"Arenât you afraid of the cold, Miss?" Xu Changâan blinked.
"..." Yun Qian said nothing, just stared at him.
Adding charcoal isnât done this way.
"Why are you doing this?" Yun Qian asked.
"What do you mean by that?" Xu Changâan averted his gaze.
"Is it wasting snacks, making my heart ache... or bullying someone?" Yun Qian gently picked up the plate of preserved fruits on the table to protect it in her arms, seemingly reluctant to let Xu Changâan continue wasting treasures. But when she met his eyes, her movement paused, and she said, "If you say... itâs to bully me, then I understand, you can throw them to play."
"Who says itâs for fun." Xu Changâan shook his head, saying, "Miss, because of my past experiences, sometimes burning things is a way of remembering or commemorating."
He thought of many past experiences, his heart filled with emotions.
"Commemorating?" Yun Qian somewhat understood. There were writings in books, the act of burning things in a brazier is a ritual for mourning, a sentiment for the deceased.
Thinking of Xu Changâanâs somewhat repressed emotions she saw earlier, she subconsciously stroked the snow rabbit fur at the hem of her clothes and said, "No one has died, so there are no deceased."
Only she could see the deceased. If there were to be any offerings, it would be her. What person was her husband commemorating?
"It doesnât have to be about someone dying." Xu Changâan laughed with tears, then looked at the girl in front of him: "Some pasts that we canât go back to are also worth commemorating, so burning something is fine."
"Canât go back?"
"Yes." Xu Changâan sighed: "Like enjoying the snow on the island with you, Miss... Itâs something that rarely happens now."
"So thatâs how it is." Yun Qian attempted to pick up a preserved fruit, hesitating about whether to toss it into the brazier.
"I... wonât burn it, Iâm reluctant." Yun Qian put the preserved fruit into her mouth, savoring the melting sugar, and squinted her eyes.
"Of course you are, Miss, unlike me, youâve never left the island. Thereâs nothing to commemorate." Xu Changâan clicked his tongue, then stood up, looking at the diminishing snowflakes outside, and extended his hand to Yun Qian.
"The snow has stopped, letâs go, take a look outside."
"Mm." Yun Qian placed her hand in Xu Changâanâs, glancing back at the brazier burning fervently.
Unlike Xu Changâan.
The girl had so many things worth commemorating, not something that burning a preserved fruit could remember. Speaking of which, she had indeed done similar things but couldnât bear to burn the treasures left by her husband, so she burned other things instead.
Yun Qian looked up at the frosty heaven, then glanced at Xu Changâan with some guilt, thinking that if he knew about this, he would probably be unhappy.
ââ
The blooming of flowers symbolizes beauty, someone once told Yun Qian this, and she could still recall some fragmented words.
Walking hand in hand, surrounded by blooming flowers.
Yun Qian thought that snowflakes are also flowers, so... should this scene be flowers covering flowers?
Xu Changâan and Yun Qian left the pavilion to witness a magnificent scene. As far as the eye could see, it was an ocean, an ocean of snowflakes and flowers.
"I said the snow was unexpected, Miss... the flowers in this garden are all buried under the snow." Xu Changâan helplessly looked at the silent white sea of flowers in front of him.
These were the flowers he had carefully cultivated on the island, now covered by snow, in the past, he would have been heartbroken.
But Xu Changâan looked at the green leaves and stems of the flowers hidden by the snowflakes, sensing the vibrant life within.
"What a pity, we should have come earlier, now we canât see the sea of flowers." Xu Changâan regretfully bent down, gently brushing off the snow from the flowers, inhaling the intoxicating fragrance of the flowers, with a hint of sweetness.
If it were midsummer, the dazzling sea of flowers, the heatwave accompanied by a complex flower fragrance rushing towards them would surely delight Yun Qian.
"The sea of snowflakes is also a sea of flowers." Yun Qian tilted her head, bending halfway, with her fingernail plucking the entire white flower.
A flower that escaped the heavy snow cover died in the hands of the girl.
Xu Changâan: "..."
Forget it, can a girl picking flowers really be called picking flowers?
Speaking of which, he always used picking flowers to replace "getting up at night," and now heâs actually picking flowers.
"Donât move." Yun Qian stood up with the white flower and then placed it at Xu Changâanâs ear, examining it and nodding satisfactorily: "Looks good."
"...???" Several question marks appeared on Xu Changâanâs head.
"Miss, isnât this wrong... why are you doing my thing?" Xu Changâanâs eyes widened.
Exactly, he had brushed off the snow from the flower intending to give the girl a flower, but she acted first.
Besides, what kind of man wears a flower?
Xu Changâan was about to remove it.
"Donât take it off." Yun Qian shook her head: "I like it."
"...Alright."
Faced with Yun Qianâs request, Xu Changâan could only comply. He said with a wry smile: "You like it... then I like it too, I wonât take it off."
Yun Qian responded.
"But I canât be the only one wearing it." Xu Changâan said, also plucking a big red flower, trying to place it on Yun Qianâs ear, but to his surprise, Yun Qian lightly dodged it.
"Miss?" Xu Changâan was astonished.
He couldnât understand for the moment why the girl would avoid it.
Xu Changâan looked at Yun Qian, thought for a while, and still asked: "Miss, donât you like this flower? Iâll change it for you."
Yun Qian shook her head and said, "I like it very much."
"You like it, so why..."
"I was thinking about something." Yun Qian said seriously: "Actually, this time, I shouldnât... wear the flower."
What Xu Changâan called commemoration reminded her of many things she shouldnât be thinking about now, memories not belonging to "Yun Qian."
If nothing had gone wrong, she should be quietly observing him, seeing him wearing all sorts of beautiful white flowers, pear blossoms, and Qingluo, without intervening in his life.
Miss Yun should be like before, witnessing beautiful scenes but doing nothing, walking through the sea of flowers without a speck of pollen on her.
In fact, if they hadnât met, she wouldnât even need the name Yun Qian.
Therefore, she would not be the one to wear a flower.
After longing for beautiful things and stepping into them, she would find that everything is fleeting, and the people in front of her would dissipate without a trace with a gust of wind.
ââ
And then the wind picked up.
The wind mixed with snowflakes brushed past Xu Changâan, blowing away the white flower beside his ear.
Yun Qian was startled, bent down to pick it up, and then placed it on her own head.
"Didnât you say you wouldnât wear it?" Xu Changâan was dumbfounded, but what could he do, the girl was beautiful.
"You wore it, I like it." Yun Qian stretched lazily, then looked at the stem from which the flower was picked and said softly: "Is it dying?"
"Itâs dead." Xu Changâan blinked: "But there are many flowers here, after winter ends, come spring, they will bloom brilliantly again. Miss neednât worry."
"Mm." Yun Qian felt the white flower by her ear, her gaze falling on Xu Changâan, asking: "Next year, will it blossom again?"
"Of course." Xu Changâan seemed to feel the atmosphere was right, smiled and said: "The book says those long parted will eventually reunite in the springtime sea of flowers? Very poetic."
"Reunion?" Yun Qian blinked, full of interest, gesturing for Xu Changâan to continue.
"Reunions are all beautiful, isnât it said that... all encounters in the world are reunions after long partings?" Xu Changâan looked earnestly at Yun Qian: "Itâs like, I live once more, come to the island, discover that here new swallows will return, fragrances will intoxicate, and clouds from the sky can heal all."
Clouds from the sky, of course, refer to Yun Qian.
He hoped his encounter with the girl would also be a beautiful reunion.
However, Yun Qian didnât think all reunions were beautiful scenes, for example... this time she picked him up all tattered at the seaside, and there was not a bit of beauty in that.
"Different." Yun Qian said as she removed the flower by her ear and asked, "Itâs dead, and when it blooms next spring, will it still be the same flower?"
?
Xu Changâan looked at her quizzically, "As long as it looks good, who cares if itâs the same flower."
Yun Qian: "..."
That makes so much sense.
Her rare feminine sentiment was cleanly and swiftly torn apart by Xu Changâan.