During The Blizzard (Amidst A Snowstorm Of Love)

Canto 39: Uncharted

"The course of true love never did run smoothly." - William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

Translator: Wuxia Studio, Editor: Wuxia Studio

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The bathroom door creaked open, revealing Yin Guo in a loose, short-sleeved top and soft cotton shorts. Moonlight seemed to bathe her legs in its pale glow as she settled awkwardly in the chair across from him, her discomfort a restless dance in her movements.

Lin Yiyang's usually sharp focus was lost in the symphony of her, the sweet scent of her shampoo, the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each giggle, and the mesmerizing sight of her face aglow in the lamplight.

He needed a distraction, anything to break this unspoken spell. Clearing his throat, he spoke, his voice a low rumble, "I went to No. 7 High."

Yin Guo's eyes widened in surprise. "No way! That's just a hop, near our school! Back then, our school was practically surrounded by those... rambunctious students from No. 7."

He remained silent, the unspoken truth about his high school's reputation hanging heavy in the air.

Stretching langorously, Yin Guo reached for him, her arms wrapping around him in a warm embrace. Her voice, a soft whisper in his ear, pleaded, "Tell me more."

The warmth of her breath danced against his earlobe, her cheek soft against his skin. He felt the gentle rhythm of her breath echoing his own against his chest.

He allowed her embrace to linger, a question hanging unspoken between them. "What would you like to hear?"

"There's no pressure, you can choose something else to share, like your major."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "I already said, anything you want to know. Ask anything. I'll tell you everything I know and more.

Though his words offered openness, there was a distinct lack of warmth in his tone. It felt like a veil had been pulled over him, shrouding his words in a sense of distance. It was as if the color had drained from his voice, leaving it devoid of cheer, much like the lone, dim light of a roadside motel on a vast highway in the dead of night.

For the next hour, Lin Yiyang shared stories of his childhood, his memories of their homeland across the ocean, and finally, the story of his parents.

Lin Yiyang's voice remained steady as he recounted, "My parents were involved in a car accident while on a business trip. They were both part of the same car company, Dad in sales and Mom in finance. Back then, I was still at home, taking care of my younger brother. But that fateful year, I insisted on accompanying Dad on his trip. Later, I learned Mom had discovered evidence of Dad's infidelity and wanted to confront him. Tragically, it turned out to be their final journey together."

Lin Yiyang paused, then added another layer to his narrative, his voice barely above a whisper. "Years later, while sorting through their belongings, I stumbled upon a different side of the story. Turns out, Dad's frequent trips stemmed from his own discovery of Mom's infidelity."

Yin Guo felt a pang of helplessness. She wasn't good at comforting people. In these situations, she'd usually resort to awkward companionship, offering tissues and comfort food while struggling to find the right words. "So that's it," she finally mumbled, feeling inadequate.

"It is," he replied flatly, his voice devoid of emotion.

The story of his parents felt like a play that had reached its final act, the curtain falling on a closed chapter.