New York, a fast-paced international metropolis.
The elites of Wall Street were always hurrying along, calculating gains, losses, and profits even as they walked.
As one of the financial world’s elite, Qin Yuhe put all his work aside to build a snowman for Song Xinya in the park.
Other people’s snowmen were small—the point was simply to participate, to prove they had built one, and call it a day.
Qin Yuhe’s snowman, however, was enormous.
Song Xinya stared at the snowman, whose waist was even thicker than a barrel. “Did you build an entire world?”
Qin Yuhe said, “I built you.”
“My waist isn’t that thick. I have a tiny waist.”
“I built the plus-size version of you.”
Why was he so insistent that this snowman was her?
Song Xinya walked around it once. Its round, chubby body made it impossible to tell where the chest ended and the waist or hips began. Its head was round, with a broad, pudgy face.
She pointed to her own delicate, oval face. “That’s supposed to be me?”
Qin Yuhe said with a perfectly straight face, “Look how much the two of you resemble each other.”
“...Brother, you must be at least three thousand degrees nearsighted.”
“I’m not finished yet.”
A little boy strutted over with his hands on his hips. “Hey, bro. Other than being a little bigger than the snowman my parents built, yours isn’t anything special.”
“Hey, brat. I’m not done yet.”
The boy stuck out his tongue. “You just haven’t beaten me, so you’re making excuses. Nya nya nya nya nya~”
Qin Yuhe smoothly drove the snowman-building shovel into the snow.
“Let me tell you a fairy tale.”
“Okay! I love fairy tales. Nya nya nya nya nya~”
“Once upon a time, there was a little boy who loved sticking out his tongue and going ‘nya nya nya.’ One night, while he was sleeping, Santa Claus pulled his tongue right out.”
The boy immediately stopped making faces. He pulled his tongue back into his mouth and clapped both chubby hands over it.
Qin Yuhe continued building the snowman.
Song Xinya assumed that once he added a carrot for the nose, two grapes for the eyes, and a curved mouth made of red dates, the snowman would be complete.
But that wasn’t what happened.
To be precise, Qin Yuhe’s snowman had only just begun to take shape.
Holding the small shovel, he carefully dug into the snowman’s plump body, carving it away with patience. Every stroke and every movement was meticulous, like a master sculptor at work.
With each motion, the snowman’s chubby body grew slender. Shoulders, arms, breasts, a waist, and hips gradually emerged.
Using nothing but snow, he sculpted a beautiful woman in a dress.
Song Xinya was utterly amazed.
How could he be so skillful?
She asked, “Have you built women out of snow before?”
Built other women?
Qin Yuhe said, “No. This is my first time.”
Song Xinya was once again astonished by his many talents.
She stared at the snow beauty for a while and found it strangely familiar.
The sundress, the shawl draped over the shoulders, and the shawl’s uneven, wave-shaped hem...
“Why is she dressed so much like what I was wearing when I came to see you on your birthday?”
“Because I built you, Yaya.”
Song Xinya suddenly understood.
He had sculpted her out of snow.
No one had ever done anything like this for her before.
What a novel experience.
What a special feeling.
Many years later, Song Xinya would forget much of what had happened that day in New York. But she would always remember that Qin Yuhe had once painstakingly carved a snow sculpture of her.
Everyone else’s snowmen were chubby and, taken on their own, rather cute.
But the moment Qin Yuhe’s masterpiece was finished, everyone felt that their own little snow people looked shabby by comparison.
It was simply too beautiful.
His was by far the most beautiful snowman there.
Everyone’s attention was drawn to it.
People gathered around to take pictures, praise it, pose with it, and upload it to social media.
The blue-eyed, blond-haired little boy from earlier gazed at Qin Yuhe’s work with his eyes wide and shouted, “A fairy lady!”
Qin Yuhe glanced at the pudgy snowman the boy’s parents had built for him and asked, “Which one looks better, my wife’s snowman or yours?”
“Your wife’s looks better. You win. I lose.”
Then, enviously, he asked Qin Yuhe, “Can you build a snowman this pretty for me?”
Qin Yuhe refused without mercy. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not my wife.”
The boy scratched his head and thought about it. Suddenly, his eyes lit up as he came up with a brilliant idea.
“Then marry me! I can be your wife.”
He thought his plan was absolutely perfect. As long as he became this man’s wife, the man would build beautiful snowmen for him. It was an amazing deal.
Qin Yuhe explained, “Only women can marry men and become their wives.”
“That’s not true,” the boy argued. “In my country, men can marry men and be their wives too.”
Qin Yuhe fell silent.
He had forgotten. This was America, the land of ninety-seven genders.
“Different paths lead to different destinations,” Qin Yuhe said. “You believe in capitalism, and I believe in socialism. We were never meant to be one family.”
The little boy refused to give up. He chased after Qin Yuhe, first calling him “bro,” then switching to “husband.”
Song Xinya had never dreamed that, in this lifetime, she would have to fight a toothless little boy for her husband.
Capitalism was far too wicked!
On this land, you had to guard against women, men, and even little brats who hadn’t finished growing their teeth!
The boy clung to Qin Yuhe like chewing gum, calling out “Husband!” again and again.
Song Xinya threw herself into Qin Yuhe’s arms, wrapped her arms around his waist, planted a loud kiss on his lips, and then raised her eyebrows at the little brat, staking her claim.
“He’s my husband.”
The boy’s dream of becoming a husband was shattered. He burst into tears, blowing snot bubbles from his nose as he accused Song Xinya, “You’re bullying me! You pretty bad lady!”
His parents, who had been off on their own date, finally remembered that they had a son. They hurried over and carried the little brat away.
Qin Yuhe carried Song Xinya over beside the snow beauty and took a picture of her as a keepsake.
In the photograph, Song Xinya gazed at the camera with a sweet smile. Her beautiful brows and eyes were relaxed, and her gaze shimmered with bright, gentle warmth.
That evening, while browsing the internet, Song Xinya discovered that the snowman Qin Yuhe had built had become a trending topic on an American website.
Foreigners were enthusiastically leaving comments.
“This is the most beautiful snowman I’ve ever seen.”
“Elegant proportions, lifelike form, and exquisite charm. This isn’t a snowman—it’s a work of art.”
“An oriental beauty. Very good, very good.”
“Before this, I thought building a snowman meant piling up one big snowball and one small snowball, putting them together, and calling it good.”
“Who didn’t? Those of us who are hopeless beginners all thought the same thing.”
“The person who built this snowman is an artist.”
“And the model for this snowman must be an absolutely stunning beauty.”
Truly talented people excel at everything they do.
Qin Yuhe had casually built a snowman, and it sparked a huge uproar across the American internet.
The next day, Song Xinya accompanied Qin Yuhe to the hospital for treatment on his hand.
Sheng Changpu provided the core technology and continually adjusted the treatment plan according to Qin Yuhe’s recovery.
He stayed behind the scenes and refused to appear in person, while his personal disciple treated Qin Yuhe.
Qin Yuhe still didn’t know that the reason he was receiving the most advanced burn treatment in the world was because Song Xinya had fought hard to secure it for him.
While Qin Yuhe was having his hand treated in the examination room, Song Xinya sat outside on a chair waiting for him.
As she lowered her head and browsed the latest news about the education and training industry on her phone, a pair of men’s leather shoes appeared in her line of sight.
She looked up and saw Sheng Changpu’s face.
As it happened, Song Xinya had a question for him as well. “How much longer until my husband’s hand is healed?”
Sheng Changpu replied, “About a month.”
That was much faster than Song Xinya had expected.
Sheng Changpu asked, “When are you sending my son back to the United States?”
“When my husband’s hand is fully healed, your son will return.”
“If his hand can’t be healed, your son can forget about coming back for the rest of his life.”
Sheng Changpu’s face was filled with the humiliation of being threatened.
He was a renowned medical expert, respected wherever he went. Yet in front of this woman, he had to bow and scrape, unable to hold his head up, like some lowly servant.
Sheng Changpu was used to throwing his weight around. The contrast left him seething with resentment.
This was the United States, a country where guns were legal.
He began plotting a shooting.
A shooting aimed at Song Xinya.
He would have Song Xinya killed in the United States.
As long as this woman disappeared, he would no longer be threatened, and the evidence she held against his son, Sheng Tianjun, for rape would disappear with her.
Sheng Changpu gazed at Song Xinya and smiled coldly and sinisterly, wondering how much longer this woman could continue acting so arrogantly.
Song Xinya looked up and saw the malicious smile on Sheng Changpu’s face.
Without the slightest hint of panic, she rose to her feet. Her back and shoulders were straight, and her cold, disdainful gaze met Sheng Changpu’s eyes head-on.
“What? You want to kill me?”
She gave him a mocking smile. “Don’t even think about playing tricks on me. Since I dared to come to the United States, I’ve already made preparations to leave unscathed.”
“Before I left the country, I made every possible arrangement. The moment anything happens to me, the evidence of your son’s crimes will be published online for the entire world to see.”
“Give someone too much leeway, and even a dog will start thinking it’s a lion.”
Song Xinya reached out, yanked the name badge from Sheng Changpu’s chest, and slapped it onto the floor.
“What a joke. How dare you challenge me? Everyone in this world who opposes me will meet a miserable end!”
