If anyone else had said those words to Lin Xue Nie, she might have simply smiled and inwardly mocked the well-worn pickup line and lackluster performance. But when a boy like him spoke those words so earnestly in front of her, she found herself frozen, her eyes caught by his blue gaze and his face—so strikingly handsome that it would remain etched in her memory for a long time.

Outside the window, the shadows of the trees danced, and after their shared silence, the scene unfolded into a broad, sunlit meadow.

Lin Xue Nie was the first to snap out of the stillness. Smiling, she said, "My name is Lin Xue Nie. I'm Chinese. Of course, by local custom, I should say my name is Xue Nie—Xue Nie Lin. I'm sure we've never met before, or I would certainly remember you."

The blond boy across from her chuckled, as if in agreement with her words, though his gaze remained fixed on her. He seemed determined to recall any clue that might connect him to the girl before him. "Your name is beautiful," he remarked.

"Xue Nie" sounded strikingly similar to the German word for "snow," so during her time studying in Germany, her classmates never had trouble remembering her name. They would simply call her "Snow" in German.

"I'm studying at the University of Munich," she continued. "I just visited a friend in Berlin for a few days, and now I'm heading back to Dresden. What about you?" she asked.

"I'll be studying at the Berlin University of the Arts until the end of this semester. But starting next semester, I'll be at Charles University in Prague."

When Lin Xue Nie mentioned Charles University, her face brightened. With a smile, she shared the story of how her deep love for Kafka had led her to abandon her major in flute performance and shift to Germanic literature. She recounted the transformation with such passion and animation that the boy, initially distant and aloof, found himself laughing over a dozen times.

Not stopping there, Lin Xue Nie, caught up in her enthusiasm, even recited passages from Kafka's essays. If time permitted, she would have gladly played the symphonies she felt were perfectly suited to those words.

The boy, Eberhardt, also spoke about his time at the University of Munich. Compared to Lin Xue Nie's previous school, the Berlin University of the Arts, Munich was undeniably one of Germany's most prestigious institutions. Eberhardt was studying in its renowned physics department, which had produced numerous Nobel laureates in physics.

It was truly impressive.

Eberhardt shared with Lin Xue Nie stories about the famous slide built into one of the university's buildings. He also spoke of the "White Rose" resistance group, led by the Scholl siblings during World War II, whose legacy was preserved in a dedicated exhibition hall at the university.

Almost two hours passed in the blink of an eye. By the time they both realized it, the train had already stopped at Dresden Central Station and had been sitting idle for several minutes. Eberhardt quickly stood up to grab his luggage from the overhead rack, while Lin Xue Nie hurriedly handed him his backpack, scanning the space around them to see if he had left anything behind.

Once he had gathered all his belongings, the student from the University of Munich hastily bid Lin Xue Nie farewell and briskly exited the carriage. As he apologized and thanked the passengers who had just boarded but had to stand in another compartment to clear the aisle for him, he rushed off the train. Lin Xue Nie couldn’t help but laugh.

Then it hit her—an important realization. Nearly two hours had passed since her friend Helena had sent the message, "So, is this your first time opening this book?" and she hadn’t responded even once!

On the other side, Eberhardt Greutz had walked a few steps towards the station exit, dragging his suitcase, when he suddenly realized that he had forgotten to ask the girl for her contact information. By the time he thought of going back, it was too late. The conductor at the train’s entrance had already blown the whistle, signaling the train’s imminent departure.

Hearing the whistle, Eberhardt quickly pulled out a pen and paper from his bag, wrote down his phone number, put down his suitcase, and rushed over to the window of the compartment where he had been sitting. He knocked on the glass, startling Lin Xue Nie, who had been explaining something to Helena. To her surprise, she saw the blonde boy holding a piece of paper with a string of numbers, gesturing as if to take a photo.

Before Lin Xue Nie could fully process his intentions, the train had already started moving. As she watched Eberhardt stride confidently away, she finally realized what had just happened. She nodded at him through the window, reaching for her phone to snap a picture, but in her flustered state, the phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor!

By the time Lin Xue Nie crawled under the table to retrieve her phone from where it had fallen, the train had already pulled out of the station. She could only turn her head and watch as the figure of the German boy grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

At that moment, Helena’s reply had already appeared on the screen:

Lin Xue Nie glanced at the platform one last time, sighed, and typed a melancholic response:
"Prague,
Central Station."

Lin Xue Nie: "There really is someone like that. He’s handsome, and his voice is charming. Honestly, I can say that after living in Berlin for two years, I’ve never seen a man—or a boy—so good-looking. Not to mention, he came into my compartment, spoke to me the whole time, and looked at me with such intensity. I even went to the bathroom after he left to check myself in the mirror."

Helena: "Really? And then?"

Lin Xue Nie: "Then I thought, I really am quite good-looking. I spent quite a while staring at myself in the mirror."

Helena: "So, did you keep a picture of him?"

At 5:30 p.m. European time, Lin Xue Nie’s Czech friend, Helena, was holding Lin Xue Nie’s roller suitcase while teasing her. The sky in Prague was still bright, and the distant red rooftops looked as charming as ever.

Lin Xue Nie: "Actually... no. We spent the entire precious hour and fifty minutes having a deep, soulful conversation."

Helena: "Answer me one question, Xue Nie. How does this handsome student from the University of Munich compare to your beloved Kafka? Who’s more handsome?"

Lin Xue Nie: "How can you even ask me such a thing? No one can compare to Kafka! He’s special, one of a kind."

Helena: "Your words make it hard for me to believe that you really met someone like that on the train, Xue Nie. I don’t sense any of your attraction towards this German boy."

Lin Xue Nie: "Oh, please! Stop talking to me about all these fancy terms!"

After Lin Xue-nie finished speaking, the taxi driver they had flagged down had already stowed their luggage in the trunk. As the car rolled forward, the true essence of Prague slowly unfurled before Lin Xue-nie’s eyes.

The exhilaration of her first glimpse of the city made it impossible for her to continue the casual banter with her friend. At that moment, all of her attention was entirely devoted to the view outside the window…

When she saw the very scenes she had imagined in her mind countless times, Lin Xue-nie knew that this was destined to be a sleepless night.

Helena, who had other plans later, could only help Lin Xue-nie settle in before leaving. But before she departed, she handed Lin Xue-nie a hand-painted map of the city and made arrangements to meet the next day for lunch.

Helena told Lin Xue-nie that she must cross the Charles Bridge at exactly 9:30 p.m., because, at that hour, the sky in Prague would begin to shift from light to dark. The bright, pale blue of the early evening would gradually deepen into the starry, swirling colors of Van Gogh’s "Starry Night." With the right music playing, Lin Xue-nie’s first walk across the Charles Bridge would be an unforgettable experience, one that would stay with her forever.

Lin Xue-nie promised her friend, but she couldn’t resist the pull toward the bridge.

Walking out from her rented apartment in the Jewish Quarter, located in the northern part of Prague, Lin Xue-nie made her way toward the Old Town Square. As she passed by the iconic Gothic twin towers of the Church of Our Lady before Týn, she turned to catch sight of the Astronomical Clock, surrounded by a crowd of tourists. She couldn’t help but continue walking, following the path ahead, until she reached the Charles Bridge, which had been erected in 1357.

Completely captivated by the bridge before her, Lin Xue-nie took out her earphones, slipped them on, and plugged them into her phone, selecting the flute concerto composed by Frederick II of Prussia. As the music filled her ears, she took a step forward, as though embarking on a sacred and beautiful ritual. Every step was slow and deliberate, as she savored and cherished the moment.

Along the way, she passed thirty groups of saint sculptures, slowly erected over two centuries, standing proudly along the bridge’s length.

Lin Xue-nie walked at her own pace, a stark contrast to the tourists around her, who either hurried by laughing or raised their cameras to snap photos. By the time she reached the end of the 520-meter-long medieval bridge, her heart was beating faster than ever, yet she felt an overwhelming sense of peace.

Turning back to look at the path she had just crossed, she felt as if time itself had frozen… and that was when the magic hour arrived.

The noisy tourists were still to her right, on Prague’s southern side, but to her left, on the northern side, a horse-drawn carriage was slowly approaching. It was as though she had stepped into a scene from an old photograph.

Standing between these two utterly different worlds, Lin Xue-nie widened her eyes, rooted to the spot for a long while.

She dared not blink, fearing that if she did, this vision would vanish. But when, unable to hold back, she blinked, she found that everything was still there. Even the ladies and gentlemen dressed in early 20th-century fashions walked past her, and she could hear their conversation as clearly as if it were happening right beside her.