Please provide the text you would like me to translate.

Zhang Nianqing lived at the far western edge of Vancouver in a small seaside enclave called Horseshoe Bay; it was a detached house. From afar, one could even glimpse the marina where all sorts of small boats were moored; beyond the lush, expansive green lawn, across the water, lay mountains draped in verdant foliage. Whenever the rains came, dense white mist would shroud their summits. In the tranquility that surrounded her, the occasional, unhurried bustle from the marina drifted by, making it feel as if she were dwelling in a paradise untouched by the world.

Nianqing taught piano to children at an educational center. She had plenty of free time each day, but she was lonely—she and Tang Hao were separated! They had agreed to settle the divorce when they returned to their homeland next.

At the airport, when Zhang Momo saw only her sister coming to pick her up, she had an ominous feeling. Sure enough, upon returning home, she suffered the blow. Tang Hao had loved Nianqing for over a decade; yet, the two had only been together for a few months. In those few months, the affection built over more than ten years was reduced to ashes, vanished without a trace...

Horseshoe Bay, after the rain, was even more solemn than usual. The sisters walked slowly along the tidy community paths toward the marina. Beside them stretched wide fields of green; the trees lining the road, some tinged with fresh green, others with a faint red, stood watchful and quiet over the footprints of their passing. Zhang Momo wore extra trousers—both her legs bore old injuries, and in the damp air after rain, movement became even more difficult. She feared her legs would make trouble, lest their existence be forgotten.

"Momo," Zhang Nianqing walked to her left, both moving slowly, "if you ever fall for someone again, you must cherish him while you’re together."

Her voice was gentle, laced with a melancholic grayness; gone was the zeal and stubbornness of some former days, replaced by the original serenity. This change was immediately apparent to Momo upon her arrival. In these days, she often wondered if it was this peaceful, leisurely space that had wrought such transformation.

"Why did Tang Hao leave?" Momo could walk no farther; her legs failed her, and in the damp air, she found it even harder to move. She sat on a bench by the roadside. Nianqing pulled her back, first taking out a handkerchief to wipe away the wet traces of rain before settling her there. Then Nianqing sat beside her; together, they gazed at the docked boats beyond the railing.

"A woman who keeps saying she doesn’t love him, who’s lost herself, who throws tantrums every day—who could bear that?" Nianqing’s face was touched by a desolate, mocking smile as she lowered her head. Not loving him was not the worst; even losing herself, he didn’t mind. That was what Tang Hao had told her directly. But she must never take his love for granted, never assume it was his duty—those were his exact words.

The day he left was her birthday. She waited for him at home all day; his job required shift work, and that day he was on the afternoon shift. He arrived after nine in the evening, empty-handed... She hadn’t eaten, her stomach was empty; when he brought up a plate of freshly cooked pasta, she slapped it back into his face.

She knew he loved her; so he shouldn’t have forgotten her birthday! But she forgot that the man who loved her so deeply could have days when the sunshine on his face was obscured by rain; that the man who loved her could one day see his love as a burden. He left and never came back; only then did she remember his goodness to her...

"Sis, do you love Tang Hao, or... can’t you forget Xiang Zuo?"

"Xiang Zuo?" Nianqing, seeing Momo’s difficulty in asking, smiled lightly; mentioning that name felt as distant as a century. "Even now, I still think he’s truly wonderful, exceptional. But no matter how good he is, he doesn’t belong to me! I’ve often imagined, even if there were no you, no accident, being with him would always feel like I was looking up to him. Maybe if he glanced at me, teased me, I’d think he loved me. But later I realized—love is an interaction, a dance between two people. It’s not enough to love someone so fiercely you can hardly breathe while he returns a grateful, kind hug; that doesn’t make love."

"Forcing yourself to be the first to confess your feelings to a man is a sad thing; worst of all, if he doesn’t know how to refuse, even if he doesn’t love you, he still accepts your affection. Momo, I’m actually a little glad. Xiang Zuo isn’t that kind of man!"

Momo didn’t know why, but felt a long breath escape her heart. Yet, on second thought, it was self-mockery; whether Nianqing let go or couldn’t, it wouldn’t change the outcome. Now, all she could do was be glad for Nianqing.

"But you haven’t said anything about Tang Hao?"

Momo pressed on, but Nianqing slowly picked up a leaf that had just fallen to the ground beside the bench, smoothing it in her palm, "I really can’t say. If I must, yes, there’s love. Even the most ordinary person will have something loveable; Tang Hao is a good man, and he gave his whole heart to me."

"But this time, I was truly, terribly wrong. I always thought giving him my body was some great favor; but I forgot—when I gave myself to him, he gave himself to me. Seeking a safe harbor won’t work... because he’s flesh and blood, full of sorrows and joys. Accepting him before I was ready to give my heart—that was the greatest harm I could have done to him."

She spoke quietly, and Momo listened in silence; just like when they were girls, Nianqing never spoke much outside, but at home, always played the elder sister. Only when she heard, "the greatest harm comes when you accept someone before you’re ready to give your heart," did Momo unexpectedly think of Song Jiakai. At this moment, she truly wanted to thank Song Jiahui! Though she had never spoken kindly, always sharp and merciless, every word was the truth. If, back then, she had chosen to stay by Song Jiakai’s side, perhaps her fate would have been like Nianqing’s.

"So... where is Tang Hao living now?"

"Ontario. He got a job there," Nianqing raised her head, gazing at a ferry preparing to set sail nearby, "His English wasn’t good—I wonder if he’s mastered it now... I was the one who brought him to this foreign land, but I treated him so poorly... Momo," Nianqing turned, her eyes full of cautious hope, "could you go see him for me? You’re idle at home now, nothing to do..."

She spoke, embarrassed, lowering her head; Momo stared for a few seconds, then suddenly stood, pulling Nianqing toward the house.

"Why do you want me to go? You fool, if you care about him, you should go yourself! Didn’t you say you regret how you treated him? Then make it up to him, double! You’re not even divorced yet—whether this marriage ends, it’s in your hands, Zhang Nianqing!"

The woman dragged behind was startled and bewildered, "How... how could I..."

"How could you not?!" Momo wouldn’t hear it, dragging Nianqing inside to pack, "Stop whining—where’s that determination you had chasing Xiang Zuo? Bring out even a tenth of it, and you’ll win Tang Hao back!"

Whether Tang Hao was won back, that question fascinated Momo. Many times, she picked up the phone to call Nianqing and ask about progress, but feared disturbing their private moments together. Her endless curiosity was finally rewarded when Nianqing called, shyly confessing, "I think the divorce may not happen after all." The sisters chatted for a while, before Momo remembered the hot water boiling in the kitchen. She hurriedly hung up, unplugged the kettle, and the phone rang again. She answered without hesitation, bantering, "See, I was right—even one bold move and you’ve got him!"

A pause, then a deep, playful male voice, "Got who?"

Instantly, Momo felt as wilted as a plucked tomato, blushing to her roots. One hand holding the phone, the other unsure where to put it, "Xiang Zuo? Why are you calling..."

"I’ll be in Vancouver for a business trip in a few days. Do you need anything brought from home?" His voice was as ever, deep and calm; Momo wasn’t sure if she was flustered or simply lacked wit, blurting out, "No, nothing needed."

She regretted it instantly, wanting to bite her own tongue. She scrambled to overturn her answer, brain whirring to find something from home she lacked here, but before she could, he said, "Alright then."

So she needn’t think further; regret mingling with stubborn hope, she seized a last thread of inspiration, shamelessly asking, "Should I pick you up at the airport?" He was coming from so far—at least a guest; even if he had a match, picking him up as an old acquaintance wasn’t inappropriate. With this reasoning, her heart eased, but the line was silent for a long time. Momo gripped the phone as if awaiting judgment, sweat threatening to break out. Xiang Zuo, apologetic, replied, "No need, the host has arranged airport pickup."

Horseshoe Bay remained peaceful and beautiful; but in Momo’s eyes, it had lost its former allure—everywhere felt lacking. That call had come suddenly and ended just as abruptly. She didn’t even know on which day he’d arrive or leave. Xiang Zuo was not one to linger; when she flew to Canada and saw no sign of him at the airport, she knew he’d given up. Perhaps even earlier—on the day he went on that blind date with Yueyue, or whatever her name was...

No one knew how long Nianqing had taken leave, but after moving in with Tang Hao, she seemed reluctant to return. The house, with only one person, felt even colder; the days became harder to bear. Momo told herself, even if she saw him, he would leave eventually, so it was better not to see him. But this reasoning brought no comfort. Seeing him would always be better than not; even if only once, it would be good, wouldn’t it? Yet, she could hardly wait at the airport every day! So she tried to think differently—perhaps he was already in Vancouver; at least they were in the same city! Would she breathe in a little of the air he exhaled?

She found the idea laughable.

She had been in Canada for several months; with his decisive nature, perhaps he was already married. The thought stabbed her heart. But wasn’t this what she should want? That he married well, with a clear conscience—that was what she’d always wished for.

Autumn had arrived, and the maples were ablaze. Zhang Momo sat on a roadside bench, knees curled, gently knocking them together; the pain was sharp, making it impossible to walk home. Along the community roads, every few steps stood a dome-shaped tree crowned in fiery red, the ground beneath blanketed with their leaves. Because the maples burned so bright, she inevitably thought of Xiangyi Mountain that autumn... The year he gazed at her with unwavering passion amid the falling leaves, the most unromantic yet most reassuring proposal, made eternal, lingering in her memories even now, as lonely as she was. The air was thick with dampness; it might rain again.

In her dejection, she suddenly heard behind her the deep voice that had echoed in her mind countless times, "Why are you sitting out here in the cold?" Momo’s heart fluttered down like a drifting maple leaf, landing on the cold bench, unable to rise again.

Xiang Zuo stood behind her. In a deep blue, tailored wool coat, the pale collar of his shirt immaculate, five steps away, he seemed to have crossed from another world, radiating a familiar but distant presence that left her speechless...

He led her back inside; only when two warm towels covered her knees and warmth crept back into her eyes did Momo find some heat after her world’s cold inertia. He bowed his head, hands gently pressing the towels to warm her knees. She instinctively reached out, wanting to stroke his neat, black hair, but halfway there, she caught sight of something bright flashing on his hand—her nerves went numb in an instant. On the ring finger of his right hand gleamed a dazzling ring.

A single glance, and she dared not look again; that small, exquisite ring seemed a poisoned arrow, deadly at first sight. Momo could not speak, could hardly breathe; the sharp pain in her knees spread throughout her body, smothered by a hundred towels...

No matter how many times she’d imagined such an ending, the reality still broke her, bringing tears. All she wanted was to ask, "Why see me if you’re married?" but the words stuck in her chest, unable to come out. When she finally spoke, it was with forced composure. "Business done? Want to go somewhere for fun?"

Xiang Zuo raised his head, apparently missing her heartbroken face, his resolute mouth softening into a grateful but distant smile. "The trip is short, I return tomorrow; take me shopping, I need to buy a special gift."

That sentence was like a bell dropped from the mountain, crushing those beneath so they could not lift their heads...

The town had no shortage of shops; finding local souvenirs was easy. The hard part was Momo’s choice.

"Gifts depend on the recipient. If you don’t tell me who it’s for, how can I help you choose?" She feigned lightness, squinting with a smile, though her heart was bitter as wormwood; she waited, willingly, for the final blow.

"For a girl," he replied, his gaze piercing; his handsome face carried a hint of cruelty.

Momo gritted her teeth, forced a smile, and picked up a pair of painted glass slippers, exquisite beyond compare. "These—so pretty."

Inside, a mischievous, malicious rabbit leaped around, refusing to surrender even in the underworld. She’d heard couples gifting shoes foretold separation, never believed it before but now prayed the curse would come true. Yet that rabbit was squashed by Xiang Zuo’s calm smile. "Bad omen, not these." Momo’s face turned pale.

Xiang Zuo, unaffected, chose a pair of silver earrings with colored stones and mother-of-pearl inlay, forming a bear motif, so lovely she felt gnawed by jealousy.

"These are perfect—they suit her bear-like personality..."

His rare, teasing smile was warm and indulgent, sharper than any knife to the heart. Momo wished she could swallow the bear whole. Yet, in her last shred of reason, she managed, "Yes, very pretty, she’ll love them."