“If I had thought about going back, I wouldn’t have left in the first place.”
Then Gao Hai Ming wouldn’t come back either.
“Let’s get some rest. We’re going skiing at the summit tomorrow,” Le’er said.
After Le’er fell asleep, I went back to the hotel lobby to find the staff member from earlier.
“Did Mr. Gao always stay in the same room when he visited?” I asked her.
She checked the records. “Yes, he always stayed in Room 606.”
“Is Room 606 occupied tonight?”
“Let me check.” She flipped through the logbook. “No, it’s unoccupied tonight.”
“Could I take a look inside?”
“Well… let me make the arrangements,” she said.
The staff member went to the office to retrieve the key and accompanied me to Room 606.
“This is the room,” she said.
I stepped inside. The snowy view from the window was even more stunning than the view from my own room.
“Did he always come here alone?” I asked.
“Yes, Mr. Gao always came alone.”
I sat by the window, looking out at the snow.
“May I stay here for a while?” I asked her.
“Of course,” she replied and then left the room.
I noticed the futon on the tatami mat had been turned down. The staff had said the room was unoccupied, so why was the bedding disturbed? I rushed out to find the attendant.
“Miss—”
“Yes?” She turned to look at me.
“Come take a look,” I said, motioning her to follow me into the room.
“You said no one was staying in this room. Why is the futon turned down?”
“Perhaps a housekeeper made a mistake,” she said. “Is there anything else?”
“No,” I replied.
The futon looked as though someone had slept in it. I slid my hand into the bedding—it was still warm. Could Gao Hai Ming be here? Could he have seen me and decided to hide? I opened the wardrobe, but there was no luggage inside.
The next morning, Le’er and I went skiing. Her classmates had joined as well, but since I didn’t know how to ski, I wandered around the small shops near the ski area.
Several stalls were selling "air from Mount Fuji" in small cans.
The 32 cans of air that Gao Hai Ming had given me came from here. I was standing where he once stood.
What he gave me wasn’t air—it was love. Love is like air; why didn’t I realize it before?
He had said that love is like drinking poison with a smile. At the time, I thought I was the one drinking the poison, but it was him. He gave so much, and I never thought of repaying him. I was the one who forced him to drink the poison.
Why was I so useless? Why did it take him leaving for me to realize I loved him? It was too late.
“Big sister, why don’t you stay here for Christmas?” Le’er asked me.
“I have to spend Christmas in Hong Kong,” I said.
On the night of December 24, I returned to Hong Kong. Before going to bed, I took out the Christmas stocking that Gao Hai Ming had given me the previous year. I hung it at the end of my bed, its length trailing onto the floor.
It was supposed to bring me hope. I hoped that when I woke up, he would be back by my side. He had said he wanted me to sleep with hope.
I had to be in Hong Kong on December 24 to hang the stocking.
But when I woke, Santa Claus hadn’t come, and he hadn’t brought Gao Hai Ming back to me either.
I rolled up the stocking and hugged it tightly. There really was no Santa Claus in this world.
I went to the model shop again.
“He hasn’t come,” the shop owner said.
I had expected this.
“I miss the models he built,” the owner added.
So did I.
“I have a jet model here that no one has been able to build properly,” he said, troubled.
“Did a customer specifically request him to assemble it?”
“Yes. This customer gives her boyfriend a model jet every year for his birthday. She’s already given him two, both assembled by Gao Hai Ming. This year, she wanted to give him a third, but time is running out, and she hasn’t been able to find him. She’s very anxious.”
The shop owner showed me the model—a box containing an F-4S Phantom II fighter jet.
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