Fucheng had a No. 2 bus too, but it did not stop at the eighth floor.
It generally did not snow in Fucheng in winter, but that Chinese New Year's Eve, it snowed.
It was not proper snow, but sleet. Ice crystals drifted in the wind and melted as soon as they hit the ground.
Wang Xiaoliang pushed the window open. Cold air rushed in, but he was in no hurry to close it.
Seeing the snow made him miss his parents more, and Zijin too.
After watching for a while, he took out his phone.
He called his parents first and chatted for ten minutes or so, then called Wei Zijin. She was putting on makeup in her hotel in Singapore, and they hung up after exchanging a few words.
He stood by the window a little longer before closing it and going downstairs to cook.
The housekeeper was on holiday and would not be back until the eighth day of the new year. He made a wok of egg fried rice for brunch.
The two of them ate everything, including the refreshing pickles Li Shumei had brought over. Wang Xiaoliang cleared the dishes. As the tap ran, he went over the menu for that evening's New Year's Eve dinner in his head-four dishes and a soup, plus the dumplings his mother had made and frozen before she left.
Six dishes. That would make a decent spread.
Even with just the two of them, they still had to celebrate the New Year properly.
He washed and dried his hands, then returned to the living room. Fan Qishan stood by the window, staring blankly at the snow outside.
Wang Xiaoliang did not disturb him. He went over to the sideboard, picked up the little tub beside the fish tank, unscrewed