Chapter 54: “Fox, Fox, You’re Giving All My Good Luck to Her.” Part 3

Qiu Yiran only then sluggishly noticed—there were already a lot of people crowded on the other side of the house.

As if she knew what she was thinking,

Li Wuhui circled in front of her and patiently squatted down. “Hop on. I can carry you over.”

“No need.” This time, Qiu Yiran really didn’t agree. “How are you supposed to watch the Northern Lights if you’re carrying me?”

Li Wuhui was stumped by her one sentence and couldn’t stand back up for a long time—a full minute passed without a sound from her.

Qiu Yiran let out a very soft sigh. “Stand up. I can get there walking slowly on my own.”

With that,

She circled around behind Li Wuhui and moved forward slowly but steadily, one step at a time.

Without regard for whether Li Wuhui had stood up or not.

Head down, she trudged effortfully toward the crowded area.

After a while—

As the red glow on the horizon grew heavier, she felt Li Wuhui stand up and quietly walk to her side, no longer blocking her front to offer a piggyback.

She simply walked this stretch of road with her in silence.

After walking who knew how long, Qiu Yiran felt the crowd growing thicker, the breaths and hot air around her turning sticky. She heard Li Wuhui say,

“We’re here.”

At that moment, she finally raised her head.

Visible to the naked eye, a grayish-red halo flickered faintly on the horizon—not very obvious, leaving her a bit dazed—

So this was the Northern Lights?

That was her first reaction.

Her second reaction—she looked toward Li Wuhui.

Perhaps by telepathy.

Li Wuhui looked at her at that moment too, clear light leaping across her face.

The surroundings were very noisy, languages from different countries chattering and crowding into her ears.

The travelers who came this late to see the Northern Lights were basically not alone, so the people standing under the aurora were all very excited, crazily hugging their companions. Groups of several squeezed together for face-to-face selfies, all discussing something animatedly.

Only the two of them said nothing.

Like two avian creatures who had mistakenly entered the human world, quietly gazing at each other amid the crowd.

The wind blew over unreasonably, and Qiu Yiran sniffed.

Li Wuhui reached out to check if her Lei Feng Hat was fastened tight.

After withdrawing her hand, quite a while passed.

Only then did Li Wuhui raise her hand to smooth her wind-tousled hair and laughed out loud for no reason.

Qiu Yiran laughed too.

Because everyone around them was so excited and happy, they could hide within it and be a little happier themselves—set aside that leg between them for a short while, banish the car accident from 2021 that had kept them from seeing the Northern Lights for just a moment—and it wouldn’t be obvious at all, much less draw blame from anyone.

“So this is the Northern Lights that appear two hundred days a year.” Once the laughter faded, Li Wuhui said softly. “Doesn’t look like much.”

Her voice was very light, like a complaint or a joke. “Shouldn’t have come.”

It was unclear if she meant this time or the last.

Qiu Yiran said, “It might not be very obvious right now. It’ll get brighter in a bit. Let’s wait here a while…”

“Kidding.” Li Wuhui cut her off, tilting her face up slightly, her profile reflecting light and shadow flowing like water. “After all, if we hadn’t come, I’d never know what the Northern Lights looked like in my whole life.”

Qiu Yiran asked tentatively, “Are you happy now?”

“Pretty happy.” Li Wuhui said, her expression very natural.

It probably wasn’t a lie.

Qiu Yiran breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”

As she spoke, she clutched the camera in her pocket tighter and looked around.

“Should we move a bit closer? Find a spot with fewer people?”

Li Wuhui glanced at the bustling crowds around them and nodded in agreement.

“Okay.”

With that, she positioned herself beside Qiu Yiran again.

As if afraid someone might rush out and bump into her, she stuck close by her side without leaving an inch.

Qiu Yiran had originally wanted Li Wuhui to relax a little.

She knew that once she said it, Li Wuhui would definitely listen and probably say “Got it” like always.

But on second thought—

She felt this day was so precious; better not waste time on things like that. She didn’t want Li Wuhui, when she remembered it later, to only think of these moments.

So Qiu Yiran decided to go along with Li Wuhui.

They walked a little further.

She stopped in her tracks, glanced around, picked a spot, and pointed to the slope ahead.

“Li Wuhui, stand there.”

Li Wuhui didn’t react right away. “Me by myself?”

“I’ll take a photo of you from here first.” Qiu Yiran leaned on her crutches and pointed toward the northern lights growing brighter on the horizon. “Under the northern lights, as a memento.”

“I’m fine with a photo.” Li Wuhui furrowed her brow slightly. “But you’ll be standing here alone?”

“I can manage.” Qiu Yiran said. Without waiting for her to argue further, she tapped her crutches to urge her on. “Hurry up, before the northern lights fade.”

“The northern lights won’t run away.”

Li Wuhui said this, seeming hesitant about agreeing to her request but having no choice in the matter. She glanced back and saw that the spot Qiu Yiran had pointed to was only a few steps away, so she felt reassured.

“Then be careful on your own.”

“Got it.” Qiu Yiran said.

She agreed.

Li Wuhui didn’t waste time standing there. She jogged the few steps to the slope Qiu Yiran had indicated and gave her a hand signal.

Qiu Yiran raised her hand in response, making an OK sign.

Then, with great effort, she pulled out the camera.

She only had two hands.

And now both were supporting her on the crutches, making it inconvenient to even get the camera out.

By the time she reached the slope,

Li Wuhui couldn’t help but worry—had she only recently relearned how to press the shutter? Wasn’t this pushing herself too hard?

But Qiu Yiran managed it.

Standing at the base of the slope, she pressed the crutches together and propped herself up with one side. This freed up her other hand to raise the camera.

Seeing Qiu Yiran struggle to lift the camera like this, Li Wuhui watched her again through the lens.

The wind buffeted her with a rustling sound.

She didn’t know how to describe her feelings at that moment—relief, regret, sadness… perhaps all of them.

But when the flash went off, she broke into a very happy smile.

She thought she was truly happy.

No one was happier than her right now, both because she’d seen the northern lights she’d missed and because she’d seen Qiu Yiran pick up the camera again.

So she wanted to leave behind her happiest photo.

After the shot, Qiu Yiran smiled at her from a few meters away.

Then she put the camera away.

She separated the folded crutches again and propped them awkwardly under both sides.

By now, a lot of people had gathered because of the northern lights, crowding together like little bugs.

Qiu Yiran was dressed very warmly, which already made movement awkward. Amid the crowd, she kept her head down, cautiously watching her path as she slowly made her way toward Li Wuhui.

Li Wuhui watched the whole process tensely, hardly daring to breathe.

She kept imagining someone suddenly rushing out and bumping into Qiu Yiran. Several times, she wanted to charge over, grab her, and pull her away from this dangerous spot.

But she held back.

Instead, she calmly dug her nails into her palm, like an adult watching a newborn take its first steps. She tried to give an encouraging look as Qiu Yiran inched toward her, step by step.

When she finally reached her, Qiu Yiran’s nose was beaded with sweat, but she still lifted her chin like a child showing off a proud achievement and smiled at her.

“This one should have turned out pretty good.”

Li Wuhui turned her face slightly and smiled in the wind, though her eyes grew misty despite herself. She looked at Qiu Yiran again, then couldn’t help reaching out to wipe the sweat from her nose with her knuckle.

“Yeah, because I’m beautiful.”

She really didn’t mince words.

Qiu Yiran was stunned for a moment.

Then she burst out laughing, nodding in full agreement, though with a touch of concern as she added, “I just don’t know if this camera can capture the northern lights, or if I even got them in the shot.”

“It’s fine if it doesn’t come out.” Li Wuhui comforted her, lifting her chin. “I’m beautiful—that’s enough.”

“Alright.” Qiu Yiran laughed again.

She didn’t want to dwell on it on a day like this either. She fully accepted Li Wuhui’s words, then suddenly remembered something. “Want to make a wish?”

“A wish?” Li Wuhui raised a brow. “That’s so cliché of you? You see something and have to make a wish?”

“Wishes made under the northern lights come true.” Qiu Yiran explained very seriously. “Because the northern lights are made when foxes run by, kicking up the arctic snow and stirring the light—so it works.”

She said this with no logic between the cause and effect, yet it sounded perfectly true.

“Doesn’t that mean everyone in Murmansk is super rich?” Li Wuhui didn’t seem to buy it, her tone casual. “With two hundred days a year to make wishes.”

Her words sounded dismissive and skeptical.

But the next second—

Li Wuhui closed her eyes directly, even clasping her hands devoutly, as if making some incredibly important wish.

Qiu Yiran watched the whole thing and couldn’t hold back her laughter.

Rarely, her laugh was quite audible.

Li Wuhui heard it but didn’t even flutter an eyelid, as if her wish couldn’t be interrupted by anyone.

Qiu Yiran stared at Li Wuhui for a bit, unable to guess what wish she was making.

But she had a big wish of her own to make.

So she closed her eyes too.

Under the northern lights, she clasped her hands and sincerely said in her heart to the fox that had run by not long ago, “Fox, fox, I hope the person by my side can always do what she wants to do.”

Afraid the fox had run too fast and wouldn’t hear, Qiu Yiran repeated it three times in her mind before slowly opening her eyes.

She instinctively glanced at Li Wuhui beside her.

They had been there for a while now, and the northern lights erupted in a beautiful red glow amid the thick wind.

Li Wuhui’s hood suddenly got blown back by the wind, her long hair tousled, revealing that stubborn, proud face. She furrowed her brow slightly, her lashes trembling faintly, as if she was about to open her eyes—

In that instant, almost on reflex, Qiu Yiran closed her eyes again.

She had no new wish this time. But since her eyes were already shut, it felt like a waste not to make one.

So she quietly said,

“Fox, fox, you must give all my good luck to her.”

So she could make her wish come true.