The night grew deeper. Looking out through the wooden window lattice, one could see a faint dark blue at the end of the pitch-black sky.
At first, there was no light at all in the corridor. But as pure white snowflakes drifted past the window, their whiteness spread across the windowsill and wooden floorboards like moonlight.
A gust of wind streamed in through the crack in the corridor window, blowing down the paper stuck to the door. As it fell, several words could be seen written on it—"Do Not Disturb."
Beyond the door, a figure sat by the bed. He had changed into pajamas and switched off the chandelier on the guest room ceiling and the wall lamps, leaving only a desk lamp on the bedside table lit.
When the lamp was on, it cast a cone-shaped glow upward along the nearby wall and into the corner. Everywhere beyond that halo lay in deep shadow.
The dim yellow light intertwined with the reflections of falling snow. Merely looking at it made one feel the cold outside and the warmth within, and sleepiness grew heavier still.
Schiller put his glasses into their case. He glanced at the increasingly heavy snow outside, then took an umbrella from the shadows beneath the bed.
He leaned the umbrella's handle against the bedside table. A thread of light from the lamp poured down its shaft, revealing strange and mysterious patterns across the canopy. They resembled snakeskin, but their winding curves were broader, and under the light, they seemed to be slowly shifting.
After setting down the umbrella, Schiller lay on the bed and pulled the blanket over himself. He gradually adjusted his breathing, slowing its rhythm. Just as his consciousness was about to sink into that vast white expanse, a rapid series of sounds suddenly