This was a dream.

...

Winters in the south were bitterly cold.

No central heating, just dampness that seeped into your bones. The temperature rarely dropped below freezing, but sitting still at home without an electric heater made the chill cut deep.

Our town never saw snow in winter—only freezing rain that turned to ice the moment it hit the ground.

The streets became treacherously slick. Yet as kids, we loved it. Those flagstone paths transformed into our personal ice rinks.

After school, we’d gleefully slide all the way home on the icy pavement.

The whole town was a sea of grey-tiled roofs. My grandparents’ house stood among them. Today, I should’ve been heading there from elementary school for dinner.

It’d been years since I walked this road. Why was I here again?

I left the other kids sliding on the ice and hurried home alone, puzzled.

Pushing open the heavy iron gate, I found Grandpa practicing tai chi in the yard.

He stopped when he saw me, snatching a paper from my hand.

*When did I even have this?*

His calm face twisted after reading it. He grabbed a broom from the corner and whacked my backside twice.

Strangely, it didn’t hurt at all.

He crumpled the paper and threw it at my face. I caught it, smoothed it out:

*"Grade 5 Math Test: 29/100."*

This test—it was from back then. A strange excitement surged through me.

If I had this paper *now*, I might see her again soon.

Just as expected, Grandpa chased me out with the broom. "Stand outside as punishment! No dinner!" But I knew better. Kind-hearted Grandma would sneak me a bowl later.

I’d been such a terrible student. My brain just wouldn’t click.

Those squiggly, worm-like Arabic numerals were my nemesis. Addition, subtraction, multiplication, division—all impossible under timed tests. My ten fingers weren’t enough. *Should’ve used my toes too.*

It wasn’t my fault! I listened in class. I just... couldn’t understand.

What could I do? I was just dumb.

I wasn’t about to stand like an idiot at the gate. The sun was still high. I wandered off.

Crossing a stone bridge over a stream glazed with thin ice, I reached the other side.

A house stood there—utterly out of place.

Like something from a period film: a Western-style mansion with tall columns, carved windows, an iron fence enclosing a manicured garden. Its bright white walls glowed against the town’s sea of low, grey-tiled roofs.

I longed to peek inside. Would it have Grandma’s antique wooden furniture? Incense smoke curling in the air? Grandpa’s calligraphy hanging on the walls?

"Can I help you?"

A voice startled me. Someone had appeared behind me.

"N-nothing! Just looking around," I stammered, realizing I’d been staring too long.

I turned slowly.

...

A girl slightly older than me.

Her face was classically East Asian, yet crowned with silvery hair that looked perfectly natural—probably mixed heritage, I thought.

She seemed freezing. Bundled in a thick orange down jacket, a dark red scarf wrapped high, a matching red beanie covering her head. Strands of silver hair escaped, dancing in the wind.

Even layered up, she kept puffing warm breath into her mittened hands—brown gloves printed with little bears—and stamped her feet.

*Was it really that cold?* My thin fleece-lined jacket felt just right.

?!

*It’s her! It’s really her!*

My heart screamed her name, but no sound came out.

It’d been so long since I dreamed of meeting her.

I stared, mind blank. She was stunning—delicate features made ethereal by that silver hair. Exactly as I remembered.

"Do you go to the elementary school nearby? Looks like math isn’t your strong suit."

She’d somehow taken my crumpled test paper.

"It’s just a fluke!" I snatched it back, blushing, and stuffed it deep into my pocket. Failing in front of a girl was mortifying.

"If you’d like," she said confidently, "I can tutor you. Help you outshine your classmates."

Outshining them didn’t matter to a kid who just wanted to play. But passing? Avoiding Grandpa’s broom? That’d be heaven.

"Really? Free?" I didn’t trust her.

"Just one small condition," she smiled warmly. "Visit me often. Chat. Play games. I’d love the company."

*Playing with girls is such a hassle. They only like weird house games. No interest in war or horseback riding.*

"No?" Her smile faded, a trace of disappointment in her eyes.

"Okay," I relented. Being with her felt... comfortable, even if boring. "If you can actually get me passing grades, I’ll come every day. Where do you live? Far?"

Her face lit up. She pointed eagerly at the white mansion. "Right there."

*You live there?!* I wasn’t surprised. Strange people lived in strange houses. It made sense.

I stepped forward to follow her inside.

"You little rascal! Where’ve you been? You’ve got Grandma frantic!"

Strong hands clamped my shoulders. I looked up—Grandma, sweating and breathless.

"Come home now."

She pulled me away, ignoring the silver-haired girl completely.

"Wait!" I struggled, wanting to stay.

"Play tomorrow. It’s late." Grandma wouldn’t let go.

*Grandma in this dream... you don’t understand. It’s just a dream. She and I will never have a tomorrow.*

I couldn’t break free. I waved goodbye to the girl as Grandma dragged me away.

She waved back, smiling.

We crossed the stream, back to the grey-tiled roofs.

I glanced back longingly at the stone bridge—and froze.

A girl in a thin black dress stood alone beside it.

*Who wears a summer dress in winter? She must be crazy.*

She noticed my stare. Turned. Smiled strangely. Waved something shiny in her hand.

A rice-cutting sickle.

"Jiang Muqing?! What are you doing here?!"

Recognizing her face stole my breath.

She pointed the sickle toward the white mansion, then walked inside without looking back.

The girl in black, sickle raised, looked like Death itself. Darkness surged behind her like a tide, swallowing the bright white house.

"No! Stop!" I yelled. I knew what she intended.

"Grandma, we have to help Xiao Xue! She’ll be in danger!"

This dream felt terrifyingly real. I shook Grandma’s arm desperately.

"Let me go! I have to help Xiao Xue!" I begged.

...

"Just come home and eat, Fan," a voice beside me said softly.

*That’s not Grandma’s voice!*

Slowly, dread coiling in my stomach, I turned.

A slender, pale hand gripped mine tightly. A black skirt fluttered in the wind. Beside it, a sickle hung low—dripping crimson.

Drop... drop... scarlet bloomed across the pristine snow beneath the blade.

...

*Odd. It never snows back home in winter...*