There were only a few people at Oxford train station at this time, and as soon as the passengers alighted, they disappeared without a trace, heading straight to their destinations.

Shen Liyan stood facing the empty street outside the station, feeling the cold air seeping into her neck. Not wearing a scarf, she could only zip up her coat to her chin to ward off the chill. The weather was worse than she had anticipated.

She knew in advance that it would snow today, but she consoled herself with the belief that the influence of the warm Atlantic current would prevent heavy snowfall in England. Besides, Oxford, as she had seen on the map, was a small city, and Merton College was not far from the train station. It should have been a 20-minute walk. In order to avoid paying extra to change her train ticket, she kept finding reasons to convince herself, but things didn't go as planned. The wind was especially strong, and the snow seemed to be coming at her sideways, hitting her eyes directly. The snow was wet, and as soon as it touched the ground, it turned into water. Not only were her clothes soaked, but even the newly bought map was crumpled up.

She glanced at the station clock. It was almost time for the appointment, and she couldn't afford to wait until the snow subsided before continuing. Having memorized the landmarks and street names on the map, she decided to press on. She considered herself to have a good sense of direction, and as long as she had a general idea of the right direction, she could always ask for directions. Unfortunately, luck was not on her side. Who would venture out in such terrible weather? From the train station to the university town, she didn't come across a single soul, as if everyone was deliberately hiding and playing hide-and-seek with her. Unable to find Merton College, she began to regret the decision to endure such misery in order to save a few pounds.

When she felt utterly lost, she faintly noticed a passerby in a hurry, like seeing a beacon in the dark night. Disregarding her reserved nature, she quickened her pace and approached him.


"Excuse me, sir, could you tell me where Merton College is?" She stopped him abruptly, asking. "This is Merton College," the young man replied, pointing to a building on his left with the handle of his umbrella.

 "How do I enter the college?" She looked troubled, as the fortress-like building seemed impenetrable. She couldn't find the entrance to the college at all.

Seeing her hesitation, the young man suggested, "We're heading the same way. Let's walk together." Dragging her heavy suitcase, she followed him anxiously, keeping a careful distance.

In this unfamiliar city, it wasn't wise to let a stranger lead the way, but she had no other choice.

 The man intentionally slowed his pace, waiting for her to catch up. Silently, he held up his umbrella to shield her from the wind and snow.

She felt ashamed of her earlier cynical thoughts. Uncertain of what expression to wear, she simply smiled faintly at him and said, "Thank you," before lowering her head again.

The silence under the shared umbrella was too awkward, so the man initiated a conversation. "Are you here for a trip to Oxford?"

"No, I'm here to find someone."

 "Who are you looking for?"

"Professor Li, David Li."

"He's my advisor."

"Are you also a student in the humanities field?" Liyan asked curiously.

"I started my Ph.D. with Professor Li last year, but I haven't quite figured things out yet!" A hint of subtle frustration flashed across his face.

"Is he strict with you? I heard he's a workaholic," she blurted out, immediately regretting her words. She silently scolded herself for being so outspoken and prying about someone else's advisor in front of a stranger. Apart from a few necessary email exchanges, she had never met Professor Li. Her impression of him was solely based on hearsay from others.

"Yes, he is. Professor Li doesn't even take a break during Christmas holidays. Look at how he's worn me out," he responded, exaggerating the situation.

They exchanged smiles, sweeping away the initial awkwardness of their encounter.

During the holidays, the main entrance of Morton College was closed, and they had to enter through a side door. The side door was an old, heavy iron gate, half fixed and half ajar. It was easy to miss if one wasn't paying attention, which explained why she couldn't find it.

He folded his umbrella, pushed the door wide open, and held it firmly, gesturing for her to enter first. Thoughtfully, he then pushed her luggage into the college.

The courtyard of Morton College was larger than a basketball court, and the square-shaped buildings surrounding it housed offices, laboratories, and a small chapel. The path connecting the office building was paved with small bricks that had been polished over time, giving them a smooth, rounded surface resembling pebbles. The sound of the suitcase wheels scraping against the path was annoying. John was afraid of damaging the wheels, so he struggled to lift the suitcase off the ground.

"My suitcase won't break if I drag it," she said considerately, afraid he might strain his waist. "You don't have to carry it."

"I find it noisy," he explained, placing his index finger on his lips to make a "keep quiet" gesture. "Some people are working, and I don't want to disturb them."

His kind explanation made her feel at ease. He led her to the northeast corner of the college. The windows of the old British house were high and narrow, as if guarding against prying eyes from outside. With snow falling, the staircase became even darker and more confined. He carefully guided her, reminding her to watch out for these steps that could only accommodate half a foot, jokingly mentioning that "Careless people accidentally missed a step and tumbled down the stairs in this year .

On the second floor, to the right, the third office door is adorned with a walnut-colored frame and a burnished gold nameplate that reads “Prof LEE.” He knocked on the door, and upon being beckoned inside by Professor Lee, he poked his head in with a smile and informed the professor, “There’s a young lady at the door looking for you.”

The professor was somewhat surprised, “She’s already here? Please, invite her in.”

Taking a deep breath to calm her frayed nerves, she pushed open the door and entered the office. She bowed deeply to Professor Lee with solemn respect and presented her letter of introduction with both hands, “Good day, Professor Lee, I am Shen Liyan.”

Professor Lee glanced at the sender’s name on the envelope, nodded in acknowledgment, and then introduced her to the man, “This is Shen Liyan. She’s a government-sponsored student from China who has come to study at Durham University. We’re short-staffed, so Professor Luo su recommended her to join our team. For the next four years, she will collaborate with us on the project ‘The Maritime Ceramic Route.’”

It was then that he had the chance to take a good look at her. With her bright eyes and pearly teeth, her eyebrows fine and arched, and her gentle, shallow smile, she possessed the serene and graceful demeanor of an Eastern lady from an antique painting. Despite the fatigue etched on her face, she maintained an air of fresh and unaffected elegance. His guess was correct; she indeed hailed from China.

Professor Lee then introduced the young man to the lady, “This is John Huntington, my doctoral student, a local from Oxford.”

He extended his hand and they shook lightly, as he silently repeated her somewhat challenging Chinese name several times in his head until it was firmly memorized.

With a tone of request, Professor Lee asked John, “Could I trouble you to help Shen Liyan get acquainted with Merton College and familiarize her with Oxford as soon as possible?”

He didn’t immediately agree, leaving her feeling a bit disheartened.

After a pause of a second, he nodded his head.

As the Christmas holidays drew to a close, Oxford found itself in the grip of a rare snowstorm driven by gusting winds. John’s friends were all at home, celebrating Christmas with their families.

John was on his own, bored out of his mind. Ignoring the ready-to-use coffee machine, he rummaged through his belongings to unearth an old Italian espresso maker. He filled it with water, tamped down the coffee grounds, and placed a filter paper on top. Setting the pot on the smallest burner, he listened to the bubbling sound of boiling water. Once the coffee was ready, it dripped into the pot, and John poured it into a bone china cup until it was about three-quarters full, the aroma instantly filling every nook and cranny of the room.

The electric fireplace’s flames leaped vigorously, and although it couldn’t spit sparks or crackle, this realistic and affordable electric fireplace had become the British people’s nostalgic favorite. But for John, ever since the explicit ban on open fires in wooden buildings, the joys of shoveling ashes, adding fresh logs, and studying the varieties of firewood had also been taken away.

Lazily lounging in his leather armchair, John mulled over a vinyl record repurchase list, planning to send it to a London music store after the holidays for the staff to help him collect. His beloved movie soundtrack vinyl had developed a pinhole-sized scratch, a common flaw to other audiophiles but torture to John’s ears, prompting him to replace the record player altogether. He racked his brain for distractions, turning trivial and mundane tasks into elaborate affairs, just to pass the excess time and avoid dwelling on the unpleasant falling-out with his mother.

As a child, John adored Christmas, a time when the adults were too busy preparing for the festivities to pay him much mind, allowing him and his sister Catherine the freedom to play to their hearts’ content. The siblings loved role-playing games, unanimously favoring the legend of King Arthur and the Lady of the Lake. What girl could resist beauty, and what boy didn’t dream of being a world-conquering hero?

While other boys had to make do with cheap plastic swords, John’s prop was a genuine antique—a brass shortsword with a scabbard inlaid with rubies and turquoise.

 Whenever John feigned deep sorrow for his lost sword, Catherine would gracefully emerge from behind the towering oak tree in the garden, solemnly raising the sword above her head. John, eager to reclaim his blade, would reach out, only for his sister to retract her hand, reminding him, “I haven’t performed the ritual dance yet.” John had no choice but to patiently watch as Catherine tiptoed and clumsily danced, only handing over the sword when she was too exhausted from the improvised performance to continue.

John leaped onto the stone pedestal of the flowerbed with a dashing flair, drawing his treasured sword from its sheath with a commanding presence. Once he struck a pose that satisfied him, he swore to the heavens to treat his people kindly and bring peace and tranquility back to their homeland. In the end, he couldn’t resist teasing his sister’s bulky attire: “The Lady of the Lake is supposed to wear an elegant white gown, not a puffy dress that makes you look more like a witch than a nymph.”

Catherine stomped her foot in frustration, “I’m not playing with you anymore.” She left John behind and ran back home in a huff.

John couldn’t be bothered to make amends with his sister; in fact, he was secretly pleased to have driven her away! He brandished his sword, battling imaginary foes, imagining himself as the beloved dragon-slaying youth. Compared to being the center of attention on ordinary days, he was happy to have the garden to himself, free and unencumbered.

The carefree days of John’s childhood did not last long, as the elders decided to send him to the boarding school of Eton College. Graduating from Eton, John had transformed from a pampered little boy into a dapper young gentleman. Transformation meant self-discipline and endurance. In the Huntington family, transformation also equated to sacrificing personal dreams and giving up personal hobbies. John’s parents saw his hobbies as rebellious and irresponsible, and they educated him with the adage, “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown”: the men of the Huntington family always placed family duty above personal dreams, and John was no exception.

Recalling the favoritism of the elders during his childhood, John felt a twinge of pain in his heart, firmly believing that their affection stemmed from guilt for forcing him to do things he disliked in the future. Whether John was willing or not, the affection withdrawn in advance had to be repaid doubly after he came of age; John no longer believed in unconditional familial love. Disheartened, he resolved to rebel against the control of the elders and become the family’s renegade, but he faced repeated setbacks, which only deepened his disillusionment.

The insistent ring of the telephone interrupted his thoughts; he surmised that Catherine was once again acting on their mother’s orders to persuade him to come home. Unwilling to listen to his sister relay their mother’s lecture, John deliberately missed the call, and after a few rings, the phone fell silent.

John felt a mix of relief and disappointment; relieved that he had avoided a confrontation with his mother, yet regretful that he hadn’t had a chance to speak with his sister, who lived in London. The silence that followed the abrupt end of the ringing was filled with an inexplicable sense of loneliness. Why hadn’t his sister called back? Did his mother truly not care that he wasn’t coming home for Christmas?

As if sensing John’s conflicted emotions, the phone rang again. John answered, and a middle-aged man’s voice came through.

“Hello, I’m looking for John.”

It was Professor Lee, speaking in his usual unhurried manner, which shifted John’s mood from despondency to anxiety. Professor Lee typically communicated via email and rarely called students, making this probably the last call John wanted to receive during the holidays.

“Professor, this is John,” John replied, his voice tinged with nervousness.

“Do you have a moment? Could you come to my office? I have a favor to ask of you!” Professor Lee’s tone was earnest and left no room for refusal.

Recent events flashed before John’s eyes, yet he was still at a loss as to what exactly Professor Lee’s “favor” entailed. Not wanting to seem negligent, John donned his coat, grabbed a long-handled umbrella from the hall stand, and left the warm, comfortable air of his home behind as he stepped into the deserted streets.

The sky, heavy with haze, seemed pressed low by the clouds, while wisps of steam from street chimneys made a frantic escape without resistance. The honey-colored buildings had lost their crystalline luster, their blotchy walls soaked with snow, presenting a face that seemed to keep others at a distance. The desolate, austere Oxford of winter bore no resemblance to the bustling university town of the school season.

Navigating the labyrinthine streets, the wind and snow posed no challenge to John, well-acquainted as he was with Oxford. From a distance, he caught sight of a young woman with raven hair cascading over her shoulders, pacing outside Merton College. She glanced at the map in her hands, trying to match it with the buildings before her, her expression turning to one of anxiety.

Unexpectedly, the young woman changed direction and headed straight towards him, blocking his path.

John had not anticipated that their paths, though different, would lead them to the same destination, both summoned by Professor Lee.

She was a visiting student, transferred from Durham University through an old colleague of Professor Lee.

Professor Lee had entrusted him with the care of her, a newcomer to the area.

When Professor Lee mentioned they were “short-staffed,” John felt a twinge of anxiety. He wasn’t exactly a model doctoral student; if he were, the professor wouldn’t need to borrow help from his old colleague. His lackadaisical approach to his PhD studies was not only delaying his advisor’s research progress but also affecting the recruitment of new graduate students. In the past, John had never felt remorse for such matters, but today, he felt particularly ashamed.

He silently hoped Professor Lee would spare him further discussion on the topic. He never imagined that the first time he would feel embarrassed about not taking his studies seriously would be in front of a girl he had just met.

Fortunately, Professor Lee did not dwell on the issue and instead asked if John could look after the young lady who was new to Oxford. Helping Shen Liyan adjust to life in Oxford would indirectly assist Professor Lee, a prospect John was pleased with, especially since she was a young lady. John wanted to express his eagerness, but fearing it might come across as frivolous, he decided to leave a solid and reliable impression on her, deliberately pausing for a second before agreeing to Professor Lee’s request.

Shen Liyan was like a ray of sunlight piercing through the winter’s gloom, dispelling the loneliness and brightening John’s spirits.