Chapter 33: The Snow Woman

Backstage.

The dressing room door was closed, muffling the sound of staff members walking back and forth outside—yet Chuxue’s memory told her they were there.

Chuxue sat before the mirror, gazing at the face reflected in the glass.

Her makeup was finished.

The foundation was 2 degrees whiter than her usual shade, applied so evenly it looked like porcelain.

Her eyeshadow was nearly invisible, with only a hint of grey-brown swept across the sockets.

Her lip color was a pale pink with a slight pearlescent sheen—giving her a “frostbitten look.”

It was different from usual.

The person in the mirror was looking back at her.

Chuxue.

Snow Girl.

Two names, one face.

She looked away.

Picking up the earrings from the table, she put them on.

They were silver and slender, shimmering under the lights.

Click—

The door opened.

Qiu Ya walked in, carrying two cups of tea.

She placed a white porcelain cup in front of Chuxue, steam drifting upward.

“Nervous?”

Chuxue shook her head.

The movement was slight, causing her earrings to sway.

Qiu Ya sat down beside her, crossed her legs, and blew on her own tea.

“After this performance, are you going back there again?”

“…Yes.”

“That President Lin,” Qiu Ya said, taking a sip of tea.

“You seem quite devoted to him.”

Chuxue remained silent.

Qiu Ya didn’t press her.

She simply sat there, drinking her tea and waiting.

Silence filled the dressing room for several seconds, save for the hum of the air conditioner.

Then, Chuxue spoke.

“He’s different.”

Qiu Ya looked at her.

“How so?”

Chuxue thought for a moment.

“…Everything about him is different.”

Qiu Ya smiled.

“Then he’s certainly worth paying attention to.”

Chuxue didn’t answer.

She looked at herself in the mirror.

Her face was as cold as ever, but her mind was elsewhere.

She thought of that person.

The one who sat by the window at 5:50 AM with long hair draped over his shoulders, holding a cup of black tea while waiting for her.

The one whose wrist she had grabbed, whose strength was less than hers, yet who stubbornly refused to give in.

The one who said, “Within a certain range, I will give you an answer.”

The one who claimed to be a “Little White Face kept by Alice.”

‘A liar, as expected,’ she repeated softly in her heart.

She picked up her tea and took a sip.

Qiu Ya watched her.

“What are you thinking about?”

“…Nothing.”

Qiu Ya’s smile didn’t fade, but she didn’t ask again.

She stood up and patted Chuxue on the shoulder.

“You’re on in 15 minutes.”

“Okay.”

Qiu Ya walked to the door and placed her hand on the knob.

She didn’t look back.

“Chuxue.”

“Yes?”

“If that President Lin ever bullies you, tell me.”

Chuxue paused for a moment.

Then she raised her hand and pressed the corner of her mouth with her fingertip.

“…Alright.”

The door closed.

Silence returned to the dressing room.

Chuxue looked at her reflection.

The snow-white makeup.

The eyeshadow so faint it was almost non-existent.

The pale pink lips.

And those eyes.

—They were just like his.

She stood up and straightened her skirt.

It was a snow-white dress that reached her ankles.

The fabric was light, fluttering softly as she moved.

It wasn’t the same as her usual white dresses.

This was the dress of the “Snow Girl.”

She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

***

The stage.

The lights were dim.

In the venue of 5,000 people, it was so quiet it felt empty.

But Chuxue knew they were there.

Five thousand people, 5,000 pairs of eyes, 5,000 heartbeats.

They were all waiting for her.

She stood in the center of the stage, eyes closed, waiting.

One.

Two.

Three.

—The lights flared.

It wasn’t a gradual brightening, but a sudden explosion of light.

Cold white beams poured down from above, illuminating her.

The snow-white dress.

The snow-white hair.

The snow-white face.

She looked like an ice sculpture.

The audience was silent for a second.

Then—

The screaming started.

Screams from 5,000 people surged from all directions.

It wasn’t the sound of wild, out-of-control fans.

“We finally get to see you!”

It was the sound of long-suppressed emotions, a scream that couldn’t be held back for even another second.

Chuxue opened her eyes and looked at the crowd.

Five thousand lightsticks, every single one of them white.

White as snow.

She raised her hand, placing it gently over her heart.

Then she spoke.

Her voice was soft, almost like she was talking to herself, yet it was so clear that even those in the very back row could hear her.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

the crowd erupted again.

The first song.

It wasn’t an intense or explosive track.

It was slow and gentle, like her title—a song like falling snow.

She stood in the center of the stage, motionless.

She simply sang.

The voice flowed from her lips, drifting into every corner of the venue.

In the audience, no one screamed.

No one shouted.

They just listened, letting the voice wrap around them.

Their lightsticks swayed gently, an unconscious movement.

—Like falling snow.

The second song.

Chuxue decided to use a new technique.

She began to move.

With slow steps, one by one, she walked from left to right.

Every step landed perfectly on the beat.

Yet it didn’t look like dancing.

It looked like someone walking through a field of snow.

Step.

Step.

Step.

When she reached the right side of the stage, she stopped.

She gave a slight nod to the audience on the right before walking back.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Reaching the left side, she nodded to them as well.

From beginning to end, she didn’t smile.

But everyone who looked at her felt as if she were speaking directly to them.

The third song.

The music stopped.

Only a single spotlight remained on the stage, tracking her.

She stood there, gazing at the audience.

In the 5,000-person venue, it was quiet enough to hear a breath.

Then she spoke.

“Some say I am cold.”

The audience was silent.

“Some say I am like snow.”

Still silence.

“Some say I will never have the ‘warmth’ she speaks of.”

She blinked, her pale eyelashes shimmering like fine silk threads.

“Perhaps.”

“But—”

She raised her hand and gave a gentle push forward.

Suddenly, snowflakes began to flutter across the stage.

This wasn’t a special effect; it was real snow.

It fell from the ceiling, swirling and landing on her shoulders, her hair, and her dress.

She stood in the snow, looking at the crowd.

“The temperature of snow is also needed by someone.”

The audience was silent for a second.

Then, someone’s eyes began to glisten.

It wasn’t just one person.

It was a row, a section—the entire venue.

Five thousand people were buried under that snow in the same instant.

In the final 3 minutes.

She stood at center stage and gave a shallow bow to the audience.

Then she turned and walked toward the backstage.

Halfway there, she stopped.

She turned her head and looked back.

That gaze—

It wasn’t for everyone.

She was looking for one specific person.

‘President Lin… no, Alice.’

But she didn’t find him.

She turned back and continued walking, disappearing behind the curtain.

The Agency.

The lights in the training room were still on.

Su Nian sat on the floor, clutching a water bottle, staring at the television.

Xiao Xi crouched beside her, also holding a water bottle—the pink one.

On the TV, that snow-white figure had just vanished.

The screen cut back to the host.

Su Nian opened her mouth.

“…She’s amazing.”

Her voice was tiny.

“Completely… different.”

Xiao Xi didn’t speak, but she didn’t look away either.

She just stared at the screen, at the snow that was still drifting there.

After a long time, Su Nian spoke again.

“She… she’s not like that normally, is she?”

No one answered.

Su Nian thought about it herself before adding, “She usually… smiles.”

Xiao Xi turned to look at her.

“She smiles?”

“Yes.”

Su Nian nodded.

“Even though it’s… that kind of smile… it’s strange.”

“But she smiles.”

She paused.

“Just now… she didn’t smile even once.”

Silence fell.

The two of them watched the TV.

The host was saying something, but they weren’t listening.

They just looked at that snow—the snow that had stopped, yet seemed to still be falling.

***

In Chuxue’s room.

The lights weren’t on.

She sat on her bed, looking out the window.

The city nightscape and distant neon lights flickered.

She hadn’t changed out of her dress yet—the snow-white gown that reached her ankles.

A few un-melted snowflakes still clung to her shoulders.

She didn’t move.

She just sat there, thinking of that gaze from earlier.

Thinking of the person she hadn’t found.

After a long time, she spoke softly.

Her voice was so light it was like she was talking to herself.

“This time…”

“He wasn’t there either.”

The streetlights outside gathered light into clusters, separated by stretches of darkness.

A car drove by in the distance, its muffled sound quickly vanishing around a street corner.

Chuxue remained seated.

On her snow-white dress, the last snowflake slowly melted, leaving behind a small, dark damp spot.

She didn’t move.

She just looked out the window, toward that direction.

Toward the Agency.

13 days later: ‘Snow Girl’ and ‘Gemstone Princess’ share the stage.