Our First Meeting on a Snowy Night, You Became the Moonlight in My Sights

Also known as "He Died on the Eve of My Learning to Love." A tragic Republican-era romance with a bad ending.

The snowflakes of 1925 mingled with the scent of jasmine. Lu Zhihang, a refined young gentleman recently returned from studying abroad, caught Gu Wanning in his arms at the train station as she fled her wedding. She clutched a bloodstained marriage contract, while he held the moonlight that had fallen from her hair. Three lines of love poetry could not contain the astonishing beauty of a world in chaos: in her eyes, he saw a spring beyond the mountains and rivers; in his arms, she stumbled into a web woven from tenderness.

From the station to the end of the alley, from love letters to gunshots, his Western suit was stained with the blood of an old warlord, and the hem of her white wedding dress soaked in the frost of a new age of upheaval. Only then did he understand that the warmth in his palm when they first met was a piece of candy stolen by fate. She guarded the words he had left unwritten in his letters, while he bore the love he could never fulfill, trapped in the gears of his era. Until one night, a gunshot shattered the last unfinished confession, and she finally understood that the tender refuge she had stumbled into that year had long since become a calamity she could never escape.

He died on the eve of her learning to love, and she lived on as the poem he never finished. The winds of the Republican era swept away the three lines of their first meeting, yet in the folds of time, they carved the first half of a "I love you" that would never heal.