The Luo residence glowed against the quiet winter street, warm light spilling from the windows into the cold darkness.
It was nearly 7 PM.
Normally by this hour, the neighborhood was already silent, with only the occasional car passing by. But tonight, the calm was broken by an echoing shout.
"Luo Shiyi! Get back here right now!"
The front door slammed so hard the frame shook. Luo Shiyi didn't bother looking back.
She stormed down the steps, boots crunching against the snow as her breath billowed in white clouds.
"Don't you walk away from me! Damn girl!" her mother's voice shouted from inside before the door slammed again.
Shiyi clenched her jaw and kept walking, pulling down the sleeves of her sweater to cover her cold hands.
December in their hometown was brutal, thin sheets of snow were already gathering on rooftops and sidewalks.
The bitter air stung her cheeks, but the heat boiling inside her chest was worse.
She didn't even know where she was going. She just walked.
Anywhere but home.
Anywhere but there.
Anywhere she didn't have to hear another word about what she should do with her life.
After three years of traveling from place to place working for Hopebridge Foundation, she had finally come back, not willingly, but out of guilt.
Since their new international medical outreach project wasn't launching yet, she thought she could go home for Christmas. Just Christmas. One peaceful week. That was all she asked for.
But the moment she arrived, literally within hours, her mother dragged her to a dinner and tried to set her up with some stranger.
Well, not entirely a stranger—the son of her mother's friend.
A polite, decent guy.
She wouldn't have even minded meeting him if that was all it was.
But no. After dinner, her mother dropped the real intention.
Quit Hopebridge. Get a stable job in a hospital. That boy can help you. He has connections. This is better for your life.
Better? Better for who?
Her life wasn't broken.
Why couldn't her mother see it?
Being a nurse was not just a career, it was what she wanted since then. But she didn't want to work inside a hospital doing routine patient rotations and following orders until her soul dried up.
She wanted to be out there, helping abandoned children, delivering medical care to places the world forgot, giving people hope they thought they lost.
Hopebridge Foundation didn't just help people, it saved them.
But every time she tried to explain that, her mother looked at her like she was being reckless. Like she was wasting her life.
Like she wasn't good enough.
Shiyi bit hard on her lip and kicked a small pebble on the road. It bounced across the icy street before disappearing under a parked car.
They never supported her decisions, not when she chose nursing, not when she chose Hopebridge, not even when she survived college without taking a single cent from them just to prove she could stand on her own.
She inhaled sharply. The winter air cut through her lungs.
She just needed… space.
Time to breathe.
Her steps slowed as a familiar glow caught her eye. A small convenience store stood at the corner.
One she hadn't seen in three years, yet remembered like yesterday. She pushed the door open, the bell above it chiming softly.
Warmth greeted her, along with rows of ramen cups, bread, and colorful snacks. She walked slowly toward the freezer and opened it. Something familiar caught her eyes.
She froze.
"…No way," she muttered.
Her hand reached in and pulled out a simple ice cream—corn-shaped vanilla wrapped in chocolate.
Cheap. Nostalgic. Comforting. Her favorite in high school.
She thought they stopped selling it years ago.
Without hesitation, she bought it, ignored the cold wind outside, and sat down on one of the plastic chairs near the entrance. She unwrapped it and took a bite.
"—Ha…" She shivered. Still too cold. Still perfect.
Cars passed, headlights streaking gold over the snow. She watched them quietly, feeling memories creep in. Back then, she would sit here after school and eat this exact ice cream. The only difference was that she had someone beside her before, unlike now.
Those were simpler days.
No expectations. No judgments. No pressure.
Just… life.
She finished the last bite and brushed crumbs from her coat.
She felt calmer now, but something inside her was still unsettled, a heaviness in her chest she couldn't shake. She stood up, pulling her scarf tighter, and decided to walk a little further.
Snow squeaked under her shoes as she turned down a narrow street—and then she saw it.
A small, two-story house by the corner of the block, with a wind chime by the door that always rang in the spring.
Her eyes softened.
Grandpa and Grandma Han.
It had been three years since she last saw them. She hadn't even told them she was back.
A genuine smile tugged at her lips for the first time since she got home.
She picked up her pace.
Excitement made her walk faster—and that was her mistake.
Her foot landed on a slick patch of ice she didn't see. In an instant her balance slipped away.
"—Ah!"
She twisted as she fell, one ankle bending painfully beneath her. Her body hit the pavement, a cold shock jolting through her spine.
"Damn it," she hissed, clutching her left ankle. Sharp pain flared the moment she tried to move. "Seriously? Now?"
She rubbed the spot briefly, then forced herself up. It hurt, but it wasn't broken, just a bad twist. She gritted her teeth and resumed walking with uneven steps.
By the time she reached the Han family gate, her ankle throbbed with each breath.
She pressed the doorbell. The button was stiff with ice and clicked slowly. She waited, balancing on her good leg as little puffs of air escaped her lips, turning white in the cold.
No answer.
She pressed again.
Still nothing.
"Come on…" she muttered, hugging herself against the cold.
Finally, someone moved behind the gate. Footsteps approached.
The gate opened.
Shiyi's smile lifted—then froze.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Standing there wasn't Grandpa Han.
It was him.
Han Jinyu.