"Listen... you all..."
Tang Song stared at the three figures before him, his gaze darting back and forth between Liu Qingning and Zhang Yan so many tis his head felt like it might spin.
He had never told Bai Yueguang about the issue with the female desk mate.
Not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't know how to say it.
He knew very clearly what Liu Qingning cared about most.
But now...
They were both standing right in front of him.
Standing together, and they even looked perfectly harmonious?
What was going on?
"Pfft—"
Wen Ruan was the first to break, laughing until she trembled, her large E-cup heaving with the motion.
"Weren't we supposed to spank soone? Why are you all suddenly mute?" She gave Tang Song a flirtatious wink and teased, "Co on, Tang Song, don't be shy. Whover you want to spank, go ahead, we won't stop you. Consider it... um, a live broadcast."
Liu Qingning's face flushed instantly. She reached out and slapped her, "If anyone's getting spanked, it should be the one with the biggest, perkest butt!"
Wen Ruan lifted an eyebrow, sultry, "Little Qing Ning, don't you get it? The purer and cuter soone looks, the more fun it is to spank them. The contrast is what makes it... slap-slapping~~ right, President Tang?"
"W-what nonsense are you talking about!" Liu Qingning blushed so hard she could hardly stand.
Zhang Yan stood to the side, feeling like she was about to combust.
She didn't know where to look, what to do with her hands, or what expression to wear.
In her eyes, Wen Ruan had always been the strong, gentle, and reliable Director Wen.
This was the first ti she had heard Director Wen make such a dirty joke.
It was a little out of character.
Yet in this room filled with warm yellow light and balloons, that shaless teasing sohow felt... cozy and natural?
She couldn't help but lift her head and glance at Tang Song again.
Candlelight played across his face, softening his features.
They hadn't seen each other since parting in Yancheng, and it had been a long ti.
Every day in the south she thought of him, of that snowfall back north.
Having just passed the Liu Qingning hurdle, she felt both emptied and filled at the sa ti.
Her feelings for Tang Song seed to complete so kind of tamorphosis at that mont.
It was a strange sensation.
Like finally being allowed to stand in the light.
She wanted to step forward and take his hand.
She wanted to say "happy birthday" with her own mouth.
She wanted to eat cake with him, chat with him, and just stay in this warm room without any burden.
But shyness and timidity kept her frozen; she wasn't as relaxed and casual as the other two.
"Hey, idiot. Why are you standing there like a fool?" Liu Qingning turned to Tang Song, her big watery eyes both shy and annoyed, "Hurry over, make a wish and blow out the candles! We're waiting to eat cake!"
"Yeah, birthday boy." Wen Ruan waved with a smile, "Co check out the surprise we set up for you. If you don't like it, there's no after-sales service."
Tang Song inhaled deeply.
The frantic pounding in his chest gradually cald.
He finally snapped fully out of his initial shock and was replaced by overwhelming gratitude and joy.
"Thank you, three beauties."
He took off his coat and walked slowly to the dining table.
The three girls instinctively stepped aside to both sides, forming a half-circle around him.
Warm yellow candlelight danced on their faces. The air carried a faint scent of matcha cream, mixed with their individual fragrances, heady enough to make one slightly dizzy.
Soone began clapping softly, timbre light and rhythmic.
Then a gentle birthday song rose in soft female voices:
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."
No musical backing, just the light harmony of their voices.
No deliberate loudness, only the full warmth filling the room.
Wrapped in that heavenly song,
Tang Song closed his eyes and folded his hands together.
He made a wish.
A mont later he opened his eyes and leaned forward slightly.
"Ha—"
He blew out the candles forming the number "26" in one breath.
"Yay—! Happy birthday!"
Wen Ruan produced a confetti popper from sowhere, "bang"—multicolored ribbons and sequins exploded over Tang Song's head and fell all over him.
"Happy birthday, Little Song." Liu Qingning smiled, her eyes curved like crescent moons.
"Happy birthday..." Zhang Yan finally summoned courage and offered her blessing, quiet and sincere.
Looking at the three girls—different faces, different personalities, all looking at him—Tang Song felt a surge of uncontrollable excitent and warmth.
He didn't brush the confetti off his head. Instead, he suddenly took a step forward.
Caught off-guard, the three of them watched as he leaned in and kissed each of their faces in turn.
"Thanks, Qing Ning."
On the left.
"Thanks, Ruan Ruan."
In the middle.
"Thanks, Yanyan."
On the right.
The action flowed smoothly, displaying his athletic grace.
Wen Ruan covered her cheek, peach-blossom eyes sparkling with delight, lips curved.
Zhang Yan seed to catch fire, her legs trembling as if she might collapse.
Liu Qingning covered the cheek she had been kissed on, her eyes wide.
She opened her mouth to say sothing, but all that ca out was a snort.
She turned away and picked up the cake knife.
"Ti to cut the cake!"
Tang Song took the knife, smiled, and made the first cut.
The delicate matcha cake was sliced into even pieces; the lightly bitter tea aroma mingled with cream as the blade passed through.
Wen Ruan jeered playfully from the side, "Who gets the first slice? It's a dangerous question."
Tang Song paused, glanced at her, then used the spatula to lift the first piece and handed it to Wen Ruan without hesitation, "Looks like you really want it, Ruan Ruan, so you get first pick."
Wen Ruan's mischievous grin froze.
(°口)!?
Good grief!
You playboy! You won't choose, so you're dumping the big black pot on ?!
I'm here to help, not to be a live target!
Wen Ruan raged inwardly, but on the surface she had to accept the cake.
She flicked a finger, scooped a big dollop of matcha cream, and sared it right on his forehead.
"Thanks for the treat, President Tang!"
She stepped back with the slice and began to eat it contentedly.
Seeing Tang Song with a green glob on his forehead and a helpless expression, Liu Qingning and Zhang Yan couldn't help but burst out laughing.
The subtle tension in the air evaporated at once.
Amid laughter, Liu Qingning lifted a slice with the spatula and handed it to Zhang Yan, "Try this, it's matcha, it's delicious."
Zhang Yan received the plate clumsily, "Thank you... Qing Ning."
Tang Song's gaze softened even more as he handed the final slice to Liu Qingning.
He casually cut himself a piece and took a bite; the slight bitterness of matcha and the sweetness of cream blended perfectly on his tongue.
"Snap."
The main light in the living room was switched on.
The space instantly brightened; the warm candlelight and fairy lights beca background accents.
The four of them sat around the large rectangular dining table.
Steaming dishes filled the table.
Glassware chid crisply.
This al turned out to be far more relaxed and pleasant than Tang Song had imagined.
There was none of the expected tension, no forced awkwardness.
With big sister Wen Ruan skillfully filling gaps with jokes, with Liu Qingning intentionally lowering her pride, even introverted Zhang Yan occasionally joined in their conversation.
Outside, the night lights of Shencheng Bay still glittered, the sea reflecting the city's splendor.
Inside, Tang Song sipped red wine, his gaze sweeping over the three faces who could be stern or sweet but were getting along so well, listening to their laughter.
His thoughts drifted and swayed.
This twenty-sixth birthday was truly the happiest, most complete in his life.
The al wound down.
Wen Ruan set down her chopsticks and stretched lazily, leaning back in her chair.
Under the table, a stocking-clad foot was barely brushing Tang Song's calf, slowly inching upward.
"Tang Song, any plans next? If you want to spank soone, you'd better do it soon. I don't want to miss it."
"Hey! Wen Ruan! That topic isn't going to pass, right?!" Liu Qingning imdiately bristled.
Tang Song looked at big sister's sultry, beguiling eyes and decisively changed the subject: "What about my gift? Everyone else already gave theirs; I don't think you've given yours yet."
Wen Ruan blinked and turned her gaze to Zhang Yan beside her.
"I'm not in a hurry. Yanyan, you go first."
Zhang Yan froze and then flushed scarlet.
"I—I..." she bowed her head and stamred.
Seeing her so nervous,
Wen Ruan suddenly made a dramatic 'hiss' and cupped half her face.
"Oh, that spicy chicken was intense. My mouth's burning. Qing Ning, where's the spare toothbrush at your place? Take to the bathroom to brush."
Liu Qingning paused, then realized and stood up, "I'll take you."
They left the dining room one after the other; their footsteps faded.
The living room fell quiet.
Only Tang Song and Zhang Yan remained.
They looked at each other.
Zhang Yan seed scorched; she hurriedly dropped her gaze, breathing very carefully.
"What's wrong, classmate Zhang Yan?" Tang Song pushed back his chair and ca to her side, leaning slightly, hands braced on the backs of the chairs beside her as if half-encircling her in an embrace, smiling teasingly, "You didn't actually forget to get a present, did you? I'd be so heartbroken."
"N-no..." Zhang Yan shook her head violently, voice barely audible, "I prepared sothing."
Before coming, she had been anxious, not even sure she had the nerve to bring out this humble, childish gift.
But after actually interacting with Liu Qingning and experiencing tonight's subtly tense but ultimately warm dinner...
She felt as if so force had pushed her forward.
"Wait... I'll go get it."
She stood up quickly, ran to the corner of the living room, and grabbed the canvas bag carelessly tossed by the sofa.
From inside she took out an old notebook, clutching it to her chest as she returned to Tang Song step by step.
Her face was so red it seed to bleed; even her neck carried a faint flush.
Her eyelashes trembled violently, casting thick shadows over her cheeks.
"A birthday present for you."
She extended both hands and presented it solemnly.
Tang Song took it.
It was a sowhat old hard-cover notebook. The cover was carefully wrapped in transparent plastic, corners yellowed and worn, but overall well preserved.
Even the spine, which often cracks, had been reinforced carefully with tape.
It looked painfully familiar.
As the thought surfaced, fragnts of distant mories started rising uncontrollably.
"Thud—"
His heart began to race.
His fingertips trembled as he gently opened the title page.
[2011, Excellent exam performance, specially awarded to encourage the student]
Faded red characters, slightly blotched ink, and a round red stamp from the academic office beneath.
mories began to clear up bit by bit.
Tang Song paused for a mont, then continued flipping.
On the slightly yellowed lined pages were handwriting in various inks: blue ballpoint, black felt-tip, even erasable pencil.
So were neat and delicate, so wild and ssy.
More often there were irregularly drawn tic-tac-toe grids ford with a ruler, filled with little symbols representing each side.
Tang Song, the history teacher might quiz us on asures from the Zhenguan rule later, did you morize it? The teacher said anyone who fails must copy it ten tis.
I didn't! I bet the teacher won't call on , I have protagonist aura!
If they call on you, stand up the notebook and I'll secretly show you.
Thanks for the walnut milk, it was delicious.
My mom forced it on ; I hate drinking it. After this, it's all yours. Oh, did you watch Legend of Sword and Fairy 3 this weekend?
Teacher said high school is hard. Tang Song, you'll definitely get into Yizhong, right?
Of course! You too, let's study together!
My grades aren't as good as yours, I might not get into Yizhong...
Then go to Erzhong. The two schools are only three streets apart, both have decent college admission rates. We'll aim for a good university later.
I'll try. :)
...
Childish handwriting, simple exchanges, sotis inarticulate.
But looking at these little notes that spanned more than a decade,
Tang Song clearly saw his middle-school self—the sowhat emo kid who loved shounen manga, always declaring himself the protagonist.
The deskmate he had vowed to protect.
Tang Song's vision blurred.
Sothing slipped from the corner of his eye.
Zhang Yan stood frozen.
She watched his profile, his slightly trembling shoulders, and the tear that fell.
She imdiately reached out to wipe it away.
But her hand halted halfway.
At the very mont she hesitated,
Tang Song suddenly grabbed her and pulled her close, hugging her tightly.
Zhang Yan shivered all over.
She didn't dare move; her chin rested on his shoulder, and his heavy, slightly unsteady breath sounded in her ear.
She quietly felt his heartbeat, steady and powerful, beating against her chest through thin fabric.
Their heartbeats gradually fell into sync.
They stood like that.
Neither of them spoke.
After a long while, Tang Song slowly released his hold and stepped back half a pace, looking at her.
Zhang Yan kept her head down, cheeks burning, hands unsure where to rest.
He didn't speak.
He just looked at her.
At her trembling lashes.
At her flushed ears.
At her bitten lip.
"Zhang Yan, I love you."
The low, lodious voice suddenly sounded in her ear.
Zhang Yan flinched and lifted her head. Her clear eyes filled with stunned surprise.
Her gaze instinctively wanted to look away but didn't.
"I love you too, Tang Song."
Her voice was soft, as light as wind across a lake, but utterly sincere, like she had spent her whole youth to say it.
In the bathroom,
The faucet ran.
Wen Ruan held a brand-new toothbrush and scrubbed, foam at the corners of her mouth, staring into the mirror.
Liu Qingning leaned against the marble counter, lost in thought.
"Swish-swash—"
Wen Ruan rinsed, splashed water on her face, grabbed a towel and wiped.
She glanced at the silent Liu Qingning in the mirror and arched an eyebrow.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" Wen Ruan set down the towel and moved to her side, gently bumping her shoulder, "Are you thinking about what those two are doing out there?"
Liu Qingning pressed her lips together and didn't answer.
The bathroom fell quiet for a few seconds, only the faint whir of the exhaust fan.
"Wen Ruan."
"Mm?"
Liu Qingning stared at her reflection, voice soft, "Do you think... and Zhang Yan..."
She trailed off.
Wen Ruan seed to understand.
She turned, leaned on the sink, and looked at Liu Qingning's profile.
"Qing Ning, from my view, you are indispensable in Tang Song's life. The kind of person who, if missing, makes his life incomplete. His first flutter, his first secret stare, his first blush—all of that started because of you."
She paused, her gaze fixed in the mirror.
"So, I'm jealous of you."
Liu Qingning opened her mouth but said nothing. A weight she'd been carrying felt a little lighter.
At that mont,
Buzz buzz—
Wen Ruan's phone vibrated twice in her pocket.
She grabbed it and saw a WeChat ssage flash up.
[Su Yu: Shuangshuang played too hard today and fell asleep on the way back. I dropped her off at your place, so I won't crash at your place tonight.]
Wen Ruan blinked, about to reply.
Another ssage popped up.
[Su Yu: It's his birthday today. I really want to see him, but I know if I show up, you won't be able to spend ti with him properly. So, before midnight, if you can lure him to Swan Castle, I'll call you 'sister' and you can do whatever you want with him.]
Wen Ruan's eyes twitched and she sucked in a breath.
"What's wrong?" Liu Qingning noticed her oddness and asked curiously.
"N-nothing!"
Wen Ruan, acting like a thief, snuffed the screen off in a heartbeat and tucked the phone away.
"Let's go, Tang Song seems to have headed toward the master bedroom; we should go back too."
"Okay."
...
When Tang Song put the notebook away and washed his face, Liu Qingning and Wen Ruan had returned.
All three girls were in the living room.
A fruit plate, cake, and drinks sat on the coffee table; the mood was lively.
Wen Ruan was holding a balloon and play-fighting with Liu Qingning.
It was more Wen Ruan's one-sided "bullying" of Liu Qingning than anything else.
They had a ten-centiter height difference and a much greater weight disparity. Liu Qingning was pinned to the sofa, struggling angrily.
Two E-cups wrestling, the scene was quite dramatic.
Zhang Yan sat awkwardly to the side, clutching a glass of juice and watching them.
When Tang Song walked over, they stopped imdiately.
Liu Qingning climbed up and grabbed Tang Song's arm, pointing an accusing finger at Wen Ruan, "Tang Song, she hit ! You have to teach her a lesson!"
Wen Ruan slowly rose from the sofa and suddenly changed expression, imitating Liu Qingning's voice, "Tang Song, she hit ! You must punish her!"
Liu Qingning's face reddened, "Wen Ruan!"
"Wen Ruan!"
Tang Song watched them and smiled.
"Then fine, I'll teach you both a lesson."
Wen Ruan covered her mouth and giggled; she tossed him a sultry glance and stood, teasing, "Sure, I don't mind. How about... in the bedroom? Solo or tag team, big sister will accompany. It'll be a chance for you to learn what a real lesson feels like."
Liu Qingning's face burned painfully at Wen Ruan's feral phrasing.
Zhang Yan trembled so badly holding her drink she almost spilled it.
She kept her head down, ears red to the roots, wishing she could sink into the sofa crack.
Wen Ruan laughed louder and pinched Liu Qingning's cheek, "So cute, Qing Ning. You blush like an apple. Your English na could be Apple."
She noticed sothing about this visit—Liu Qingning had truly transford.
Their interaction had no distance and carried a comfortable intimacy of "one of us."
Wen Ruan loved making friends, loving life, and being generous; the new, open Liu Qingning grew on her.
"You... you..." Liu Qingning pushed her hand away, "You still have a gift for Tang Song, right? If you don't give it soon, the birthday will be over!"
"Oh right, almost forgot. My gift's a bit big; it's in the studio. Co on, Little Song, I'll show you."
Wen Ruan mimicked Liu Qingning's nickna with amusent, eyes curved with pleasure.
She beckoned Tang Song, then winked at Liu Qingning and Zhang Yan.
"You three keep chatting, I'll borrow the birthday boy for a bit. I'll return him intact, not a single part missing."
Liu Qingning waved impatiently, "Go on, go on!"
Zhang Yan lowered her head, stole one glance at Liu Qingning, then quickly dropped her eyes.
Tang Song waved and followed the flirtatious big sister into the studio.
The studio door opened.
Wen Ruan flipped on the main light.
Soft light filled the room.
It was a spacious studio; floor-to-ceiling windows showed the Shencheng Bay night view, the sea lights flickering and eting the stars.
Several easels stood against the wall, covered with dust cloths.
The air slled faintly of turpentine, blending with Wen Ruan's warm sweet floral scent.
"Here, your gift."
Wen Ruan turned, chin lifted toward the center of the room, a smile on her lips.
Tang Song followed her gaze.
A neat picture fra about 75 by 60 centiters stood there, wholly covered by a high-quality cream linen cloth, revealing only the dark wooden fra.
"What is it?"
"Why don't you lift it and see?"
Wen Ruan folded her arms and leaned against the wall, relaxed.
Her posture showcased her curves, the fullness of her chest evident, and her watery peach-blossom eyes carried mischievous expectation.
Tang Song approached and gently lifted the cloth.
His movent froze.
It wasn't an ordinary painting but an enormous mosaic puzzle composed of countless small pieces fitted perfectly together.
Hundreds, even thousands of tiny fragnts shed tightly in the fra.
Protected by backing paper and glass, each piece glead with a muted luster.
The image the mosaic ford made his breath hitch.
Under orange streetlight, a man in an apricot knit cardigan leaned slightly against the door of a BMW 3 Series.
The evening breeze seed to ruffle his clothes; light illuminated one side of his handso face, outlining a cool, quiet temperant.
It was him.
From April last year.
Back then he had officially left Jinxiu Comrce and attended a farewell dinner with colleagues Hu Mingli and Guo Peng.
He hadn't been particularly outstanding then.
His charm value hadn't broken forty; everything was just starting.
But it was the mont when life began to rebound, when he brimd with hope for the future and felt most spirited.
Added to that was the "Night Chill" outfit effect, giving him an unusual glow.
Hu Mingli had taken the photo and sent it to a friend who wanted to introduce him to soone.
That friend was Wen Ruan.
Tang Song still rembered how his heart leapt when he saw the big sister's photo for the first ti.
That was the beginning of their real connection.
His fingertips brushed the mosaic's surface while his eyes returned to Wen Ruan.
She leaned against the wall, languid and alluring.
Her generous curves, narrow waist, and rounded hips ford a vivid picture under the studio light.
"1,314 pieces." She said softly, her voice a lazy, dominatrix drawl with a touch of hoarseness, like a feather brushing the heart, "So? Isn't big sister romantic?"
She paused, her gaze dropping to the mosaic and then back to his face.
"Sotis it feels like a dream. A simple blind date sohow placed into the grand sweep of your life."
"It does feel like a dream." Tang Song murmured, stepping closer.
He looked at her.
Her charming face smiled, peach-blossom eyes slightly lifted, full of flirtatious charm.
Her red lips curved as if holding ten thousand love words, waiting for him to say the one she wanted to hear.
More beautiful than that photo,
More vivid,
More impossible to look away from.
"Wen Ruan."
"Mm?" She lifted her head, lashes fluttering.
"You're real, right? Not a dream, not virtual, not code. Real... mine."
Wen Ruan froze, then burst into a soft laugh.
That laugh held no mockery or accusation, only a gentle, unscratchable tenderness.
She didn't answer with words. She stepped forward.
Her ample chest pressed neatly against his.
She lifted her arms, wrapped them around his neck, pulled him in.
She kissed him.
Deeply, forcefully.
The studio fell silent.
Only their mingled breaths could be heard.
After a mont, Wen Ruan let go.
She stepped back slightly and tilted her face up to look into his eyes.
Her peach-blossom eyes sparkled like starlight.
"I didn't expect you'd ask such a childish question."
"Of course I'm real. My temperature is real, my heartbeat is real," she said, lifting his hand and placing it over her heart, "this is real too."
Under his palm, her heart beat big and fast.
"Tang Song."
"It was this photo. The night Mingli sent it, I stared at it for a very long ti."
"At that mont I thought I'd seen this person before. Not in that familiar-face way. It was the feeling that he ought to appear in my life."
"Giving you this painting is actually to tell you one thing."
"I fell in love with you at first sight."
"You were the first man who, with one look, captured ."
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