The days that followed were as exhausting as ever. Endless classes, reports, and papers pushed Shen Xi Fan’s emotions to an all-time low. She had been warned before that Cornell was a “university that deprives you of four years of sleep,” but only now did she truly understand the depth of that torment.
January’s weather suddenly turned colder. The biting winds howled fiercely, and the once-bustling, lively campus had become eerily quiet, as though mirroring the bleakness of the weather. Shen Xi Fan herself became melancholic and weighed down by sorrow.
In just two days, it would be the Lunar New Year. Yet in this small town across the ocean, there was no sign of celebration—no red lanterns, no firecrackers, no crowds bustling to buy New Year goods, no dumplings or glutinous rice balls.
No family, no blessings, and no him. Each day felt like a year.
The Ithaca sky was a pale, ashen gray, dull and heavy, hinting at snow that never came. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to weigh on her chest. On such a day, the solitude felt almost unbearable.
This was the kind of weather that invited one to simply fall into a deep sleep, not to sit in a classroom discussing dull project plans in team meetings.
Frowning, she was suddenly interrupted by a voice: “Serena, what do you think about this plan?”
For a brief moment, her mind went blank, but she quickly gathered her thoughts, returning her focus to the material in front of her. After organizing her ideas, she began to speak slowly, touching on topics from the culture of international hotel chains to management concepts, and then adding perspectives on Chinese hotel management principles.
The team leader considered her input, nodding. “That’s a good point. But I don’t usually see you speak up often. What you mentioned about hotel culture has some great points. How about this—next time, you lead the group discussion. How does that sound?”
Faced with the expectant gazes of her teammates, she gave an awkward smile and reluctantly agreed.
On top of a Friday exam, preparing for new courses next week, and an unfinished CareerTracks essay, now she had the added responsibility of leading a discussion. It was the proverbial last straw.
After the group meeting ended, her weary body and frazzled emotions left her on the verge of collapse.
Back in her dorm room, she made herself a cup of tea and sat blankly by the window. Her desk was piled high with reference materials, yet she had no idea where to start. Absentmindedly, she opened her laptop. Messages flooded in on MSN and QQ—former colleagues and friends sent vibrant images and heartwarming or humorous New Year greetings, filling her screen.
Only then did she realize it was New Year’s Eve.
But there was no message from He Su Ye. Perhaps he was still at the research institute and wouldn’t even return home tonight. He had told her before that his project had reached a critical phase and that he might not have much time to spend with her. She had felt a small pang of disappointment then but had reassured him not to worry, saying his research work was most important.
She called home. On the other end of the line, the crackle of firecrackers roared. Her mother’s voice shouted over the noise: “Fan Fan! Your dad and I miss you so much. He’s been talking about you non-stop these past few days. Your grandfather’s been asking when you’ll come back.”
Hearing this, her nose stung, and she quickly replied, “I’ll be back in six months—soon!”
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