Infinitely Close

About This Novel

In the new semester, Tang Jianchun went to work at a key university in Northeast China. November came, and she told me that winter was coming and the first heavy snow fell in the Northeast. Tang Jianchun took photos and sent them to me via mobile phone. I admire the splendor and sentimentality of the northern snowscape. She said that at 4:30 in the evening, it was dark, and students were studying in the well-heated library. On both sides of the campus path leading to the cafeteria for dinner, the snow reflected bright white light, and the students' rosy smiles complemented the street lights. The entire campus was shrouded in a quiet reverie, and it seemed that all the sounds had turned into whispers, and all the noise was filtered and silenced by the thick snow. At this time, in Fujian, in the south, I can still feel comfortable wearing long sleeves. Tang Jianchun sent a text message saying: "Old Qian, I really miss the days with you."

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