Zhao Jing knew that Wei Jiayi wanted him to stay that night. Otherwise, Wei Jiayi wouldn’t have held onto his arm as he stepped out of the elevator.
Although Zhao Jing had been angry afterward, upon reflection, he concluded that Wei Jiayi’s reluctance to admit his feelings and take their relationship further stemmed from a past experience with someone unsuitable. That failure had left Wei Jiayi hesitant to acknowledge his emotions again.
Wei Jiayi’s tendency to act slowly was his way of protecting himself, which made it more understandable.
While Zhao Jing had never made poor choices himself, he only needed to briefly recall examples around him to make a comparison. He imagined that if he’d ever gotten a B in school or made an unprofitable investment, he might have written off that subject or business entirely, pretending it had never been part of his life. Of course, Zhao Jing had never actually scored a B or suffered a loss, but the principle was the same.
It was a fact that Wei Jiayi had feelings for Zhao Jing; otherwise, he wouldn’t care about him so much. Despite having a mortgage to pay, Wei Jiayi still remembered to bring back a gift for Zhao Jing when he traveled—even buying another if one wasn’t enough. He displayed Zhao Jing’s work in the most prominent spot in his home, confided in him about deeply personal family matters, and even turned back to retrieve the earphones Zhao Jing had gifted him after already leaving for work in the morning.
Wei Jiayi’s unspoken feelings ultimately could be traced back to a few years earlier, shortly after he returned to the country. At that time, he had unknowingly rented an apartment with someone who harbored bad intentions. Wei Jiayi had been too trusting, was deceived, and ended up emotionally scarred.
Wei Jiayi had been a victim, and if he needed to take things slowly because of his trauma, Zhao Jing decided he could be patient—just as Wei Jiayi had been patient with him on the second night after the tsunami.
In situations like this, Zhao Jing knew he lacked experience. Determined to do better, he squeezed time into his busy schedule to consult with his therapist. During the session, he briefly outlined his current situation with Wei Jiayi and sought professional advice.
After hearing him out, the therapist looked troubled and deliberated for a long moment. Finally, he offered concrete suggestions: when dealing with someone who has been hurt, it’s essential to be restrained, avoid pushing them, and show consistent consideration. Zhao Jing carefully jotted down the key points.
On the third day after Wei Jiayi left again, his itinerary changed due to a sudden work assignment. He canceled a planned return and sent Zhao Jing a screenshot of his new schedule for the next month. He wrote: “Looks like I won’t be able to come back until mid-December,” adding a crying emoji.
Ever since leaving Zhao Jing on the sofa to the point where he fell asleep and then forcibly sending him away, Wei Jiayi seemed to realize he hadn’t been very kind to Zhao Jing and felt guilty about it. Despite still being busy with work, he had been reaching out to Zhao Jing much more than he had the week before. He’d send a “Good morning” message in the morning, and at night, when Zhao Jing said he was heading to bed at ten, he’d immediately reply with a “Sweet dreams” message. On the whole, he was being quite attentive.
Wei Jiayi sent four screenshots in total, crammed with a dense itinerary, event titles, and names—yet not a single one mentioned Zhao Jing.
After skimming through them, Zhao Jing mentally revisited the therapist’s advice: “Patience,” “tolerance,” and “waiting.” However, despite his best efforts, he still felt a simmering frustration. He typed to ask Wei Jiayi: “How much of your mortgage is still unpaid?”
It took a while before Wei Jiayi replied: “I saw your company’s ad at today’s media banquet.” He included a photo.
“Changing the subject?” Zhao Jing asked.
After a pause, Wei Jiayi sent over a crying emoji.
Seeing him act so pitiful, Zhao Jing decided not to push him for his sake. He forwarded Wei Jiayi’s schedule to his mother and then called her. “I just sent you a schedule. Are there any events on it that you’ve been invited to attend?”
His mother seemed busy, speaking to someone else first before moving to a quieter space and asking, “What is this?”
“It’s Wei Jiayi’s schedule.”
There was a brief silence on the other end before she said, “Let me take a look.” After a short wait, she consulted her secretary and told him, “There are a few invitations, but I declined them all… except for a private dinner on the 10th hosted by a brand. What’s your point? Do you want me to take you with me?”
Zhao Jing gave an “Mm.”
She suddenly said, “Couldn’t you figure out a way to go on your own?”
Zhao Jing felt she was hesitating and replied, “That’s inefficient.”
“Zhao Jing,” she continued, “since you’ve already asked me, can I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
“It’s not that I can’t take you, but what exactly is your relationship with him?” She added, “How does he feel about you? Do you even know?”
Feeling as though she doubted him, Zhao Jing immediately told her, “I’ll know very soon.”
Wei Jiayi quickly settled back into his usual work and life routines. After leaving the studio, he visited three cities in a row. His bank account balance grew, and he donated a small portion to Buderus Island. However, when he thought about how he had lied to Zhao Jing, claiming he was working like crazy to pay off his mortgage, he felt a twinge of guilt.
Whenever Zhao Jing messaged him, Wei Jiayi would silently remind himself that indulging in this was shameful—he should learn to refuse. Yet, in the end, he always replied. He even began initiating contact, sending good-morning messages. At first, he told himself each time that this would definitely be the last. But over time, he stopped rationalizing. When confronted with his own actions, he brazenly excused himself: We haven’t met in person anyway. What’s the harm in replying to a few messages or making a couple of calls? Maybe he’ll eventually stop messaging on his own.
Amid his busy schedule, his agent informed him that Pan Yifei’s agent had indeed reached out. As per Wei Jiayi’s instructions, his agent had declined the request, leaving the other party dissatisfied. Wei Jiayi realized that hearing Pan Yifei’s name no longer stirred any feelings in him.
By December 10th, the streets were filled with Christmas spirit. Holiday carols played everywhere, and mistletoe and Christmas trees adorned the entrances of even the smallest shops.
That evening, Wei Jiayi was tasked with photographing a significant private dinner event for one of his clients. The event was well-attended by photographers and media contacts. He began the day by having breakfast with a group of friends and then went to the venue to survey the scene.
Oddly enough, most of the morning passed without Zhao Jing messaging him.
Wei Jiayi wasn’t used to this. He wondered if, after ten days without seeing each other, Zhao Jing’s enthusiasm had finally begun to wane.
If that were the case, it would mean no more instances of Zhao Jing falling asleep on his couch and making his home feel crowded. Nor would there be anyone inexplicably coming to him in anger.
It should be a good thing, right? Wei Jiayi had always been on his own, and he and Zhao Jing hadn’t known each other for long. If Zhao Jing disappeared from his life, it shouldn’t even feel like much of a change. And yet, there was no sense of relief.
He recognized that his emotions weren’t entirely normal. Deep down, he understood why. Still, he was clear-headed and resolved to endure. Feelings were fleeting, after all, and they would eventually fade.
Working with acquaintances inevitably led to plenty of conversation.
As a security officer passed by with a metal detector, one photographer remarked, “Why does security feel more intense this time?”
Another photographer suddenly said, “Li Ying is here today.”
Li Ying was Zhao Jing’s mother. Wei Jiayi looked up at the speaker.
The first photographer raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t she stop attending these kinds of dinner parties after she became the chairperson?” He then turned to Wei Jiayi. “Jiayi, didn’t you take photos for her charity foundation gala once?”
“Mm.” Wei Jiayi smiled. “The security at that event was even stricter.”
The photographer laughed. “Of course! With a room full of super-rich people, if security wasn’t tight, it’d definitely cause a huge scandal.”
The topic of Mrs. Li didn’t continue, and Wei Jiayi snapped out of his thoughts. After finishing the site inspection, he returned to the hotel to take pre-departure shots of his client. Wei Jiayi was busy with his camera all afternoon without resting, not even pausing to take a sip of water.
He followed his client into the venue, capturing interactions until she finally sat down and the show began. Only then did he relax a little, handing over the reins to his assistant photographer while he went to the staff lounge to grab a bite.
A white Christmas tree stood on display nearby, decorated with gifts and Santa Claus ornaments. The lounge was tucked just behind it.
Carrying his heavy camera bag, Wei Jiayi grabbed a light snack and ate a few bites. However, his appetite wasn’t great after going so long without eating, so he set the food aside. Glancing at the tree, he noticed that the Santa figures hanging on it were surprisingly diverse.
The Santas varied in skin tone and gender. There was a dark-skinned child with curly hair, a one-eyed woman dressed as a pirate, and other figures that only their red outfits and gifts tied to the role.
Wei Jiayi walked closer to inspect the decorations, noticing a male Santa Claus with a limp, leaning on a crutch. He was also larger than the other Santas by a size. Unable to resist, he took out his phone and snapped a photo.
Later that afternoon, Zhao Jing poked him again. Whether out of habit or a genuine desire to chat, Wei Jiayi wasn’t sure. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to send Zhao Jing the photo of the Santa.
Zhao Jing quickly replied: “What’s this supposed to mean?”
“Don’t get me wrong. I just thought it was unique and cute. They’ve got all kinds of Santas here.” Despite his exhaustion, he felt a small flicker of happiness hearing from Zhao Jing. Also, the earphones Zhao Jing had gifted him were also tucked in his camera bag, even though he hadn’t needed them today.
“You haven’t seen me for too long; I’m not limping anymore,” Zhao Jing said.
It had been a long time. Wei Jiayi didn’t know how to reply.
Thankfully, Zhao Jing sent another message: “Aren’t you curious what I look like now?”
Even without hearing his voice, Wei Jiayi could sense the confidence behind the words. Knowing they couldn’t meet in person, he typed back: “Hmm, I’m sure you look even more handsome now.”
After sending it, Zhao Jing unexpectedly called him. Wei Jiayi answered, and Zhao Jing asked, “Wei Jiayi, what would you be willing to give to see me standing on my own?”
His tone was deadly serious, but his words were absurdly funny, making Wei Jiayi stifle a laugh. “What are my options?”
“One, your heartfelt emotion,” Zhao Jing replied, “Two, your gratitude. Three, your holiday.”
Wei Jiayi chuckled softly at first, but then he noticed the two media staff nearby staring at something behind him. For some reason, he clutched his phone and turned around, only to see Zhao Jing standing by the wall over ten meters away, watching him.
Zhao Jing wasn’t using a crutch and was dressed impeccably in a formal suit. His right hand held his phone to his ear, and he was so tall that his head nearly reached above the paintings on the wall.
When Wei Jiayi turned, Zhao Jing didn’t hang up. Instead, he looked quite pleased with himself, speaking into the phone while simultaneously asking Wei Jiayi face-to-face, “So? Which one are you picking?”
Wei Jiayi found himself unable to speak, suddenly feeling as though he were on pins and needles. Even though he knew his response wasn’t rational or appropriate, he still answered, “Holiday.”
