Who are they?

Gu Zhuoyan stared at the message and read it three times before he understood, before he believed it.

Perhaps the north wind was too cold; his fingers trembled slightly. He backed out, opened his contacts, and took nearly a minute to press Zhuang Fanxin's name. It rang four or five times, then connected.

"Zhuang Fanxin?" Gu Zhuoyan called out. He was afraid it was the wrong person on the other end. Even though the call went through, he was still afraid of hearing the mechanical female voice announcing that the phone was off or out of the service area.

"Yeah," Zhuang Fanxin answered.

That fear didn't lessen one bit. Gu Zhuoyan turned and headed back to the banquet hall, saying, "The message Teacher Xia sent, give me an explanation."

Zhuang Fanxin replied, "It's true."

Gu Zhuoyan immediately pressed, "Where are you now?"

Zhuang Fanxin said, "At home."

Gu Zhuoyan hung up the phone. He hung up before his reason was annihilated and his emotions collapsed. He didn't want to ask another question, didn't want to say another word. Zhuang Fanxin's answers, squeezed out like toothpaste, and his flat, waveless tone were like a sharpened blade, cutting slowly, ruthlessly, painfully. It was also like the wind chasing him from behind, so fucking thoroughly cold.

Gu Zhuoyan was tall, ramrod straight and energetic, cutting a conspicuous figure as he moved through the crowd in the banquet hall, especially amidst the clinking glasses and swaying skirts. He strode past the tables like a meteor, set down his unfinished glass of wine, and with a falter of his wrist, the wine glass rolled off the edge of the table and shattered, sending shards of crystal flying.

The sound of it breaking was piercing. A small circle of gazes from nearby fell on him, but Gu Zhuoyan ignored them and continued running towards the exit. A strong arm grabbed him. It was Gu Shibo, who asked where he was going, his grip strong enough to snap his bones.

Gu Zhuoyan said, "I'm going to the airport." He was impatient and rash, which should have immediately angered Gu Shibo, but the sense of grievance in his eyes was so overwhelming that it stunned the other man for a moment.

He pleaded, "Dad, I want to go back to Rong City."

Gu Shibo asked, "What happened?"

Gu Zhuoyan clenched his jaw, refusing to say. He also wanted to understand what had happened, but he couldn't wait. He struggled, lowering his voice to threaten, "If you don't let me go, I'll just have to act recklessly again."

The hand holding him relaxed slightly. Before Gu Shibo could say another word, he wrenched himself free and ran out. He rushed out of the banquet hall. The drivers were all in a designated lounge, and he couldn't find them, so he ran straight out to the street to hail a cab.

The last flight of the day was a little after ten. Gu Zhuoyan booked a ticket on the way, went home to grab his ID, and then rushed to the airport without even catching his breath.

Only a trail of exhaust was left in front of the gate. Xue Manzi chased after him. She had never seen Gu Zhuoyan like this before and was overcome with panic. He'd get angry with anyone who tried to stop him, like a frenzied beast that had lost its senses.

Although she was worried, Xue Manzi was experienced. She first arranged for a driver to go to the airport to look after him, then contacted Gu Shibo, telling him to keep it from Gu Pingfang's side for now, to avoid worrying the old man. Once everything was arranged, she collected her emotions and called Xue Maochen. After a few brief questions, the reason became clear.

The night fog lingered over the elevated highway, too thick for the wind to disperse. Gu Zhuoyan urged the driver on so much that he almost lost his temper. As soon as they reached the terminal, he slammed the car door shut and ran inside. On the screen in front of him, messages scrolled by: several flights were delayed due to the weather.

Gu Zhuoyan saw the flight number for Rong City, and his head immediately felt like it was splitting open. He found the service desk, leaned on the counter, and asked with a furious scowl, "What's wrong with the weather? How long is the delay?! Can you give me a definite time!"

The ground staff was used to difficult passengers and explained over and over again, but they never pressed the button to call security. They realized that the young man in front of them didn't really want an explanation. His shouting gradually turned into pleading. He had to leave, had to fly to Rong City. Waiting another moment seemed like it would kill him.

Gu Zhuoyan was hysterical. Passersby from all directions craned their necks to watch, looking at the scene he was making, laughing at his madness. Some even secretly took photos with their phones. His family's driver rushed over, blocked the camera lenses, dispersed the crowd, and slung an arm around his shoulder, leading him away.

"Since you were a child, when have you ever been like this!" the driver said.

He really had never been like this. Gu Zhuoyan was born dignified. Even when that explicit love letter was exposed, he still stood tall and defiant in the hallway. When he was sent to Rong City, from getting in the car at home to boarding the plane at the airport, he held his head high and never lowered it one bit.

Tonight, just now, he had been like an unreasonable, ill-mannered punk, shouting and becoming a laughingstock for strangers. 'How pathetic, pathetic from head to toe,' he thought. 'And how fucking infuriating.' He felt a bit of hatred.

Gu Zhuoyan's emotions gradually settled. He stood waiting outside the terminal. The northern temperature at the end of January had dropped below zero. The heat from the hot coffee in his hand dissipated when he wasn't paying attention. He stood there stubbornly, accompanied by the passing vehicles, the distant night sky, and the blurry silhouette of Gu Shibo in the back seat of the Rolls-Royce.

The flight after ten was delayed for an hour, then two. It was past midnight when the airport made an announcement, and he also received a text message alert: due to severe smog, the flight had been canceled. Gu Zhuoyan continued to wait without a word, pretending he hadn't seen it, his eyes gazing tirelessly into the distance. The thick haze, why did it have to block his path right at this moment?

There were no trains at night, and the flight was canceled. The only thing he could do was wait. Gu Zhuoyan was like a stone statue, the tip of his nose frozen red, his entire body devoid of warmth, stubbornly standing there until dawn.

A strong wind picked up in the latter half of the night, howling like ghosts and wolves. Its force, which could ravage flowers and shake trees, was heavier than a whip, lashing against his body and face, invading his throat and lungs. Gu Zhuoyan kept his hands in the pockets of his down jacket, his eyes lowered, not moving an inch.

The driver watched from the car window, feeling cold just from watching him. He took a sharp breath and asked Gu Shibo, "This won't do. Should we drag him into the car by force? Or go home and get him some more clothes?"

Gu Shibo said, "No need."

If it's cold, he'll endure it. If he gets a fever and falls sick later, he'll bear that too. Whether it's worth it to be like this for someone is something he has to experience first before he can understand it later. If it's worth it, there's no need for regret. If it's not, only then can he learn this lesson for himself.

An unrelenting, strong wind swept through the entire city. Dead branches snapped, and the remnants of fallen leaves scattered across the asphalt. A layer of dust covered the hood of the Rolls-Royce. At the first light of dawn, the sky cleared. The thick fog and heavy smog were blown away, and daylight descended inch by inch.

Gu Zhuoyan's body was a rusted machine. When he moved, his bones creaked brittly. When he took the first step, his ankles, frozen stiff, hurt as if pricked by needles. Flights began to resume and be rescheduled. He changed his ticket to the earliest one, went through security, and waited to board. He finally had the courage to look at his chat list.

After Xia Wei announced the news that Zhuang Fanxin was leaving, the group chat exploded. Some didn't believe it, some exclaimed in shock. Zhuang Fanxin admitted it with lighthearted words, which seemed very fake and had no comforting effect whatsoever.

Aside from that, Zhuang Fanxin hadn't sent him a single word privately.

After the tide of panic, Gu Zhuoyan was now very calm. He could think about the current situation, about Zhuang Fanxin going abroad early, and he could even weigh how to neatly overcome this hurdle.

Rong City's scenery was the same as ever, though it had gotten a bit colder. Zhuang Fanxin had wrapped himself in a coat when he left in the morning. He rode his bike to school. As he was entering the school gate, Qi Nan ran up and grabbed his handlebars, questioning him in front of the school police, the gate guard, and the students coming and going, "You're really leaving!"

Zhuang Fanxin nodded, a wooden expression on his face. He locked his bike and went to the academic building. Qi Nan pulled at him, yelling nonstop. When they entered the classroom, the students of Class 3 surrounded him, chattering eagerly, their voices rising and falling, fast and slow, all around him.

Zhuang Fanxin felt like he was dead, and everyone was gathered around him, chanting scriptures for his salvation.

Today was the last day before winter break. Report cards were handed out, and holiday homework was assigned. In less than two class periods, things were drawing to a close. Xia Wei leaned on the lectern with both hands, being unusually long-winded, but the students were unusually patient.

Words eventually ran out. Xia Wei paused, his gaze shifting to the third row and landing on Zhuang Fanxin. Everyone turned their heads to look at Zhuang Fanxin too. The Class Monitor crossed the aisle and pushed him, and a group of boys crowded him into the center.

He had once been surrounded and beaten for a false report, and he had also drawn everyone's admiration for the tattoo on his shoulder. They had gathered in a group countless times, talking nonsense, playing on their phones, snatching snacks. He never expected this time it would be for a farewell.

Qi Nan cried. "I'll bring you milk tea every day, please don't go, okay? I won't copy the listening comprehension answers anymore, I'll do them myself from now on, alright? If you leave, who will be my deskmate?"

Zhuang Fanxin said, "The painting I gave you is hanging in Yinan's Time. You're not allowed to take it down. It has to hang there for many, many years."

He bid farewell to his classmates—the good friends, the ones he'd bickered with, boys and girls. He had forty-three moments with forty-three people. The final spot by the window was empty. One was missing. The forty-fourth person wasn't there.

The students left one after another. After saying goodbye to the teachers, Zhuang Fanxin went to handle the relevant paperwork. By the time he left the Office Building, the campus was already empty.

The beginning of winter break was so much like the end of summer break. Passing the small lecture hall, he recalled accompanying Gu Zhuoyan to take an exam. They weren't very familiar with each other back then. That day, Gu Zhuoyan had said the red school uniform jacket suited him well.

Leaving Tianji High School, Zhuang Fanxin rode slowly, taking in everything: the nameless little flowers on the roadside, the egg tart shop he often visited, a certain stray dog that ruled a nearby alley.

Turning into a small side road, the Zhuang Family's gate was open. Polite voices could be heard from the garden. Zhuang Fanxin didn't want to go in. He parked his bike by the wall and squatted under the banyan tree to groom Bond.

"Is this comfortable?" Zhuang Fanxin asked. "Is the pressure okay?"

Bond looked up at him and licked the back of his hand with a soft slurp. He couldn't help but laugh, saying with more energy, "Want a massage? It's a limited-time offer. There won't be another chance after this."

Bond suddenly turned his head away, stood up, barked once, and bolted forward. Zhuang Fanxin scrambled to his feet, about to give chase, when he saw a taxi stopped at the intersection. The person getting out was Gu Zhuoyan.

His reaction preceded his consciousness. Zhuang Fanxin walked forward quickly. When Gu Zhuoyan also saw him, however, his own legs felt like they were filled with lead, unable to move. Gu Zhuoyan walked towards him step by step, his face flushed a faint red—whether from the biting wind or something else, Zhuang Fanxin couldn't tell. When he was half an arm's length away, Gu Zhuoyan stopped in front of him. His body and nerves, taut for an entire night, suddenly relaxed at this moment.

"I rushed back," Gu Zhuoyan said.

He didn't say how difficult the process had been, what kind of torment and suffering he had endured. He only said that he had rushed back. Taking a step closer, he looked down into Zhuang Fanxin's eyes and asked, both timidly and boldly, "The matter of going abroad, is it set in stone?"

Zhuang Fanxin's nostrils flared. He could feign calmness on the phone, but now, face to face, he began to subtly break down under Gu Zhuoyan's gaze. He nodded, his voice soft and trembling. "The ticket is for the day after tomorrow."

Gu Zhuoyan opened his mouth, stammering, "Is it—is your grandpa not doing well? What's the illness, which hospital is he in? My parents, they have some connections, maybe they can find some specialists to take a look." As he spoke, he took another half step forward, reaching out to grab Zhuang Fanxin's shoulders. "Why didn't you tell me? Who am I to you, that I had to find out you were leaving from a group message from a teacher?"

"What are you trying to do, just leave while I was away? Are you a bastard?" Gu Zhuoyan cursed in a low voice. "It's one thing to abandon me and go abroad early, but were you afraid I wasn't anxious enough? Is this your way of testing my attitude?"

Zhuang Fanxin said, "I..."

"Isn't your name Fanxin?" Gu Zhuoyan was skilled at cutting people off. "I think you're heartless."

"I'm sorry, but—"

"I don't need a 'but'," Gu Zhuoyan said. "Isn't it just leaving a year early? The sky isn't falling. I won't have a change of heart after a year apart. You wait for me."

They had agreed to spend the New Year together, but that fell through. They had agreed to study abroad together, but that also changed midway. Gu Zhuoyan retreated step by step. What came out of his mouth was blame, but what he actually did was offer continuous acceptance.

However, Zhuang Fanxin shook his head.

Four people came out of the Zhuang Family home. Zhao Jianqiu was seeing the guests off. The other three people said the house was beautiful and well-maintained, and that they would give a reply after discussing it at home.

Panic seized Gu Zhuoyan's heart. "Who are they?"

The last letter in the document folder back then had been Zhuang Xianyang's resignation letter.

"They're here to see the house," Zhuang Fanxin said. "We're immigrating."