That day was really noisy. First, he got fired up by the professor’s nitpicking, then he was so infuriated by a blind brat that he almost spat blood, and turning around, he ran into his narcissistic ex-boyfriend. Fortunately, he fulfilled a wish from five years ago and even managed to win an argument, bringing everything to a satisfactory close.
Wen Di closed his eyes contentedly, deciding to live a healthy lifestyle and turn off the lights early to go to bed. Unfortunately, he didn’t sleep well. After stepping into the void in his dream, he woke up in a cold sweat, and when he looked at his phone, it was two o’clock.
Beijing was unusually quiet tonight. The darkness of the night was pressing against the windows, and only faint rustling sounds could be heard. Wen Di remembered that the weather forecast seemed to have mentioned that there would be snow.
He jumped out of bed and leaned close to the window to take a good look. Sure enough, outside, tiny snowflakes were drifting down. Beijing was dry, so even the snowflakes were just tiny fragments that disappeared as soon as they hit the ground.
Wen Di vaguely saw that the light in the second bedroom was on—Yu Jingyi was still studying late into the night. He walked over to knock on the door and shouted inside: “It’s snowing, want to come to the balcony and take a look?”
Yu Jingyi was from the south, and the allure of snow outweighed the pressure of preparing for the exam, so she quickly came out of her room.
The two of them put on their down jackets, opened the glass door, and walked out onto the balcony. White mist came out of their mouths, melting the few grains of snow in the air.
Wen Di turned his head and looked to the side. The light in the annoying neighbor’s house was also on. It seemed that, for some reason, the neighbor had also spent a sleepless night. The enclosed balcony, with its airtight tempered glass, let no wind in. Wen Di curled his lips towards the neighbor’s place and said to Yu Jingyi, “Look, not a bit of atmosphere—just to block some wind and sand, they missed the chance to enjoy the snow.”
Yu Jingyi didn’t remind him that a thick layer of dust had already settled on the balcony. Wen Di exhaled into his hands to warm them, apparently not caring about the dirt beneath his feet.
The snow continued to fall endlessly, passing through rooftops and tree branches, equally sprinkling on every inch of land. Yu Jingyi, trembling slightly, reached out her hand and pointed to the sky. “Qanik.”
Wen Di hugged his arms, his neck shrunk into his fur collar, asking shiveringly, “What does it mean?”
“This is the language of the Inuit,” Yu Jingyi said. “They live in a world of ice and snow so they have a rich vocabulary to describe snow. Different textures, shapes, sizes, and uses of snow all have different names.”
Wen Di watched the falling snowflakes.
“Aput is the snow on the ground,” Yu Jingyi said. “Pukak is snow that refreezes after melting, Mangokpok is the snow that feels soft underfoot when walking, and Kaniktshaq is the snow that sparkles in the sunlight.”
“Qanik,” she looked up at the sky again, “is the snow that’s falling.”
Wen Di looked up at the snowflakes in the air. “So romantic,” he asked, “is there no word to describe snow with a sense of sadness?”
“Matsaaruti,” Yu Jingyi said, “the old snow buried beneath a layer of fresh snow.”
Wen Di vaguely imitated the pronunciation of the word, and Yu Jingyi corrected him twice.
“How did you remember it,” Wen Di marveled, “It’s so difficult to pronounce.”
“I saw it last month in Language in Society and thought it was interesting, so I repeated it a few times.”
Wen Di clicked his tongue in admiration, “Back in junior year, I didn’t find linguistics so fascinating.”
Yu Jingyi was quite offended, “Linguistics is the most interesting thing in the world.”
Snow condensed into tiny droplets on the window, glowing softly through the glittering lights, peaceful and pure. In the quiet world around them, the conflict that had just happened seemed as distant as another world.
“I finally met your legendary ex-boyfriend,” Yu Jingyi said, “I often heard you mention him, but this is the first time I saw him in person.”
Wen Di brushed the dust off the balcony railing and leaned on it, “Yeah, after all, he never came to see me.”
They broke up in their third year of university. For the previous two years, they had been in a long-distance relationship, only meeting a few times when He Wenxuan came home during the summer break; the rest of the time they only saw each other through video calls. In his junior year, Wen Di got an exchange opportunity and finally had a chance to fly over to see him, but afterward, he felt that meeting in person was less fulfilling than remembering the good times from afar.
Yu Jingyi shook her head slightly. She had spent her four years of college focused on her studies, with a love life as plain as water, but she had witnessed quite a few dramas. She felt like a bystander who had accidentally walked into a melodrama, where one love-struck fool after another took the stage, wailing, tearing, experiencing great joy and sorrow, while she watched coldly, utterly puzzled: “You, and Yu Jun, are both exceptionally smart people. How is it that when you fall in love, you act like fools?”
“Wait a minute,” Wen Di said, “I have something to show you.”
He returned to his bedroom, rummaged around for a while, and then took out an envelope. It was a simple, thick green card, with a raised rose pattern embossed on the clasp. He pulled out a letter from inside and handed it to Yu Jingyi.
“What’s this?” Yu Jingyi looked at it with the help of the bedroom light. A few lines were written in beautiful cursive script.
“A love letter He Wenxuan wrote to me,” Wen Di flicked the letter, “This is the first letter I ever received from someone.”
Yu Jingyi scrutinized the handwriting, reading it over three times, and was shocked: “This is something a scumbag could write? This could be used as a wedding vow!”
“He seems like a good person, right?” Wen Di said.
“I think I’m starting to understand you a little,” Yu Jingyi said. “It takes a lot of skill to lie to someone. I can’t even be a scumbag.”
“When he opened his mouth just now, it reminded me of the past,” Wen Di said. “Talking about soulmates, while secretly planning a marriage of convenience, getting a green card, and rising to the top.”
Yu Jingyi shook her head again. She had always looked down on the men her bestfriends brought back.
After watching the swirling snow for a while, the two of them felt cold so they went back to the living room to warm up with a cup of milk, planning to drink it before going to bed.
As she sipped her protein, Yu Jingyi suddenly sensed something was off: “Why do you still have this letter? You wouldn’t be…”
“What are you talking about! I even sprayed pepper spray in his eyes!” Wen Di said in horror. “When we broke up, I was on an exchange abroad, so I couldn’t deal with the stuff left in my dorm. By the time I returned after the exchange, half a year had passed, and I had forgotten all about it. I only found it when I was moving recently.”
“Then why didn’t you throw it away at the time?”
“I decided to keep it to remind myself that a man’s sweet talk can’t be trusted,” Wen Di said solemnly.
Then he fell silent, furrowing his brows as if pondering some important issue. After a while, he spoke with a tone of realization, “Thinking about it this way, actually, Professor has a pretty good character.”
Yu Jingyi stopped shaking her head and stared at him with wide eyes, “You just said he was an idiot and that you were going to take notes to tear him apart.”
“His words may be harsh, but at least he’s honest. He says what he means and always speaks his mind directly,” Wen Di poked at the letter. “It’s much better than someone who says one thing and does another, flattering you to your face while mocking you behind your back.”
How is he even comparing the bad ones now? Yu Jingyi felt a headache coming on, “Turn down the filter a bit!”
“You know how small the chance is of liking someone after adolescence, right?” Wen Di said. “It’s better to make a mistake than let it go.”
“What if he’s too honest and ends up making you so angry you could die?” Yu Jingyi reminded him.
“Then just find a place where he can’t talk,” Wen Di suddenly clapped his hands. “That’s it, just don’t let him talk.”
“Where can you go on a date without talking??”
“A concert.”
Wen Di took out his phone and clicked on the school concert hall’s official account. Every day, musicians and orchestras from around the world came to perform at the school, and students could buy tickets at a very low price, one of the benefits provided by the school. Recently, the concert hall was hosting a ‘Romantic Encounters’ series, featuring works by various classical musicians.
“Violin solo,” Wen Di said with satisfaction, “Schumann, Brahms, Strauss, perfect.”
At a concert, there was no need to talk, the atmosphere would be romantic, and even if the professor was nitpicky, he couldn’t possibly find logical errors in classical music.
“What if he doesn’t like listening to concerts?” Yu Jingyi pointed out.
“He said he likes it,” Wen Di said. “Music triggers inspiration—maybe I can even contribute to the development of mathematics.”
“Has your brainstem been taken over by Toxoplasma?”
As if feeling that just attending a concert wasn’t romantic enough, Wen Di sighed, “It’d be wonderful if there were a chance to hear him play. Who knows, maybe he’s really good at the violin.”
“Why?”
“Aren’t geniuses all like that?” Wen Di said confidently. “Einstein and Sherlock Holmes both played the violin.”
“The examples you’re giving aren’t even in the same dimension.”
Wen Di turned a deaf ear to her, opened WeChat, and sent a message on his main account. In his mind, he was already picturing the professor playing the violin, with his strong, bony fingers pressing the strings, gently trembling with the music.
It must be beautiful.
The author has something to say:
It must be very annoying.
Why does this sentence sound so familiar?
T/N:
Wen Di is in for a great surprise when he listens to his professor playing violin! And everyday you learn something from this book! Ju Jingyi knowledge sharing is definitely more interesting than Bian Cheng!
Anyway, the title is from Two Gentlemen from Verona, Act 2, Scene. The literal translation for the title ‘嘴里喃喃唱情歌，就像知更雀似的’ would be ‘muttering love songs, like a robin’s finch.’
