When the speech ended, snow actually began to fall from the sky.

Suiyi is a southern city and rarely sees snow. Even when it does snow once in a while in a year, it is never heavy—fine sleet mixed with rain that melts as soon as it hits the ground. This snowfall, however, was unexpectedly heavy. Large snowflakes were visibly drifting through the air, fluttering down in profusion.

Most of the students at Sui Normal University were locals from Suiyi. Southern kids, seeing snow, shrieked in delight, holding up their phones to take pictures everywhere.

It was already getting late. Jin Zhao had to invigilate the postgraduate entrance examination early the next morning. The Academic Affairs Office required invigilators to arrive at the examination office before seven o’clock. The dean, afraid she might have a teaching accident, told her to go back early to rest, while he himself accompanied the principal to see Meng Yanxi off.

Jin Zhao’s gaze met Meng Yanxi’s. She was serious to the point of propriety, thanking him and saying goodbye like an ordinary friend.

Jin Zhao didn’t know what kind of psychology it was, but she didn’t really want people to know that they were in a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, especially leaders and colleagues.

If nothing unexpected happened, she would work here until retirement.

Binding feelings together with work made her feel insecure.

Meng Yanxi looked at her, fell silent for two seconds, then suddenly said, “I’m going to New York tomorrow, probably for a little over a week. If I can make it back, shall we spend New Year’s together?”

Jin Zhao: “……”

That Jin Zhao could invite Meng Yanxi might be because he was her friend, but an ordinary friend and someone whom Meng Yanxi proactively invited to spend New Year’s with—there was no small difference between the two.

Everyone’s gazes fell on Jin Zhao in unison.

Bracing herself, Jin Zhao continued to pretend their relationship was pure: “Okay, then we’ll call Xixi to join us.”

Meng Yanxi raised an eyebrow and didn’t say anything.

As they went down the stairs, taking advantage of no one paying attention, Jin Zhao’s hand quickly slipped into the pocket of Meng Yanxi’s coat.

It made Meng Yanxi’s heart jolt uncontrollably. His hand subconsciously went into the pocket to hold hers, but Jin Zhao withdrew just as swiftly.

Meng Yanxi grabbed at his girlfriend’s hand and came up empty, only touching the thick red envelope that had appeared in his coat pocket.

Meng Yanxi could be said to have a naturally sensitive touch for money. Without looking, just by feel, he recognized it as the red envelope he had given on her behalf to Jin Wenyi.

He abruptly looked at her.

Jin Zhao pretended not to see it and hurried toward the direction of the teachers’ apartments.

Meng Yanxi watched her retreating figure.

The principal turned back to speak to him. He didn’t hear clearly; the words fell into the snow, a second or two of silence, and Lu Jingyue beside him seamlessly took over.

Meng Yanxi stood where he was, his gaze following Jin Zhao.

Snowflakes fluttered down, and in the distance there was unexpectedly fine moonlight.

A half-crescent moon—imperfect, but very bright—hung pure and clear in the sky.

She walked slowly toward the direction the moon had risen. The moon illuminated her figure, and also lit up the snowflakes falling around her.

Snow settled on her, cleaner and more luminous than when she had arrived.

Something stirred in his heart. Meng Yanxi took out his phone, the lens aimed at her back.

The shutter pressed down, and the image froze.

The principal and his group saw Meng Yanxi and Lu Jingyue off to the parking lot. Until the Maybach drove away, Meng Yanxi was sparing with words.

Lu Jingyue’s dissatisfaction piled up to an unprecedented level. He shot him a glance and said meaningfully, “It’s hard to say whether you’re a sacred body for romance, or a sacred body for speeches.”

This dog Meng Yanxi was the one who agreed to give the speech, yet he practically dragged him over through coercion and inducement. In the end, he himself barely said a few words the entire time, leaving everyone else to toil away.

He even disappeared for half an hour in the middle—what was he doing?

He really was something else. Speech and romance, neither delayed. He got his own satisfaction, without caring whether his brother lived or died.

Meng Yanxi didn’t bother with Lu Jingyue. His expression was calm, his interest clearly low.

The ten thousand yuan in his pocket seemed to give all the sweetness and beauty of the night a botched ending, leaving a knot in his chest.

So many people liked his money, why was it that his girlfriend alone refused to take his?

The last time he wanted to design a lottery too—if it were another woman, who knows how happy she’d be. Even if she understood everything in her heart, she would pretend not to know. Only her—she directly exposed him.

Last time, it could still be said that they had just gotten together, plus she was a bit dull. But this time was different. This time, Meng Yanxi was truly invested.

He cared a great deal that she would rather owe Jin Wenyi money than take his.

Didn’t she know that Jin Wenyi helping her was itself a way of maintaining his sibling bond with Jin Wenhui? Jin Wenyi’s kindness to her was something she would have to repay. And everything he gave her—he didn’t want her to repay.

“What’s wrong with you, got dumped?” Seeing he hadn’t reacted for a long time, Lu Jingyue asked with his crow mouth, “Jin Zhao doesn’t want you anymore?”

Meng Yanxi was struck right at the pain point. His gaze swept over sharply, colder than the snowmelt outside.

“Get lost!”

Lu Jingyue wisely shut up.

Meng Yanxi took out his phone and opened the photo he had just taken, looking at it again and again.

The girl in the photo was slender, her back thin, her shoulders and neck straight. The coat fell to mid-calf, tailored at the waist, making her waist look impossibly narrow, and the curve to her hips was exquisitely beautiful.

Meng Yanxi couldn’t help recalling the feeling of holding her waist, his palm seeming to still retain the warmth of her body and the sensation of her skin.

The frame was very clean: her, the moonlight, and the snow.

Beside him, Lu Jingyue’s gaze swept over unintentionally and landed right on the photo. He clicked his tongue.

Meng Yanxi ignored him and didn’t bother avoiding him either. With long fingers, he tapped open the pinned WeChat chat and sent the photo to Jin Zhao.

Lu Jingyue teased, “President Meng has become a station photographer too—this shot turned out pretty good.”

Meng Yanxi glanced at him, full of disdain. “Have a bit of culture. You’re already in your twenties, and when you compliment someone’s looks, all you can say is ‘pretty good.’”

“You have culture?”

Meng Yanxi stared at the photo for a few more seconds, then suddenly asked, “Have you heard a line of poetry? Between moonlight and snowlight, you are a third kind of peerless beauty.”

Lu Jingyue looked at him thoughtfully.

“Zhuang Yu told me President Meng has recently fallen in love with reading poetry—from the West to the East, from the Renaissance to modern and contemporary. On business trips lately, he doesn’t bring anything else. He always has a poetry collection at hand. If not, then it’s Shakespeare.”

“Meng Yanxi, the way you’re carrying on this romance…” Lu Jingyue paused, half-smiling, “…you’re holding nothing back.”

-♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི

After Jin Zhao returned to her dorm, she took a shower. Only when she lay on the bed before sleeping and looked at her phone did she see the message Meng Yanxi had sent.

She had thought her boyfriend had come to find her to make a fuss about that ten thousand yuan. When she opened it, there was only a photo and a single line.

Meng Yanxi: 【The moonlight isn’t beautiful, nor is the snowlight. In my eyes, there is only one kind of peerless beauty.】

The photo was taken as she was leaving, shot from his perspective.

Jin Zhao stared at the screen, the corner of her lips quietly curving upward.

She exited WeChat and opened her phone’s photo album.

The most recent photo inside showed a tall, long-legged man slightly turned to the side, listening to someone behind him speak. His eyelashes were lowered, his eyes dark as ink, his side profile sharp and upright.

The streetlights illuminated the shape of the falling snowflakes. Many people clustered around him, like stars encircling the moon. He stood out like a crane among chickens, and all those backgrounds automatically became void.

It was when he had turned back, just about to leave with the group, that she suddenly turned around and was stunned by this sight.

Between moonlight and snowlight, you are the third kind of peerless beauty.

No—the moonlight isn’t beautiful, nor is the snowlight. You are the peerless beauty.

Jin Zhao sent the photo back. Holding her phone, she typed softly: 【What a coincidence. I think so too.】

The next day, Jin Zhao invigilated exams, and Meng Yanxi flew to New York. After that, for more than a week, the two of them were each busy with their own things. Separated by more than half the globe, the times they missed each other most were usually just late-night video calls.

On this trip, Meng Yanxi was pushing forward overseas market expansion. Progress was smoother than expected, but he was also busier, and might not be able to return until after New Year’s Day.

Jin Zhao felt a little disappointed.

Today, when she went to the college, she heard the teachers in the office discussing where to go for New Year’s. Some were going skiing, some to Sanya—bringing their husbands and children along, the whole family lively and bustling.

Even the students were posting on their Moments.

Students’ holidays were even longer. Some had already started asking for leave a few days in advance, making it into a little long vacation. Young people called up friends and ran all over the country.

Some had even gotten word early. It was said that on New Year’s Eve, there would be fireworks by the lake and the river, and people were inviting each other to go watch together.

Others suggested staying one night at Luxi Villa. After all, watching fireworks outside in the dead of winter was quite cold. If they could lie in a five-star hotel room and watch the fireworks, that would be amazing.

Unfortunately, Luxi Villa was too expensive—at least over five thousand yuan for one night. Most university students were still at an age of tight pockets, so in the end they settled for hotels near the school.

Because of that line Meng Yanxi had said on the night of his speech about spending New Year’s together, Jin Zhao had been carrying expectations in her heart these days.

Originally, New Year’s Day and the Spring Festival were the times she envied others most every year. This year, she hadn’t felt that way at all.

And then it turned out her boyfriend couldn’t come back.

She was a little disappointed, but quickly adjusted her mindset and proactively comforted Meng Yanxi: “It’s okay. The school has New Year’s activities anyway. This way I can just take part in some collective activities—saves the director from saying every time that I’m not sociable.”