The Window Frames the Western Ridge

The first time Qian Qiuxue saw Zhuozhuo, she had just pushed open the window. The icy air swept in with the snowflakes, dispelling the room's thick, almost suffocating fragrance. Outside the window stood Min Mountain, its snow untouched for a thousand years. The ship was moored on a frozen river, iron claws fitted to its keel to break the ice. Beneath the leaden sky, they gleamed with a sinister, chilling light. "You said your surname is Qian, so I'll call you Qian Qiuxue," Zhuozhuo remarked, as if offhandedly. Qian Qiuxue didn't feel humiliated. In fact, she was relieved. If her surname had been Wan, wouldn't that make her Wan Li Chuan? The name Qian Qiuxue suited her remarkably well, encapsulating a life in which her grandmother didn't dote on her and her uncle didn't love her. She was like the ice and snow on Min Mountain, sharp and cold enough to make people shudder. But fortunately, amid the snow and wind, she met a tree in full bloom. And its flowers never faded again. Theme: