Chapter 24 — So… you like puppies?…
Nan Xu stood at the sink, water trickling into her palms and splashing into tiny crystal droplets, but her mind was far from the act of washing her hands.
She stared at her palms for a long while, then turned them over to look at the backs of her hands.
In a daze, she seemed to slip back to the moment when Xie Hejing had held her hand. The warmth of his touch still lingered faintly, her heart pounding like a drum as the scene replayed again and again in her mind.
A flush crept quietly over her cheeks. She quickly shut off the tap, wiped her hands, and hurried under the covers as if to escape.
Something between them was quietly shifting, unseen but undeniable.
That night marked Nan Xu’s first bout of sleeplessness here.
Because of Xie Hejing.
In the room next door, faintly scented with incense, Xie Hejing lay on his bed staring at the wall, a dry laugh escaping his lips.
All the feelings he had never spoken aloud, all the ones he had tried to deny or bury, were written plainly across the wall of sticky notes.
Qi Zhiyu and Jiang Qiyi had stayed around for three days, and on the last day Aunt Zhang invited them to the house.
They hesitated at first, but couldn’t refuse Zhang Huiwan’s warmth and the persistent urging from Nan Xu and Xie Hejing.
The five of them sat around a bubbling hotpot, laughter filling the table. The atmosphere was lively and cheerful, and Nan Xu captured the moment with her phone, sending the photo to her mother, Wen Qiu.
After some casual chatter, Nan Xu switched off her phone and volunteered to do the dishes.
Not long after, Qi Zhiyu’s voice suddenly rang out from outside the door:
“It’s snowing! The first snow of the year!”
Nan Xu glanced out through the kitchen window. Snowflakes swirled in the dim evening sky, drifting lazily down from above. A thin layer of frost misted over the glass as the cold wind blew in.
Qi Zhiyu’s excited voice continued: “Xuxu, come on, let’s have a snowball fight!”
“Okay!” Nan Xu answered, quickly tidying up what she had in her hands before running toward the door—only to stop short.
The cold wind brushed against her, and under the warm golden glow of the lights she caught sight of Xie Hejing standing casually off to the side. Snowflakes landed softly on his shoulders, and a few strands of his hair were dampened by the melt.
He didn’t seem to mind at all, idly tossing a snowball up and down in his hand.
“Nan Xu, come on!” Jiang Qiyi beckoned to her.
He handed her a snowball with a bright grin. “Want to build a snowman? The snow’s heavy enough—we could make a really big one.”
Nan Xu laughed happily. “Sure! It didn’t snow in Zhi’an last year, and I felt a little regret. This time’s perfect.”
“We’ll take a picture and send it to my mom.”
Watching Nan Xu chatting and laughing so comfortably at Jiang Qiyi’s side—especially seeing her so naturally at ease—Xie Hejing’s gaze paused. His eyes seemed to merge with the winter chill, yet his lips curved faintly, almost imperceptibly, before he suddenly tossed the snowball in his hand toward Nan Xu.
The snowball didn’t hit her. Instead, it landed neatly at her feet, catching both their attention.
“Hahaha! So much for your snowball-throwing skills. Nan Xu’s standing right there and you still missed!” Jiang Qiyi turned, tightening the snowball in his hand, laughing loudly in mockery.
“Is that so?”
In the blink of an eye, Xie Hejing’s second snowball smashed against Jiang Qiyi’s shoulder. Packed solid and thrown with force, it exploded into a cloud of white against the black down jacket. Even though Jiang Qiyi had tried to dodge, the aim was too precise and he couldn’t escape in time.
The ache lingered on his shoulder as the snow slid down, his shock lasting only a moment before his stubbornness flared up. “Xie Hejing, that doesn’t count. Do it again!”
“Sure.” Xie Hejing’s smile was deliberately provoking.
The scene quickly grew chaotic. Nan Xu was slow at making snowballs—she had barely crouched down before several had already hit her. Annoyed, she retreated to a small corner, determined to finish rolling one before throwing it at whoever crossed her path.
But eight times out of ten, she missed.
While Nan Xu and Qi Zhiyu’s skirmish looked playful, the tension between Xie Hejing and Jiang Qiyi grew sharper, almost like sparks flying.
Their snowballs streaked back and forth at high speed, weaving white arcs through the air. The dull ‘thud, thud’ of colliding snow echoed nonstop.
Qi Zhiyu froze, staring.
She hurried over to Nan Xu and whispered, “What’s with those two? Why are they going at it so hard? Look—lucky it’s snowballs. If those were rocks, they’d both be in the hospital by now.”
The atmosphere had already shifted beyond harmless play, and the two girls watched nervously.
Suddenly, while dodging a snowball, Jiang Qiyi’s foot slipped. His body tilted backward, out of control. He flailed his arms, trying to steady himself, but it was useless—his arm struck heavily against a stone hidden beneath the snow.
“Hiss—!”
The sharp pain made Jiang Qiyi suck in a cold breath. His face went pale in an instant, sweat beading on his forehead and dripping into the snow.
“Brother!” Nan Xu cried out in alarm, terrified that Xie Hejing might hurl another snowball at him.
It was the first time she had ever shouted to him with such urgency—yet it wasn’t for him, but because of someone else. Xie Hejing lowered his gaze, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Nan Xu didn’t look his way at all. She rushed straight to Jiang Qiyi’s side, her face tight with worry, brows knitted as she asked softly, “Are you okay? Let’s go to the hospital.”
At the hospital, they learned Jiang Qiyi’s arm was fine, and Nan Xu finally let out a breath of relief. Still, on the way back she couldn’t shake the lingering fear. By the time they got home, exhaustion overtook her and she fell asleep early.
Xie Hejing, however, remained outside in the yard. The snow had thickened through the night, blanketing the courtyard in a world of silver.
He crouched down, plunging his hands into the icy snow, scooping up a pile and packing it tight to form the base of a snowman. The cold wind cut across his reddening fingers, but he didn’t stop.
Little by little, the snowman took shape. He carved out its head with care, as the night grew deeper and the world around him sank into silence.
But in his mind, he could still see the evening scene: Nan Xu laughing freely with Jiang Qiyi in the snow. His eyes darkened, the light within them sinking even deeper.
When Nan Xu finally woke, it was already noon. She came downstairs for lunch, still a little embarrassed.
Zhang Huiwan, ever considerate, said warmly, “You kids don’t get enough sleep during school. Now that it’s the holidays, sleeping in is nothing to feel bad about. Come, try some of Auntie’s soup.”
Nan Xu sipped it slowly, but she couldn’t see Xie Hejing anywhere.
“Auntie, did Xie Hejing go out?”
“No,” Zhang Huiwan sighed. “He doesn’t seem well. I told him to go to the hospital, but he refused. I tried to get him to eat, but he wouldn’t. He’s resting in his room now.”
Ring ring—
The phone on the table suddenly rang.
Zhang Huiwan picked up the phone. It was about work, and the urgency showed on her face as she frowned. “Alright, fine, I’ll head over right away.”
After hanging up, she glanced at the soup with another crease of worry between her brows. “I don’t even know if he’ll want this.”
Seeing her hesitation, Nan Xu set down her chopsticks and said quickly, “Auntie, don’t worry. Go handle your work—I’ll take the soup up to him later.”
The person on the other end was urging her, so Zhang Huiwan nodded. “Alright then. Jiaojiao, take your time eating, no rush. If he wants the soup, let him drink it; if not, just leave it. I’ll get going.”
“Okay.”
As she opened the door, Zhang Huiwan muttered in surprise, “Eh? Who built that snowman at the front?”
At her words, Nan Xu darted to the door, cracking it open just a sliver to peek out.
There in the corner of the courtyard stood a rather large snowman.
Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she pushed the door fully open, running straight to it.
Her first instinct was to snap a photo and send it to Wen Qiu.
Then she studied the snowman carefully.
Circling it slowly, she brushed her fingertips lightly along its icy outline. The eyes were two smooth black stones, gleaming faintly, and around its neck was a scarf—one that looked oddly familiar.
She bent down, staring at the scarf in a daze, until shock rooted her in place.
It was Xie Hejing’s scarf.
Lifting her gaze, her eyes landed on the second-floor window of Xie Hejing’s room. The curtain stirred softly, as though someone had just pulled it shut.
Later, carrying the soup, Nan Xu knocked gently on his door, nerves prickling. “Brother, I brought you some soup.”
This time, there was no silence, no cold command for her to leave.
Before she had even finished speaking, the door opened.
Xie Hejing’s face looked as though it were veiled in gray gauze—deathly pale, bloodless. His lips were cracked and dry, like the parched bed of a long-forgotten river.
“Come in.” His voice was hoarse and low, carrying a muffled heaviness.
Nan Xu’s fingers tightened around the bowl.
He was letting her in.
When she hesitated, Xie Hejing glanced back, weariness in his eyes. “Is there a problem?”
She quickly shook her head. “No.”
Carefully, she set the bowl on his bedside table, not daring to glance around the room. Feeling uneasy, she mumbled, “Brother, the medicine and the soup are here. If you’re still not feeling well, just call me.” She paused, then added softly, “I’ll… get going now.”
“Wait.”
Xie Hejing sank back onto the bed and patted the edge beside him. “Come here.”
Nan Xu froze, her fingers nervously twisting at her hem. She could sense his mood wasn’t right. Was it just because of the cold?
“Come here,” he repeated.
Taking a deep breath, she walked over step by step and sat stiffly on the edge of the bed.
“Did you check on Jiang Qiyi?” His tone sounded casual, almost offhand.
“Yes,” Nan Xu replied. “I asked about him. Luckily, it’s winter and the layers of clothes helped—otherwise it could’ve been bad… I was thinking of visiting him again today.”
“You really do… care about him.”
Even just sitting by his bed seemed to cost her effort.
Xie Hejing lowered his gaze.
At that moment, her phone buzzed with a new message—Qi Zhiyu asking if she wanted to go visit Jiang Qiyi together.
Nan Xu rose to her feet. “Brother, drink the soup, okay? I’ll go check on Jiang Qiyi.”
Seeing the anxious look on Nan Xu’s face, a surge of nameless anger flared in Xie Hejing’s chest. “Nan Xu, do you really care about him that much? Is it that unbearable to stay with me?”
Nan Xu froze, turning back.
“No…” She wanted to explain, but when her eyes fell on his haggard face, the words lodged in her throat. “Brother, just rest well, alright?”
“Heh—” Xie Hejing gave a cold laugh as he pushed himself up. His steps were unsteady, but his will was firm.
Breathing heavily, each breath hot with fever, he raised his arms and trapped Nan Xu in the narrow corner.
“Your concern—so casual, so perfunctory. Or is it… only with me that you’re so perfunctory?”
“Nan Xu, is it that you can care about anyone?”
Nan Xu tried to push him away, but no matter how much force she used, he didn’t budge, looming over her with sheer stubborn arrogance.
She pressed her lips together, staring at him. Why was he so angry all of a sudden?
Frustration welled in her chest too, and she blurted out, holding her breath, “Caring about others is normal! If you don’t like it, then I just won’t come check on you anymore.”
She bent down, ready to slip past him.
Not come see him anymore?
He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
Who cared? If she didn’t come, then she didn’t come.
But his nerves were pounding wildly, the same five words hammering through his mind:
Not come see him anymore!!!
He straightened, turning his gaze away from her.
But his senses betrayed him.
Like his ears—They strained to catch every sound she made.
Nan Xu gave a little huff in his direction and turned to leave without hesitation. But she had barely taken two steps before her wrist was caught.
She froze, then turned back.
Head lowered, Xie Hejing gripped her wrist, his voice hoarse and weary. “Wait…”
It was the first time Nan Xu had ever seen him like this. A softness seeped out, drop by drop, from beneath his cold shell, and her heart gave a violent jolt, leaving her rooted in place.
He cleared his throat with effort, murmuring, “Don’t go.”
She had never imagined Xie Hejing, of all people, would show weakness before her—softly whispering, asking her not to leave.
Shock crashed over her like a wave, leaving her mind blank, unsure of how to respond.
When she finally came to, she felt the icy coldness of his fingers clutching her wrist. Her chest tightened—he was sick, so why was she even quarreling with him?
Nan Xu parted her lips and answered quietly, “Alright.”
Xie Hejing blinked in surprise, then realization dawned. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he released her hand.
His fever-weakened body swayed. After taking two steps, he seemed to lose his strength altogether, bending forward until his chin rested against her shoulder.
“No strength left… let me lean a bit.”
The sudden closeness made Nan Xu’s heart pound so hard it felt deafening—she even worried Xie Hejing might hear it.
But she didn’t speak, didn’t move. She just let him rest against her, though her whole body was stiff with tension.
After a long silence, his muffled voice came again: “Are you mad at me?”
Nan Xu wanted to shake her head, but his rapid, burning breaths brushed against her neck at such close distance, tinged with the weakness of illness, and she couldn’t help but shiver slightly. “No,” she murmured.
The nerves that had been wound tight from their argument seemed, strangely enough, to ease a little in Xie Hejing at her reply.
The room was utterly silent, except for the ticking of the clock on the wall. Each sound seemed to strike at the very tip of Nan Xu’s heart. The faint scent of medicine lingered in the air, mingling with the familiar yet unfamiliar breath of Xie Hejing, bringing with it an inexplicable sense of peace.
Almost without thinking, Nan Xu raised her hand, wanting to support him. Just as she moved, his voice came again:
“You… what is it that you actually like?”
His eyes were lowered, hiding the flicker of tension within them.
The sudden, out-of-nowhere question left Nan Xu a little puzzled. She blinked and replied, “Like what? Let me think…”
Her gaze drifted to a poster on his wall—on it, a little dog was smiling at her. Memories of the puppy she once had flashed through her mind, and she smiled. “Puppies. I really like puppies. They’re so cute.”
Xie Hejing’s Adam’s apple moved, and his fingers lightly played with the ends of her hair. “So… you like puppies?”
“Mm.” Nan Xu nodded, though with the way they were leaning against each other, her chin could only rest on his shoulder.
Lowering his eyes, Xie Hejing let out two soft chuckles. The sound was deep, magnetic, and carried a faint upward lilt at the end.
Then—
He softly barked, “Woof.”
A breeze stirred, wind chimes rang.
The boy’s guarded heart took its first hesitant step, leaving footprints in the snow, beating with sudden, startling clarity.