Not a marriage certificate pic—just Gu Qingshuang walking ahead, Ming Li following at an easy pace.
The sunlight was perfect that day, bathing them both. Ming Li thought the scene was beautiful.
She snapped a photo, freezing the moment.
Two elongated shadows in the shot.
Caption: [It’s two people now~]
A bit of that subtle artsy vibe.
That same day, she’d also taken a back-view shot of Gu Qingshuang.
She’d never deleted it—no special use, just gathering dust in her album.
Two phone changes in three years, and she’d kept that photo.
Her Moments background was sunlight filtering through dry yellow leaves that day, fragmented light on the ground, with a few strands of Gu Qingshuang’s hair caught by the wind in the upper left.
Ming Li’s little sentiment.
She’d used that background for three years—long enough she’d forgotten what it was before.
Scrolling her Moments now brought forgotten memories vividly back.
Lately, she’d been too busy to even think about the divorce.
That night, the flood of memories actually stirred a real reluctance to let go.
More intense and genuine than the day she’d walked into the civil affairs office for the divorce papers.
But that post only lasted two hours. At lunch with Gu Qingshuang, she’d noticed her staring at her phone screen, frowning, looking at Ming Li like she wanted to say something.
She hadn’t, but Ming Li had glimpsed her screen.
It was Ming Li’s Moments.
Gu Qingshuang was probably upset, so Ming Li hid the post.
Cautiously, but she still couldn’t bring herself to delete it.
She hadn’t posted since.
Three years later, for this new one, Ming Li wanted something witty and fun, not too obvious.
Ideally, “Those who get it, get it; those who don’t, whatever.”
She spent half an hour just flipping through her album for pics.
Too shy to post for the wedding, so the divorce one needed to be even more careful and pretty.
Finally, she found the snowman she’d piled last year—with Gu Qingshuang, technically.
She’d almost forgotten if not for the album.
In past years, on first snow, Zhou Bai would take her and Ming Xi to build snowmen.
Ming Li had missed Jing’an’s first snows the past two years—either abroad or at banquets. Only last year she had time.
She hadn’t expected Gu Qingshuang to join her.
Building together reminded her of goofing off with Ming Xi—flinging snow in faces or stuffing snowballs down collars, then running before getting hit.
But that night, Ming Li stole many glances at Gu Qingshuang and never dared anything so bold.
Still, standing by the window, she often recalled Gu Qingshuang’s clumsy seriousness piling snow.
Ming Li stared at the photo in a daze for a while. Snapping back, she saw Zhu Hanxing had messaged her.
Zhu Hanxing sent a screenshot—Ming Li’s Moments still unsent, so she was stuck on that screen.
This snowman pic was the one shared activity with Gu Qingshuang she could recall.
Perfect timing: this year, she’d built a new one with Ming Xi and Zhu Hanxing.
Different snowmen, different phases of her life.
Ming Li posted both pics, captioned—
[Last year, with her.
This year, with my little sister and friend, but no her /waving goodbye]
Subtle, conveying her state.
Not quite the witty fun she aimed for—instead awakening her inner artsy side again.
After posting, she switched away without looking, to the chat with Zhu Hanxing. It was a convo with Sun Xihan.
Sun Xihan demanding why Zhu Hanxing hadn’t told her about Ming Li’s divorce?!
Zhu Hanxing: [I’m her legitimate big sis—same as you?]
Sun Xihan: [Still friends or not?]
Zhu Hanxing: [Didn’t you say you’d rather die than be friends with me?]
Sun Xihan: […]
The bickering ended in Zhu Hanxing’s victory.
After the screenshots, it clicked for Ming Li—Sun Xihan’s coldness was anger that Ming Li told Zhu Hanxing but not her.
How to coax her?
This was beyond Ming Li’s wheelhouse.
Finally, she messaged Sun Xihan directly, asking if she wanted any gifts.
Sun Xihan: [?]
Ming Li: [That’s how I coax Zhu Hanxing when she’s mad.]
Sun Xihan: […]
Sun Xihan sent a link: an 800-yuan perfume.
Ming Li got her address and paid promptly.
…
Ming Li hadn’t blocked anyone on that Moments post, so when likes poured in, she was a bit stunned.
Her mind racing: Why didn’t I block her?!
The thought looped until she gave up.
Whatever, no block, no block.
It was true anyway.
But five minutes later, Gu Xueqiang liked it.
Ming Li: “…”
Not just that—Gu Xueqiang commented: [She built an ugly snowman by herself this year. /covering mouth laughing]
Ming Li suspected if WeChat comments allowed pics, Gu Xueqiang would’ve shared it.
Seeing this “statement” spotted by Gu Xueqiang, Ming Li felt awkward even through the screen, but replied: [How ugly?]
She regretted it immediately and deleted.
Too late—Gu Xueqiang had already DM’d it.
Night had fallen dimly. Gu Qingshuang squatting in the yard, orange lamp light on her.
It made her look coldly lonely, yet with an indescribable softness.
Ming Li couldn’t focus on the snowman at all, inwardly marveling that Gu Qingshuang’s face was heaven’s deliberate masterpiece.
Even her profile could captivate many.
The snowman really wasn’t great.
Way worse than last year’s joint effort—Gu Qingshuang just didn’t know how.
Even so, Ming Li said the polite thing: [Not bad, not that ugly.]
Ming Li knew Gu Xueqiang well: she could diss Gu Qingshuang’s stuff, but others couldn’t.
Gu Xueqiang: [You’re really giving her face. Miles worse than the one you two did last year.]
Ming Li: [She doesn’t build them much.]
Gu Xueqiang: [You’re really defending her.]
