The morning snow came without warning as they were about to leave.
The sky hadn’t fully brightened yet. The light bulb hanging under the porch had been on all night. In its yellow glow, countless snow shadows drifted and danced.
Lu Wenyuan carried a small luggage bag filled with the daily necessities he and Lu Qingyuan had used over those few days. Chen Annan’s things, on the other hand, weren’t brought along—everything would be bought new once they got to the city.
Chen Annan stood in the snow, wrapping his hand-knitted scarf around his neck by himself. The red scarf was very long; even wrapped three times, there was still extra length. His mother had knitted it for him the year before. The soft, fuzzy yarn nestled against his neck, covering half his face and keeping out the harsh winter wind.
When children leave home, they cling to familiarity. The scent of something known makes them feel at ease.
Lu Qingyuan had a wool cap on his head and stood holding a cartoon umbrella beside Chen Annan, waiting for their dad.
When the old, paint-chipped iron gate was pulled shut, it let out a sharp screech. Lu Wenyuan threaded the chain through the railing back and forth several times. As he prepared to snap the lock shut, someone tugged at his coat.
He looked down and saw Chen Annan pulling at him, his voice soft: “Uncle, can you not lock the door?”
Lu Wenyuan smiled: “Did you forget something inside?”
Chen Annan tilted his little face up. Against the snowy backdrop, his eyes were especially bright: “I’m afraid Mama forgot her keys and can’t get in. She’s always so scatterbrained; I’ve told her so many times.”
This time, Lu Wenyuan didn’t answer. He simply hung the lock up at last, but didn’t snap it closed.
Chen Annan asked again: “Uncle, when is Mama coming to get me?”
Hearing this, Lu Qingyuan lifted his lashes and glanced over, his expression cold, as if he wanted to say something—but he didn’t.
“In a few years,” Lu Wenyuan replied. His broad palm rested on the back of Chen Annan’s head, carrying the searing warmth of an adult.
He figured that when Chen Annan was a little older, the child might gradually come to accept the truth. Time always pushes people forward, and even the scars that can’t be smoothed over will eventually fade as the days pass.
“That’s so long,” Chen Annan’s voice dropped, carrying a barely perceptible note of disappointment.
“Mama also wants to see Nannan soon.” Lu Wenyuan scooped him up into his arms. Holding the luggage bag in his other hand, he called for Lu Qingyuan to get into the car.
The car rumbled to life, puffing black smoke as it pulled out of the narrow road.
The country lane was already coated in white. The wheels bumped over the yellow-dirt path, jolting violently. In the back seat, the two kids sat—Lu Qingyuan gripping his seatbelt, and Chen Annan wearing a thick, fuzzy hat with two little white pompoms dangling at the ends, swaying with every movement of his head.
The road gradually widened. By the time the car left the dirt path, half the vehicle was caked in mud. The distant gray sky pressed down heavily. Snow pellets mixed into the wind and tapped against the car window.
Chen Annan twisted around to look. The rows of squat houses on both sides of the road steadily retreated from view. He babbled soft goodbyes to them. Beside him, his big brother would glance over now and then, then retract his gaze, until finally, he couldn’t hold back an order: “Can you be quiet for a bit?”
The big brother was a kid of few words—either he said nothing, or he snapped at people the moment he opened his mouth. Chen Annan didn’t like talking to him. And he ignored Chen Annan equally.
In the back seat, a throw pillow was wedged between them as their default dividing line, the 38th Parallel. Neither could cross it; Lu Qingyuan even retracted his clothes if the hem so much as strayed past the line.
Chen Annan kept both hands plastered to the car window, gazing out without looking back. Even when his bottom went numb from the jolting, he didn’t shift an inch.
It was as if the two were silently competing.
Before the car hit the highway, Chen Annan still had the energy to jabber at the scenery outside. Once they were on the highway, children get sleepy easily.
His head tilted to one side, and his body followed. Lu Qingyuan was reading a picture book when that snow-white, fuzzy pompom suddenly flopped onto his book, scaring him half to death.
Chen Annan hadn’t taken off his hat since getting into the car. Annoyed, Lu Qingyuan pushed that furry head aside with his hand. Chen Annan sensed it, groggily opened his eyes, and scooted back into his own seat. But before long, as the car continued to jostle, he slumped over again.
Lu Qingyuan had already put the picture book away and was dozing with his head against the car window when a sudden twinge in his privates jolted him partly awake.
He opened his eyes and found that this kid’s head had planted itself straight onto his crotch. What a nuisance that even the dividing line couldn’t stop!
This time, Lu Qingyuan deliberately didn’t push the kid away. Irritated, he said, “Dad, look at him.”
Driving up front, Lu Wenyuan glanced at the rearview mirror, saw Chen Annan’s head resting on Lu Qingyuan’s lap, and laughed: “It looks like you two have finally snuggled up together to sleep. Isn’t that nice?”
“He’s pressing on my little brother,” Lu Qingyuan pulled a long face, exaggerating, “It really hurts. What if it gets crushed?”
Lu Wenyuan’s gaze returned to the road ahead, only focused on driving: “Oh, then what? If it’s broken, it’s broken. Even if you were a girl, Dad would still love you just the same.”
“…” Lu Qingyuan had absolutely nothing to say to his dad.
He had just wanted to act a little spoiled; he never expected his dad to respond like that. His heart chilled by half. Sulking, he didn’t make another peep.
In truth, he couldn’t really say he disliked Chen Annan. But a child’s possessiveness is just too strong. His parents had divorced early, and he’d been raised by his dad since he was small. His dad was his whole world. Now, a strange kid had barged into that world, wanting to share that affection.
Lu Qingyuan was still far from accepting this—especially seeing Chen Annan held in his dad’s arms. That unspeakable possessiveness would stir, inciting his emotions and making him grow sharp thorns.
So when his gaze landed back on Chen Annan, a few degrees of unconscious disgust seeped into his words.
Of course, Chen Annan had no idea why his big brother hated him. Lu Qingyuan spitefully shoved him aside again. This time, he wised up and propped Chen Annan’s head into the little nook where the window met the seat, letting him lean there to sleep.
That fragile little private part could not withstand a second crushing.
Sure enough, Chen Annan didn’t topple over again. With his face tilted upward and the nook supporting his head, he wasn’t knocked around by the car’s bumps. He slept quietly the whole way. Warm air blew gently from the air conditioner vents, mixing with the scent of the car freshener, baking his whole body deliciously warm.
It was a cross-province distance. By the time they reached the city, the sky had already darkened.
The car stopped outside the residential complex. When Chen Annan heard the door open, his body suddenly felt lighter—someone was carrying him.
Lu Wenyuan held Chen Annan and murmured softly, “Wake up now…”
Eyes still heavy with sleep, Chen Annan lay on Lu Wenyuan’s shoulder in a daze for a long while, unable to tell where he was. Through the thin slits of his eyelids, he saw rows of tall buildings standing against the gray-black sky. His small hands instinctively clung tighter around his uncle’s neck.
“We’re home now,” Lu Wenyuan’s voice carried an extra trace of laughter.
It was also snowing in Nanjing at the moment. But snow in the south never amounted to much—tiny, thin flakes that melted the instant they hit the ground. No need for an umbrella.
Lu Qingyuan still looked like a little puffed-up bun. After climbing out of the car, he silently opened an umbrella, intending to hold it for them.
The wind scraped past, whisking away the warmth from their bodies. Chen Annan gave a couple of soft, throaty hums and buried his face back into his uncle’s shoulder. Strange environments always frighten people, but if you can’t see, you won’t be scared.
Sneaking a sidelong glance, Lu Qingyuan spotted this and immediately stalked off with his umbrella, leaving the pair behind with only the back of his stubborn little head.
The residential complex was large. Streetlamps faintly lit their way forward.
Holding Chen Annan, Lu Wenyuan looked ahead at that kid pouting, though silent, occasionally giving a little huff, as if he wanted the whole world to know he was angry.
“Good cub, come here,” Lu Wenyuan called to him.
Hearing this, Lu Qingyuan walked even faster. The streetlights on both sides illuminated his shadow; the umbrella slung over his shoulder made him look like a little hedgehog with all its spines out.
He walked without looking back. But no matter how big a child’s strides are, they can’t outpace an adult’s steps. Before he could get far, that broad, warm hand was already resting on his head.
“Slow down. Dad can’t keep up,” Lu Wenyuan reached his side.
Clutching the umbrella, Lu Qingyuan let out another faint huff and turned his face away.
Lu Wenyuan noticed the thin layer of snow gathered on the umbrella canopy and said, “The snow’s getting a little heavier. Can your umbrella give Dad a little cover?”
Lu Qingyuan stopped walking. Lips pressed tightly together, he looked up. Fine snowflakes drifted and swayed between them under the light. Dad’s hair and coat were dusted with bits of snow; Chen Annan was covered in them, too.
“What’s the matter?” Lu Wenyuan squatted down to meet him, trying to look pitiful, “You don’t want Dad to catch a cold, do you?”
Lu Qingyuan didn’t make a sound. He knew Dad had worked hard these past few days.
Eyes blinking again and again, Lu Qingyuan eventually extended the small umbrella, with an attitude that said take it and we’re through.
Seeing how serious and solemn he looked, Lu Wenyuan wanted to hold back his laughter, but couldn’t. He tilted his face away and laughed.
Using his free hand, he wrapped it around Lu Qingyuan’s shoulder, then scooped under his bottom and lifted him up steady.
Suddenly finding his feet off the ground, Lu Qingyuan hadn’t expected Dad to carry him too. He let out a startled cry and reflexively grabbed his dad’s shoulder.
Lu Wenyuan laughed: “Good cub, this way we can all block the snow.”
The three of them were squeezed under that little cartoon umbrella. Snow landed on Dad’s shoulder, but not on the children.
Their apartment building was at the very back of the complex. And so Lu Wenyuan walked leisurely and calmly forward, a child in each arm. The tantalizing smell of cooking drifting from the windows made everything indescribably warm and cozy.
Still not fully awake, Chen Annan shifted his face to the other side. Feeling the warmth from his uncle, he instinctively burrowed closer.
Lu Qingyuan couldn’t help saying, “I think I should get down after all.”
“What, are you scared Dad’s going to drop you?” Lu Wenyuan raised an eyebrow, “With kids as light as you two, carrying you is nothing—like child’s play.”
As if to prove it, he deliberately sprinted a few steps. The snow crunched underfoot. Lu Qingyuan’s body suddenly felt weightless; he yelled several times for “Dad!” and fearfully clung to Lu Wenyuan’s neck.
The umbrella tilted too, the snow spilling down and shaking all over them.
After that brief moment of terror, Lu Qingyuan broke into the happiest smile he’d shown in days.
Chen Annan also woke up. Blinking bleary eyes, he saw his big brother smiling at him and almost thought he was still dreaming. Dazed for a full few seconds, he then returned the smile with one of his own.
A silly, yet adorable, smile.
