"Wait!"
Ji Shuhe blurted out, not wanting him to misunderstand, but couldn't explain why she stopped him. She blinked and hesitated before circling back, "It's not too early to wish a happy New Year now, is it?"
On the other end, Wen Shaoyu thought that if he were beside her, he'd be itching to pinch the little sprout's green leaves—pinch until she hurt and had to tell the truth.
But now, separated by a screen, he couldn't even tease her, surrounded by a bunch of irrelevant people.
Wen Shaoyu clicked his tongue. His desire to return to Yong'anli grew stronger. Since nobody welcomed him here anyway, he might as well not come next year.
Now, under Ji Shuhe's probing gaze, his heart softened, and his tone unconsciously mellowed. "It's not New Year's yet. What would it look like to send early greetings? I'll call you tomorrow to do it properly."
Ji Shuhe was stunned. Did this mean he wanted to video call again tomorrow?
"Hey, Ji Shuhe? Did you hear me?"
Wen Shaoyu's words came faster than usual, seemingly normal, but a faint blush crept up his ears.
Ji Shuhe didn't notice. She covered the speaker, glanced at Ji Shulang, then back at Wen Shaoyu, and replied softly, "Then don't forget. If you don't send New Year's wishes, I'll tell Granny Zheng."
Wen Shaoyu tilted his head and smirked. "I'm not your brother."
The New Year in Xinhai was actually quite boring. Compared to the usual busy work and study, holidays meant eating and drinking at home, forwarding received greetings to others. Slowing down felt surreal.
As if the world suddenly stopped, even wasting time felt uncomfortable.
After muddling through the first day, on the second day, the uncle and aunt were to visit Chu Yue's family for New Year's and wouldn't be back until evening. They wanted to take Ji Shuhe along, but she was afraid of awkwardness with strangers and insisted on staying home with her grandparents and watching the house.
Ji Xiangjiang hadn't returned to Xinhai this year for some reason. Grandparents mumbled about it for two days. Early on the second day, when Ji Xiangjiang called, Ji Shuhe was sitting on the first floor, hugging Lizi and staring blankly.
With the TV replaying the Spring Festival Gala in the background, Ji Xiangjiang first gave New Year's wishes to the grandparents, explained the reason for not coming, transferred the New Year's money, and then remembered to say a few words to Ji Shuhe.
As usual, the transferred New Year's money was generous, and the polished words of comfort were cliché.
Ji Shuhe hung up and stared blankly out the window.
The first time she was disappointed, she felt like the sky was falling. But repeated disappointments became a habit; disappointment no longer led to sadness, and she no longer expected anything.
She wasn't sad, just faintly—faintly melancholic for no clear reason.
The room had the heater on, making it warm inside and cold outside. The temperature difference fogged up the glass.
Ji Shuhe itched to touch it. She wiped away the mist, revealing the clear, transparent world outside the window. She squinted one eye to look out, but her view was blocked, so she pressed her hand against the glass again.
The tangled lines matched Ji Shuhe's thoughts—crisscrossing, separating, finally gathering into droplets, sliding down and falling into the window frame...
"Thump thump."
The sound of tapping on glass. A head appeared in the patch where the mist had cleared, dominating Ji Shuhe's entire view.
Author's Note: