The backyard of the old house featured an artificial lake, ringed by a wide, open space. The whole courtyard was lit up, and several people followed Fu Zhiyé as they strolled slowly along the path.

Just as they reached the lakeside and came to a stop, a sharp 'whoosh' split the air. Several streaks of white light soared from the opposite bank, bursting into the sky with crisp pops, and pale blue fireworks blossomed in the night sky.

Stars flickered—tiny points of light bursting into brightness, scattering slender trails of sparks that fell like shooting stars into the darkness.

More fireworks shot up, one after another, each in a different hue; colors grew ever more vivid and plentiful.

Cecilia Ye’s lips parted slightly in surprise. She gazed unblinking at the fireworks, a memory surfacing in her mind: once, while watching TV at home, she’d told Fu Zhiyé she liked fireworks just like the ones she was seeing now, every bit as dazzling as those on the screen.

She remembered telling Fu Zhiyé how much she liked them. Liked them, indeed...

Fireworks weren’t allowed in the capital, so she had no idea how Fu Zhiyé had managed it, but these displays—identical to those she’d seen on TV—clearly weren’t prepared just today.

She sniffled, watching the fireworks rise then fade away, their beauty tinged with a sudden sadness she couldn’t explain.

They disappeared so quickly—barely there before vanishing again.

Years from now, she might not remember what those fireworks looked like—but she would never, ever forget that Fu Zhiyé was by her side that night.

Cecilia Ye turned to look at Fu Zhiyé; his profile was lost in the night, his nose high and handsome, his features starkly defined. The blazing fireworks reflected in his eyes like a river of stars.

But Fu Zhiyé... after tonight, we won’t be together anymore.

Lost in her thoughts, Cecilia Ye dazed out for a moment. When she blinked back to awareness, Fu Zhiyé was already gazing at her.

She blinked. Fu Zhiyé reached out, gently touching her cheek. She froze, forgetting to move away.

Only when that warm, slightly calloused fingertip brushed her skin did Cecilia Ye realize that she’d started to cry without noticing.

"Do you like it?" he asked softly.

Her throat felt tight. In a low voice, Cecilia Ye replied, "I like it. Thank you."

"If you like them, watch." He reached out, taking her cold hand into his own, then turned back to watch the fireworks in silence.

The show lasted at least twenty minutes; Grandma Rivers and Grandpa Rivers had already gone back inside.

When the last firework faded from the sky, Cecilia Ye gently drew her hand from his.

Fu Zhiyé stared down at his now-empty hand, feeling an unexpected emptiness in his heart. He managed not to push further.

They walked back down the path, one behind the other. Looking at the tall figure ahead, Cecilia Ye’s heart ached with bittersweet longing.

She slowed her steps, hoping to extend this moment just a little longer, to memorize every detail.

Thinking about the imminent separation, about her future plans—none of them included the person before her anymore—and a wave of sorrow swept over her.

Meeting Fu Zhiyé six years ago had been like a firework blooming across her heart: full of light and wonder, chasing the gloom from her life.

For six years, she’d been cared for—by Fu Zhiyé, by Grandma Rivers and Grandpa Rivers. They’d always been so very good to her.

In the four years they were married, Fu Zhiyé had cherished her, spoiled her, protected her. If only nothing had changed, how wonderful that would have been.

What a pity.

When Fu Zhiyé noticed the footsteps behind him had stopped, he turned to look back.

He saw Cecilia Ye standing there, so small and still, confusion flickering across her face. Remembering all the hurt he’d caused her recently made his heart ache with guilt.

He wore a camel-colored coat that reached his calves, left unbuttoned to reveal a white sweater beneath. A street lamp stood behind him, the soft golden glow easing some of the chill from his stoic silhouette.

"Zhiyé, you should visit the old house more often. Grandpa Rivers and Grandma Rivers always miss us." Cecilia Ye’s voice was quiet as she tried to hold back her sadness.

Fu Zhiyé paused, then nodded slightly. "Alright."

"And... try not to work so late anymore. Don’t... don’t always be the last to leave the office."

He misunderstood, thinking she just wanted him to come home earlier for her sake. He gave another small nod and took a few steps ahead.

"Try to let yourself care about people... Life’s too lonely otherwise."

This last line came out so softly that even Fu Zhiyé didn’t quite catch it.

"What did you say?" he frowned, uneasy without knowing why.

Cecilia Ye lifted her chin, offering him a smile. "It’s nothing. Happy New Year."

The warm lamplight spilled across her face. That smile looked just like all the evenings she welcomed him home, soup in hand, grinning up at him.

Fu Zhiyé froze, overcome by a strange emptiness. He whispered, "Happy New Year, Cecilia."

For some reason, he didn’t want her to say any more. "Let’s get you back inside—it’s cold out here."

He slipped off his coat, wrapping it around her. Side by side, they slowly walked back toward the house.