confess—kiss! Kiss!”
“Yeah, yeah! Perfect vibe, New Year’s Eve—kiss!”
Even the band joined the chant, clapping and whooping.
Who could’ve foreseen the plot twisting this way?
Li Yunli had been filming Ji Zhenshi. Now, caught in the uproar, her heart pounded uncontrollably.
Encircled in Ji Zhenshi’s arms, she felt warm breath grazing her temple, stirring stray hairs and sending tingles straight to her core.
Heart-palpitating, indeed.
A public kiss?
“Is it okay, Sister A-Yun? A quick kiss shouldn’t hurt, right? If you want, we’ll do it—to honor the crowd’s energy.” Ji Zhenshi awaited her response.
She held Li Yunli securely in her embrace, her bright eyes shining like stars, impossible to look away from.
The chants rose and fell around their ears; they were the center of attention.
A mature woman’s shy blush colored Li Yunli’s face. She tilted her head up and pressed a kiss to Ji Zhenshi’s cheek.
Sure. Of course.
With Xiao Zhen, anything was fine.
“Woo-hoo!” Ji Zhenshi’s smile bloomed even brighter. Dissatisfied with the feather-light peck amid the swelling cheers, she declared, “My girlfriend says yes.”
Her arm around Li Yunli’s shoulders slid to her waist. With gentle insistence, she drew Li Yunli’s face up for a fervent kiss.
On a New Year’s street blanketed in flying snow, they kissed without restraint.
A deep, entwining kiss left Li Yunli breathless against Ji Zhenshi’s chest—pure, indulgent shyness in the moment.
For her, this scene had been unimaginable.
Yet Ji Zhenshi had introduced her to everyone as her girlfriend, and they kissed under watchful eyes. Differing voices might linger forever, but it didn’t matter—they didn’t care.
That was all.
Ji Zhenshi knew this pushed beyond Li Yunli’s usual poise. She held her close, offering shelter, even basking a bit in the spotlight.
Only after a while did Ji Zhenshi murmur, “What do you want to sing next?”
“Shouldn’t that be up to what you can play?”
Ji Zhenshi pondered briefly. “Duet? This time, guitar.”
“You play guitar too?”
“Naturally. Music Academy students should handle any instrument to some degree, right?”
“Deal.”
Ji Zhenshi slung the guitar over her shoulder again and gazed deeply at Li Yunli.
“Let Me Stay By Your Side.”
“Dedicated to you—and to all lovers like us. May every pair of soulmates end up together.”
She spoke the words straight to Li Yunli, as if pouring every ounce of romance into this day. She wanted Li Yunli to remember it forever—their escape, this New Year.
Under the dim, flickering lights, Ji Zhenshi’s features stood sharp and alluring in Li Yunli’s eyes—irresistibly sexy.
She possessed a unique charisma: charging forward undaunted, slicing through waves.
Li Yunli’s heart raced wildly. Her gaze softened as she watched Ji Zhenshi alone, smitten once more. “Xiao Zhen, my heart keeps fluttering for you—I can’t hold it back.”
She mused that even if they hadn’t met this way, just as ordinary folk…
She would have fallen for this Ji Zhenshi all the same—unconstrained yet miraculously delicate, wild and free yet adorably fun. A captivating soul, one to yearn for.
Li Yunli knew she’d love someone like this.
The tiniest me harbors the grandest dreams.
I’m content to live quietly in every corner that has you.
Ji Zhenshi’s casual humming was often tuneless, improvised whims without origin. But when serious, her voice rang clear and appealing. Deliberately lowering her pitch lent a husky sexiness, her breathy timbre brimming with allure.
She suited ballads perfectly—brow slightly furrowed, her magnetic, sensual lines weaving magic.
No wonder the heart fell for her again and again.
The blend of their contrasting timbres drew more passersby. Ji Zhenshi stood at the center, lips curving in satisfaction.
As the song wrapped, she told the lead singer, “Don’t miss riding this wave of hype.”
With a wave, Ji Zhenshi pulled Li Yunli away amid cries of protest, mission accomplished.
And she’d drawn them free traffic to boot.
“Sister A-Yun, I think I’m hooked on this vibe,” Ji Zhenshi laughed.
Li Yunli glanced sideways, spotting fine sweat beading on her forehead. Gently wiping it away, she teased, “Hooked on street performing?”
Xiao Zhen was destined for solo violin recitals. Her stage should be grander, her audience vaster.
Ji Zhenshi eyed her meaningfully, then drawled, “I meant hooked on kissing you out here in the street. You were shy earlier, huh?”
Li Yunli’s hand paused mid-wipe, her smile vanishing. “Just… not used to it.”
Ji Zhenshi was accustomed to eyes on her. Li Yunli wasn’t.
But… it felt nice.
With Xiao Zhen, it brought extra confidence and ease.
“No worries. Do it more, and it’ll feel normal.”
“No.”
“Yes.” Ji Zhenshi childishly insisted, then laced their fingers tight—leaving no room for sign language rebuttals.
Her pocket buzzed incessantly. Ji Zhenshi pulled out her phone for a glimpse at the caller ID.
In this bubble of bliss, she selectively ignored reality’s chill.
She powered it off and pocketed it, closing her eyes to steady her emotions. Just a moment’s peace.
Li Yunli, with me holding your hand, we’ll walk this path together.
…
Meanwhile, at Ji Zhenshi’s home.
The dinner table should have brimmed with family warmth, yet an eerie tension hung over the gathered kin.
No usual chatter—just endless awkwardness. The stifling air choked them, their sidelong glances stark against the outer bursts of firecrackers and kaleidoscopic fireworks.
It all stemmed from that unreachable phone. Faces darkened around the table, especially Yang Ying’s as she heard the shutdown tone. Reluctantly, she had to admit it.
Ji Zhenshi wasn’t just skipping New Year’s at home—she’d ghosted completely.
Vanished into thin air. Not in the company dorm, not at Li Yunli’s coffee shop.
She’d plotted this escape from the nest they’d raised her in for over two decades, fleeing to some unknown haven.
She’d bolted. Now they realized: if Ji Zhenshi wanted to vanish from family radar, she could. She was stronger than they’d thought.
Or perhaps… the family had never truly tuned into her life.
After ages of the busy signal, Yang Ying slammed down her chopsticks, face ashen. Her tone vented inner fury. “Ji Zhenshi’s really spread her wings! Ditches New Year’s without a word, phone off? What the hell? Doesn’t want this family anymore? Fine, don’t come back!”
Had Ji Zhenshi’s willfulness gone too far? She’d never vanished like this before, no matter how upset.
“No calls, no texts—hell, we don’t even know if she’s alive. Has she lost her mind?” Yang Ying’s face chilled as reprimands poured out, building to a tirade.
Li Yunli’s absence irked her this year—losing that prize daughter-in-law. But the girl had returned every cent, a hefty 200,000, severing all ties.
The deal wasn’t exactly honorable anyway: a mahjong-table jest turned opportunistic bargain amid Li Ying’s straits. They’d profited, leaving Yang Ying stewing without outlet.
But why should Ji Zhenshi bail?
Unmarried, unattached—what else did she have to do but come home for New Year’s?
Yang Ying couldn’t stomach losing grip on Ji Zhenshi’s whereabouts. Work trips were one thing—she’d get updates on gigs or travel. Sure, mostly to dodge calls, but at least she knew.
Now? Rebellion?
Ji Yuancheng faced his wife’s wrath with customary nonchalance, calmly setting down his phone. No words, and not as incensed as she’d hoped.
Ji Zhenshi had called him about her plans. This was just playing along. Deep down, he wasn’t worried.
No one humored Yang Ying at the table, but she barreled on, appetite gone and mood sourer. “Thinks she can make money and ditch the family? ‘Busy’ was one thing before—now too busy for New Year’s? How’d I raise such an ingrate? What did I teach her all those years? Her rebellion dragging on at this age? No sign of settling down?”
The barbs aimed squarely at Ji Yuancheng and Zhang Fenglan.
A kid like Ji Zhenshi was just unlikeable.
Or any who defied parental orders, it seemed.
Zhang Fenglan acted as if she hadn’t heard, eating steadily, chopsticks snatching only her favorites.
Too many barbs bred immunity. No point in futile defenses, however humiliating.
She knew Xiao Zhen best.
Better to let it slide, skip the quarrel, and savor extra bowls of rice.
Ji Yuancheng kept piling food into Zhang Fenglan’s bowl. “Here, Mom—this one’s nice and soft. Eat up. This stew took all day—packed with nutrients. And this, fresh from the market this morning. Try it—see if my cooking’s improved?”
Blithely ignoring Yang Ying’s griping.
Zhang Fenglan extended her bowl for the helping, blanking Yang Ying entirely, focused on her meal.
After a day’s bustle and late dinner, had no one spared a thought for this old hag?
She was starving, damn it.
