It snowed all day in Tromsø.
Yu Fan buried his face in the thick cashmere scarf, the white mist from his breath condensing into frost in front of him. The bad weather for two consecutive days made him almost lose hope of seeing the aurora, but with tomorrow being his last day in the Arctic Circle, he dragged his exhausted body onto the 6 p.m. aurora observation bus.
“Excuse me.”
A deep male voice came from behind him. Yu Fan stepped aside to make way but accidentally stepped on the other man’s hiking boots. When he looked up to apologize, he was met with a pair of deep, night-like eyes—an Asian-faced young man, his black down jacket revealing a long, slender neck, and his jawline appearing sharp and sculpted under the dim lights of the bus.
“No problem,” the man replied in Chinese, his voice warm enough to withstand even the Nordic cold winds.
The bus was sparsely occupied by a few Chinese tourists, and Yu Fan overheard them discussing their canceled whale-watching trip due to the snowstorm. Alex, the guide for this aurora tour, announced that they would drive for two and a half hours toward the Finnish border, where the sky was expected to be clearer.
The bus drove into the dark wilderness, and the interior fell into darkness. Yu Fan rested his forehead against the cold glass window, watching the endless snowfall outside. He remembered the aurora pictures he had seen as a child in encyclopedias, the image of green ribbons of light winding around the North Star—those pictures had been the most desired landscape of his entire adolescence.
“Would you like some hot water?”
The pleasant voice reached him again, and Yu Fan realized he had fallen asleep. The man handed him a thermos with steam rising from it, his long fingers glowing like smooth jade in the darkness.
“Thank you, my name’s Yu Fan.” As he took the cup, their fingers briefly touched, and the warmth sent a shiver through his ear tips.
“Chen Jingshen.” The man nodded slightly, his eyelashes casting delicate shadows in the faint light from the window. “Did you come alone to chase the aurora?”
“Yeah, a birthday gift for my 20th.” Yu Fan took a sip, the cinnamon flavor spreading across his tongue. “I didn’t expect to encounter this kind of weather.”
Just as Chen Jingshen was about to respond, Alex suddenly turned on the bus’s microphone: “We’re almost at the Finnish border!”
Yu Fan turned to look outside, and he realized the snow had stopped. A few stars now faintly shimmered through the pitch-black night sky, like diamonds scattered at random. As the bus ventured deeper into Finland, the sky became clearer, and when Alex excitedly announced it was time to get off, Yu Fan hadn’t even had time to put on his gloves.
The -20°C wind immediately pierced through his down jacket. He looked up and was momentarily breathless—faint green ribbons of light stretched across the night sky like a goddess’s flowing veil. The light initially stood still, but suddenly began to dance, as though invisible hands were plucking at unseen strings. The green gradually turned into pink, and finally, it burst into a vast wave of violet-red light.
“Make a wish.” Chen Jingshen had somehow appeared beside him. His exhaled mist intertwined with Yu Fan’s. “They say wishes under the aurora come true.”
Yu Fan closed his eyes, a layer of frost soon forming on his eyelashes. He could hear the sound of his heart beating louder than the wind of the Arctic. His wish was no longer the one he had planned before leaving—no longer “hoping for the safety of my family,” but instead, “I hope this moment lasts a little longer.”
“Aren’t your hands cold?” Chen Jingshen suddenly took hold of his right hand, which was holding his phone to take pictures. His warm palm enveloped Yu Fan’s frozen fingertips. “My gloves are touchscreen-friendly, want to borrow them?”
Yu Fan stared blankly at the man as he removed his gloves. The aurora cast shifting shadows across his distinct facial features. Yu Fan wanted to refuse but, for some reason, extended his hand.
Around the bonfire, travelers from all over the world gathered. Yu Fan sipped on hot cocoa, listening to Alex tell stories from Nordic mythology about the origin of the aurora. Chen Jingshen sat next to him, the firelight dancing in his beautiful eyes.
“Are you a photographer?” Yu Fan noticed the professional camera hanging around the man’s neck.
“Yeah, I’m here to photograph the glacier melting for a project.” Chen Jingshen pulled up a few photos to show him. His finger brushed across the screen and unintentionally brushed against Yu Fan’s hand. “I didn’t expect the biggest reward to be tonight’s aurora.”
“I thought you’d say ‘And meeting you,’” Yu Fan blurted out, immediately regretting it. Heat rushed from his neck to his ears.
Chen Jingshen, however, smiled softly, his laughter like snow falling on ice. “Then what about you? A writer?”
Yu Fan’s eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know?”
“You observe the world in a unique way.” Chen Jingshen pointed to the dense travel notes in his notebook. “And most people wouldn’t persist in using a fountain pen to write in -20°C weather.”
On the return bus, driving through the snowstorm, Yu Fan leaned against the window, dozing off. During a sharp turn, his head uncontrollably slid to the side, eventually landing on a warm shoulder.
“Sleep,” Chen Jingshen’s voice came from above, soothing with its warmth. “I’ll wake you when we arrive.”
Yu Fan, still half-dazed, could smell the pinewood scent on the man’s collar, mingled with the cold, polar air. He remembered a fairy tale he had read as a child, saying that the aurora was the echo of departed souls. Was the rhythmic heartbeat he heard in his ears at that moment the universe’s reply to him?
The snowstorm grew fiercer, and the bus struggled through the white world. Half-asleep, Yu Fan felt someone gently hold his hand, warmth spreading from their skin all the way to his heart. He thought, maybe this was the magic of the aurora—making two strangers find each other’s warmth on a cold night at the end of the world.
“Are you free tomorrow?” Chen Jingshen stopped him as they got off the bus, snowflakes falling on his eyelashes. “I know a café where you can see the whole fjord.”
Yu Fan watched the man’s tall silhouette under the streetlamp, the aurora still shimmering in the distant sky. He suddenly understood why the Nordic legends portrayed the aurora in pink—the color of a heart racing with excitement.
“Sure,” he heard himself say, his breath fogging the distance between them. “But you’ll have to play the guide.”
Chen Jingshen smiled and nodded. Behind him, the lights of Tromsø slowly flickered on, like stars scattered across the snow. Yu Fan thought, the first miracle of his 20th birthday wasn’t the aurora, but meeting someone who made his heart race more fiercely than the lights in the sky.
Chinese version：
今天特罗姆瑟还是下了一天的雪。
喻繁把脸埋在厚厚的羊绒围巾里，呼出的白气在眼前凝结成霜。连续两天的坏天气让他几乎放弃了看到极光的希望，但想到明天就要离开北极圈，他还是拖着疲惫的身体登上了晚上六点的极光观测巴士。
“Excuse me.”
一个低沉的男声从身后传来，喻繁侧身让路时不小心踩到对方的登山靴。抬头道歉的瞬间，他撞进一双深邃如极夜的眼睛——那是个亚洲面孔的年轻男人，黑色羽绒服的领口露出一截修长的脖颈，下颌线在车厢昏暗的灯光下像被冰雕琢过般锋利。
“没事。”男人用中文回答，声音里带着北欧寒风也冻不化的温和。
车上零星坐着几个中国游客，喻繁听到他们在讨论明天因暴风雪取消的观鲸行程。英国人Alex是这趟极光之旅的向导，他宣布今晚要驱车两个半小时前往芬兰边境，那里有一块预计晴朗的天空。
巴士驶入没有路灯的荒野，车内陷入黑暗。喻繁把额头抵在冰凉的玻璃窗上，窗外是永无止境的落雪。他想起小时候在百科全书上看到的极光照片，绿色丝带般的流光缠绕着北极星的画面，曾是他整个青春期最向往的风景。
“要热水吗？”
那个好听的声音再次响起时，喻繁才发现自己睡着了。男人递来的保温杯冒着袅袅热气，修长的手指在黑暗中像一截温润的玉。
“谢谢，我叫喻繁。”他接过杯子时碰到对方的指尖，温度烫得他耳根发麻。
“陈景深。”男人微微颔首，睫毛在车窗透进的微光下投下细碎的阴影，”你一个人来追极光？”
“嗯，二十岁生日礼物。”喻繁抿了口水，肉桂的香气在舌尖蔓延，”没想到遇上这种天气。”
陈景深刚要说什么，Alex突然打开车内广播：”我们马上要进入芬兰了！”
喻繁转头看向窗外，不知何时雪已经停了。漆黑的夜幕中隐约透出几颗星星，像被随意撒落的钻石。随着巴士深入芬兰境内，天空越来越清澈，当Alex激动地宣布下车时，喻繁甚至没来得及戴好手套。
零下二十度的寒风瞬间穿透羽绒服，他抬头呼吸一滞——淡绿色的光带横贯整个夜空，如同女神垂落的纱裙。那光芒起初只是静止的帷幕，突然像被无形的手拨动琴弦般开始跳跃，绿色逐渐晕染成粉红，最后化作漫天紫红色的光浪。
“许个愿吧。”陈景深不知何时站在了他身侧，呼出的白雾与他的交织在一起，”据说极光下的愿望特别灵验。”
喻繁闭上眼睛，睫毛上很快结了一层霜。他听见自己心跳的声音比北极的风声还要响亮，许下的愿望却与出门前计划的不同——不再是”希望家人平安”，而是”希望这一刻能再久一点”。
“手不冷吗？”陈景深突然握住他举着手机拍照的右手，温暖的掌心包裹住他冻僵的指尖，”我的手套是触屏的，借你？”
喻繁怔怔地看着对方摘下手套的动作，极光在那张轮廓分明的脸上投下变幻的光影。他想说不用，却鬼使神差地伸出了手。
篝火旁聚集着来自世界各地的旅人。喻繁捧着热可可，听Alex讲述北欧神话中关于极光起源的故事。陈景深坐在他身边，火光在那双好看的眼睛里跳动。
“你是摄影师？”喻繁注意到对方挂在胸前的专业相机。
“嗯，来拍冰川消融的专题。”陈景深调出几张照片给他看，指尖划过屏幕时不经意擦过喻繁的手背，”没想到最大的收获是今晚的极光。”
“我以为你会说’还有遇见你’。”话一出口喻繁就后悔了，热气从脖子一路烧到耳尖。
陈景深却低低地笑了，笑声像雪落在冰面上：”那你呢？写作者？”
喻繁惊讶地瞪大眼睛：”你怎么知道？”
“你观察世界的角度很特别。”陈景深指向他笔记本上密密麻麻的旅行随笔，”而且一般人不会在零下二十度坚持用钢笔写字。”
返程的巴士穿行在暴风雪中，喻繁靠着车窗昏昏欲睡。某个急转弯时，他的头不受控制地滑向一侧，最终落在某个温暖的肩膀上。
“睡吧。”陈景深的声音从头顶传来，带着令人安心的温度，”到站我叫你。”
喻繁在朦胧中闻到对方衣领上松木的气息，混合着极地冰雪凛冽的味道。他想起小时候读过的童话，说北极光是逝去灵魂的回响，那此刻在他耳边规律跳动的心跳声，是不是宇宙给他的回应？
暴风雪愈演愈烈，巴士在白色世界中艰难前行。喻繁半梦半醒间感觉有人轻轻握住了他的手，温度从相贴的皮肤一路蔓延到心脏。他想这大概就是极光的魔法——让两个素不相识的人，在世界尽头的寒夜里，找到彼此的温度。
“明天有空吗？”下车时陈景深叫住他，雪花落在他的眉睫上，”我知道有家咖啡馆能看到整个峡湾。”
喻繁望着路灯下男人挺拔的身影，极光仍在远处的天幕上流淌。他突然明白为什么北欧传说里极光会出现粉红色——那大概是心动具象化的颜色。
“好啊。”他听见自己说，呼出的白雾模糊了两人之间的距离，”不过你要负责当导游。”
陈景深笑着点头，身后特罗姆瑟的灯火次第亮起，像散落在雪地上的星辰。二十岁的第一个奇迹不是极光，喻繁想，是在北极圈的暴风雪里，遇见了一个让他心脏比极光跳得更剧烈的人。