Sunshine For A Frozen Heart

Eight Years Ago

Xin Yi’s POV

I was running across the park with my friends, our laughter filling the warm afternoon air. We chased each other around the playground, our shoes kicking up dust as we ran beneath the tall trees.

That was when someone caught my attention. Not far from us, beneath the shade of a large tree, a boy sat quietly on a swing. He looked about my age, yet while we were laughing and playing, he simply sat there watching. I slowed to a stop.

The boy wore all black, his small figure almost blending into the shadows of the tree. His expression was blank, distant... lonely. For some reason, my heart felt strange seeing him sit there alone.

Without thinking, I raised my hand and waved at him with a bright smile—the kind of smile only a child who had everything could show. For a brief moment, something changed in his cold gaze. It was faint, almost impossible to notice, but I was sure I saw it: longing. As if he wanted to feel what we were feeling—laughter, happiness, the warmth of being surrounded by others.

But just as quickly, the emotion disappeared, hidden once again behind his quiet, unreadable expression. I took a small step forward, planning to invite him to play with us.

Before I could say anything, my friend Zhao Qing called out behind me.

“Xinxin! What’s wrong? Why did you stop running?”

I pointed toward the boy. “Let’s invite him to play,” I said excitedly. “He looks lonely.”

When Zhao Qing followed my finger and saw him, her expression immediately changed. She quickly grabbed my arm and shook her head.

“Mm... Xinxin, we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“That boy... he’s from the Ye family. My parents said we should stay away from them. They’re the richest family here.”

I blinked, confused. “But—”

Before I could finish, our mothers called out our names from the other side of the park.

“Time to go home!” they called. A Qing waved goodbye and ran toward her mother.

When I turned back toward the swing, the boy was gone. I hadn’t even noticed when he left. It was as if he had disappeared quietly, just like the lonely feeling he carried with him.

When I got home, my mother greeted me at the door. But the moment she saw my face, she crouched down in front of me with concern.

“What’s wrong, Xinxin?” she asked gently.

I hesitated before answering. “Mom... there was a boy at the park today. He looked gloomy and lonely, so I wanted to invite him to play with us.” I paused, frowning slightly. “But A Qing said we can’t be close to him because he’s from the... Ye family.”

I looked up at her, confused. “Why can’t we be friends with him? He looked so lonely.”

My mother looked at me with soft, understanding eyes. She gently brushed a strand of hair from my face.

“Xinxin,” she said softly, “you don’t always have to listen to what others say. You can be friends with anyone you wish, as long as you remember to keep yourself safe.”

She smiled warmly. “You see... not every child gets to grow up like you. Some children live in loneliness and coldness from a very young age. That’s why they need someone who can show them kindness... someone who can give them warmth.” She gently tapped my chest. “You have a very big heart, Xinxin. Use it to love people.”

I held onto her words tightly.

After that day, whenever I passed by the park, I would look for the boy on the swing. But no matter how many times I searched... I never saw him again.

Ye Han’s POV

The Ye mansion was silent. Too silent for a house this large.

My mother died giving birth to me. After that, nothing in this house felt the same. My father withdrew into his grief and blame. Somehow, it became my fault that she was gone.

My brother changed too. At twelve, he was already distant, locked in his room, practicing things no child should. No laughter. No warmth. Only order and control.

Ever since I was born, life had been this way—cold, empty, precise. Words likeloveandwarmthwere meaningless. I’d never experienced them.

Birthdays passed without notice. Ordinary days blurred together. Cakes, gifts, smiles—they were foreign concepts, irrelevant.

So I left the mansion, wandering outside. Nothing about the world interested me. Until I stopped at the small park and saw them: children running, laughing, shouting, free.

I watched them. The noise was loud. Their happiness, absurd. I did not envy them. I only observed.

And then I saw her. Bright eyes. A smile that reached too far. She ran with her friends, light and loud, utterly unrestrained.

She stopped, and for a brief moment, her gaze found me. She waved.

I did not wave back. I did not move.

For a second—too small to name—I felt it. Something unfamiliar, something I could not touch. Longing, perhaps. Or a question: what is it to be like them?

It was gone before I could consider it further. I left the swing. I walked away. Nothing changed.

Even as I moved from the park, I glanced back once. Her bright smile had dimmed, searching, hopeful.

I looked away.

It did not concern me.

And yet... it lingered. Not as warmth, not as longing—but as an anomaly in the predictability of my world.

Written By Miao Yi with the help of Mo Chen