Chapter 2 — A Letter to the Snowy Day

Perhaps love truly makes a person brave. In order to get closer to Shen Diao, I did many things that I would never have dared to dream of before, even if it cost me my life. I began to track every one of his performances, even traveling halfway across the country just to gift him a bouquet of flowers. Eventually, as we grew closer, I learned that he suffered from stomach issues and was a picky eater, so I rented a room to cook for him, waiting for him to finish his shows every day to bring him meals. Whenever he made a single phone call, no matter where I was or what I was doing, I would rush to his side immediately. Many girls adored Shen Diao, but I was the one who persisted the longest. To the point that his bandmates, whenever they saw me, could not help but tease, "Yo, your little follower is here again." As time passed, perhaps Shen Diao simply became accustomed to my presence.

Shen Diao’s parents each had their own careers and were rarely home. I lied to my own parents, claiming I had to stay behind for school, just so I could spend every holiday by his side. It wasn't until one year, on the eve of the Lunar New Year, while I was boiling dumplings for him, that Shen Diao stared at me for a long time before suddenly saying, "Ji Ran, let's be together."

Being with someone like Shen Diao came with immense pressure. It was said that since high school, he had dated all the campus belles in the neighboring schools; no girlfriend of his had ever lasted more than three months. He changed lovers faster than he changed his clothes. At first, I was worried he was just playing around. But unexpectedly, after we started dating, Shen Diao truly settled down. Even his friends couldn't believe it, saying that he and I were like two ends of a magnet. For those three years, we were no different from any other deeply in-love couple. He told me everywhere he went, he bought my favorite pastries on his way home, and at night, we would cling to each other, exhausted, until we fell asleep in each other's arms. I was submerged in happiness, truly believing we would walk together until the very end.

That was until I felt Shen Diao’s coldness. He began coming home later and later, his replies to my messages grew increasingly perfunctory, and every time I asked, he claimed he was busy with events. One night, I went to find him, only to see him as he was the day we first met: surrounded by countless girls, a smile playing on his lips. Among them was a young girl who was particularly bold, looking to be in her early twenties. She wore a white, off-the-shoulder wool dress with a soft, fuzzy hair claw at the back of her head, looking pure and beautiful. That was exactly the type Shen Diao liked. After we began dating, he had once inadvertently mentioned that I wasn't his usual type—he preferred girls who knew how to play, how to act spoiled, and who were both innocent and adorable. At that time, he had hugged me—as I felt a bit sad—and comforted me, saying, "But for the rest of my life, I only love you, my wife."

The girl leaned in close, acting coy: "Handsome, can I have your contact info?"

Shen Diao’s hand, which was holding his phone, froze. He suddenly saw me standing outside the crowd. He paused, then gave a natural smile and gestured toward me: "I can't. My girlfriend is right there."

After that incident, aside from coming home even later, nothing about Shen Diao seemed to change. But as a woman, my keen sixth sense still made me feel the distance growing between us. After he fell asleep, for the first time, I checked his phone. In his chat list was a strange avatar, saved as "Shen Rong Rong." When I opened it, it was indeed the girl who had asked for his contact that day. My hands began to tremble as I scrolled through their conversations. It turned out they had added each other as friends the very next day. These days, they talked constantly. Every single day, that girl shared all sorts of things with Shen Diao. Right before we went to sleep, she had just sent him a selfie of herself dining out, shot from a high angle, showing off a beautiful figure. "This place is delicious, we should go together sometime." Shen Diao had replied: "Sure, after I finish my performance this Saturday, we can go for a late-night snack."

My mind went blank. That night, I couldn't sleep. The next morning, I had a massive fight with Shen Diao. He swore on his life that there was nothing between them, that she had just asked for his contact and he hadn't wanted to be rude, thinking of how I used to be. In front of me, he blocked her and hugged me, promising, "Wife, I really do love you. Can you forgive me this once?"

I forgave him. I was not a fool, but at that moment, I chose to blindfold myself, to be a fool. I loved Shen Diao too deeply; I couldn't break up with him, so I had to deceive myself, pretending nothing had happened. But not long after, I found a new girl in his messages. Another cycle of arguing, crying, swearing, and promising ensued. Then another. I felt as if I had fallen into a quagmire, unable to escape, spinning in circles over and over again. I smashed our framed photos, cried like a madwoman, cursed him with vicious words, and then desperately returned to reconcile.

Shen Diao eventually realized I could not leave him. He began to lose his patience, and later, he wouldn't even come home at night. We entered a cold war—not eating together, not speaking, sleeping in separate rooms, like two strangers living under the same roof. I once heard him tell a friend: "Actually, I’ve been bored of Ji Ran for a long time. It’s been three years; touching her is no different than touching myself."

His friend asked curiously, "Then why not break up?"

He was silent for a moment, then irritably ruffled his hair: "Let's see. She likes me so much, it’s probably hard to shake her off."

Only then did I understand that Shen Diao was born a player. He would never change for me. Right at that moment, I discovered I was pregnant. Thinking back on it now, I had been so obsessed I had gone mad. Looking at the pregnancy test, I cried and laughed at the same time, desperately viewing the child as my final lifeline. I wanted to use it to save Shen Diao. I went to find him, intending to share the news. But I found him drinking with Shen Rong Rong, surrounded by his friends and other beautiful girls. His friend saw me and nudged Shen Diao. Shen Diao glanced at me, suddenly curved his lips, and whispered something into Shen Rong Rong’s ear. In the dim, hazy light, Shen Rong Rong blushed and laughed, eventually taking a sip of wine before wrapping her arms around Shen Diao’s neck to kiss him. Shen Diao held the back of her head, and amidst the roaring music, the two shared a deep, lingering kiss. When Shen Rong Rong finally pulled back, breathless, a silver thread of saliva still lingering at the corner of her lips, Shen Diao looked at me, his eyes full of provocation.

I knew he was doing it on purpose to enrage me, to retaliate for our days of silence. He was telling me that he would never bow down to me. I should have been furious, but in that instant, I felt no anger at all. I only felt tired—all the strength I had to love him seemed to have drained away completely in that fleeting second, a weariness so profound it was deathly silent.