Chapter 1: Snow's Lament

Late afternoon, March 16, 2024. Qingtan City.

The wind had begun to pick up five minutes ago, sweeping up plastic bags and dust from the ground, arriving before Xueqiu just a step ahead of the bus.

Xueqiu’s gaze rested on a sanitation worker digging through a trash can across the street, then shifted to the bus slowly pulling to a halt. In his hands, he cradled two copies of "5-Years-3-Years" and a stack of mock math exams.

There were 82 days left until the College Entrance Exam.

Just like the more than one hundred thousand high school students in this city, he was unremarkable. Until this evening of his eighteenth birthday, he had never received an invitation letter from the so-called Kaseier Collage, nor had he encountered some cool senior sister who would take him under her wing as a lackey. It was just a daily assembly line: go to school, go home, repeat.

Xueqiu never envied the heroes in novels who saved the world, nor did he envy those "love-brains" who were always willing to throw everything away for adolescent romance.

Of course, he had once longed for that kind of life—as if the High School Entrance Exam, the Academic Proficiency Test, and the College Entrance Exam would all vanish because of it, leaving only friendship and bonds in his life.

At least, until his parents passed away, he had genuinely fantasized about it for quite a while.

"Yo, what a coincidence, 'Snowball', you're here too? Qingniao and I just got out of cram school."

That eccentric, spring-loaded voice did not belong to Xueqiu. He wasn't exactly an extroverted or lively person, but he was far from gloomy, either.

If one were to describe his personality using a buzzword from four years ago, perhaps "Buddhist-style" would fit best.

Admittedly, "Buddhist-style" might differ somewhat from the "Let It Rot" or "Lying Flat" movements that emerged two years later, but distinguishing between them was hardly the concern of a mere high school student like him.

"Mm, Jiang Cheng, quite a coincidence," Xueqiu said faintly, his attention still on the stack of study materials.

Jiang Cheng knew Xueqiu's personality well; he was quiet, almost un-boyishly so. Jiang Cheng even felt that if you put Xueqiu in a pretty dress, a snowy-white wig, and white silk stockings, his looks wouldn't lose out to those borderline-risqué female streamers on that "Pink TV Icon" App—even with their leg-slimming and skin-smoothing filters turned on.

"What's this? You got used to the nickname 'Snowball' already?"

Xueqiu couldn't quite remember if people started calling him "Snowball" in his first or second year of high school. He simply didn't dislike the nickname—it made him seem less frail—just as he had never disliked the name "Xueqiu," a name as simple as it could possibly be.

It was a gift left by his parents.

Studying hard, getting into a good university, and moving far away from this small city—these were the only things Xueqiu cared about.

But this also meant leaving behind his only relative—leaving the grandmother who lived in the Old District and had cared for him ever since his parents perished abroad.

Seeing Xueqiu’s continued icy demeanor, Jiang Cheng aimlessly scanned the bus interior. His gaze drifted from the driver in the cab to the elderly man in the back row, finally settling on the passenger in the priority seat—a "little delinquent girl" with a lip ring and white streaks dyed into her hair.

She glared at him viciously, but Jiang Cheng merely gave a cold snort and looked away.

"By the way, Snowball, have you heard of the 'Snow Woman'?"

Xueqiu shook his head gently. "Is it a character from an anime or a game?"

Hearing the word "game," Jiang Cheng’s expression shifted slightly, though it returned to normal in the blink of an eye.

"No, it's a legend. An urban legend. And one from right here in our Qingtan City."

Xueqiu knew about urban legends. When he was little, he had heard his father talk about things like Kisaragi Station, Slender Man, and the Goatman.

However, he had never heard of an urban legend appearing in Qingtan City—a remote place with the second-lowest GDP in the entire province.

Compared to listening to Jiang Cheng ramble on, Xueqiu wanted to relax a bit so he could go back and grind out a few more biology genetics experiment problems.

"I heard that about three years ago, someone saw a woman covered in blood in the mountains on the outskirts of Qingtan City. Her hair was completely white, and she looked like she was done for. Apparently, she was fighting some other monster that looked like a black bear..."

Jiang Cheng told the story to Xueqiu nonchalantly, occasionally adding embellishments and details about the "Snow Woman's" clothing. It was as if he had been there at the scene, as if he were the creator of this ghost's image—or going a step further, as if he were the ghost herself.

"Actually, that Snow Woman also had a lip ring..."

The bus stopped by a bridge. Jiang Cheng deliberately raised his voice, and Xueqiu finally understood the true intent behind his words.

"You're sick!"

The little delinquent in the priority seat cursed Jiang Cheng before getting off the bus without looking back. He made a face at the door, only to find that Xueqiu had already stood up and was passing by him, hugging that stack of books.

"Isn't your stop another five stations away? Why are you getting off now?"

"I'm staying at my grandma's for the time being. See you tomorrow, Jiang Cheng."

The buildings in the Old District were as old as dead trees. Their outer walls had long faded under decades of wind and rain, leaving behind only an ugly white tinged with pale yellow.

Xueqiu walked along the old street, flanked by aging houses of uneven heights. Most were family housing units or self-built homes constructed in the last century. It was said that a batch of them was scheduled for demolition a few years ago, but after failing to reach an agreement on compensation, nothing ever came of it.

He was ordinary—so ordinary that even the old men and women sitting on stools outside the roll-up doors of the old buildings didn't spare him a glance.

Not being the subject of gossip was a very good thing.

"Meiosis I, prophase, homologous pairing; tetrads may cross over. Meiosis II, metaphase, aligned at the equator; homologous chromosomes arranged top and bottom..."

By the time Xueqiu finished reciting his biology notes, he was less than a hundred meters from his grandmother's house. The sky had turned completely dark. The newly installed streetlights flickered on in twos and threes, their orange glow making him feel somewhat uncomfortable.

Will I get scolded for being back too late?

Xueqiu wondered.

Since his parents passed away, his grandmother had become his only relative. Xueqiu wasn't a mischievous child, but he still worried. His grandmother had been diagnosed with heart disease just last year—would she, too, one day leave him behind?

When that happens, will I cry?

It would probably be incredibly painful, just like when I found out my parents were gone forever.

Xueqiu didn't dare think about it any further. These days, he was already nearly suffocating under the pressure of the Gaokao.

Kicking aside a few pebbles on the roadside and facing the orange light from the corner of the street, Xueqiu turned into a small alley. His grandmother's house was right at the entrance.

Unlike the dazzling streetlights from just seconds ago, there wasn't a speck of light inside the alley. Fortunately, he didn't need to go deep in.

Creak.

He inserted the copper-colored key—engraved with the phrase "Striving for Excellence"—into the lock. He opened the old wooden door, reinforced with a sheet of iron, just as usual... but then he noticed something off.

There were no lights on in Grandma's house.

Is she not home?

Xueqiu pulled out the key, hugged his books to his chest, and walked in. He wanted to fumble for the light switch in the dark, but before he could, he stepped into a puddle of something wet.

Whenever the humid "Return of the South" season arrived, water would accumulate on the floor of Grandma's house, making it slippery and wet, as if smeared with a layer of lotion.

But today was a sunny day.

Taking two more steps, Xueqiu pressed against the wall, ready to hit the light switch. Suddenly, the back of his hand brushed against something soft and slimy. It felt like jelly, yet it was firm, and it pinned him in place, rendering him unable to move.

At the same time, a strong, fishy stench rushed into his nose.

It smelled like lobsters that had been rotting for days, like fermented stinky fish, like sludge, like blood.

Immediately after, the overhead incandescent bulb flickered twice before turning on. Xueqiu saw that his own hand was being pinned dead against the wall by a massive black tentacle.