Chapter 9

The Closed Door

Ning Xuechu woke up, slipped her feet into soft slippers, and walked toward the window.

She pulled open a sliver of curtain — and froze.

The blanket of white outside had vanished completely, revealing the deep green of the lawn beneath.

It was as if last night’s snow had never existed.

She pressed her heel down hard; a faint dampness seeped through her slipper, proof that the snow had been real.

Turning her head, she spotted a servant near the corner wall, pushing a cart and holding a shovel.

A small patch of white was swiftly scooped up by the shovel and dumped into the cart.

Ning Xuechu’s brows furrowed — and then she understood everything.

The Ning family’s servants had gotten up early and cleared all the snow.

After a brief thought, Ning Xuechu hurried outside, still wearing only her thin indoor clothes.

“Miss Ning, do you need something?”
The servant stopped, puzzled.

A few days ago, Miss An had brought home a frail-looking young girl, instructing everyone to call her “Miss Ning.” She hadn’t said much else.

The servants were curious about the girl’s identity and had whispered endless speculations among themselves, but none of them dared to ask Miss An directly.

“Why are you clearing away such beautiful snow? Wouldn’t it be nice to leave it there?”
Ning Xuechu tilted her head, her childish face full of innocent curiosity.

Then she bit her lip and lowered her head, gazing sadly at the dirty snow in the cart. Her eyes shimmered faintly — full of regret and longing.

The servant couldn’t help but sigh at her gentleness and purity.
“Miss Ning, it’s hard to walk when the snow piles up. But if you like the snow, you can look in the refrigerator — there’s a little snowman inside.”

Ning Xuechu’s heart skipped a beat.

She instantly thought of the small snowman she’d made for An Jianqing the night before. She’d assumed it had melted by morning — but An Jianqing had actually kept it, carefully stored in the fridge.

Her gift had been treasured.

A complex emotion surged within her — surprise, warmth, and a faint happiness.

Smiling sweetly, Ning Xuechu turned around and headed back inside.

When Ning Xuechu opened the refrigerator, she immediately saw the little snowman.

An Jianqing had carefully placed it inside a clear container, preserving it perfectly — not a single part had melted.

Ning Xuechu stood there quietly, the dark pools of her eyes rippling slightly.

She pressed her lips together, then shut the refrigerator door firmly, as if forcing the image of the snowman out of her mind.

“Miss Ning, breakfast is ready,” Aunt Lian called softly from behind her.

Ning Xuechu turned around and looked toward the dining table, then glanced at the clock on the wall.

It was eight o’clock in the morning — but the person who should’ve been sitting at the table still hadn’t appeared.

“Aunt Lian, where’s Sister An?” she asked, blinking, her tone polite but hesitant.

“Miss An is still in her room,” Aunt Lian replied with a smile. “She said you should go ahead and eat first.”

Ning Xuechu looked up toward the staircase, her large eyes full of concern. “Is Sister An… okay?”

Her voice carried genuine worry, her thoughts clearly nowhere near breakfast.

“Don’t worry, Miss Ning,” Aunt Lian reassured her. “Miss An stays in her room once or twice a month. She doesn’t go out during that time.”

“Once or twice a month…” Ning Xuechu repeated under her breath, lowering her gaze.

Seeing that she was still uneasy, Aunt Lian chuckled gently. “Miss Ning, you should eat while it’s still warm.”

Understanding the unspoken message, Ning Xuechu nodded obediently and sat down to eat.

As soon as she did, the faint fragrance of roses reached her nose.

Taking a deeper breath, she caught another layer beneath it — the sharp scent of red wine.

The two mixed together, like roses steeped in wine — heady and slightly cloying.

Aunt Lian had clearly smelled it too, but her expression didn’t change. She quietly went outside.

Moments later, she returned with three men in matching uniforms, each embroidered with the name of a flower shop.

“Just put them over here,” Aunt Lian instructed.

Ning Xuechu set down her chopsticks and stood, curiosity sparking in her dark eyes.

The three flower shop workers moved in and out, carrying armfuls of roses. Before long, the entire house was filled with their fragrance.

The vivid red color seemed almost overwhelming — after staring for a while, Ning Xuechu felt slightly dizzy.

She stepped closer to Aunt Lian and asked softly, blinking up at her,
“Aunt Lian, why did we suddenly buy so many roses? And why does it smell like wine?”

“These are for Miss An,” Aunt Lian replied. “She orders a new batch of roses every month. I’ll be sending them to her room later.”

Ning Xuechu couldn’t help glancing upstairs.

An Jianqing’s door remained tightly shut — but with all the commotion downstairs, there was no doubt she could hear everything.

“Why does Sister An buy so many roses every month?” she asked, her curiosity deepening.

“That’s Miss An’s decision. We don’t know the reason,” Aunt Lian said calmly — her tone implying that Ning Xuechu shouldn’t pry further.

Ning Xuechu smiled sweetly, nodded, and quietly finished her breakfast before heading off to school.

Two days later, that tightly closed door finally opened.

Carrying a tray of steaming food, Ning Xuechu stood at the doorway and smiled warmly.
“Sister, are you feeling okay? I was so worried about you these past two days.”

“Thank you. I’m fine now,” An Jianqing said with a gentle smile. Her fair face was a little pale, like someone just recovering from an illness.

Ning Xuechu subtly observed her for a moment but found nothing unusual.

Lowering her gaze, she looked into the room — and saw roses everywhere, their fragrance thick in the air, mingling with the faint scent of wine.

“Ah-choo!” She sneezed softly, tears glimmering faintly in her eyes from the sting of the smell.

An Jianqing noticed the questioning and curiosity behind those clear eyes, but she didn’t address it. Instead, she smiled and said,
“Let me take that.”

She reached out to take the tray, but Ning Xuechu quickly stepped aside, shaking her head.
“Sister, you still don’t seem fully recovered. I’ll bring it in for you.”

Without waiting for a response, she carried the tray into the room.

The rich rose scent enveloped her, and underneath it, she caught a faint, almost imperceptible trace of something else — so subtle that she wondered if she’d imagined it.

Setting the tray down on the table, she turned — and her gaze caught on a framed photograph on the bedside table.

It was beautifully preserved, looking almost new — clearly cherished.

In the photo were two beautiful young women, around eighteen years old, smiling brightly.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, so close it felt intimate.

The one on the left was unmistakably An Jianqing — younger, softer, her features not yet sharpened by time or responsibility. Her shy smile glowed with pure, unguarded happiness.

The girl on the right had slightly upturned eyes and a delicate, mature charm that set her apart from others her age.

She rested a hand on An Jianqing’s shoulder, leaning in as if whispering a secret.

The joy on An Jianqing’s face seemed drawn out by that woman’s teasing.

Ning Xuechu frowned, a tightness forming in her chest — a discomfort she couldn’t quite name, as if a small stone were lodged inside her heart.

Just as she reached out to pick up the photo, a slender, pale hand appeared and took it first.

“Xuechu, the smell in here is too strong. You should step outside,” An Jianqing said softly, cradling the framed photo protectively against her chest, her smile gentle.

But Ning Xuechu’s sharp instincts caught the faint trace of tension beneath that calm surface.

The woman in the photo — she must mean a great deal to An Jianqing.

“Okay, Sister. Please make sure to eat and take care of yourself,” Ning Xuechu said sweetly, suppressing the inexplicable flare of anger rising inside her.

She turned and left quietly.

Just before the door closed, she caught a glimpse of An Jianqing placing the photograph carefully into an album — as if handling a fragile treasure.

And in that instant, Ning Xuechu’s heart grew heavier — the suffocating weight in her chest pressing even harder.