During The Blizzard (Amidst A Snowstorm Of Love)

Canto 57: Bridging Distance

"Distance cannot weaken friendship, only absence of news can do that." - Confucius

Translator: Wuxia Studio, Editor: J.C Forester (Mrphysit)

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It was still dark outside, way before sunrise when they reached New York and Wu Wei's apartment. It felt different, even though they'd just been here.

She pushed the door open quietly. The familiar place seemed a little empty now. "They're still sleeping," she whispered to Lin Yiyang.

He took her hand, and they walked carefully through the living room. As they approached Yin Guo's old room, she tripped over a suitcase someone left out. Before she fell, Lin Yiyang grabbed her and kicked the suitcase aside. It thumped against the wall.

They looked at each other.

"Oops, a little loud," she said softly.

Lin Yiyang smiled. "Don't worry, these walls are pretty good at blocking noise."

They started packing their things and cleaning the apartment. Around nine o'clock, the other two people finally woke up.

The silence stretched between Yin Guo and Lin Yiyang. They fidgeted, neither knowing what to do with themselves. It was a familiar feeling before a big goodbye. Back in the day, without WeChat, there might have been a last-minute conversation, a way to hold onto the connection. Now, with constant communication at their fingertips, there was nothing left to say.

A hollow feeling gnawed at Yin Guo's chest. Time seemed to drain away like sand in an hourglass, leaving a sense of emptiness. Lin Yiyang, sensing her unease, picked up a rag and started wiping the table, his movements methodical in the quiet.

Yin Guo shuffled over to the bar and spoke up, hoping to break the tension. "Hey, do you have any dirty clothes here? Maybe a trip to the laundry room could distract us?"

Lin Yiyang looked up, surprised. "Distract us from what?"

"Maybe we should do some. Anything to keep us busy before I leave." Yin Guo said.

The laundry room in the basement wasn't special, just another one in the countless apartment buildings of the city. But for Yin Guo, it held a special memory. It was there, at the blue plastic table in the corner, that Lin Yiyang had first told her he wanted to chase after her. They were both glued to their phones as if it were the middle of the night the night before, not a goodbye morning.

Lin Yiyang reached out and patted her head gently. "I'll be back after," he promised.

Yin Guo just wanted this goodbye to be different from the last one.

Wu Wei returned from his walk to find them still in the living room. No frantic packing, no passionate farewell. He raised an eyebrow. "Everything okay? A big fight before you separate?"

Lin Yiyang barely glanced at him. He checked his watch, then grabbed a box from their room. "Let's go," he said simply.

Wu Wei watched them leave, a pang of empathy hitting him. He thought back to the day he left for his studies abroad. He'd wanted to say something profound to his parents, but there were no words. Everything felt the same, yet different. He sat by the dining table, each passing minute agonizing, just waiting for the moment to leave, for the car ride, for the inevitable pang of hindsight. The familiar pain of leaving home.