Haicheng’s winters were bone-chilling, yet it rarely snowed.
Sometimes, you could even hear the whistling wind; it was a sound that carried a physical temperature, forcing pedestrians to wrap their coats tight.
Chen Jinyue sat in the car. The warm air, Lin Yunsheng’s faint, fragmented whimpers, and her own anger, confusion, and loneliness surrounded her, partitioned by the glass. Countless times, she had felt she hated Lin Yunsheng, and she sought traces of that hatred in the tension of the night. Yet, she still could not say for certain that this hate was entirely unrelated to love.
She was the one in control of Lin Yunsheng, yet she felt as though she were the dying bird.
Lin Yunsheng’s right hand climbed up to Chen Jinyue’s wrist, while her left hand reached laboriously toward the door to press the window control, opening a small crack to let the air flow in. Her face had already flushed an unusual crimson from the difficulty of breathing. She was pressed back against the seat, but her eyes remained fixed on Chen Jinyue, never wavering for a second.
Chen Jinyue knew she would never receive an answer. Her strength ebbed away; her hand remained on the other woman, but she lowered her head, no longer wanting to look at her.
Lin Yunsheng coughed violently as the air suddenly rushed into her lungs. She released her grip on Chen Jinyue’s wrist and pressed her palm against her brow, closing her eyes in discomfort. When she opened them again, they were shimmering with tears.
Finally, she reached out again to take Chen Jinyue’s hand. “Why are your hands still so cold?” she asked.
Chen Jinyue pulled her hand away quickly, her head still hanging low. “This is pointless.”
Having said that, she braced herself to return to her own seat. However, Lin Yunsheng reached out and pressed down on her calf. Her body, which had just begun to rise, fell back down.
“Yueyue… I didn’t mean to provoke you. I’m sorry.”
As she spoke, she slid her hand into the leg of Chen Jinyue’s jeans, pushing the fabric up. She cupped Chen Jinyue’s ankle over her sock, holding her there.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Chen Jinyue’s voice betrayed the exhaustion that follows a great rage.
“If only we were biological sisters.”
Lin Yunsheng froze.
“Then we… the same blood would flow through our veins. You and I would be the closest people in the world. I would have a reason and a standing that even you couldn’t question to possess you.”
She lifted her head slightly to look at Lin Yunsheng’s neck, which she had squeezed red. The color was spreading, and the faint marks of her fingers were still visible. She placed her right hand over them, stroking gently.
“Does it hurt?”
She wasn't really asking Lin Yunsheng, so she didn't wait for an answer.
“I feel pain, too.”
“But when I’m suffering, I never know what you’re thinking. Do you hurt as much as I do?”
“If you were my real sister, maybe you’d be able to feel it. That’s how it always happens on TV.”
She lowered her head again, her entire being devoid of life.
“Whether we share blood or not, we are already the closest people in the world.” Lin Yunsheng raised her right hand to find Chen Jinyue’s chin, gently tilting it up so she could look into her eyes.
“And… you’ve already possessed me, haven’t you?” She let out a sigh so faint it was almost inaudible. Her left hand, still holding the other’s ankle, began to gently rub the protruding bone through the sock.
“I know you have to leave eventually, but hearing you say it yourself… I find it hard to face.”
“I don’t want you to go, but I have no reason to keep you here. Yueyue, I—”
“Don’t call me Yueyue anymore. I don’t like it,” she interrupted. She reached out and covered Lin Yunsheng’s mouth. She truly did not want to hear her say something like, *“It was you who told me not to call you Xiao Jin anymore.”*
In truth, Chen Jinyue was left somewhat at a loss by this soft-spoken, gentle version of Lin Yunsheng. The confession had come too suddenly; she feared that by the time the other woman finished speaking, she would have no words left to respond.
With her mouth covered, Lin Yunsheng stopped speaking. The car became excessively quiet; even the occasional gust of wind seemed to cease.
Her left hand slipped into the rim of the short sock, touching the lateral malleolus directly. She kneaded the area and then pressed down gently.
It itched.
Chen Jinyue finally became willing to look up and meet Lin Yunsheng’s gaze. She saw the covered mouth and the eyes that were moist despite no tears falling. She still felt like that dying bird; Lin Yunsheng’s eyes easily stripped away her senses, leaving only that unresolvable itch on her ankle. In the car, they could see each other clearly by the sparse streetlights, but the vast desolation behind Lin Yunsheng gave her a strong sense of unreality. It was that familiar aura of the unknown and struggle emanating from her.
*I am the one who is leaving, yet it always feels like you are the one who cannot be caught.*
She released her hand, but she didn't want to look away.
She watched her through the dim light, and the other woman did not hide. The silence in the car felt like a standoff with time itself; she could almost hear the sound of Lin Yunsheng’s slender fingers brushing against her skin.
“Have you been drinking tonight?”
“No,” Lin Yunsheng answered obediently.
Chen Jinyue sat astride her, forcing her to tilt her head slightly to meet her gaze.
Lin Yunsheng had craved this moment for a long time; she had thought of it day and night, and she was unwilling to waste a single second.
One second: her eyes shimmered as if alcohol were still playing tricks in her system.
Two seconds: the beautiful lights reflected in them, and old times shone in her pupils.
Three seconds: she narrowed her eyes, and suddenly you felt that by looking at her, you were becoming a little drunk yourself.
Four seconds: you heard her thundering heartbeat, matching your own.
Five seconds: “Are you drunk tonight?” you heard yourself ask.
You saw her shake her head and look away.
“It would be better if you were drunk.”
“What?”
“If you were drunk, you wouldn't remember things.” You let out a soft chuckle.
“...” Chen Jinyue didn't know how to respond.
“If you didn't remember, that would be best.”
“But even if you do remember, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
You reached out with your index finger to tap her shoulder, letting her lean gently against the steering wheel. Amidst her confused gaze, you raised your hand to cover her eyes.
She was very obedient; she was a bit startled, but she did not struggle.
“I missed you so much, Xiao Jin…” You poured all your emotions into those words. You never imagined that you would be the first to say it.
You leaned in, just as you had countless times before—in your memories both familiar and strange—and gently kissed her lips.
You tested the waters tenderly, not daring to linger too long. With a flushed face and a racing heart, you pulled away.
The whistling wind picked up again at some point. You moved the hand that had been gripping her ankle and closed the car window completely, refusing to let even a sliver of this atmosphere be swept away.
You looked at Chen Jinyue, who still refused to open her eyes.
You thought of Catherine saying, *“I am Heathcliff—he’s always, always in my mind... our souls are the same.”*
And at this moment, you are the mute with eyes full of autumn water, and she is the blind who cannot bear to look. You are her, and your worlds have sunk together into the same deep sea.
You reached out and pulled her into your arms, leaning back against the seat.
—Haicheng’s winters were bone-chilling, yet it rarely snowed.
—The train traveling through my body has derailed once again. The snow that never falls in Haicheng is always falling in my heart.
***
