Sheng Jingchu took the duck from Cheng Liao’s hand, looked at it, and placed it back on the bookshelf.
Once Master Xie had left, Cheng Liao leaned over and playfully pinched his cheek.
"Did you really like playing with little ducks when you were a kid?" The thought amused her more and more. "I thought you were already frowning and reciting pi when you were still in diapers."
Sheng Jingchu chuckled, then patted the edge of the bed. "What should we do? We have to stay here tonight."
Master Xie was sleeping in his own room, and his son's room had long since turned into a storage space. This was the only room in the house where they could stay.
Cheng Liao felt a bit uneasy. Her gaze flicked back and forth between the two beds before she finally chose the one by the window.
"This must be yours. I’ll sleep in your bed."
Although Master Xie had many disciples, only Sheng Jingchu and Cao Xihe had ever stayed at his house.
Sheng Jingchu had come when he was six, and Cao Xihe, who was a year younger, had joined Master Xie at the same age.
The two boys had no close family, so they studied at Xie Hanzhou's Go academy most of the time. During holidays, they had nowhere to go, so Master Xie had set up a room in his house for them.
Even with the air conditioning on, the room was still eerily cold. Cheng Liao curled up under the blanket, having only taken off her coat. Noticing that Sheng Jingchu was still sitting up, she teased him mischievously, "Do you need help getting undressed?"
Sheng Jingchu shook his head with a smile. "Your expression right now is like seeing Gao Yanei eyeing Lin Chong's wife."
He turned off the light and began undressing with one hand.
The room suddenly plunged into darkness, and her eyes struggled to adjust. All Cheng Liao could hear was the rustling of clothes.
She widened her eyes, trying to make out his silhouette. By the time she finally did, Sheng Jingchu was already lying down.
The room grew quiet. He tossed and turned a few times, seemingly unable to sleep.
Cheng Liao teased him again, "Should I put the little duck in your arms to cuddle?"
He muttered something under his breath, and after a while, he asked her, "Would keeping the light on make it hard for you to sleep?"
Only then did Cheng Liao remember Sheng Jingchu's quirk—he had to sleep with the light on.
So she said, "As soon as I close my eyes, it’s dark."
Sheng Jingchu called out to her, "Then why don’t you turn the light on?"
Cheng Liao teased, "Nope, if you want it on, you turn it on yourself."
He didn’t move. After a long pause, he softly called her name.
"Liao Liao..."
Just two simple syllables, the tone gently rising and falling, like a playful tease, almost like he was being coy.
Cheng Liao’s heart melted. She had no choice but to sit up and turn on the light.
He finally seemed at peace, exhausted. His voice was very low. "Let’s sleep."
Cheng Liao lay down. "I don't mind, but can Cao Xihe tolerate it?"
He seemed to have fallen asleep, as his breathing gradually became steady.
Cheng Liao wrapped herself tightly in the blanket. She couldn’t sleep well in a new place, so she lay there counting sheep.
Suddenly, Sheng Jingchu spoke, "He lost the bet."
When Cheng Liao woke up, Sheng Jingchu’s bed was already empty.
She felt a weight on her body, and upon looking down, she saw that Sheng Jingchu’s coat had been placed over her blanket.
She went downstairs and found Xie Hanzhou and Sheng Jingchu sitting in the living room.
"Jingchu," she heard Xie Hanzhou say to Sheng Jingchu, "I think you need to experience a loss. You’re wound too tightly, and it worries me."
As Cheng Liao and Sheng Jingchu were leaving, Xie Hanzhou walked them out far beyond the house. Cheng Liao tried to persuade him to go back multiple times, and each time he replied, "I’ll go back soon," yet he kept following them closely.
Even after the car drove away, they could still see Xie Hanzhou’s figure in the distance.
He was waving, his white hair being blown by the wind, gradually shrinking into a small black dot, eventually swallowed by the overcast sky.
She grew concerned. "Will Master Xie be okay on his own?"
Sheng Jingchu replied, "His son is already on his way."
Since Xie Hanzhou’s wife had passed, Master Xie rarely left Hangzhou. Sheng Jingchu and Cao Xihe had invited him to visit a few times, but he always declined.
When they returned from Hangzhou, it was snowing in Jiangcheng.
The snow wasn’t heavy, but it fell gently, persistently, as if it would never end.
Cheng Liao held his hand, watching the snow accumulate on his head, gradually forming a thin layer.
She recalled a saying and told him, "Have you ever heard the phrase, 'With frost and snow on our heads, we grow old together'?"
He shook his head and held her hand tighter. "I’ve heard this one: 'With frost and snow on our heads, we’ll grow old together as one.'"
Cheng Liao stood on tiptoe and brushed the snow off his head.
"Panda, I’ve noticed you’ve become quite the romantic lately."
He laughed, his eyelashes dusted with snow.
"It seems I have a knack for it."
"Here’s your reward."
Cheng Liao let go of his hand, placed her heels together, and pointed her toes outward. She began hopping forward in the snow.
After a while, she stopped and pointed at the tracks she’d made.
"Doesn’t it look like the tracks of a tractor?"
She then twirled in a circle, forming a wobbly heart on the ground, and after admiring her work, she made a gesture of presenting it to him. "This is for you."
He smiled, his expression soft and gentle.
"That’s quite a valuable gift."
Later that night, Cheng Liao couldn’t sleep and took out her phone to browse Weibo. She had created a small account to follow people she was interested in.
Sheng Jingchu posted a photo—a picture of the tracks they had made in the snow.
It was captioned with two words: "Reward received."
Sheng Jingchu rarely posted on Weibo and never about anything unrelated to Go. Even when he won the Toyota Cup, he hadn’t posted a single celebratory message.
His sudden, cryptic post sparked great interest among his followers, with some even tagging his acquaintances, asking them who had given it to him.
Cao Xihe was baffled and retweeted the post with a questioning emoji.
Some people even speculated that Zhao Yanxun, who had visited China recently, might be the person in question.
Cheng Liao liked the post and, feeling satisfied, drifted off to sleep.
Recently, the Xiushidai app had just launched. Although the download numbers were decent after being released on various app stores, they still fell short of the company’s expectations.
Cheng Liao was responsible for coordinating content with the product department.
It was purely behind-the-scenes work, distancing her even further from her dream of becoming Oprah. Rubbing her sore neck, she vented to Yan Xiao, "Is it possible that reality always contradicts our dreams?"
Yan Xiao was busy preparing a special feature for the preliminary rounds of the "Ji Shi Cup," which had been ongoing for nearly three months and was nearing the finals.
She didn’t have time to deal with Cheng Liao. "However far your dreams are, go that far away from me." She paused and sighed. "I'm so busy I might break up with my boyfriend." She set her work aside and asked Cheng Liao, "Is Sheng Jingchu busy too?"
Sheng Jingchu was indeed very busy. Sometimes they wouldn't see each other for a whole week, but as long as he wasn't playing a game, his phone was always on, and he would reply to Cheng Liao's messages immediately.
Though his replies often consisted of just a few words: "Yes, okay, go to sleep."
However, he rarely sent her emojis.
Cheng Liao had heard from Cao Xihe that Sheng Jingchu had recently become obsessed with using emojis, replying with one to anyone who sent him a message on WeChat.
Curious, Cheng Liao asked him, "Why don’t you send me any?"
He replied, "Sincerity."
Even a simple "yes" was something he carefully typed out, letter by letter.
On Christmas Eve, Cheng Yi went to a nearby small church for an all-night prayer vigil.
The Cheng family had a rather complicated set of beliefs. Cheng’s grandfather was a Buddhist, and there was always a Buddha statue in the living room. Cheng’s grandmother didn’t believe in anything, but ever since her husband passed away, she burned incense in front of the Buddha every morning and evening.
Cheng's father was a Taoist, with various talismans stuck on the walls of his bedroom, and a Bagua mirror hanging by the door.
Cheng Liao, at her core, was an atheist, but seeing Cheng Yi head out, she decided to go along.
Cheng Yi was bundled up in a thick down jacket, her head wrapped in a hat, with long fur covering most of her face. When she saw Cheng Liao following her, she thought she must have forgotten her phone, instinctively feeling for it in her pocket, only to find it was still there.
Cheng Liao linked arms with her. "I’ll go pray with you."
The small church was not far from Sweetwater Lane, converted from a devout believer's home. It usually hosted local congregants for gatherings, and the preacher was an elderly Christian.
There was also a choir made up of children from the congregation. Cheng Liao had been in the choir when she was a child, but her singing voice was so devastatingly off-key that she was expelled after just one day. While God may love all people, it seemed people did not love a child with a terrible singing voice.
As the prayer began, Cheng Liao closed her eyes.
In a low voice, she prayed, "Lord, I don't really know You, and it feels a bit awkward to ask something from You on our first meeting. Would it be too much to ask You to help Teacher Xie Hanzhou get better? If that's asking too much, could You at least let him live a bit longer and be happier? And could You help Sheng Jingchu win the 'Ji Shi Cup' Go tournament? If you think I’m asking for too much, do as You see fit."
She figured that Cheng Yi, beside her, had likely already prayed for the family's well-being, so there was no need for her to do it as well.
Thus, throughout the long night, she kept repeating those two requests, until by dawn, she was a bit embarrassed by how persistent she had been.
"Did I wear You out with all my praying?"
She made the sign of the cross over herself and softly said, "Amen."
Snow was falling outside again.
Cheng Liao thought back to the snow of her childhood. Every time it snowed, it gave her a sense of impending doom.
It would snow all day, all night, and by the next morning, the doors would be sealed shut by the snow, and even pushing them open would be a struggle.
She would secretly bury an apple in the snow in the yard, and after a day, she would have a frozen apple to eat. Taking a bite would bring a cool, crisp sensation, and she would have to nibble at it with her front teeth bit by bit.
Back then, she always felt time moved too slowly and childhood was too long.
The small church had no heating, so by the time Cheng Liao left, her feet were numb from the cold.
The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, and it was still early. Sheng Jingchu must not be up yet.
She sent him a WeChat message:
"God bless you."
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