Gu Pan and Lu Yitong rode a long-distance bus back to County B, enjoying the winter vacation.

　　During the journey, Lu Yitong voiced a question that had been on her mind twice.

　　Gu Pan responded, "I attended her lecture because she teaches at the Foreign Languages Department of another university, and an old classmate recommended it to me."

　　"Ah, so you're quite the scholarly type, delving into literature in your free time, attending lectures at other universities, embracing both Chinese and foreign cultures..." Lu Yitong's admiration grew more extravagant, her words flowing eloquently. Her extensive references demonstrated the solid grounding in humanities education among female students.

　　And thus, Gu Pan found himself entranced, despite the inappropriate timing for sleepiness.

　　Upon reaching their destination, Gu Pan followed Li Danxia's instructions to escort both the person and luggage home. Then, he headed straight to Yan Yan and his safe house.

　　To his surprise, the original site of the safe house had been reduced to rubble. The elderly couple who used to reside in the nearby red brick cottages were nowhere to be seen.

　　Standing amidst the dilapidated courtyard, clutching the handle of his suitcase, Gu Pan gazed blankly at the desolation surrounding him. He remained immobile until the sound of an approaching electric scooter broke the silence.

　　Though the scooter had already passed through the gate, the rider turned back upon spotting Gu Pan. "Are you here to visit the Lai family?" he called out.

　　Initially caught off guard, Gu Pan struggled to organize his thoughts in response to the stranger's inquiry. It took him a moment to realize that indeed, this was the Lai family's property. "Yes, what happened? Where are the elderly couple?"

　　"They've been moved to a nursing home! It's been several months now. The old lady's eyesight is failing, and the old man can't walk properly anymore. They couldn't manage on their own. I heard their daughter-in-law paid to have them admitted. Even if she didn't, what else could they do? Their son has been dead for years... It's the least they could do to honor him!"

　　With a wealth of unsolicited information, the kind passerby left Gu Pan with a gentle reminder not to linger. "It's not a good omen to stay here too long."

　　He was delving into the realm of life and death. Gu Pan grasped the weight of his words. You see, when folks discuss life and death, fortune or misfortune, they tend to focus on the Feng Shui of the abode. But when it came to Li Danxia, it was all about the human aspect.

　　For Lai Yonggang to meet his end in a watery grave was seen as a harsh twist of fate for Yu Yan. This notion was the bedrock of Li Danxia's beliefs in her latter years, the staunchest conviction she held onto.

　　Gu Pan hadn't set foot in his home for half a year. Li Danxia regarded her son with an unfamiliar gaze.

　　She wiped her hands on her clothes before gingerly touching her son's stubbly head, as if it were a piece of fruit: "Oh, I didn't notice in the video, it's so short! What does Yitong think? If she prefers you with longer locks, then let them grow, okay?"

　　"This is my hair!" Gu Pan grabbed his suitcase handle, slung his bag over his shoulder, and strode past the tables lining the wall. "I'm heading upstairs."

　　"What an attitude! Gu Xueping, look at the result of your indulgence!" Li Danxia hollered toward the kitchen before sinking back into her seat. She sighed, surveying the room, "You folks don't know, when I brought him into this world, I nearly lost my life..."

　　The card players around the table attempted to placate her. Two even conjured up anecdotes about their own rebellious children to calm Li Danxia's ire. This ploy succeeded, for happiness always finds its way.

　　Before turning in for the night, Gu Xueping ascended the stairs to check on his son.

　　"Stick around home for a few more days this time! There are some ancestral rituals to attend to before the New Year. It's both tradition and protocol," Gu Xueping patted his pants and settled on the edge of the bed, bracing for a lengthy discussion.

　　"Dad, did you pen the characters on those paper spirit money bags?" Gu Pan swiveled the chair around and seated himself at the desk.

　　"Yeah."

　　"...One of the bags bore Lai Yonggang's name, did you write that too? Was it Mom's idea?"

　　"Yeah."

　　"Dad, are you feeling constrained?"

　　"Well..." Gu Xueping seemed to have been awaiting this moment when his 19-year-old son Gu Pan would finally come seeking answers. It wasn't a pleasant subject, but his resignation overshadowed the bitterness. "I choose to believe what I want to believe, so I don't feel stifled."

　　"Self-deception? Compromise? Just to give your son a semblance of a complete family?" Gu Pan's voice quivered as he almost leapt from his seat. He clenched his jaw, breathing heavily, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

　　"Stay calm, sit down." Gu Xueping mollified the fiery Gu Pan with his usual composed demeanor. "Son, you're an adult now, and Dad isn't afraid to broach these topics with you. They say character is hereditary; I don't know how much of mine you've inherited. But I hope you'll be decisive, principled. Be a person of integrity from the get-go! Make your days brighter ahead! At least brighter than mine! You have the chance."

　　Father and son shared another conversation. Mostly, the father spoke while the son listened.

　　The son remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor as if he could bore holes into the light brown wooden boards beneath his feet.

　　The father refrained from interfering too much, allowing his son more space than the vast, chilly world outside. He understood his son's emotional fluctuations, acknowledging that the combination of "youth" and "fiery spirit" often went hand in hand.

　　After Gu Xueping finished speaking, he went downstairs and soon drifted off into slumber.

　　In the cold winter month, with doors and windows tightly shut, the father's occasional loud or uneven snores were mostly muffled. Yet Gu Pan could still perceive them.

　　He leaned against the headboard, cocooned in the fluffy quilt his father had prepared earlier.

　　Listening to the faint whistle of the cold wind outside and the distant sounds of people and cars, he longed to merge into the natural rhythm of the sleep-inducing atmosphere.

　　But three ethereal figures descended and invaded his night without a word.

　　That woman... Ling Hanlu, where was she? What was she doing?

　　Gu Pan scrolled through his phone's photo album, and the most recent picture of her turned her into a blue-faced "Hobbit." Delicate Teacher Ling stood before a screen, with the Brontë sisters dressed in 19th-century attire behind her, smiling across two centuries at those mourning their early deaths.

　　It seemed Ling Hanlu hadn't indicated which of the three figures in the photo represented Charlotte, Emily, or Anne. Or maybe she did, but Gu Pan, too absorbed in tracking his goddess, too immersed in her every move, let certain moments and sounds quietly fade away.

　　He yearned to experience it all over again.

　　Sue Chi Yuan, or Mr. Sue. After sharing a meal on the night of the first snowfall, they talked on the phone twice but didn't meet again.

　　"In the Corridor of Time," shrimp fried in salad dressing. He remembered that Mr. Sue didn't eat any that night. When he was younger, only his father, Gu Xueping, would smile and watch his son eat. Now, almost twenty, the smiling face across the table had become Sue Chi Yuan's.

　　Gu Pan didn't grasp it. This wasn't a puzzle he could solve with equations and formulas. Yet, he could decipher the satisfaction shining in Sue Chi Yuan's eyes. So he indulged, devouring all the "delicious things" Sue Chi Yuan had arranged before him.

　　They also touched on the topic of repayment. When Gu Pan promised the trip to Mount Olympus, pledged to guide Mr. Sue to meet the sole remaining descendants of the "Ancient Tower," the refined and graceful gentleman opposite him nearly welled up with tears. Like a father receiving his child's inaugural handmade gift.

　　Gu Pan couldn't fathom it. Maybe he never would.

　　"Atmosphere," concealed within her creations, drifted in and out like the breeze. Gu Pan's interaction with her was the epitome of ease and comfort. Unrestricted, devoid of personal emotions. Serene and logical, simply discussing matters.

　　Gu Pan checked the time. It was early morning on the fourteenth of December. He perused "Atmosphere's" past works from the same time last year. Uploaded about a year ago, on the twentieth of December.

　　In the video, you can hear the wind. You can see the flames, flickering relentlessly in the wind. But the scene is blurred, with dimly floating pastries, fruits, flowers, and other vague objects.

　　In the local customs and surrounding counties and cities, from the twentieth of December onwards, every household begins to offer sacrifices to the deceased. Until the thirtieth of the Lunar New Year, you can still see remnants of yellow paper and tin foil that haven't been cleared away on the streets, alleys, and the open spaces beneath some old-style apartment buildings. During that time, the air occasionally carries the smell of smoke and burning. This video, titled "Eternal Peace," should be a fitting creation for that time.

　　Apart from the guitar music intertwined with the sound of the wind, the video doesn't provide much more information. It's impossible to tell whether the author is mourning a recently departed loved one or someone who passed away many years ago. Given the relatively sensitive theme, the comments and bullet screens are more cautious and respectful than usual. Gu Pan was infected by this atmosphere, and his heart sank unexpectedly. Not the drowsy kind, but as if he was being pulled out of the hustle and bustle by an invisible hand, quiet enough to hear the flow of time.

　　Was the original intention behind this magical video a prayer? A wish for time to flow backward? Perhaps the author infused unfinished wishes into certain frames, or remorse and regrets into the guitar music.

　　Gu Pan spent another hour in contemplation as he listened. Of course, this piece wasn't meant for inducing sleep.

　　PP then opened the comment box. "What does it mean for a man to have principles? How does one live a bright and open life?"

　　After clicking send, he lay down. It was like waiting for a red envelope during Chinese New Year or birthday presents as a child, with a sense of anticipation.