It was past eleven.
The snow had gradually stopped falling.
In the pavilion atop the park hill, Dong Xuebin was still chattering away to Fang Wenping, bragging about his past "glorious" exploits. Someone else might not have been interested in Dong Xuebin's nonsense, but Fang Wenping seemed to enjoy hearing it. They drank together as they talked about the rotten things each had done. Fang Wenping eventually shared a few of her own stories, making Dong Xuebin laugh several times. It felt a little like they had found a kindred spirit. It was rare for them to hit it off so well, rare for them to talk this much together.
Wine.
A beauty.
A snowy day.
Dong Xuebin had given his coat to Fang Wenping, yet he no longer felt so cold, nor did he feel as unwilling as before. Spending the second day of the Lunar New Year sneaking into the park with Fang Wenping to chat and shoot the breeze was actually pretty interesting.
In any case, he had nothing going on at home.
Dong Xuebin was in no hurry to go back now.
"And that time, there was a plane crash. Everyone thought I was dead. A few months later, they'd even held my funeral before I finally went back. Scared the hell out of them, haha. Ever heard of anyone attending their own funeral? You should've seen their faces—they were scared stiff." At the exciting part, Dong Xuebin burst out laughing. "Then someone took my position, so they had no choice but to promote me."
"A plane crash? You'd even run into something like that?" Fang Wenping looked at him.
"Yeah." Dong Xuebin did not know whether to laugh or cry. "Nothing I could do about it. Just happened to be there."
"You're not that old,