ST CHAPTER 40

Wei Jiayi was well known in the industry for his sense of responsibility. Before meeting Zhao Jing, he often stayed at work until the lights were turned off, always the last to leave. Never before had he wrapped up work as hastily as he did today, rushing out as if fleeing for his life. He didn’t take anything with him except his phone—even his coat had been borrowed from Zhao Jing.

Several photos still hadn’t been reviewed. As the car drove away from the studio’s street and approached a brightly lit commercial district, a pang of guilt slowly crept up on Wei Jiayi. Holding his phone, he decided to make amends for his negligence.

He first messaged Xiao Chi, asking him to help pack up and return the equipment and personal items to the studio. Then, he began drafting an apologetic text to the editor-in-chief.

Zhao Jing, as usual, had no concept of boundaries. Leaning in unabashedly, he watched Wei Jiayi type and commented, “That editor-in-chief seems pretty easygoing. The moment I asked, she let you go. So why are you texting her so submissively?”

Wei Jiayi struggled to explain, but the editor-in-chief promptly responded: “It’s fine, Jiayi.”

Zhao Jing’s face lit up with an “I told you so” expression. Before Wei Jiayi could reply, Zhao Jing’s phone rang.

At the same time, another message came in from the editor-in-chief: “You’re smart for keeping things quiet. After working together so often, you can count on me to help keep your privacy intact.”

Zhao Jing straightened up to take the call. Glancing at his screen, he missed the message from the editor-in-chief. Without any regard for privacy, he put the call on speaker and called out, “Mom.”

“I just received Jiayi’s gift,” Mrs. Li said. “When are you two getting here?”

Hearing her voice, Wei Jiayi froze, suddenly remembering that, amidst the earlier chaos, he had completely forgotten about meeting Zhao Jing’s parents.

“I just picked him up. We’re on our way home,” Zhao Jing replied. “He was stuck working late because the magazine was overworking him.”

After ending the call, Zhao Jing seemed to notice Wei Jiayi’s stunned expression. With a knowing tone, he said, “I knew you couldn’t remember two things at once. Wei Jiayi, you’re becoming more and more like a child.” Then, with a smug expression, he added, “Good thing I thought ahead. I had someone deliver the gift this afternoon. So, how are you going to thank me?”

Wei Jiayi was so accustomed to humoring Zhao Jing that, even while fretting over the impending family meeting, he instinctively turned his head and asked, “How would you like me to thank you?”

Zhao Jing stared at him for a few seconds, remaining oddly silent.

Wei Jiayi suspected that Zhao Jing was thinking something less than appropriate. However, glancing at his watch, he saw that it was already 6:30 PM. Anxiety and guilt consumed him—his first proper meeting with Zhao Jing’s parents, and he was already making a bad impression. Ignoring Zhao Jing’s silence, he asked worriedly, “Is it too late to go now? I’ve already made them wait the first time we meet.”

“It’s fine.” Zhao Jing shrugged casually. “They usually eat late anyway.”

Despite the reassurance, Wei Jiayi still felt uneasy. He looked down at himself. The black cashmere coat he was wearing had been borrowed from Zhao Jing. Worn over a suit, it fit Zhao Jing well, but on Wei Jiayi, it was noticeably oversized and clearly not his. It looked anything but formal. He reached out to roll up the sleeves a little, only to hear Zhao Jing ask, “What are you overthinking now?”

Wei Jiayi raised his eyes to meet Zhao Jing’s. His expression seemed casual, but he appeared genuinely ready to listen. Unable to hold back his uneasiness, Wei Jiayi shared his minor, somewhat embarrassing concerns. “I just feel a little rushed. Even the coat isn’t mine, and it doesn’t fit.”

“If you’re that worried, I’ll have someone send over a jacket for you. You can change before we go in,” Zhao Jing offered. Then he added, “But my parents keep the house really warm. As soon as you’re inside, you’d just end up taking it off.”

The suggestion eased Wei Jiayi’s anxiety a little, and he asked, “Really?”

Zhao Jing let out an “Mm” and suddenly asked, “Why are you so bundled up today? Even your sleeves are covering your wrists.”

He moved closer to Wei Jiayi, his right hand inexplicably wrapping around Wei Jiayi’s wrist. His fingertips kept rubbing against his skin, the grip gradually tightening like a heated handcuff. “The organizers said you only own summer clothes. Where did you find this?”

“…I needed to cover up a little.” Wei Jiayi wanted Zhao Jing to stop holding his wrist, but then he thought Zhao Jing had been so good to him today that he shouldn’t resist. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, he placed his hand on the back of Zhao Jing’s.

“Cover up what? I have no idea.” Zhao Jing’s other hand suddenly moved toward the hem of Wei Jiayi’s shirt, lifting it slightly with an extremely upright expression. “Let me see.”

“Zhao Jing.” Wei Jiayi couldn’t hold back, his face flushing red with frustration. Calling Zhao Jing’s name, he grabbed his fingers and pushed them away. “What do you think I’m trying to cover up?”

Zhao Jing reluctantly withdrew his hand and helped Wei Jiayi roll up the other sleeve as well.

The drive to Zhao Jing’s parents’ home was not a short one. Partway through, Zhao Jing had to join an impromptu conference call.

Sitting beside him, Wei Jiayi grew drowsy. Wrapped snugly in the soft, oversized coat, he instinctively slid his hand into one of the pockets. Zhao Jing noticed the movement and, for no apparent reason, decided to stick his own hand into the same pocket.

What had once been a spacious pocket instantly became cramped. Wei Jiayi was speechless. He glanced at Zhao Jing, resisting the urge to ask if he didn’t find this position awkward. However, Zhao Jing appeared entirely unfazed, staring intently at his laptop screen with his headphones on, as if his hand had a mind of its own and his focus was solely on the meeting.

Wei Jiayi bent his arm slightly, their hands now squished together, fingers brushing against each other. It felt both warm and childish—like they were crammed into a tiny one-square-meter room, unable to turn around. After a while, Wei Jiayi decided to withdraw his hand. Just as he began to pull away, Zhao Jing’s hand shifted, and suddenly, something small slid onto his middle finger.

The metal was warm from Zhao Jing’s body heat. Wei Jiayi froze for a moment, staring as Zhao Jing withdrew his hand from the pocket, leaving it empty and cold. Wei Jiayi raised his hand to look. On his middle finger was a ring—the matching couple’s ring he had bought.

“I got one for my middle finger too,” Zhao Jing said, briefly muting the call and turning to him. “I’ve been thinking about it. If you don’t feel like wearing the wedding band on your ring finger all the time, you can wear this one on your middle finger and keep the wedding ring around your neck. I’ll do the same, but in reverse—wear my middle finger ring on the chain. That way, we’ll still be perfectly matched.”

“…” Wei Jiayi realized that Zhao Jing had a bit of an obsession with matching things. He kept buying this and that, making their home look like a ring wholesale shop.

But in reality, what Zhao Jing proposed was a compromise. Maybe because he was sharp enough to understand things without Wei Jiayi explaining, he no longer pushed for answers or argued like he used to. He had accepted that Wei Jiayi had two rings, that he wasn’t working himself to death just for a mortgage, and that he couldn’t be as open and straightforward as Zhao Jing was.

Wei Jiayi didn’t want Zhao Jing to be the one always enduring feeling wronged, so he was still working on finding a balance. In the meantime, he took off the necklace and put the wedding ring back on.

Finally, they arrived at the mansion, which resembled a castle. Wei Jiayi followed Zhao Jing inside, and as expected, the interior was very warm. He took off his coat, which Zhao Jing promptly took and handed to the butler. Holding Wei Jiayi’s hand, Zhao Jing led him through the corridor into a spacious living room. There, Zhao Jing’s parents were seated on a large sofa, watching the news. When they noticed the two, they stood up.

It was Wei Jiayi’s first time seeing Zhao Jing’s father up close. The man exuded an air of authority. Zhao Jing bore about 30% resemblance to his father, 30% to his mother, and the remaining 40% seemed to be uniquely his own.

In that moment, Wei Jiayi hesitated, unsure whether to address them politely as “Mr. Zhao and Mrs. Li” or more familiarly as “Uncle and Aunt.” Zhao Jing turned to look at him, seemingly assuming that Wei Jiayi was frozen with nerves. Like teaching a child, he said, “Call them Mom and Dad.”

The words stunned not only Wei Jiayi but also Zhao Jing’s parents, who instinctively exchanged glances.

Reading people’s expressions was Wei Jiayi’s forte, and he immediately understood their reaction. He said, “Hello, Uncle and Aunt.”

Zhao Jing was visibly displeased at being defied so directly, but it was clear that everyone else in the room felt relieved. Mrs. Li smiled warmly and said, “Jiayi, long time no see. Let’s head to the dining room first.”

The dining room was not far from the living room, featuring a long table. The four of them sat across from one another, with Wei Jiayi and Zhao Jing on one side. The meal was Chinese cuisine, but each person was served individually. Perhaps due to the room’s vastness, an air of quiet pervaded the space. Hanging above the table was a chandelier Wei Jiayi had seen in photos before—a piece so extravagant that it could probably buy his entire house. Everything about this place felt so far removed from his life, creating an overwhelming sense of distance.

Wei Jiayi was so nervous that he lost his appetite, eating slowly at first. Worried about awkwardness, he answered Zhao Jing’s parents’ questions in great detail, trying to hide the fact that he wasn’t eating much.

Meanwhile, Zhao Jing, still on an important call, wore headphones and listened intently, ignoring the others entirely. His parents paid him no mind and instead focused on chatting with Wei Jiayi. Fortunately, they avoided asking questions about his family, keeping the conversation within safe boundaries. Gradually, Wei Jiayi began to relax, sharing stories about his university days and his mentor.

“I have a collection of his works,” Mrs. Li said with a warm smile, then suddenly asked, “Did you and Zhao Jing know each other back then? I don’t recall him ever mentioning it before.”

“The meeting’s done,” Zhao Jing suddenly interjected, finally removing his headphones. “We already knew each other back then. But Wei Jiayi was so passive, there was no chance to get close.”

Wei Jiayi listened to Zhao Jing’s nonsense but didn’t refute it. Out of kindness, he decided to protect Zhao Jing’s dignity. “Our campuses weren’t close to each other, and besides, he graduated earlier than me.”

“That’s true; they aren’t nearby.” Mrs. Li was curious. “How did you two meet, then?”

Wei Jiayi was about to respond when Zhao Jing cut in again. “Let’s hold off on the questions for now. Wei Jiayi is so nervous he can’t even eat properly. He’s had only five bites since we started. Are you trying to starve him?”

Wei Jiayi had been trying hard to conceal his lack of appetite, but Zhao Jing called him out on it, leaving him with no choice but to quietly start eating.

After the meal, they returned to the living room for a while.

Zhao Jing’s father mentioned that he had some company matters to discuss and asked Zhao Jing to join him in the study for a private conversation. At first, Zhao Jing was reluctant and asked, “Why do we have to move to another room for that?”

Sensing that Zhao Jing was concerned about leaving him alone, Wei Jiayi reassured him, “It’s okay.” Only then did Zhao Jing agree to go.

Once he left, Mrs. Li asked the butler to bring out a box, explaining that it was a gift for Wei Jiayi to mark their first meeting. Opening it, Wei Jiayi saw a watch inside.

“I couldn’t decide what to give you,” Mrs. Li said. “When I came across this in an auction catalog a few days ago, both Zhao Jing’s dad and I thought it would suit you perfectly.”

Wei Jiayi politely said, “Thank you.”

She gave a small smile, her eyes showing a few faint wrinkles. Patting Wei Jiayi’s hand, she said, “Jiayi, no need to be so formal.”

Her hand was warm, adorned with a gemstone ring. When she spoke to Wei Jiayi, her tone was softer and her gaze more tender than when addressing Zhao Jing. Wei Jiayi barely remembered his mother. Seeing how her eyes slightly resembled Zhao Jing’s, he felt as if he were peeking into a happy family that wasn’t his. He wouldn’t call it envy, but it did make him miss the childhood he could no longer recall.

After a brief pause, Mrs. Li continued, “Earlier, Zhao Jing didn’t have a chance to mention this, but I don’t want to keep it from you. Actually, before last year’s collaboration, I had already read your safety assessment report, reviewed your professional history, and seen your portfolio. That’s why I didn’t ask too many questions earlier—because we were already quite familiar with your work.”

Perhaps to prevent Wei Jiayi from misunderstanding, Mrs. Li spoke plainly and directly, her expression slightly solemn. “This background check is part of our standard process for selecting new staff. It wasn’t targeted at you personally.”

Wei Jiayi wasn’t surprised and certainly didn’t feel offended. In fact, he had previously encountered background check calls that had even reached his father’s boss. This was the first time a former client had openly acknowledged it, which felt like a rare courtesy. He smiled understandingly. “I understand.”

“I had considered giving you Zhao Jing’s resume to look at, but then I figured he must have already taken you to his personal growth gallery, so I didn’t bother,” Mrs. Li continued, her expression softening. “Back then, I thought you were an exceptionally good kid. Our team had initially recommended another, more experienced lead photographer, but I personally chose you. Looking back, perhaps it was fate that we were meant to become family.”

“And Zhao Jing didn’t explain things properly. All he ever talks about is marriage, marriage,” she said, frowning slightly. “It was only a few days ago, when I had dinner with Li Mingmian’s father, that I learned you were the one who saved Zhao Jing from the beach. We never properly thanked you for that. Both Zhao Jing’s dad and I feel deeply regretful.”

“Zhao Jing didn’t want it to interfere with your work, and neither do we, so don’t feel any pressure,” she reassured him. “You don’t have to indulge him so much. Zhao Jing may seem innocent, but he’s been good at testing limits since he was a kid. If you’re too soft on him, he’ll walk all over you.”

Just as she finished speaking, Zhao Jing returned with his father.

He was slightly taller than his father, his face impassive. Walking over to the sofa, he leaned down, grabbed Wei Jiayi’s hand, glanced at the watch his mother had given him, and commented, “It looks nice.” Then he pulled the watch out, slipped it onto Wei Jiayi’s wrist, and evaluated it. “A bit loose. We’ll need to remove a link from the strap.”

His fingers brushed against Wei Jiayi’s skin repeatedly, making him a little tense. However, his parents seemed unfazed. Once Zhao Jing removed the watch and set it back in its box, Mrs. Li said, “Jiayi has work tomorrow, doesn’t he? I won’t keep you two any longer.”

After saying their goodbyes—tinged with a touch of nervousness—they finally returned to Zhao Jing’s car. As soon as they were inside, the dim interior closing around them, Zhao Jing immediately began his interrogation. “What did my mom say to you after she sent me away? Did she badmouth me?”

“No, she didn’t say much, just gave me the gift,” Wei Jiayi replied. Mrs. Li had shared some insights about Zhao Jing’s personality, but when it came to Zhao Jing, Wei Jiayi always felt powerless. It was hard not to go along with him, so he could only listen and let it be.

“Really?” Zhao Jing shot him a skeptical glance.

“Oh, right,” Wei Jiayi suddenly remembered and asked, “Earlier, calling them Mom and Dad felt a bit strange, so I didn’t do it. Are you mad about that?”

“Of course not. I knew you wouldn’t.” Zhao Jing teased, “It’s not like they raised you—why would you call them Mom and Dad? I only said it because you looked so nervous.”

Wei Jiayi, who had eaten very little, soon fell asleep in the car while Zhao Jing was on a call.

Draped in Zhao Jing’s coat, he rested his head against the seatback, his chin tilted slightly upward. After a while, his cheeks grew warm with a faint blush, replacing the unnaturally pale shade from earlier that evening.

Zhao Jing watched him for a while, then reached out to touch his face. Wei Jiayi stirred slightly but didn’t wake. His eyelashes rested adorably against his skin—not particularly curled, but long and neatly arranged like fine fluff. Zhao Jing couldn’t resist snapping a few pictures with his phone.

It didn’t feel like much time had passed before they arrived at the apartment building.

Living alone had conditioned Wei Jiayi into a work-driven routine. As soon as the car stopped, he woke up, instinctively clutching Zhao Jing’s coat and sitting upright, looking ready to spring into action.

“We’re home,” Zhao Jing said.

“Oh,” Wei Jiayi responded before obediently following Zhao Jing out of the car.

Earlier, at Zhao Jing’s house, Wei Jiayi had been just as compliant, doing whatever he was told without a hint of protest. His behavior was so accommodating that even Zhao Jing’s father had commented on it, suggesting that Zhao Jing might be too dominant in their relationship.

But his parents didn’t understand them, and Zhao Jing didn’t bother explaining. After all, no one else could know how much Wei Jiayi cared about him—how terrified he was of losing him, so much so that he had practically glued himself to Zhao Jing back at the studio earlier that evening.

Thinking about Wei Jiayi’s expression then, Zhao Jing couldn’t help but start planning his proposal.

After their wedding and growing intimacy, they had come to understand each other even more deeply. Zhao Jing had even pieced together why Wei Jiayi had only bought matching rings instead of proposing directly.

It was just like how Wei Jiayi had fallen deeply in love with Zhao Jing on the island but hadn’t dared to confess, burying himself in work instead. When he bought the rings, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to get married—he was simply too timid and too unsure of himself to bring it up. If not for mistakenly purchasing a ring in the exact size for Zhao Jing’s ring finger, which ultimately led them to marriage, their relationship might never have gained the security of a wedding certificate.

After figuring it all out, Zhao Jing felt only a deep sense of love for Wei Jiayi. It wasn’t forgiveness but understanding; not anger, but a quiet sense of pity. He decided to expedite the signing of their marriage agreement, establish a trust, and take on the burden of family decision-making. Zhao Jing wanted to ensure that his more vulnerable partner could experience the same stability and growth that marriage had brought him.

When they returned home, Zhao Jing intended to discuss these plans with Wei Jiayi to reassure him. However, Wei Jiayi, ever preoccupied with appearances, went straight to the walk-in closet to inspect the wardrobe.

“So neat.” He looked completely amazed, as if he had never seen anything like it before, clicking his tongue in approval. “The room feels so much bigger now.”

Staying composed, Zhao Jing said nothing. He walked over and browsed through the items with him. Just then, he spotted an especially sheer garment and held it up. “Isn’t this basically see-through? If you wear this, everyone will see everything.”

“It’s not see-through once you put it on,” Wei Jiayi insisted stubbornly, though his voice remained gentle. He reached out to grab it back. “Stop saying things like that.”

This was a matter of principle for Zhao Jing, and he wasn’t about to concede. Lifting the hem of Wei Jiayi’s sweatshirt, he stated plainly, “Then try it on.”

Without protest, Wei Jiayi allowed Zhao Jing to pull the shirt off, exposing his upper body. His skin bore numerous marks, and his chest, having been bitten for too long, was slightly swollen and tinged with red. No wonder he had opted for a loose sweatshirt that covered him from neck to wrists. Zhao Jing paused for a moment, acknowledging to himself that he had indeed gone too far the previous night.

“Fine, I’ll try it on for you.” Wei Jiayi wasn’t angry. He simply reached out to take the sheer shirt from Zhao Jing, his expression calm and unbothered. His pale skin made the marks on his body stand out even more, as though he had been mistreated.

When his fingertips brushed against the back of Zhao Jing’s hand, they felt soft and warm. Zhao Jing barely registered what he said next before Wei Jiayi glanced down, seeming to notice something. Instead of taking the shirt, he changed his mind and touched a conspicuous spot on Zhao Jing. In a soft voice, he asked something that Zhao Jing couldn’t ignore.

Zhao Jing cornered him, and it was Wei Jiayi who clung to his neck, embracing him and asking for more.

They were married now, and things were different. Being intimate daily had become natural. Ever since their first time, Wei Jiayi had enjoyed it immensely, often initiating or hinting at it. Zhao Jing felt obligated to satisfy him—after all, that was part of the responsibilities of marriage.

Wei Jiayi could be understanding, but sometimes, he said things that didn’t reflect his true feelings. His tendency to give often outweighed his desire to receive, leaving him unsure of what he should fight for. After he fell asleep, Zhao Jing held him, staying awake and contemplating the many complexities of navigating their marriage.

However, knowing that Wei Jiayi had a business trip the next day, Zhao Jing eventually decided to wake him after his musings.