His heart throbbed in spasms, as though someone had planted an alarm clock inside it, one that would never stop ringing.
The snowfield was so quiet, yet a sense of dread kept lingering around Xue Tingtao.
Something urged him on. He struggled up from the ground, his gaze fixed directly on the little boy not far away.
They were clearly not far apart, yet no matter what he did, he could not make out the boy's face.
The boy did not move either. He simply watched him quietly, like a sculpture frozen in the snow, somewhere between reality and illusion.
Xue Tingtao felt an almost uncontrollable urge to see his true face. Despite slipping again and again, he kept pushing through the snowdrifts, leaving a trail of deep footprints behind him.
"Hiss, hiss, hiss..."
He walked forward, gradually drawing closer to the little boy, while a faint sound began to rise from the depths of his soul.
It sounded like a radio signal cutting in and out, or interference on a bad phone connection, but for the moment, he heard none of it.
There was only a trembling body, unnaturally trying to draw "close" to the little boy.
The figure grew increasingly distinct and clear.
Before Xue Tingtao's eyes, subtle changes began to emerge in the silent expanse of white.
He saw that the boy wore a short, pale blue padded jacket. His hands were red with cold, and though his face remained indistinct, he seemed to be waiting for something.
"Waiting for what..."
One tall, one short, the two gradually drew closer. Yet the closer he got, the more blurred the boy's face became.
Some shackle within Xue Tingtao's soul loosened, and memories that should never have resurfaced began flowing through his blood vessels.
In a daze, he seemed