Under Zhao Jing’s influence, Wei Jiayi had grown increasingly attached to home. With a 3:30 PM flight, he didn’t get out of bed until noon to start packing.
Zhao Jing was in the living room, attending a meeting while watching Wei Jiayi shuffle around the house in his pajamas at a leisurely pace.
Perhaps due to a bit of separation anxiety, Wei Jiayi dawdled for twenty minutes, managing to toss only five items into his suitcase. One of them was a jacket that had originally been in the suitcase—he had taken it out and put it back in again.
Unable to watch any longer, Zhao Jing walked over, still wearing his headset, and stood beside him to lend a hand. He ended up helping significantly. Wei Jiayi was clearly touched, but more than that, he was conscientious. Worried that he might disrupt Zhao Jing’s work, he firmly pushed him back to the couch to continue his meeting. Then, he quickly got up and packed his things on his own.
This work trip would take Wei Jiayi away for an entire week. Zhao Jing had already reviewed his updated schedule. Just as Wei Jiayi had promised, his workload had decreased, his business trips were less frequent, and each one didn’t keep him away for as long as before.
Still, this week would include their first New Year since getting married, and they wouldn’t be spending it together. Zhao Jing wasn’t happy about the situation. However, since he was naturally reserved and understanding of Wei Jiayi’s work, he refrained from expressing much emotion. Even so, he couldn’t help but subtly mention it three or four times on the way to the airport.
Wei Jiayi, however, was perceptive. Sensing that taking on such jobs was wrong, he held Zhao Jing’s hand tightly and gently explained, “This was a commitment I made a long time ago. There are always so many New Year’s events.”
“I won’t take them anymore next year. I’ll spend every New Year with you.” He leaned in to kiss Zhao Jing. “Don’t look so upset.”
Zhao Jing, of course, knew that Wei Jiayi didn’t want to leave either. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so passionate the night before. He responded with an “Mm” and pulled him into a reassuring embrace.
After dropping Wei Jiayi off, Zhao Jing returned to the office.
The detailed plans for antitrust compliance had already been submitted, and their public relations efforts were yielding significant results. Zhao Jing first met with senior officials from the regulatory agencies. After dinner, he scheduled a meeting with his marital agreement lawyer to review the draft.
The lawyer’s draft was largely flawless. The only area needing refinement was a clause regarding the allocation of dividends to a trust fund, which lacked sufficient specificity. Zhao Jing provided a few suggestions and asked the lawyer to revise it promptly and forward it to the other lawyer for review.
After the lawyer left, Secretary Wu knocked on the door to deliver news to Zhao Jing: the city memorial hall that Zhao Jing had funded on Buderus Island was scheduled for a groundbreaking ceremony in a week. The local municipal authorities had sent an invitation asking if Zhao Jing would like to attend the event.
Zhao Jing typically declined such invitations, but Buderus Island held special significance for him. It was where he had narrowly escaped death along the coast, participated firsthand in rescue and excavation efforts, and witnessed suffering and rebirth in ways he had never experienced before. It was also where he and Wei Jiayi had solidified their relationship.
After coordinating his schedule, Zhao Jing cleared two and a half days to attend the ceremony. He sent a message to Wei Jiayi, who had gone straight from his work location to meet friends for a gathering, asking if he would like to join him since he had those days off. He also reminded Wei Jiayi to drink less, knowing that no one would be there to take care of him in his absence.
For the first three days of Wei Jiayi’s trip, he was photographing a New Year’s Eve celebration for a brand. The event brought together industry friends, including Luo Ming, who had been with him when he bought the couple’s rings. As soon as Wei Jiayi arrived and put down his luggage, he was inundated with calls urging him to join them for drinks.
The editor-in-chief remained true to her word, keeping Zhao Jing’s identity under wraps. However, when Wei Jiayi arrived at the restaurant and opened the private dining room door, he hadn’t taken more than two steps when an already tipsy friend stood up and shouted, “The expert in finding muscular hotties is finally here!”
This was the person who had asked Wei Jiayi if he had any colleagues to recommend—a friend named Meng Xu, a fashion blogger with a bold personality. Wei Jiayi felt a tingling on his scalp as he recalled the editor-in-chief’s startled reaction after meeting Zhao Jing that day. At this point, he no longer had the clarity to choose between letting rumors spread and defending Zhao Jing.
Still standing at the doorway, Wei Jiayi was quickly pulled inside by Meng Xu, who threw an arm around him enthusiastically.
Once seated, the group launched into detailed questions about Wei Jiayi’s love life, pestering him for a proper photo of Zhao Jing. Though his ring was on his middle finger, Wei Jiayi still felt guilty. With so many people around, he offered vague excuses like, “He’s not photogenic and doesn’t like taking pictures,” and, “I’ll send one next time I get a chance.” Somehow, he managed to deflect their questions. Meanwhile, Meng Xu started pestering Wei Jiayi again to introduce him to handsome guys.
Left with no choice, Wei Jiayi buried his head in his drink. By the time the late-night gathering ended and he returned to the hotel, he was dizzy from the alcohol. Barely managing to shower, he finally checked his phone. It was then that he saw Zhao Jing’s message from over three hours earlier, reminding him not to drink too much. Another message, sent two hours ago, informed him that he had returned home.
Wei Jiayi collapsed onto the bed and attempted to type out a message to Zhao Jing. He tapped at the keys earnestly but couldn’t manage to hit the right ones. He resorted to sending a voice message instead: “I only drank a few extra glasses to protect our family’s privacy.”
It was already past 12:30 AM. After sending the message, Wei Jiayi intended to turn off the lights and go to sleep. However, his phone kept buzzing incessantly. He looked at the screen in confusion for a moment, then suddenly realized it was Zhao Jing calling and picked up.
As soon as he answered, Zhao Jing called his name. Wei Jiayi responded obediently while opening a game app on his phone, only to discover that Lawyer Lin had sent him a draft document, asking when he’d be available for a call.
“Lawyer Lin asked when I’d be free for a call,” Wei Jiayi informed Zhao Jing. “I’m free now.”
“No, you’re not,” Zhao Jing corrected him immediately.
This dampened Wei Jiayi’s mood. “I am.”
“Look at the time.” Zhao Jing teased, “After drinking so much, do you really think you can make sense of a legal document?”
Although Wei Jiayi was a photography major, he had taken some courses in other fields. He hadn’t expected Zhao Jing to underestimate his academic capabilities. He stubbornly began reading the document. But it was crammed with text, displayed on a small phone screen, and the dim lighting in the room made it feel almost hypnotic. He scrolled for a bit and carefully read half a page, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. He still had no clue what it was saying.
Zhao Jing’s voice calling his name jolted him back to attention.
Wei Jiayi asked while reading, “This section about the trust fund—does it mean it’s for the family’s descendants? But I don’t think I can have kids.” He recalled some facts he’d learned, now slightly confused.
“You’re torturing yourself.” Zhao Jing laughed at him over the phone, his voice tinged with teasing. “Let’s discuss it tomorrow.”
Wei Jiayi protested, “No.”
“Then what do you want?” Zhao Jing asked. Wei Jiayi didn’t reply but instead focused intently on reading the text aloud. After a few seconds, Zhao Jing interjected, “Stop reading.” He explained, “The trust fund is set up using my personal assets and stock dividends—it’s for you. Anything else you’re curious about?” His tone was low, carrying a hint of helplessness.
Wei Jiayi held his phone, thought for a moment, and seemed to get it. He finally said, “I don’t need this. Let’s remove it.”
Zhao Jing stayed silent. Wei Jiayi thought perhaps it was too late and Zhao Jing had fallen asleep.
He prepared to sleep as well, closing his eyes in the quiet. Just as he was drifting off, Zhao Jing’s voice broke the silence again. “Forget it. Once the lawyers finish drafting the marital agreement, you can just sign it when you get back.”
Realizing they were still on the call, Wei Jiayi became concerned that leaving the phone connected overnight would drain the battery, potentially interfering with his work the next day. Hurriedly, he reached over and ended the call.
At 6:30 AM, he woke up hungover, his head throbbing painfully. Sitting on the bed, he vaguely recalled having a conversation with Zhao Jing the night before.
Checking the call log confirmed it. Slowly, the memories resurfaced. It seemed like he had ignored Zhao Jing the whole time, letting him talk to himself, only to hang up first. Feeling a bit guilty, he opened the chat. The last message was from Zhao Jing, sent right after the call ended.
It wasn’t criticism for his drinking or teasing about his foolishness. It was a simple message: Good night.
Wei Jiayi stared at those two words for several minutes, clutching his phone. He felt like he was suffering from an incurable case of lovesickness, convinced that without Zhao Jing’s warmth, he’d freeze to death. There was no saving him now.
Before attending Li Mingmian’s wedding, he had spent years working everywhere, with each day feeling the same. He would wake up early to scout locations, confirm styling, lighting, and themes—his brain was only used for these tasks, ensuring every photo was flawless. The rest of his life was so carelessly managed that even a rough draft would seem more put together. He often went out drinking with friends or clients, drinking excessively when he was happy. The next day, he’d down a few cans of energy drinks and strong coffee, then work efficiently until late at night. Back then, he never even thought about rest. But now, all he wanted was to rest. He just wanted to go back and be with Zhao Jing.
Even if packing with Zhao Jing meant fumbling around uselessly, randomly grabbing things. And when he changed clothes, Zhao Jing would keep making comments and couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
Before getting out of bed to wash up, Wei Jiayi sent Zhao Jing a reply: “Good morning.” Then, remembering last night’s unresolved conversation, he added: “I can go to Buderus Island.” Knowing Zhao Jing was likely still asleep, he steeled himself and headed out to work.
On December 31st, Wei Jiayi barely had time to check his phone. From the moment he arrived at the client’s hotel, he had been immersed in back-to-back shoots. It wasn’t until after the fireworks display marking the end of the celebratory banquet that he finally managed to grab a few bites of cold food by the media station with his friends.
The banquet venue was located near a wetland on the outskirts of town. The fireworks display had been beautiful but short-lived. Once the last burst faded, only the biting cold wind remained.
Wei Jiayi looked up at the wisps of smoke still lingering in the distance, the air heavy with a mix of perfume and smoke. Shivering, he zipped his jacket all the way up. He was starting to regret not bringing that ridiculously thick coat Zhao Jing had somehow pulled out of nowhere. Back then, he thought it was too bulky and inconvenient to wear, but now he realized just how precious a warm coat could be.
After working for a while longer, the banquet finally came to an end. Wei Jiayi chose not to join his friends for another gathering and instead took a car back to his warm hotel. On the way, he messaged Zhao Jing, saying he had seen some fireworks that day—they were beautiful but a little blurry, and it had been freezing cold.
“If you keep this up, I’ll have to hire someone to stand next to you and carry thick coats.” Zhao Jing replied.
When Wei Jiayi returned to his room, it was exactly 11:30 PM. Another year was about to pass, and he was turning 27. Perhaps only Zhao Jing, in the entire world, would say to him: “Wei Jiayi, you’re so much younger than me, so I have to let you have your way.”
He had never heard such words in his life—not even once after becoming an independent adult. He had never imagined that one day, a man just two years older than him would earnestly say something like that. It was as if, in Zhao Jing’s eyes, he would never grow up—and that even if he acted willfully or inconsiderately, it wouldn’t matter.
So, with just half an hour left in the year, Wei Jiayi closed the door behind him and video-called Zhao Jing, who had a strong sense of ritual for New Year’s Eve. Zhao Jing answered immediately.
He was wearing pajamas, lounging half-reclined on their bed. Around his neck hung a chain with the ring he had purchased for himself, dangling slightly as he glanced down at the camera. His voice was cool as he said, “Another two-hour delay on your shoot today? So the watches everyone in the fashion world wears are just for show?”
“Schedules are never that accurate. We have to wait until the clients finish their work first.” Wei Jiayi chuckled. “But at least I made it back before midnight. I even stole a friend’s car to get back in time to video call you.”
Zhao Jing’s expression softened slightly, and he asked, “What did you say to them?”
“I told them I needed to come back to spend New Year’s with you,” Wei Jiayi replied, though he left out his promise to Meng Xu about asking for potential coworkers.
Zhao Jing’s lips curved upward slightly, and he hummed in acknowledgment. Then, abruptly shifting the topic, he suggested, “By the way, the marital agreement is finalized. When you come back, let’s sign it together.”
The suddenness of the statement, paired with Zhao Jing’s serious tone, made Wei Jiayi instinctively reply, “Okay.” But almost immediately, he recalled their conversation from the previous night and asked, “Did you remove the trust fund clause?”
“…” Zhao Jing fell silent for a moment before responding, “Why are you asking about that?”
“I don’t want that.” Wei Jiayi studied Zhao Jing’s expression, suspecting there was something he wasn’t being told. He tried to organize his thoughts. “And I haven’t even given feedback to Lawyer Lin yet. How could the draft be finalized already? That doesn’t seem like the right process.”
“Wei Jiayi, you suddenly understand legal procedures now.” Zhao Jing frowned and reproached him unhappily, “Weren’t you the one who asked if you could just sign after the lawyer prepared the draft?”
Wei Jiayi murmured a faint protest, “But you told me before that you wouldn’t make me sign my life away.”
“…” Zhao Jing’s face fell, and he straightened up, as if gearing up for a negotiation with Wei Jiayi.
“Why is it so important to set up this trust for me? I really don’t think it’s necessary,” Wei Jiayi quickly interjected before Zhao Jing could launch into a legal debate. Using the softer tone Zhao Jing seemed to favor, he asked earnestly, “You’ve seen my financial statements. I don’t need that much money.”
“Whether you need it or not is irrelevant.” Zhao Jing looked at him expressionlessly. “What’s wrong with me wanting to give it to you?”
The conversation reached a stalemate. Wei Jiayi, torn between wanting to appease Zhao Jing and not wanting to sign the marital agreement, finally suggested a compromise. “How about I just sign the part about not holding any shares in your company for now? We can discuss the trust fund later. Is that okay?”
“How much later?” Zhao Jing wasn’t fooled. “Give me an exact time.”
Wei Jiayi couldn’t come up with a response, so Zhao Jing pressed further, his tone cold. “Are you trying to stall me?”
“No,” Wei Jiayi denied immediately, but his voice was small, lacking confidence. This only made Zhao Jing more dissatisfied, and he called him out directly. “You’re still lying to me.”
Both of them stared at each other through the screen, neither willing to give in. Zhao Jing remained silent, and Wei Jiayi didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t until fireworks began outside the hotel window that he realized it was midnight. He quickly said his New Year’s greeting to Zhao Jing.
But they spoke at the same time.
“Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year.”
Zhao Jing was momentarily stunned in the video, and so was Wei Jiayi. Zhao Jing’s expression softened slightly as he remarked, “I never noticed how stubborn you are.” For once, he relented. “I’m too lazy to argue with you about this today. Not like you can sign anything right now anyway.” It sounded almost like he was comforting himself, resigning to a temporary loss in the negotiation.
“Zhao Jing, you’re so generous.” Wei Jiayi breathed a sigh of relief and quickly followed up with, “You’re not even holding this against me. You’re letting me off so easily.”
Zhao Jing ignored the empty sweet talk and said, “Spare me.” Then he added, “Look outside the window, Wei Jiayi.”
Wei Jiayi turned to the window. It was strange—this hotel wasn’t in a tourist area, yet the fireworks display was long and unexpectedly stunning, far more professional than the ones at the banquet earlier. He walked to the window and saw that people had gathered downstairs to watch.
“I knew you’d be stuck working through New Year’s Eve, and I couldn’t be there today,” Zhao Jing said. “So I had them set off some fireworks to cheer you up for working so hard this year. Who knew you’d end up standing out in the cold wind watching some random ones instead?”
Wei Jiayi couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen fireworks indoors, let alone ones prepared just for him. He couldn’t take his eyes off the display, and even after it ended, he remained silent. Zhao Jing asked, “Are you really that moved?”
“Mm,” Wei Jiayi finally said.
“Then sign the agreement if you’re so moved.” Hearing this, Zhao Jing seamlessly pivoted back to his agenda.
But Wei Jiayi knew how to separate feelings from business, so he pretended not to hear. Instead, after a brief hesitation, he softly asked a question.
Zhao Jing fell silent for a few seconds before his voice dropped as well. “Oh. That’s fine too.”
