Chapter 37

Waking up again, Feng Yan opened his eyes, got up and glanced at his phone.

"Today is the twenty‑third of the twelfth lunar month, time to send off the Kitchen God," Feng Yan muttered to himself.

Feng Yan slowly rose, put on his clothes, and then slowly got out of bed; outside, snow began to drift again, the weather was a bit cold, and Feng Yan kept pulling his clothes tighter, afraid he would catch a cold from the freezing weather; the unmelted snowflakes and the newly fallen snow overlapped, the previously polluted white snowflakes were once again covered and turned white, the heavy snow drifted, facing the howling north wind and accompanied by the early morning firecracker sounds, breaking the usual tranquility of the village.

"Grandson, get up already," Grandma said upon seeing Feng Yan get out of bed.

"Yes, Grandma, I was woken by the firecracker sounds," Feng Yan said.

"Only during New Year does the village have some liveliness; otherwise it's basically dead‑still," Grandma said with a smile, her eyes narrowed into slits.

"Liveliness?" Feng Yan said, lowering his head and thinking quietly.

The villagers all began to get busy; with the festive atmosphere, everyone's sense of loss from being away gradually faded, they showed smiles and welcomed the joyful holiday, no longer mentioning past unhappiness, the children's mischief no longer provoked adults' anger and thus avoided scolding, and the New Year made the stern fathers' appearances in people's impressions become kinder, no longer so hard to approach—this perhaps is the charm of the New Year.

Feng Yan walked along the market road, seeing children playing and roughhousing on the road, the children holding sparklers and small fireworks; as they covered their ears and ran about, crackling firecracker sounds came from behind. After a burst of sound, a puff of white smoke rose; Feng Yan waved his hand to dispel the white mist, then continued forward.

At this moment, Chen Hao had just gotten up as well, seeing his parents busy preparing breakfast; he looked out the window, the surroundings still covered in white snow, hearing firecracker sounds popping everywhere, thinking. Chen Hao knew that after this time, the migrant workers outside would gradually return home, and he said: "Then, will Feng Yan's parents return home? Will they reunite with Feng Yan and his grandmother? And then have a lively New Year?"

Feng Yan looked around; everywhere were children with their parents, looking extremely happy. Seeing this, Feng Yan couldn't help feeling a sense of loss. Perhaps he also wished, like them, to see his own parents and spend New Year together? Maybe so, but since he could remember, his parents had rarely returned, even said to be away year‑round, working elsewhere and sending back red‑colored money—this is Feng Yan's memory of his parents.

On the road, the surroundings were once again blanketed by snowflakes, the world turned pure white again. Feng Yan gazed at the white world, looked back, and saw an earthen grave; he knew it was the tomb of his great‑grandfather and great‑grandmother, where they had lain asleep year after year, never to wake.

The wheat fields around were also trampled each time Feng Yan went up to the grave, yet whenever he saw them sprout wheat ears, he realized something: "Sometimes, even if you are stepped on underfoot, even if your face is smeared with dirt, soiling your face and clothes, there will still be a day when you rise up."

"When will my day come?" Feng Yan gazed at the wheat field and muttered to himself.

Feng Yan finally reached the main street, seeing the road already crushed, he kept walking forward until he felt as if he had stepped on something underfoot; stopping to look, he found a dog that had been flattened by a truck into something as thin as paper. Feng Yan didn't linger long, walking on while thinking: "Then, will this dog's owner feel sad? Perhaps they will, because it's their dog; perhaps they won't, because it's their dog."

Beep‑beep, a vehicle behind honked its horn; Feng Yan turned his head and saw a truck full of sand. He stepped to the side, watching the sand‑laden truck roar past beside him, while it again drove over the already crushed road surface, producing a sound.

"Perhaps this is how the world is: there is the beauty of life, but also the hardships of survival; humans are also part of nature, the strong naturally receive love and respect, while the weak are to be stepped on by the strong? Then look at the strong? No, that's not right, otherwise we'd be no different from animals. So‑called humans have gradually detached from animals, slowly becoming a higher species; the strong would no longer bully the weak, yet why is there still deceit? Perhaps that is the meaning of survival." Feng Yan grew more confused the more he thought, and for a moment he was at a loss.

At this moment, Feng Yan stopped his steps, widened his eyes, and looked at the figure before him—it was Wang Tingwan!

She wore a white cotton jacket, seeming to merge with this white snowy sky; for a moment, Feng Yan didn't see her, and he thought: "Perhaps I'm blind?"

Wang Tingwan slowly walked toward Feng Yan; his heart pounded hard, his face began to flush, and Feng Yan wondered what he was expecting—was it those words? An embrace? Or that sort of greeting that breaks the ice between friends?

Yet none of those things happened; Wang Tingwan solemnly said to Feng Yan: "I'm with him, I'm very happy, I'm delighted."

The fire of hope in Feng Yan's heart was instantly doused; the happy expression lingered on his face, and in an instant he didn't know what expression to make—because of those words, Feng Yan was completely stunned; that basin of water directly extinguished the flame in his heart, and at the same time it began to erode his inner self like a cold winter, gradually making him feel cold.

Finally, Feng Yan responded, wearing the smile of their first meeting on his face, and said: "Is that so? Congratulations, as long as you're happy!"

Those words carried much helplessness and sorrow; Feng Yan imagined countless scenarios of their meeting in his mind, countless things he might have said when facing her, yet in the end he could not withstand those words, which deeply wounded the heart of a boy whose emotions were just beginning to awaken.

"Is that so?" Wang Tingwan looked at Feng Yan; his expression stiffened, his face making a smile uglier than crying.

Feng Yan nodded slightly and said: "It seems I was just being sentimental; you are irreplaceable in my heart, but I am dispensable in yours—yet what does that matter? This still doesn't prove I've stopped liking you, but I will try my best to forget you, and perhaps even years later I'll still recall your silhouette."

Having said that, Feng Yan waved his hand and left, leaving only Wang Tingwan watching his retreating back; she said to his back with some sorrow: "Actually I have hinted at you many times before, but you never acted on them! And now there is someone right in front of you who constantly shows concern—what would you do?"

The two walked off in opposite directions at the same time, uttering the same words: "I suppose I'll end up with him."

Feng Yan returned home; Grandma looked at his appearance and said to him: "Your parents won't be coming back for New Year for several years."

Feng Yan lowered his head and said sadly: "I know, I've always known, they're very busy."

Grandma looked at Feng Yan's dejected expression and said: "They're busy, but it's for you, for the family."