Chapter 65
Wen Chen slurped down the last mouthful of noodles, set the empty pot on the countertop, and let out a satisfied breath.
He stood up, and the movement tugged at the sore spot where he’d been kicked. He grimaced and rubbed his lower back.
“Hey,” he said, walking to the entryway and bending awkwardly to take off the ridiculous shoe covers. Then he looked back, his tone suddenly serious. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad I’m back.”
Wen Yan was still stroking Little Honey’s fur, her fingertips brushing the cat’s soft ear. Without looking up, she said, “Got it. I’ll just pretend I saw a ghost in the middle of the night.”
“Fuck you!” Wen Chen laughed and cursed at her, then hurriedly shoved his feet into his mud-stained work boots and grabbed the coat hanging over the shoe cabinet.
He paused at the door. Turning his face slightly, he let the light cast shadows over his dirty stubble. “It’s your birthday on Thursday. Happy birthday in advance.”
Wen Yan’s fingers stopped for a beat. She lifted her eyes to look at him.
The soft living room light fell across her face, outlining a calm profile. She replied quietly, “You too.”
No extra pleasantries, no hug, not even another glance.
Wen Chen pulled open the door. The cold air from the corridor surged in for an instant, only to be shut out when he casually drew the door closed behind him.
The thud of the door landed perfectly, announcing the end of their brief encounter.
The room fell quiet again.
Little Honey also seemed to sense that the unfamiliar presence had left. She leapt lightly from Wen Yan’s lap, padded back into the workshop, and curiously stretched a paw toward the agate glowing faintly under the lights before cautiously drawing it back.
Wen Yan sat silently for a while before getting up and walking to the sofa, where she picked up the long wooden box Wen Chen had left behind.
The box wasn’t heavy; it had the warm, solid feel unique to real wood.
Its surface was polished walnut, the grain fine as flowing water. The brass corner guards had already worn to a soft sheen, showing that it had been around for some time.
She ran her fingers over the lid and unlatched the brass clasp with a quiet click.
When she lifted the lid, a Tang sword lay still on the dark red velvet inside.
The blade was slender and long, its curve smooth as a crescent moon. Under the indoor light, the edge gleamed with a cold, restrained brilliance. The hilt was wrapped in fine black grip cord, bound in a meticulous pattern that fit the hand perfectly.
Dangling from the pommel was a small piece of black jade, warm in texture, carved with a simple cloud motif.
There was no extra ornamentation anywhere on the sword, yet it carried a kind of ancient, sharp elegance. At a glance, anyone could tell it had been custom-made by an expert who understood the temperament of the person who would use it.
A folded plain white note was tucked beneath the bottom layer of the box.
Wen Yan took it out and unfolded it. The handwriting was bold and unruly, pressing through the paper, and there were only seven characters:
Cut down every injustice under heaven.
Wen Yan looked at the line, her fingers brushing the rough paper as the corners of her mouth lifted despite herself.
Cheapskate. Always trying to buy favor with some useless little expense!
She carefully lifted out the Tang sword and weighed it in her hand. The balance was perfect; the grip felt comfortable, clearly adjusted specifically for her height and arm span.
The scabbard was plain blackwood, blending seamlessly with the blade. It suited Wen Yan’s temperament very well.
A nice little thing. At least he still had some conscience.
Thinking that, Wen Yan turned and walked into the small home gym beside the study. She looked around once, then gently leaned the sword against the corner of the dark gray equipment rack.
The surrounding dumbbells, barbell plates, and hanging punching bag formed a strange but fitting harmony with the antique weapon.
Standing there, it didn’t look like decoration at all; it looked more like a companion she could use at any time.
Wen Yan stood before her own “weapon rack” and admired the result with satisfaction.
Mm, very good!
She stayed in the gym for a while, then thought it over and decided to go downstairs to replenish the fiery turkey noodles Wen Chen had “robbed.”
She pulled on a down jacket, took her phone, and stepped into the silent elevator late at night.
It just happened to be Christmas Eve, and the festive atmosphere was thick everywhere; the whole place was bright red.
Inside the brightly lit supermarket, she quickly found the spicy red-packaged turkey noodles.
After thinking it over, Wen Yan wandered over to the refrigerated section and picked up a few cups of the sea salt and grapefruit yogurt Jin Zijin had recently taken a liking to, along with a small box of fresh strawberries.
When she pushed open the apartment door, the sensor light in the entryway switched on at once.
Wen Yan instinctively lowered her head to change shoes, but in the next second she froze.
The living room was warmer than usual for when she was home alone, and there seemed to be a faint, lingering aroma of food in the air.
She straightened in confusion and walked in with her shopping bag, immediately spotting the woman seated by the dining table.
The woman wore a smoke-gray long dress, her long hair loosely gathered behind her head, with a few wisps falling beside her neck.
Several delicate late-night snacks were laid out in front of Jin Zijin. She sat in the chair holding a tablet, her fingers lightly scrolling. In the light, her profile looked especially soft.
At the sound of footsteps, Jin Zijin lifted her eyes.
The moment her gaze landed on Wen Yan, the concentration that belonged to work melted quickly away, giving rise to a warm smile like spring water just beginning to thaw.
She set the tablet down and drawled lazily, “You’re back?”
“Why are you back early?” Wen Yan put down the bag and walked over quickly, surprise unable to hide the joy in her voice. “Didn’t you say you couldn’t get back until tomorrow morning?”
Jin Zijin naturally reached out to take her hand. Her fingertips were cool as she gave it a gentle squeeze. “I wanted to celebrate your birthday with you. Everything went smoothly, so I wrapped up early and changed to the nearest flight.”
She tilted her head slightly and looked at the shopping bag in Wen Yan’s hand with a hint of curiosity. “You went out this late? What did you buy?”
Wen Yan took out the turkey noodles and yogurt and placed them on the table. “The turkey noodles you left yesterday got eaten up when my brother came over. I bought you a replacement.”
“Your brother?” Jin Zijin raised a brow, genuinely surprised. “Wen Chen? He came back? When?”
“Tonight. He left just before you got back.”
Wen Yan sat down opposite her. Jin Zijin handed her a bowl of congee and said softly, “Here; I brought you this on purpose for a late-night snack. Eat while you talk.”
Wen Yan agreed. She picked up the spoon and stirred the warm congee. “He just showed up out of nowhere, looking like a vagrant.”
“He said it was an early birthday present and gave me a Tang sword. I put it in the gym.”
“A Tang sword?” Jin Zijin blinked. The gift was clearly outside her usual frame of reference. “He came all the way back just to give you that?”
“Pretty much.” Wen Yan scooped up a spoonful and put it in her mouth. Warmth spread down her throat, dispelling the night chill from being out so late. “Mm, delicious!”
She praised it, and Jin Zijin’s brows curved as she smiled. “If it’s good, then eat more.”
Wen Yan smiled back and ate without ceremony.
After a moment, Jin Zijin asked tentatively, “He gives you a gift every year?”
Wen Yan nodded while savoring the food. “Because we’re twins; our birthdays are only a few minutes apart.”
“It’s always been like that. No matter where we are, we always find a way to get the birthday gift to the other person. I’m used to it.”
Jin Zijin rested her chin on her hand, elbow on the table. A barely noticeable trace of inquiry moved through her gaze as she studied Wen Yan’s face. “Sounds like… you two get along pretty well?”
Wen Yan looked up, caught that subtle glint in her eyes, and couldn’t help laughing softly. “Pretty well is a stretch, but we’re not exactly enemies either.”
She paused. Her tone was flat, but there was a complicated understanding in it. “Mostly it’s because… with parents like ours, the two of us are like grasshoppers tied to the same rope. We need someone we can speak our minds to, someone we can curse with, right?”
“Otherwise, life would’ve been impossible to live long ago.”
“Oh…” Jin Zijin dragged out the sound, amusement flashing in her eyes. She leaned closer, lowering her voice to tease her. “So, two little bitter gourds suffering from the same illness?”
Wen Yan was amused by her expression. She set down the spoon and leaned forward a little too, imitating her, speaking in the same low voice with feigned seriousness. “Mm, one is the ‘symbol of the family’s false prosperity, the precious son,’ and the other is the ‘tool person, the daughter meant to be used.’”
“Pfft—hahahahaha!” Jin Zijin couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing, her shoulders shaking. Even the corners of her eyes went slightly wet from laughter. “Wen Yan! That self-description is too tragic! But what the hell is ‘daughter meant to be used’?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.” Wen Yan shrugged, her own eyes bright with amusement. “My family favors sons over daughters. Aside from being a little richer, I’m basically the same as those girls treated like blood bags.”
She said it with complete calm, but Jin Zijin felt a little pained.
Jin Zijin reached out and stroked the back of her hand, looking at her with gentle warmth.
Wen Yan didn’t want the topic to grow too heavy, so she scooped another bowl of congee for her. “This tastes good; have some too.”
“Okay.”
The two of them chatted idly over the warm late-night snack.
At some point, Little Honey jumped onto Jin Zijin’s lap and comfortably curled herself into a furry ball, purring softly.
After finishing the last shrimp dumpling, Jin Zijin wiped the corner of her mouth with a tissue and suddenly looked at Wen Yan. “Do you want to go out for a walk?”
Wen Yan glanced out at the thick darkness beyond the window, then at the clock on the wall. “At this hour? It’s already ten-thirty. Where would we even go?”
“You’ll know when we get there.” Jin Zijin stood and walked to Wen Yan’s side, then took her hand without giving her a chance to refuse. Her eyes gleamed with unmistakable brightness. “I promise you won’t be disappointed, Dr. Wen. Give me some face?”
Her fingers were warm and strong, with a little coaxing shake in them.
The last of Wen Yan’s doubt was instantly replaced by curiosity and indulgence. She stood up obediently. “Okay.”
The cold of deep winter hit hard the moment they stepped out of the building.
Wen Yan subconsciously pulled her coat tighter, and the next second her gaze was caught by the car parked not far away.
It was an Aston Martin DBS. Its black body shone under the streetlights with the captivating luster of metal meeting the night sky.
The flowing lines stretched from the hood to the tail, combining power and elegance in a way that felt shamelessly untamed.
It stood there quietly, like an elegant beast that had retracted its claws yet still made people hold their breath.
Jin Zijin released Wen Yan’s hand, walked a few steps to the car, and took the key from her coat pocket.
With a casual flick of her wrist, the key arced through the air and landed neatly back in her palm with a light snap.
She leaned against the car door, turned her head to look at Wen Yan, and hooked her lips into a flamboyant smile. “How is it? Get in; I’m taking you somewhere.”
The amazement in Wen Yan’s eyes had not yet faded. She walked over quickly and brushed her fingertips over the cool, tactile body of the car. “What a beautiful car. I didn’t see it in the garage at home before.”
“I ordered it last year. It just arrived not long ago.” Jin Zijin opened the front passenger door for her and made a “please” gesture. “I figured there had to be a special day worthy of its first trip. After thinking about it, your birthday was the best choice.”
The seat was top-grade semi-aniline leather, with excellent wraparound support and the faint scent unique to new leather, blending subtly with the clean citrus finish on Jin Zijin’s body.
The instant Wen Yan sat down, it felt as if she’d been wrapped up gently by this exquisite machine.
Jin Zijin sat in the driver’s seat and closed the door.
The world instantly went quiet.
She pressed the start button; the engine gave a deep roar before settling into a strong, steady idle, like the heartbeat of a giant beast sleeping.
The car glided out of the residential complex smoothly and merged into the sparse late-night traffic.
Neon lights from the city streamed past the windows in blurred ribbons. The open top let the night wind pour in, but it didn’t feel harsh. Instead, it carried a clean, liberated chill.
As Jin Zijin controlled the steering wheel, she turned her head to look at Wen Yan. “So? Do you like it?”
“I like it a lot.”
Wen Yan leaned back in the seat, feeling the wind brush through the ends of her hair as she watched Jin Zijin’s focused profile in the shifting light and shadow, a smile in her eyes. “This feels great.”
The amber streetlights occasionally swept over Jin Zijin’s straight nose and slightly pressed lips, outlining a clear yet soft profile.
The woman’s hands on the steering wheel were long-boned, steady, and powerful; everything about this moment was very beautiful.
“If you like it, I’ll take you out more often.” Jin Zijin kept her eyes on the road, her voice mingling with the wind, carrying a smile. “But next time you’ll have to drive. I want to enjoy the fun of being the passenger too.”
Wen Yan laughed. “Okay.”
The car soon left the main city and wound upward along the serpentine mountain road.
On both sides stretched a sea of black forest; only the headlights cut through the thick darkness, illuminating the stretch of asphalt that kept extending ahead.
Far away, the lights of the city at the foot of the mountain shrank into a brilliant, silent blanket of stars, answering the real stars flickering overhead.
The window was lowered a little. Aside from the wind, the engine, and the faint sound of tires rolling over the road, there was nothing else. The world was utterly still.
A vast, intimate quiet wrapped around them.
“Did you used to drive here alone when you were under a lot of pressure?” Wen Yan asked softly, looking at the trees flashing past outside the window.
“Mm.” Jin Zijin nodded, turning the wheel as the car flowed smoothly around a bend. “Not necessarily only when I’m under pressure. Sometimes I just feel like… I need a little time and space that belong completely to me.”
“I turn off my phone, think about nothing, and just keep driving, all the way to the top. Watching the busy world below get so small and far away makes it feel like a lot of things actually aren’t that important.”
She paused, then turned her head. The blue glow of the dashboard reflected in her eyes as they lingered for a moment on Wen Yan’s face. “What do you think of that feeling?”
Wen Yan didn’t answer right away.
She took a deep breath of the mountain air, cold and pure, letting the coolness fill her lungs as though it were washing away the last traces of irritation in her heart.
She looked up at the sky above them, vast and unobstructed. The Milky Way stretched faintly across the heavens, and stars shimmered in silence from light-years away.
Then she turned back to meet Jin Zijin’s gaze, the corners of her mouth lifting into a bright, relieved smile. “I like it. I like it a lot.”
It was freedom.
The freedom of breaking away from invisible shackles; the freedom to choose the person she loved; the freedom to control her own life.
At this moment, the wind was free, the stars were free, and so was she.
Jin Zijin looked at her smile, her expression softening. She said nothing, only freed her right hand to gently clasp Wen Yan’s hand resting on her leg.
Palms met; warmth merged.
The mountain road twisted upward, and the elevation kept rising. Ahead, the outline of the summit platform was already faintly visible in the darkness.
Seeing the destination drawing nearer, Wen Yan began to guess and joked, “With such a grand setup, President Jin, don’t tell me you’re planning to put on a fireworks show for me on the mountaintop? It would be romantic, sure, but wouldn’t that be a little too classic?”
“No, no, no.” Jin Zijin shook a finger, her smile carrying a hint of mystery and smugness. “Dr. Wen, fireworks are last century’s romance. We need something more fashionable.”
She glanced at the time on the dashboard, then pressed the accelerator a little deeper. The engine’s roar rose in response. “I’ll show you something different; while I’m at it, I’ll let you experience what it really means to arrive at the summit exactly on time.”
Wen Yan’s curiosity was fully aroused. She sat up straighter, her gaze shifting between Jin Zijin’s confident profile and the road ahead.
The final stretch was a straight road with a somewhat steep incline.
Jin Zijin focused completely, and the car’s speed steadily increased. The numbers on the dashboard changed quietly as the second hand ticked toward completion.
One hundred meters, fifty meters, twenty meters…
When the wheels rolled steadily over the symbolic white line at the edge of the summit platform and stopped precisely at the best spot on the viewing deck,
the four digits on the center of the dashboard clock all changed together:
00:00
December 25th, Thursday, 12:00:00 a.m.
Right at that moment!
Ding—
The window lowered, and a very soft notification sound almost vanished into the wind.
Before Wen Yan could fully recover from that exact, perfectly timed arrival, she suddenly heard a deep, dense buzzing above her.
Wen Yan turned to look out the window.
Like countless mechanical hummingbirds all beating their wings at once, the sound came closer and closer, from sparse to dense, rapidly converging into a chorus of striking technological brilliance.
The next second, her breath caught.
Hundreds upon hundreds of small drones rose in an orderly fashion into the sky from around the platform, from hidden spots below the cliff, and even from gaps in the distant trees.
They were like a legion of fireflies guided by an invisible hand, flickering with a soft starlight.
The stars quickly locked into position and arranged themselves into neat matrices, while a gentle, lyrical melody flowed out.
It was a Norwegian post-rock song Wen Yan had treasured in her playlist for a long time, called “Stjernestøv” — Stardust.
The ethereal music filled the surrounding silence like melting snow, like auroras in motion.
The drone swarm began to change shape.
At first it was a scatter of stars; then they quickly gathered, stretched, and combined… until a clear human silhouette slowly formed against the deep blue sky.
It was Wen Yan.
The silhouette captured several of her most representative moments: the side of her face in a white coat as she lowered her head to review a chart with total focus; the instant in the workshop when she held a stone mallet, her gaze sharp as an eagle’s; the gentle curve of her lashes as she held Little Honey and smiled down softly; even the flowing lines of tightened muscle when she wore a sports tank in the gym and worked up a sweat…
Like a picture book, frame by frame, fading in and out, until it finally settled into a composite image.
And at this point, right on cue with the music, it reached its peak.
In the silhouette, “she” wore a simple shirt and trousers, head tilted slightly upward as she gazed at the stars, her lips carrying a calm smile.
At her feet sat the silhouette of a small cat.
Before “her,” a birthday cake dotted with starlight floated in midair, candle flames flickering.
Around this central silhouette, countless points of light flowed and rotated, gathering into several elegant lines of calligraphy:
Some of them Wen Yan couldn’t read, but she recognized others.
“To my dear Wen Yan—happy birthday.”
It was in Norwegian.
Earlier, in the hobbies section of her profile, Wen Yan had mentioned that her favorite youth novel was Jørn Skotland’s Kepler62.
She had even said that in order to read the original, she’d wanted to learn Norwegian.
It was a tiny, insignificant thing, but Jin Zijin had remembered it.
Not only had she remembered it; she had used it in this wondrous way.
Even more astonishingly, the countless drone lights condensed into flowing auroras.
Green and violet bands intertwined like soft gauze, drifting slowly through the depths of the night sky, making the silhouette and the words seem like an illusion from a dream.
Wen Yan looked up, staring without blinking.
The mountain wind brushed her face, lifting her hair and also bringing the moisture she could no longer suppress to the corners of her eyes.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out; all she could feel was her heart filling with some swelling, searing emotion that nearly overflowed from her chest.
Slowly, she turned her head.
Somehow, Jin Zijin had already gotten out of the car. She was holding her phone and leaning against the car door, looking at her with gentle eyes.
When she saw Wen Yan looking over, Jin Zijin pressed a button.
The light pattern in the night sky paused temporarily. She walked forward a few steps and came to stand in front of Wen Yan.
The wind on the summit was stronger, blowing her loose hair across her shoulders.
She lowered her eyes and looked at Wen Yan’s star-lit gaze. Her voice cut clearly through the music and wind, carrying incomparable tenderness and solemnity. “Wen Yan, happy birthday.”
She paused, the smile in her eyes deepening. Then she added, “That sentence was in Chinese.”
“The Norwegian above means… ‘May your future shine like stardust, bright and free.’”
Wen Yan could no longer hold back. She pushed open the car door, stepped forward, and wrapped her arms tightly around her.
She buried her face in Jin Zijin’s shoulder and neck, her voice muffled and thick with tears. “...Thank you.”
“Zijin… this is the best birthday present I’ve ever received.”
It wasn’t just because of the breathtaking drone show, but because of this feeling of being profoundly understood, carefully treasured, and celebrated with such grand sincerity.
She had never dared expect she would receive something like this.
Such extreme romance and such serious, cherished devotion.
Jin Zijin held her back, her arms firm yet gentle.
She tilted her head and lightly pressed a kiss to Wen Yan’s ear, whispering, “As long as you like it. Every birthday of yours, every year from now on, I’ll spend it with you.”
Above the night sky, the drone swarm began its final performance.
They scattered into a sky full of stars, simulating the trajectory of a meteor shower, then gathered once more to form a slowly beating heart.
At the center of the heart were two simple human figures leaning against each other.
The music rose to its climax, then gradually softened before finally falling into silence.
The drone swarm blinked with a faint farewell light; just as they had come, they descended in an orderly fashion and vanished into the darkness and the mountain forest.
The night sky returned to its original profound stillness, leaving only the stars overhead still sparkling.
The summit fell quiet again, save for the wind.
The two of them held each other, and neither of them let go first.
Far away, the city lights flickered soundlessly; above them, the Milky Way stretched endlessly.
In the three minutes before this birthday truly began, atop the mountains and beneath the starlight, they had each other; they also had all the happiness the world could give.
Jin Zijin gently stroked Wen Yan’s back and asked in a low voice, “Cold?”
Wen Yan shook her head in her arms, her voice carrying a little nasal warmth. “Not cold.”
“Then…” Jin Zijin chuckled, “dear wife, where do you want to go next?”
“Take another lap around the mountaintop? Or try the birthday cake I secretly ordered?”
Wen Yan lifted her head from her shoulder and reached out to brush away the wind-tossed strands of Jin Zijin’s hair. Her eyes were slightly red.
“Home,” she said, her gaze gentle but firm. “Wherever you are is the direction I want to go.”
“And besides,” she added, a sly glint flashing in her eyes, “I’m a little impatient to see whether that Tang sword will work better than a cake knife when it’s time to cut the cake.”
Jin Zijin froze; then she laughed out loud, her voice clear and bright as it spread across the silent mountaintop.
“That probably won’t be happening.”
Wen Yan blinked, and Jin Zijin winked at her. “Your cake, I’ll bring it up in a moment.”
“Look; over there.”
Jin Zijin pointed toward the slope below the platform. There, a massive vehicle was slowly driving through the dark night.
When Wen Yan saw it, her eyes widened.