Chapter 63: Snow Sweeps Across the Whale, the City of Ideals

It was a crystalline flower, its icy petals drifting through the air and reflecting in Hailan Jing’s eyes. She reached out, the sleeve of her dress slipping down to reveal a stretch of alabaster arm, where a bright red cinnabar mark stood out beautifully. Gently, she caught the snowflake falling from the sky, letting it rest in her palm.

The moment it touched her skin, it melted.

A sudden chill shot through Hailan Jing, a coldness that seemed to shiver her very soul.

It was snowing—

Was it really snowing in Dali?

In that instant, everyone around became aware of the snowflakes descending from the sky. A romantic white celebration was sweeping across this white city-state. Snowflakes danced above, landing on every face. All eyes lifted to watch the snow drifting down from above.

Hailan Jing was lost in confusion. She gazed upward, watching thousands upon thousands of tiny snowflakes swirling around her as they fell. The snow scattered from the sky.

A single tear rolled down Hailan Jing’s cheek.

…

That year, in August, snow fell over the city—Dali saw a snowfall. That year, wind and snow swept across Jinglu, and a city was built in her heart. On that day, Santorini was dusted in white. In the hearts of all present, a true utopia was constructed.

Even if it lasted only three minutes.

Even if it was only at the Jinglu Hotel in Santorini.

Yet this scene was captured by Mr. Bao, standing apart from the crowd.

Who said there is no snow in Dali in August?

…

The snow stopped. It had only lasted three minutes.

“My god, Jing, Dali… it actually snowed… your wish…” the receptionist gasped in amazement.

Hailan Jing was utterly stunned.

She had truly witnessed a snowfall here. Real snow.

“Look! There’s someone on the roof!” someone shouted, pointing to the highest floor.

At the very top of the Jinglu Hotel, a figure was leaving.

Hailan Jing followed their gaze.

It must be him! Her heart was crystal clear.

Without regard for her weakness, Hailan Jing pushed through the crowd and ran toward the rooftop.

Amid the bewilderment and amazement of everyone, the snow vanished as if it had never been.

…

The snow in the pool melted away, and the snow on the ground disappeared under the sun. The scene was almost unchanged. People even began to wonder if they had imagined it all. Had it really snowed just now? Why was there not a single trace left? Had they all dreamed the same dream… or had it truly happened?

…

Hailan Jing stood on the rooftop, breathless.

This was the place where ten pots of bougainvillea were arranged. The last time the bougainvillea bloomed profusely, thousands of petals scattered in the wind—this was where it began.

And now, it was here again.

When Hailan Jing arrived, the place was empty. Between two pots of bougainvillea, an empty foam box stood, still glistening with traces of water.

From this vantage, she could see the scene below on the first floor.

It had to be him—he had scattered the snow here.

He had truly made it snow, just for her.

But why, then, did he not wait to see her?

Hailan Jing bit her lip, sniffling in grievance.

The wind blew again, stirring fragments of memory.

Standing alone at the highest point of Santorini’s utopia, Hailan Jing faced the wind.

Suddenly, she laughed.

“Lin Shenlu, you bastard.”

…

“I’m just so curious where my buddy got the snow… Knowing him, he must have shipped it all the way from the northeast!” Under the poolside umbrella, Ye Yaochen lounged with two girls, telling stories.

“My friend is a true romantic—this wishing pool, this chance-encounter pool, even the time pool, all his creations. He wants to leave romance for everyone in Dali. The snow in Santorini… he made it fall, for Hailan Jing…” Ye Yaochen said, gently caressing the smooth shoulder of the girl beside him.

“Wow… That’s so romantic…” the girl on his left sighed dreamily.

“But… but there’s no snow in the northeast in August, is there?” the other girl asked in confusion.

…

Mr. Bao gazed at the photo he had just taken.

It was the Jinglu Hotel beneath a flawless blue sky. In the crowd, Hailan Jing, ethereal as a spirit, reached out to touch a drifting snowflake.

Snow was falling all around.

The moment was captured to perfection.

He had managed to seize a once-in-a-lifetime scene. He couldn’t help but admire his own skill.

They said the man who brought the snow to Dali was the very one who had driven him here—

Mr. Bao was genuinely impressed.

Was this man truly so devoted?

But… does deep devotion conflict with being passionate to many?

…

“Tongtong, tomorrow order me a magazine—a year’s subscription to Lonely Planet,” Hailan Jing instructed the receptionist when she returned.

“Alright, Jing… Oh my god, that was so romantic just now! They say Mr. Lin made it snow for you… made you believe in love again… is it true?” the receptionist asked, full of curiosity.

“Santorini in Dali has no snow, and I have no love,” Hailan Jing shot her a glare.

“But we all saw it! The snow was so beautiful…” the receptionist pouted.

“Who saw it? If you did, forget it… You didn’t even get a photo or video, did you? If there’s no evidence, don’t talk about it anymore…” Hailan Jing murmured, head lowered as she cut her cake.

“Ah…” the receptionist sighed. Indeed, everyone had been too stunned by the magic—three minutes, and the snow vanished completely, not a trace left. Who would have thought to snap a picture?

“Sorry to interrupt… Would you like a copy of this photo? I’m leaving Dali tomorrow, so I thought I’d ask.” A voice spoke at her side.

Hailan Jing looked up to see Mr. Bao smiling with his camera. On his screen was the image of the Jinglu Hotel blanketed in snow, with Hailan Jing touching a snowflake amid the crowd.

He… had actually taken a photo.

“Oh my god, Mr. Bao, you actually caught it?” the receptionist exclaimed, covering her mouth, then grinned mischievously at Hailan Jing.

“Of course, never underestimate the skills of a professional photographer!” Mr. Bao was rather pleased with himself. Such a rare, dreamlike memory—surely the beautiful boss would be so moved as to waive his accommodation fees for two days?

Hailan Jing’s gaze was fixed on the photo.

Should she take it or not?

The scene was beautiful.

The snow, even more so.

This was the only photo in the world that could prove Santorini in Dali had seen snow…

Wait—

Hailan Jing noticed something.

At the very top edge of the photo, a tiny figure was hiding on the roof of the Jinglu Hotel.

Mr. Bao’s camera was high definition—if she enlarged the image on a computer, she could probably make out the face of that shadow.

Hailan Jing stared carefully at the small, dark silhouette on the rooftop.

Though it was just a shadow, she knew who it was.

The one who orchestrated the snow…

He…

He made it snow, just for her.

So… this photo—

Should she accept it?

Hailan Jing bit her lip, gazing at the smiling Mr. Bao before her.

Should she, or shouldn’t she?