Chapter 66
The wind on the mountaintop still carried the crispness of starlight. Wen Yan’s gaze followed the slope Jin Zijin had pointed out; all she could see was a river of light spilling out of the night.
It was a Mercedes luxury motorhome.
The entire vehicle was painted snow white, its body wrapped in neatly arranged neon lights. Ice-blue and warm-white halos traced lively arcs across the pitch-black mountain road.
The onboard speakers were looping a cheerful electronic birthday song; the melody cut through the night breeze and brought the quiet mountaintop to life.
The motorhome stopped steadily in the center of the viewing platform. The colored lights fell across Wen Yan’s face, illuminating the shock in her eyes.
She unconsciously pointed at the motorhome, her voice trembling faintly. “This... this is my birthday cake?”
Jin Zijin stood beside her, looking out at it with her. The smile in her eyes was gentle. “The birthday cake is inside.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the side door of the motorhome slowly slid open.
The driver and several staff members in matching uniforms got out first, their movements brisk yet respectful.
Xu Ming, Jin Zijin’s assistant, carried a two-tier cream cake at the front. The cake was decorated with fondant galaxies and a spaceship model; along the edge, several electronic candles flickered with a soft glow.
Behind them, the staff held a bouquet of blooming white lily of the valley, the petals still dotted with morning dew.
Xu Ming handed the cake and bouquet to Jin Zijin, and the staff smoothly passed the flowers over.
Jin Zijin took the lily of the valley and then handed it to Wen Yan, her voice soft as starlight. “For you.”
Wen Yan took the bouquet with both hands. The fresh scent of the petals mingled with the fragrance of mountain plants and trees, rushing into her face.
She lowered her head to breathe in the flowers, then looked up again, her eyes full of laughter. “Thank you.”
“Miss Wen, happy birthday!”
The staff and Xu Ming spoke at once, their voices sincere and warm. Then everyone began clapping in unison, making the electronic birthday song sound even fuller.
Surrounded by the sudden bustle, Wen Yan’s cheeks flushed faintly red. She dipped her head a little and said softly but clearly, “Thank you, everyone.”
Jin Zijin turned to look at her, her eyes lingering on the bouquet in her arms. Her expression was indulgent. “Shall we go up and cut the birthday cake?”
“Okay.”
Wen Yan nodded, carefully holding the lily of the valley as she followed Jin Zijin up the motorhome steps.
As she turned, she noticed the others still standing where they were, so she smiled and called out, “Come along too, everyone. It’ll be livelier with more people.”
At her words, the others exchanged looks and instinctively turned to Jin Zijin.
Jin Zijin only smiled and nodded, her tone relaxed. “Come along.”
Only after receiving permission did everyone begin boarding one after another.
The moment the door closed, the electric skylight slowly opened. A sky full of stars poured down, intertwining with the interior lights.
Only then did Wen Yan clearly see the decorations inside; she was so stunned by the sight that she could not speak for a moment.
The whole space had a highly textured cyberpunk style. Cool blue and purple neon strips wound around the outline of the carriage, drawing out smooth, flowing lines.
Fiber-optic lights hung from the ceiling, simulating a galaxy of stars; each tiny point of light looked like a distant star.
Neatly arranged along the display racks on both sides of the carriage was the full set of limited-edition science fiction novels from Kepler 26. The covers used holographic printing; when turned, the spacecraft depicted on the pages seemed to drift through the light and shadow.
Beside them was a whole wall of animated film Blu-rays, all rare limited editions that were hard to find on the market.
Every single one of them was something Wen Yan had mentioned, or something she had never mentioned.
The floor was covered with a soft carpet patterned like a starry sky; on the walls, the seat backs, and even the corners of the small tables, exquisitely wrapped gift boxes were tied on.
The ribbons gleamed under the lights. Every detail showed the utmost care; grand, but not the least bit ostentatious.
Wen Yan walked slowly forward, her fingertips lightly brushing the cover of a novel on the display rack, her eyes full of disbelief and delight. “These... when did you set all this up?”
Jin Zijin came up behind her, smiling. “Of course while you didn’t know.”
“You should know, our general never fights a battle without preparation.”
What she did not say was that she had started preparing from the day she later received Wen Yan’s list.
She knew Wen Yan liked Kepler 26, so she had specially had someone find a limited edition in Norway. As for the Blu-rays, she had asked her personal assistant to put in a great deal of effort collecting them.
The birthday plan had gone through twenty-one revisions in just one week before it was finally set.
It was one of the most time-sensitive devilish projects she had ever done.
Wen Yan turned around, her eyes a little red, but she still smiled as she repeated, “I really like it. I really do... thank you, thank you, Zijin.”
“Glad you like it.” Jin Zijin let go of her and reached out to press a mechanism in the center of the carriage.
A folding dining table slowly rose up.
“Come on, let’s cut the cake.”
Xu Ming stepped forward and carefully set the cake on the table. The electronic candles automatically lit up with a soft glow.
Jin Zijin opened the phone connected to the car’s sound system, and the familiar birthday song began again. She looked at Wen Yan. “Close your eyes and make a wish.”
Wen Yan looked at the flickering candlelight and thought for a moment before saying softly, “I don’t have a wish.”
These days of companionship and being cherished had already filled every expectation she had.
Jin Zijin raised a brow, her tone carrying a stubborn softness almost like coaxing. “Then make one for me.”
Wen Yan froze, then a smile rippled into her eyes.
She obediently closed her eyes and brought her hands together gently.
The light fell across her peaceful profile; candlelight lit the curve of her lips, as if all the world’s tenderness had been frozen in that moment.
A moment later, she opened her eyes and blew out all the candles in one breath.
“Happy birthday, Miss Wen!” everyone called again in unison, applause and laughter mingling together.
“What did you wish for?” Jin Zijin leaned closer, her voice tinged with curiosity.
Wen Yan blinked, a sly glint flashing in her eyes. “If I say it, it won’t come true.”
“Come on, let’s cut the cake!”
Wen Yan picked up the special cake knife and, with Jin Zijin beside her, cut into the cake. The sweetness of cream and the fresh scent of lily of the valley filled the carriage.
She carefully divided the cake into small pieces and handed them to everyone.
Xu Ming and the others took the cake and thanked her softly, their faces full of blessing.
After everyone finished their share, Xu Ming checked the time and stepped forward respectfully. “President Jin, Miss Wen, we won’t disturb you any longer. If there’s anything you need later, feel free to contact us at any time.”
Jin Zijin nodded.
The others quietly cleaned up the table, got off the vehicle one by one, and rode away in another car driven over by the staff.
As the engine sounds faded into the distance, silence returned to the carriage.
Only Wen Yan and Jin Zijin remained.
Wen Yan walked beneath the skylight and looked up at the galaxy overhead. The night wind poured in through the opening, stirring her long hair.
“This is too wonderful; I really love it.” She turned to Jin Zijin, stars shining in her eyes.
Jin Zijin smiled and walked to her side, then pulled out an exquisite car key from her pocket.
The keychain was a tiny spaceship model, the very one from the protagonist’s ship in Kepler 26.
She held the key out to Wen Yan with a solemn yet indulgent tone. “Good. Looks like you like the gift I chose for you.”
“This car, and everything in it,” she paused, each word clear and gentle, “is your birthday present.”
Wen Yan’s eyes widened. She looked at the key in disbelief, then at Jin Zijin, her voice shaking faintly. “A-all of it?”
“Mm, all yours.” Jin Zijin lightly patted the back of her hand, her eyes full of spoiling indulgence. “Go on. Go unwrap your gifts.”
Wen Yan held the key that was still warm from Jin Zijin’s body heat, her chest rising and trembling.
She turned to look at the carriage full of gift boxes, then looked back at Jin Zijin’s smiling face, and slowly curved her lips. “Okay.”
——————
Wen Yan held the key that still carried Jin Zijin’s body warmth. Her fingertips lingered on the cold metal for a moment before she stepped toward the gift boxes waiting to be opened in the carriage.
Under the lights, every ribbon gleamed enticingly.
She went to the nearest seat back, where a square gift box wrapped in deep purple velvet was tied on.
When her fingertips untied the ribbon, her movements were so light they seemed almost to brush butterfly wings.
When the lid lifted, she found inside a first-edition replica hardcover of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
The deep blue cover was stamped with a silver galactic pattern; the gilt lettering on the spine glimmered faintly under the lights.
Wen Yan carefully opened the front page, and her breath caught at that instant.
On the page, in addition to a facsimile of Douglas Adams’s signature, there was a line of handwritten Norwegian in the lower right corner: “Til min astronom（To my astronomer）.”
The strokes were neat and free, clearly Jin Zijin’s.
“The original of this book is in the hands of a collector in Norway,” Jin Zijin’s voice came from behind her, warm against her ear. “I had someone negotiate three times before he finally agreed to make this replica.”
“He said this book should belong to someone who truly knows how to look up at the stars.”
Wen Yan’s fingers gently traced the Norwegian sentence. The texture of the paper came through her fingertips in a faint, delicate sensation.
She didn’t look back; she only said softly, “I really like that line.”
Jin Zijin wrapped an arm around her waist from behind, resting her chin against Wen Yan’s shoulder, and smiled. “Keep opening them. There’s more later.”
The next gift was tied to the handrail by the carriage window; it was a long black box with a dark red velvet bow.
When Wen Yan opened it, a stack of exquisite concept sketches came into view.
These were high-definition replica prints of the original concept drafts for Hayao Miyazaki’s Castle in the Sky, each sheet protected by specially made tracing paper and stamped with the Ghibli Studio certification seal at the edges.
Beneath the sketches was a heavy Tim Burton film art design book.
On the first page was a hand-drawn design of Jack Skellington from The Nightmare Before Christmas, with silver ink beside it reading: “For the girl who once drew stars in the dark.”
What made Wen Yan’s heart race even more was that several custom vintage movie ticket stubs were tucked between the pages.
The dates on the tickets were, respectively: the day they first met, the date of their wedding, the day they ate together, the day they went on a date together...
Each one corresponded to a scene from that time, and on the back, in tiny print, were the weather that day and a brief line of text.
As if silently recording everything.
Wen Yan turned them over one by one, her eyes gradually growing wet.
She turned around, looking at Jin Zijin through blurred tears. “These... how did you find them?”
“Some were from auctions, some through friends overseas, and some I designed myself.”
Jin Zijin held her around the waist and looked up at her with a soft smile. “You said before that Hayao Miyazaki’s world made you feel that ‘people can dream,’ and Tim Burton’s eerie beauty made you feel that ‘monsters can be happy too.’”
“I remembered every single word.”
Wen Yan lifted her head; tears still clung to the corners of her eyes, but she was smiling like a child who had received the whole starry sky.
She walked to the center of the carriage, where several larger gift boxes were stacked.
The first box held a set of professional-grade astronomical drawing tools.
The watercolors were made in Germany, and the color names were all galaxies and nebulae: “Crab Nebula Red,” “Orion Blue,” “Andromeda Purple.”
The brush handles were made of dark-space wood and felt warm and smooth in the hand. The paper was specially made black cardstock patterned like the starry sky, its surface carrying a faint pearly sheen, as if it could truly paint shimmering stars.
“When you were little, you drew with school materials,” Jin Zijin said, crouching beside her and lightly brushing the pigments with her fingertips. “Now you can use the best colors to paint whatever universe you want.”
When the second box opened, Wen Yan drew in a sharp breath.
Inside was a precision model of the spaceship Star Tide from Kepler 26, scaled down exactly according to the original, about fifty centimeters long. Every porthole and every engine nozzle was perfectly reproduced.
Even more astonishingly, when Jin Zijin pressed the hidden switch on the base, the entire model slowly lit up with a deep blue glow; the engine section even simulated the breathing light effect of pulse propulsion.
“The hatch can open.” Jin Zijin gestured to her.
Wen Yan carefully found the hidden mechanism and gave it a light push.
The cockpit door of the spaceship slid open soundlessly. Inside was not an empty model interior, but a miniature control deck, with two little figures in spacesuits seated at the operating stations.
Behind the figures, there was a line engraved so small it almost required a magnifying glass to read:
WY&JZJ
Our own universe.
Wen Yan stared at those words for a long time, then reached out and gently touched the two little figures with her fingertip.
Her movement was so careful, as if she feared disturbing a dream she had been making for far too long.
The gifts that followed came one after another: a limited-edition set of “strange fairy tales” figures jointly released by Tim Burton and Disney, each character carrying a bizarre yet tender beauty.
An intelligent starry-sky projector that could connect to a phone app and project the real night sky of the current day in real time.
Even a custom astronomical watch, its dial a rotating model of the solar system, with the sidereal time coordinates of the day they met engraved on the back.
When the last box was opened, a beautifully bound document appeared before her.
It was a certificate from the Tromsø Aurora Observation Station in Norway naming Wen Yan as an “annual sponsor,” with a note added: “entitled to priority reservations and exclusive guided tours.”
“Next year, on our honeymoon,” Jin Zijin said, hugging her from behind, her voice full of laughter, “I’ll take you to Norway to see the real aurora.”
“We can stay in a glass house and watch the sky turn green and purple all night. You can paint it, or do nothing at all and just watch.”
Holding The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Wen Yan slowly walked to the soft star-patterned carpet in the center of the motorhome, then lay down.
The fiber-optic stars fell across her face. After thinking for a moment, Jin Zijin walked over and sat down beside her.
She lifted a hand and cradled Wen Yan’s head, letting her rest lightly on her lap.
The gesture was so natural it was as if she had done it a thousand times.
“It feels like I’m back in my youth,” Wen Yan said softly. Her voice floated through the quiet carriage like a private murmur.
Jin Zijin looked down at her, her fingertips naturally combing through Wen Yan’s long hair, from the roots to the ends, again and again.
She gazed at her with soft eyes. “Why do you say that?”
Wen Yan looked at the galaxy above the ceiling, where illusion and reality blended together, her eyes bright. “When I was little, before I turned ten, our family wasn’t actually as well off as it is now. My parents also pushed kids pretty hard.”
“I was really good at studying, and that was something my grandpa used to brag about. Whenever there was some dinner where a leader would be present, he’d bring me along.”
“My parents would also brag to outsiders that I was a prodigy, but my mom...” Wen Yan paused, then went on. “She kind of hated how smart I was.”
She spoke very calmly, as if telling someone else’s story.
“She’d always look at me, then at my brother, and say bitterly, ‘Why did you end up with this brain, and not your brother?’”
At that, Jin Zijin’s hand on Wen Yan’s hair paused slightly.
Wen Yan pressed her lips together, thought for a moment, and still continued. “When I was little, I never understood why she hated me so much.”
“Obviously I studied better, I was smarter, I was physically stronger too. So why just not like me?”
“I felt awful. And wronged.”
Jin Zijin did not interrupt. As a proper listener, she only stayed quietly beside her.
The carriage was utterly still, with only the faint hum of the ventilation system and Wen Yan’s hushed voice.
“So I studied like crazy, took part in all kinds of competitions, and buried myself in the library.”
“I didn’t want to go home; I didn’t want to see that kind of... hateful, resentful look in her eyes.”
She paused, the corners of her mouth lifting into the faintest curve. “Until I was eleven. It was my brother’s birthday, and one of his friends gave him a set of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.”
“He liked it a lot, thought I’d like it too, and after he finished reading it, he secretly stuffed it into my hands.”
“I didn’t want to read it at first, but he kept saying it was so, so good, and he told me the beginning of the story...”
At this point, Wen Yan rarely showed such softness in her expression: “That afternoon, at my desk, he sat there with the book and talked my ear off, saying...”
“ ‘This story goes like this...’ ”
Wen Yan cleared her throat. “The protagonist is named Arthur, and he discovers that his house is going to be demolished because they’re building a bypass. He lies down in front of the bulldozer to protest, thinking his life is over. And then what happens?”
At that, Wen Yan couldn’t help laughing, a flash of adolescent exhilaration in her voice. “And then he turns around and finds out the whole Earth has been blown up by the Vogons.”
“Because the Galactic Empire is building a hyperspace bypass there.”
“My brother laughed out loud when he got to that part, and told me, isn’t this a great story?”
“My home is gone!”
“I’ve also been abducted by aliens!”
“Once I’m out in space, I never have to study again! I never have to listen to teachers and parents nagging me again; I never have to deal with those stupid classmates again.”
When she said that, she was vividly bright, her eyes shining with the starlight of an entire galaxy.
Jin Zijin’s gaze fixed on her face and could not move away.
Wen Yan looked up at her and smiled until her eyes curved. “His taste was really awful, but this novel was probably the one time in his life he had impeccable taste.”
“An adventurous storyline and a way of thinking that was so recklessly unconstrained—it was the first time I realized a novel could be written that way.”
“From then on, I became obsessed with science fiction.”
“I even wrote novels for a while, but unfortunately I didn’t have that literary talent.”
“But I was pretty good at drawing, so I drew all kinds of weird things: flying houses, little elves living inside black holes, spaceships that could travel through time...”
Her fingers traced a vague circle in the air as she spoke to Jin Zijin of the dreams she had in her youth. “I even thought about becoming a physicist and studying the real universe.”
Jin Zijin listened quietly the entire time, her fingertips gently stroking Wen Yan’s forehead, brow bone, and cheek.
She looked down at the woman on her lap, her gaze soft as melted starlight.
“And later,” she asked softly, low enough for only the two of them to hear, “why did you study medicine?”
Wen Yan looked back up at the ceiling, her eyes drifting very far away. “Because later I understood that I didn’t have enough talent.”
“Physics or mathematics, I couldn’t even touch the threshold.”
“But the books I read in those years gave me something more important.” Her voice grew very light, yet very clear. “I learned that the Milky Way is only a speck of dust in the universe; the solar system is just a glimmer on that speck; Earth isn’t even light itself.”
“Then what about those of us living on Earth?”
Jin Zijin asked naturally, “What are we?”
Wen Yan paused, then gave the answer: “Planck length.”
“A negligible existence that barely brushes against the quantum scale.”
Jin Zijin couldn’t help laughing. Wen Yan laughed with her, both of them looking very happy.
“But do you know?” Wen Yan looked up at Jin Zijin, her eyes astonishingly bright. “Even though we’re that small, if you add up all the blood vessels in our bodies... arteries, veins, and capillaries combined, if stretched into a single line, the total length is about 100,000 kilometers.”
“And Earth’s equatorial circumference is 40,000 kilometers.” She said each word distinctly, each one seeming to shine. “That means inside each of our bodies, there’s a river of life long enough to circle the Earth two and a half times.”
Jin Zijin’s fingers stilled.
“What a miracle.” Wen Yan’s voice was full of awe, that awe so pure, so fervent. “If you think about it that way, every life is a unique universe.”
“That kind of life includes me too.”
“I am the most unique existence in the universe.”
“All that sadness, all those troubles, all those ‘if only you were your brother’ comments—they don’t matter anymore.”
Light filled her eyes, and her smile was sincere and bright. “From that point on, I started to love this world so much.”
“I love outdoor activities, I love documentaries about life, I love everything that is alive.”
“So I thought, if I couldn’t become a physicist exploring the stars, then I’d become the one protecting this miracle instead.” She said softly, “So I studied medicine.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the carriage fell into a tender silence.
Jin Zijin lowered her eyes to look at her, at the woman lying on her lap.
The fiber-optic lights flowed across her face. Her eyes were so bright, like two stars burning forever.
Through those luminous eyes, she seemed to glimpse the soul within.
Wen Yan was shining.
At that moment, Jin Zijin felt an aching pull.
Unable to stop herself, she lowered her head and pressed a kiss to Wen Yan’s eyelid.
So light, so gentle, like a snowflake touching a still lake.
Her fingertips stroked Wen Yan’s cheek, and her voice carried genuine regret, along with love even more intense than regret. “What a pity.”
Wen Yan blinked, her lashes brushing against Jin Zijin’s fingertips.
“Why did I only meet you now?” Jin Zijin looked into her eyes and spoke slowly and softly. “If it had been earlier...”
“When you were drawing with scrap newspaper, when you were hiding in the library reading science fiction, when you first thought, ‘It would be great if this family disappeared’...”
She paused and looked deeply into Wen Yan’s eyes.
“I would have found you for sure. I would have seen you for sure. I would have loved you until I could no longer control myself.”
Wen Yan listened quietly, not blinking as she looked at her.
After a moment, she reached out, hooked Jin Zijin around the neck, and pulled her closer.
The moment their lips met, their breaths mingled.
They kissed for a very long time in the middle of the carriage full of gifts, beneath the simulated galaxy.
After a while, Wen Yan pulled back slightly and looked up at Jin Zijin’s face, then said softly, “There’s no need to regret it.”
“Mm?”
“Right now is the best time.” She smiled, and that smile was bright enough to illuminate all the shadows of the past. “I spent so many years becoming my best self before I came to stand in front of you.”
Wen Yan paused, then looked into the woman’s eyes and suddenly said, “You know, it takes 384,000 kilometers to travel from Earth to the moon.”
“But if you add our two blood vessel lengths together, it’s two hundred thousand kilometers.”
Jin Zijin blinked, not quite understanding what she was getting at.
Seeing her bewildered expression, Wen Yan reached up and touched her face, then said softly, “What I mean is, even though two people together can’t reach the moon that represents humanity’s lofty love, still...”
“As long as the two of us are together, then we’ll always be wandering between Earth and the moon.”
“We can forever walk, explore, and pursue love in the space between reality and ideal.”
“Even if we can’t reach the extreme of ‘love,’ we can always dream romantically together.”
It was a very difficult sentence to make sense of.
And yet Jin Zijin somehow understood what Wen Yan was saying at that moment.
She was saying, I may not love you beyond myself, and I can’t be purely lofty, pure, or selfless; but I will still dream, and within reason and emotion I will explore to the very limit.
In other words...
While remaining rational, I will love you forever.
Such a strange way of putting it.
No wonder she couldn’t write novels.
Was this what a science-and-engineering person’s romance looked like?
Jin Zijin couldn’t help laughing. She leaned down until her forehead rested against Wen Yan’s and answered with a smile, “Mm.”