Her expression wooden, she didn’t know if she should feel happy or something else.
Li Wuhui strolled over slowly.
Her hands were in her pockets. She didn’t seem upset about it at all. Instead, she quietly followed in the footprints Qiu Yiran had left in the snow, without pushing her luck to desensitize her further.
They walked around the spot a few times and stayed for more than ten minutes, but still saw no sign of the Northern Lights.
Seeing them stomping their feet against the cold, Fried Egg said apologetically,
“Let’s head to the next place. Things aren’t great here either.”
So they got back in the car. The three of them had their faces flushed hot from the AC blasts.
Fried Egg hesitated for a moment before shakily starting the car. “The weather’s really bad, and it’s freezing out there. We’ll catch colds if we keep this up. So tonight, let’s just do one last spot, then call it.”
She seemed especially sorry for dragging them out on such a cold night for nothing—particularly since she’d boasted so confidently that afternoon. So she emphasized again,
“Next time, it’s on me, and I guarantee you’ll see them.”
Unaware that their bet had been dragging on for ages, she naturally assumed these two would agree.
But she didn’t expect one of the guests to hesitate.
Nor did she expect the hesitating one—
To be the passenger on the left, who looked listless and somewhat melancholic the whole ride.
“Can we go to just a couple more places?”
Qiu Yiran thought for a long time before mustering the courage to make the request.
“What?” Fried Egg didn’t catch on.
Li Wuhui was a bit surprised too.
She hesitated for a few seconds. She had been about to persuade Qiu Yiran otherwise, but after seeing her tense side profile, she turned to Fried Egg instead.
“Let’s do a few more spots. We can pay extra.”
“It’s not about the money,” Fried Egg explained. “In these conditions, we won’t see anything even if we hit a few more tonight.”
She noticed their odd expressions and added,
“But if you two still have the stamina, we can keep going.”
Qiu Yiran jerked her head up to look at her. Li Wuhui raised an eyebrow.
Fried Egg smiled. “Chasing the lights takes perseverance, after all.”
Qiu Yiran finally relaxed with a sigh, leaning back into her seat. “Then, sorry for the trouble.”
“No trouble at all.”
Fried Egg waved it off. “I’ve taken your money, so I have to do my job.”
With that, the car set off again.
Darkness streaked by.
Qiu Yiran glanced worriedly out the window.
She had heard before they came that if luck was on your side and all the factors aligned perfectly, you could even spot the Northern Lights from the city.
But clearly, she and Li Wuhui were out of luck—probably tossed out of the luck pool by God himself.
“Qiu Yiran.”
The car to the next spot was quiet when Li Wuhui suddenly called her.
“Why did you ask to go to a couple more observation spots?”
Qiu Yiran snapped back to herself and rubbed her numb palms over her knees. “I don’t know.”
She paused, then added, “Maybe because the Northern Lights represent good luck.”
“Just so you can get lucky?” Li Wuhui pressed.
She wanted Li Wuhui to have better luck from now on—but Qiu Yiran didn’t say it. She just vaguely murmured an “mm.”
Setting the bet aside, she clung to this stubborn notion: if they saw the Northern Lights on their very first night here, it might overwrite Li Wuhui’s memories of them—
From then on, they wouldn’t be the ones who’d crashed on the way to see the Northern Lights.
Instead, they’d safely arrived on day one and luckily caught a glimpse.
It was like minesweeper, with the biggest mine buried under the “Northern Lights” keyword. She hoped Li Wuhui’s future would be nothing but clear paths ahead.
“It’s fine,” Li Wuhui said, unaware of her thoughts. She comforted her instead.
“You’ll stay just as lucky even if we see them in a few days.”
Qiu Yiran didn’t want her anxiety to rub off, so she forced a smile and said “mm.”
But unfortunately—
The next two spots had poor conditions too.
After getting out,
They lingered in the dark night for dozens of minutes over and over, saw no sign of the Northern Lights, and instead froze their noses red before dejectedly climbing back in.
On the way to the final spot,
Fried Egg stopped offering consolations about chances and just suggested trying again in a few days when the weather improved.
Qiu Yiran didn’t ask for more spots either. The last two had light rain; she knew they wouldn’t get the result she wanted tonight.
On one hand, she felt disappointed—because she hadn’t let Li Wuhui see the Northern Lights.
On the other, there was a slight sense of relief at the temporary escape—because she wouldn’t have to pick up the camera again.
But it didn’t bring her much joy either.
The conflicting feelings had her retreating into her hood for the last stretch.
She shoved her emotions aside.
In the rushing darkness, she blinked her eyes over and over until she unknowingly drifted off to sleep.
The final stretch took them to some high vantage point; the road was rough.
The car rocked and jolted.
In her daze, Qiu Yiran felt herself getting tossed every which way.
Until suddenly—
A pair of hands steadied her.
Then pressed her head down, letting her whole body slump into a warm, safe spot.
It was soft too.
She could even feel someone gently brushing the messy strands of hair from her face.
In her sleep, it tickled, and she grumbled unhappily, “Don’t touch me.”
The hands stopped.
Then, as if annoyed by her words,
They pinched her nose lightly but firmly, giving her a rude little lesson.
Just as she started gasping for air, they mercifully let go.
What a jerk, she thought hazily.
But this jerk, after she unconsciously sniffed—
Sighed helplessly and draped something warm over her.
It carried a scent that made her feel especially secure.
Sleeping in the car always made it hard for Qiu Yiran to open her eyes, so she wasn’t sure if it was real before drifting off again.
It was past her bedtime anyway, so her sleepiness was normal.
She slept soundly on Li Wuhui’s lap.
Until they reached the final spot. Fried Egg parked steadily and turned around—
To find one of the two guests from China asleep, while the awake one gazed down at her with her face slightly lowered, as if she’d been watching for ages.
Without ever looking away.
Both were utterly still.
Fried Egg coughed deliberately.
Li Wuhui showed no reaction.
Fried Egg found it odd and softly called, “Ladies—ladies—”
Li Wuhui finally stirred.
She lifted her eyes in a daze, saw Fried Egg, and gave a faint smile. Her voice was hushed.
“We here?”
“Yeah.” Mindful of the sleeping guest, Fried Egg kept her voice low too.
“Wanna come out and check with me? Odds are slim, though.”
Li Wuhui looked down at the soundly sleeping Qiu Yiran for a long moment. “Then let’s go.”
“What about her?” Fried Egg nodded that way.
“You said the odds are slim, right?” Li Wuhui carefully lifted Qiu Yiran’s head from her lap. “Let her sleep.”
As she spoke, Li Wuhui held Qiu Yiran’s head steady while slowly scooting out of her seat.
She wedged something in place as a pillow for Qiu Yiran’s head.
The car was cramped, and with her tall frame and broad build, it was an ordeal.
Terrified of waking her, midway through, Li Wuhui’s head and arms banged the roof several times—hard thuds even.
Fried Egg winced at those.
But Li Wuhui acted oblivious, frozen in an awkward contortion. She didn’t dare make a sound or even breathe.
Not until Qiu Yiran’s breathing steadied.
Only then did Li Wuhui exhale slightly and awkwardly wriggle out.
Fried Egg breathed a sigh of relief for her.
Li Wuhui seemed unfazed, though. She gently shut the door.
She didn’t rush off.
Instead, she peered through the window, silently watching Qiu Yiran for a good while.
Satisfied she hadn’t woken her, Li Wuhui gestured to Fried Egg and whispered,
“Let’s talk farther away. She wakes easily from sleep.”
Fried Egg gave a thumbs-up.
The final spot was a plain atop a hill, at a high elevation.
They stepped out a bit.
Even near what looked like a lake, still no Northern Lights.
Fried Egg checked the forecast index, snapped a phone photo of the sky, then shook her head regretfully at Li Wuhui. “The weather was great this afternoon. No idea why it tanked tonight.”
Li Wuhui tilted her head and joked, “Maybe ’cause two unlucky ducks like us showed up?”
Fried Egg froze.
Li Wuhui glanced at the car.
When her eyes returned, she caught Fried Egg’s weird look and clarified,
“Just kidding.”
“I know.” Fried Egg scratched her cheek, held back for ages, then blurted,
“You’re Ms. Spring, aren’t you?”
Li Wuhui was surprised. “You know me?”
“There’s a magazine in the car—you’re on the cover.” Fried Egg said.
“You were bundled up too much. Didn’t wanna assume or bother you two.”
“I see.” Li Wuhui saw no point denying it. “I’m Li Wuhui.”
“And the one in the car?” Fried Egg hesitated. “A model too?”
“She’s Ian,” Li Wuhui said. “Not a model.”
“Ian?” Fried Egg was somewhat bewildered.
She didn’t know much about this circle to begin with. She could recognize Li Wuhui only because of that magazine.
Moreover—Ian was already ancient history from long ago.
Even in Paris, many people no longer remembered her.
No one understood this better than Li Wuhui, but Li Wuhui still insisted on living alone in such a Paris.
And that day, she told Fried Egg word by word, “Ian is a very skilled photographer.”
“So she’s the photographer.” Fried Egg muttered, “Then I guessed wrong earlier? No wonder she wanted to see the northern lights so badly today. Does she have a shooting assignment?”
“No.” Li Wuhui said.
“No what?”
“She doesn’t want to photograph the northern lights.” Li Wuhui said this. She didn’t know if Fried Egg could understand her explanation. “She just wants me to see the northern lights.”
Fried Egg indeed couldn’t understand.
But she tried hard to comprehend it. She also knew that most travelers considered the northern lights lucky. These two guests probably hoped the other would have good luck.
With that thought, she smiled as if suddenly enlightened. “So you two must be very, very good friends, right?”
Li Wuhui was stunned by Fried Egg’s question.
Why would she think that?
She lowered her head and stared at the tip of her shoe, then chuckled lightly for no reason. “Compared to friends, we’re probably more like enemies.”
“Enemies?” Fried Egg clearly couldn’t understand her words. Her eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Would enemies travel all this way together to see the northern lights?”
People who traveled so far just to get divorced ended up as enemies in the end, didn’t they?
Li Wuhui thought calmly. But she didn’t explain their situation in such detail.
Explaining it clearly would have been very complicated.
Unknowingly, fine rain began drifting slowly across the sky. Even the final spot started raining.
Li Wuhui pulled out her phone and glanced at the horizon. She said somewhat regretfully,
“It looks like there won’t be a miracle today.”
Truth be told, on the way there, she had even wondered if their story might be like a movie. Maybe, right when they were about to give up, the northern lights would appear miraculously, giving the protagonist in their low point great hope—the world beautiful, time turning back.
But in the end, nothing happened.
That moment of confirmation left Li Wuhui with so many regrets. She forced herself to tuck them all away afterward. She didn’t want to make Qiu Yiran unhappy because of her own mood.
“Actually, the northern lights aren’t all that rare.” Fried Egg spoke up suddenly.
“In Murmansk, if the weather’s good, you can see the northern lights about two hundred days a year. That’s even more likely than the sun showing up here.”
“What does that mean?” Li Wuhui didn’t catch on at first.
Fried Egg smiled. “It means that if this counts as a miracle, then miracles are far more common than you imagine.”
The words landed.
The wind picked up. Li Wuhui’s hood was blown off. She squinted against the gust.
The next second, she suddenly sensed—
A white flash streaked through the ink-black darkness of the air.
Li Wuhui and Fried Egg exchanged a glance. They looked up at the sky at the same time—
But the horizon remained black as a hole swallowing everything, as if nothing had happened.
Li Wuhui felt disappointed. Then she suddenly heard a faint car door click.
She turned her head instinctively.
A large raindrop landed right in her eye with a splat, spreading out.
She squinted in discomfort, rubbed it with her hand, and opened her eyes again. Her vision blurred into dim, indistinct patches of color.
Until it refocused.
“Qiu Yiran?”
Li Wuhui raised her hand to rub her wet eyes and walked toward the car on instinct.
The darkness hung thick. The rain fell in fine threads.
She stared down at the snow patches under her feet, exhaled a slow puff of white breath, and looked up. Qiu Yiran awkwardly pushed open the car door, though Li Wuhui couldn’t quite make out her face.
“Why are you awake?” Li Wuhui asked.
As she spoke, another faint white light flashed through the blurry darkness.
Li Wuhui didn’t react. She had no time to wonder if some miracle was unfolding at the horizon.
She hurried forward, crunching through the snow layer. The sound stood out sharply in the quiet night.
After a few steps, she froze completely.
They hadn’t seen the northern lights appear miraculously at the final observation spot. Li Wuhui had undoubtedly lost the bet. She wouldn’t get to see Qiu Yiran press the shutter to photograph her again.
She stood there for a long while. Then the white light flashed once more. The blurry patches in her vision finally cleared. Li Wuhui saw it at last—
The car window was thick with fog. Qiu Yiran wore a heavy hat and thick clothes. Her overly pale face hid in the shadows of the night as she smiled at Li Wuhui and raised her hand again.
Click—
“She’s taking your photo.”
Fried Egg had stepped back. She reminded her very aptly from the side.
“Ms. Spring, you should smile.”
It was her flash that Li Wuhui had mistaken for a miracle.
Perhaps it wasn’t a mistake at all.
