Chapter 29: Text Message

“At this moment, wherever there are Chinese people in the world, they are lighting the flame of homesickness in the way of their homeland.”

“Right now, perhaps you’ve already returned to the safe harbor of home, giving your time to your loved ones.”

“In truth, whether you go home for the New Year or stay where you are, your heart…”

……

……

The host’s cadence rose and fell through the television, the screen awash with fiery passion.

This year’s Spring Festival Gala had reached its later hours.

Qin Jin sat properly on the sofa, staring absentmindedly at the song and dance onstage.

Outside the window, fireworks and firecrackers never ceased.

Blurred neon lights fell upon the glass pane—pale green, soft blue, bright red—like rain-soaked pigments merging into a radiant blur, flaring and fading against the glass.

The lights inside the house were glaring bright.

The table was laden with snacks: sunflower seeds, peanuts, apples, tangerines, fruit candies, and chocolates.

Her parents had gone to the neighbor’s.

Qin Jin peeled a chocolate, the bitterness making her lower her eyes, yet she still stared blankly at the gala’s performance.

New Year.

This grand festival, carrying countless hopes and beautiful wishes, felt so lively that it left her feeling a little desolate.

“Dear friends, on this night of family reunion, we can’t help but think of…”

Raising the TV volume, Qin Jin stood and walked to her bedroom.

She didn’t turn on the light.

The pale moonlight and the colors of fireworks fell across the wall.

She sat quietly at her desk for a long time before finally pulling out an old phone from a pile of books.

An old Nokia, thick as a brick.

Its rubber buttons were faded.

When it finally powered on, a faint blue ring glowed in the dark.

“Select recipient:”

She pressed in the number she knew by heart, digit by digit, like droplets of water falling upon stalactites, chiseling through the hardened shell of her heart.

“Message:”

“Yu…”

She typed the character for “Yu,” but her fingers stalled.

“Yu Zhu…”

Qin Jin took a deep breath, entered his full name, and continued to type:

“Today is New Year’s. Are you watching the Spring Festival Gala? Tonight…”

“Tonight’s fireworks are beautiful. In the new year, I hope you stay healthy and happy every day.”

The cursor still blinked.

Qin Jin deleted her words one by one until only his name remained, then typed:

“Yu Zhu, Happy New Year!”

Six characters, two punctuation marks.

She clutched the phone and stared for more than ten minutes before pressing send.

“Beep.”

The phone chimed.

“Send failed!”

Falling red fireworks lit up her dazed face.

Qin Jin recalled New Year’s Eve in her third year of middle school.

That night, she had gathered all her courage to send a text to the boy she liked.

Shivering in the snowy courtyard below, her hands frozen and red, she almost dropped the phone when it vibrated.

The boy had politely replied to her unfamiliar number’s New Year’s greeting.

Qin Jin opened her inbox, clicked on the only message that had lain there for nearly four years—

“Sorry, I don’t know who you are, but I also wish you a Happy New Year.”

That was the ordinary her, for the first time, shining faintly before her star.

“Yu Zhu.”

“Happy New Year.”

Her blessing dissipated into the darkness, unheard, just like before.

“Dear friends, this year’s Spring Festival Gala has come to an end. Once again, we wish you a happy New Year. Until next year’s…”

The melody of Unforgettable Tonight filled the living room.

High above, the wind scattered every sound.

Snow began falling again over City C.

At City C Huaxi Hospital, Department of Psychiatry, the smell of disinfectant lingered endlessly.

Cold white light illuminated stark walls.

The night-shift doctor pushed the door open and saw the patient sitting rigidly on the bed.

Her black eyes gleamed from beneath her long hair, following his every move.

“Hrgh—”

A low growl rasped from her throat.

Her bound hands strained violently toward him, sleeves soaked with blood seeping from her arms.

“Hrgh—”

Startled, the doctor stumbled back and quickly called for help.

Together they restrained her and injected a sedative.

Only when she lay still on the bed did he exhale and begin writing in his chart.

“Patient name: Huo Xin. Department: Psychiatry. Location: A-10-2.”

“Case characteristics: After external stimuli, displays self-harm, muttering, abnormal behavior…”

He added a note.

“Patient exhibits pronounced aggression. Future treatment should focus on this.”

“Snap.”

He closed the file and left.

In the corridor, someone softly played Unforgettable Tonight.

“Unforgettable tonight…”

“No matter how far across the earth…”

At Xianhu Bieyuan, Ming Yue slipped off her cloak.

Moisture dampened the ends of her hair.

She stepped into the pool, just as her phone beside it began to ring.

The song went on and on.

She ignored it and sank quietly beneath the water.

Just let it be.

Just like this.

Far away in Switzerland, Su Zhi put down her phone, her expression heavy and solemn.

“What’s wrong, Zhizhi?” her mother asked with concern.

“I have to go back tomorrow.”

“So suddenly? Did something happen?”

Su Zhi didn’t reply.

She walked to the fireplace and began packing her luggage.

“Let me do it, Zhizhi. You go rest. I’ll have Xiao Wang book you the earliest flight.”

Su Zhi set down her medical book and silently returned to her room.

Waikiki Beach.

Delicate white sand bore a trail of footprints.

Clear waves washed ashore, smoothing everything away.

Gu Wanting wore a fiery red swimsuit and a sun hat as she strolled along the coast.

“Xiaoting, didn’t you want to shop at Maui today? Why the sudden change?”

Gu Wanting smiled gently and said to the man behind her:

“Second Brother, I changed my mind. I just want to enjoy the view today.”

“All right, as you wish.”

“Mm.”

She lowered her brim, hiding the fleeting coldness in her eyes.

The sun still blazed over the Hawaiian coast.

Meanwhile, in the Imperial Capital, night ran deep.

In a grand, traditional manor with carved railings and ancient eaves, rockeries stood stacked.

Water trickled through hollows.

A thin layer of snow lay across the grounds.

Moonlight filtered down, adding sorrowful chill beyond the day’s gloom.

Red lanterns lined the long corridor, their glow mingling with the scent of nanmu beams, steeped in antiquity.

Ruan Suhua walked calmly through the corridor.

Smiling gently at the butler who saw her out, she said:

“Uncle Lin, that’s far enough. Go home early—New Year’s is for family.”

“Miss, truly you won’t stay at the main house tonight?”

“I still have private matters tonight. I’ll come tomorrow.”

“Yes, Miss.”

An attendant raised an umbrella above her head.

Ruan Suhua gave her a soft glance and entered the car.

“How is Jingliang’s condition?”

Leaning back with a faint haze of wine in her eyes, she asked.

Zhang Jingliang was the Ruan family’s long-time physician.

At dawn, he had been pulled from bed to tend to a patient their young lady had brought home.

The driver glanced at the rearview mirror, choosing his words carefully.

“Miss, Dr. Zhang said the situation isn’t very good.”

“I understand.”

Her phone lit up with an email from Zhang Jingliang.

“Go back to Tianxing first.”

“Yes, Miss.”

The late-night road lay deserted.

Cars rushed past in the cold air.

Ruan Suhua opened the attachment, reading line by line, word by word.

Outside, streetlamps cast pale yellow light.

Snow drifted slowly from the sky.

Whether good or bad,

The year had ended.