The eve of the festival descended upon Suzhou with a heavy, suffocating stillness. Tomorrow, the lights of HUAD would flare to life, and the Waltz would begin. For Seo-yoon, the pressure was a physical weight. After her Mandarin classes, she skipped her usual study session; the characters on the page felt like blurred insects.
Tugging on her beige overcoat, she stepped out into the night. She needed the rhythmic lap of the canal water to drown out the noise in her head. As she walked, her thumb mindlessly swiped through social media until it landed on a profile she knew by heart. Min-ho. There was a new photo of him in front of the SNU library, looking sharp, focused, and—most painfully—settled. He was moving forward.
She was so absorbed in the glowing screen that she didn't see the figure standing by the stone railing. Her forehead thudded against something firm but yielding.
"Is what's on that screen more important than where you're walking?"
Seo-yoon recoiled, quickly shoving her phone into her pocket. She looked up, and up, until she met the dark, steady gaze of Yan-chen. He was dressed in a dark brown overcoat with a heavy wool muffler wrapped around his neck. He looked like a permanent fixture of the bridge, as solid as the masonry.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice defensive.
Yan-chen turned his gaze back to the water, the orange glow of the lanterns reflecting in his eyes. He didn't answer. For a moment, Seo-yoon considered walking past him, but her feet felt heavy. She stayed.
"I like the water, too," she murmured in Korean, a soft, involuntary exhale.
She knew he couldn't understand the words, but the sentiment seemed to hang in the air between them. They stood in silence for several minutes, the cold wind off the canal biting at Seo-yoon's exposed neck. She shivered, a small movement she thought he wouldn't notice.
Without a word, Yan-chen unwound his muffler. In one fluid motion, he stepped behind her and draped the warm, heavy wool around her neck.
"I'm not cold," she protested, reaching to pull it off.
Yan-chen caught her hand, his fingers cool and firm. He leaned down, his face hovering just inches from hers, his towering frame shielding her from the wind. "You aren't used to the Suzhou wind yet," he said in his low, quiet English. "Keep it on."
They walked together toward a nearby convenience store, Seo-yoon leading and Yan-chen following like a silent, protective shadow.
"I'll pay," Seo-yoon offered as they reached the sliding glass doors. "My treat. Take whatever you want."
Yan-chen simply grabbed a black coffee. Seo-yoon, driven by a sudden, reckless need to numb the image of Min-ho's smile, grabbed a spicy ramyeon bowl and three cans of beer.
They sat on the plastic chairs outside. Seo-yoon prepared her noodles, the steam rising between them. She popped the tab on the first beer and took a long sip. "Aren't you nervous about tomorrow?" she asked.
"No," Yan-chen replied, sipping his coffee.
"Of course not," she muttered. After three minutes, she mixed her noodles and held up a small portion on her chopsticks, extending them toward him. "Try it. Ramyeon and beer—it's the only way to survive a night like this."
Yan-chen looked at the offered food, then at her. He hesitated, but then he slowly leaned forward and took the bite from her hand. It was the first time anyone at HUAD had ever seen him so unguarded.
By the time the third can was empty, Seo-yoon had bought two more. The sharp edges of her nervousness were beginning to blur into a warm, hazy glow.
"You should stop," Yan-chen warned, his voice gaining a hint of concern. "You have to dance tomorrow."
"Don't worry," she giggled, her Korean accent slipping into her English. "I don't get drunk easily."
But as she stood up to leave, the world tilted. She stumbled, and Yan-chen's arms were there instantly, steadying her.
"Now Min-ho is happy... why can't I be?" she whispered in Korean, her voice cracking.
Yan-chen didn't understand the name or the words, but he felt the sudden, raw grief radiating from her. He didn't ask questions. He turned his back to her and crouched down. "Get on."
Seo-yoon didn't protest. She leaned against his broad back, her arms looping loosely around his neck. As he stood, the height difference became a literal lift. He carried her through the quiet streets, her head resting against his shoulder.
"Where is your home, Seo-yoon?" he asked softly as they reached the canal near the Pingjiang district.
She mumbled her address into his coat. When they reached her door, he carefully checked her pockets for her key. He carried her inside, his head nearly brushing the top of her doorframe. He laid her down on the bed, gently pulling off her shoes and tucking the duvet around her.
He didn't leave immediately. He stayed in the quiet studio for a moment, his eyes drifting to her desk. There sat her leather-bound diary, open to the first page. It wasn't a script. It was a meticulous, beautiful drawing of the HUAD gates.
He looked from the drawing to the sleeping girl. The "Ice Prince" felt a hairline fracture in his heart. She wasn't just a distraction; she was a world he was only beginning to map out.