Wen Ruqing couldn’t tell whether it was Bai Xizhou’s breath or his own body heat, but his ears were burning. He instinctively wanted to move away, but Bai Xizhou was still leaning on him.
“Qingqing.”
That nickname was far too intimate. No one had ever called him that before—not even his aunt, who only called him “Ruqing.” Now, hearing those two syllables from Bai Xizhou’s mouth, they carried a subtle, indescribable ambiguity.
In the end, Wen Ruqing didn’t move. He just waited for the heat in his ears to subside. The two of them stayed in that position, finishing the beers in their hands. A cool breeze stirred their hair, and the fluttering ends tickled Wen Ruqing’s neck.
The park had grown quiet. The earlier liveliness had faded. Under the streetlamp, small insects circled lazily. It was peaceful—perhaps too peaceful. Wen Ruqing tilted his head slightly, sneaking a glance at his phone. It was already 10 PM.
“How long are we staying here?” Wen Ruqing asked with a yawn. Holding the same position for too long was tiring.
He tilted his head a little more, resting it gently against Bai Xizhou’s head, to ease the strain on his neck.
“Just a little longer,” Bai Xizhou replied. He still hadn’t moved. His voice was soft, but seemed tinged with sorrow.
He hadn’t forgotten Wen Ruqing’s birthday. He just felt that saying it over the phone would lack sincerity. More than that—he genuinely wanted to see Wen Ruqing. So he had rushed back from out of town. Even if only a few hours were left in the day, those few hours still belonged to them.
But… would there still be moments like this in the future?
From Wen Ruqing’s angle, he couldn’t make out Bai Xizhou’s expression. But he could feel that Bai Xizhou had something to say.
Wen Ruqing looked at a streetlight nearby. It flickered a few times, then went out completely. He couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Bai Xizhou, is there something you want to say to me?” he finally asked.
Still couldn’t hide it from him. Bai Xizhou sighed. But what he wanted to say—it didn’t feel like the right time.
There were things to say, but he didn’t know how.
Suddenly, a phone rang, breaking the silence. Bai Xizhou pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and answered, putting it on speaker. He was still leaning against Wen Ruqing, not trying to hide a thing.
Wen Ruqing smelled faint chamomile on him—it was a calming scent, and it grounded Bai Xizhou.
“Do you know what time it is here?” Bai Xizhou asked lazily, like he was scolding someone, but his tone was relaxed.
“Sorry, bro. I’m at a party. Lost a game. Had to call a random contact, and you got picked.”
On the other end, Bai Xiting’s voice came through loud and chaotic—music, shouting, probably from some club. Then Bai Xiting yelled, “Bro, you’re so full of yourself. You’re actual garbage!”
Before the next insult could land, Bai Xizhou hung up.
“Is your brother insane?” Wen Ruqing asked suddenly.
“Who says he’s not?” Bai Xizhou replied. “Making an international call just to curse me—someone should get Bai Hésōng to check his brain.”
They both laughed. Their chests rose with it, syncing without realizing. In the early summer night, two hearts began to resonate. Bai Xizhou noticed it before Wen Ruqing did, but he only dared to quietly move closer.
He subtly moved his pinky finger, brushing against Wen Ruqing’s. But that’s all it was—a light touch. He didn’t dare go further.
Bai Xizhou felt like he was regressing, becoming that teenage boy new to love, terrified of messing it up, of even a fleeting touch disappearing.
“Qingqing, do you want to hear about my family?”
These were stories he had never told anyone—not even Teng Yuan, who had only pieced things together from seeing it firsthand. As for Qu Qingchen, he only knew because Teng Yuan had told him.
Not many people knew the truth. Over the years, those who did had either left or drifted away. Someday, these past events would be buried in dust, and they could all start new lives. All except Bai Xizhou.
Some wounds get etched into the heart. Even decades can’t erase them. He’d tried countless times to find peace, but when it came to this topic, his fury always returned. He knew… he hadn’t yet freed himself.
And then, Wen Ruqing entered his life—clumsy, but sincere. Unlike anyone else, Wen Ruqing never judged. He just listened. And that alone made Bai Xizhou willing to tell him everything.
Wen Ruqing had always been a good listener.
“Go ahead,” Wen Ruqing said, gently stroking the back of Bai Xizhou’s head. “You can tell me anything. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Okay.”
Bai Xizhou had learned early on—from overheard adult conversations—that his parents were in a business marriage. But back then, he was too young to understand what that really meant. All he knew was: his parents were rarely home.
Most of his childhood was spent with his grandfather, who gave him attention and little toys, which he still kept. Bai Xizhou used to complain about his parents not being around, and Grandpa would always stroke his head and comfort him.
In fifth grade, his parents started coming home more often. But it was always at night, when he was supposed to be asleep. They would peek in at the door, then leave. They didn’t know that Bai Xizhou was always awake, waiting.
As a child, Bai Xizhou loved holidays—because that’s when his parents had to come home. They’d eat meals with him and stay the whole day. But later he learned: it was just because Grandpa and Grandfather had ordered them to.
Then, his grandfather died.
Bai Xizhou locked himself in his room and cried. From that day on, his mother returned home permanently. She quit her job and was always around—dropping him off at school, but never walking him inside. And from that day on, his father almost never came back.
Children try to win adult affection in clumsy ways. Every time Bai Xizhou got his grades back, he’d run to his mom with excitement. She’d barely glance at them, then toss the papers aside—never even offering praise. Bai Xizhou thought: Maybe I’m still not good enough.
But even when he ranked #1 in his year, she never once attended a parent-teacher conference.
This was the environment he carried into middle school. As he matured, Bai Xizhou began to realize—it wasn’t that his performance wasn’t good enough. It was that his mother never wanted to care. So if being a good kid didn’t matter, why bother?
He spiraled into full-blown rebellion—skipping school, cursing, fighting with students from nearby schools. The teachers couldn’t control him. Until one day, he put someone in the hospital.
That’s when the school finally called his parents.
For the first time, when his mother looked at him, her eyes weren’t blank.
The next second, a slap landed hard. Bai Xizhou was too shocked to react—dazed, ears ringing, he fell to the ground. He couldn’t hear what she said, only saw her bright red lipstick moving, and contempt in her eyes.
It was the first time Bai Xizhou faced her hatred directly.
And he didn’t understand—Why doesn’t my mother love me?
Later, he was taken to the hospital. The doctor said if that slap had been any harder, he could’ve gone deaf. He was accompanied by the family’s housekeeper—not his parents. They were being scolded by his grandfather outside. After Grandpa left, he saw his father slap his mother—and his mother slap back. They argued loudly, right outside the hospital room.
That day, Bai Xizhou learned a new phrase: open marriage.
The breaking point came when his mother began burning books. Her face was pale, twisted, bare of makeup. Through the flames, Bai Xizhou looked at her and just… felt tired. Tired of trying to win her love. Tired of chasing a family that never existed. His parents had no love for each other, so how could they possibly have any left for him?
“That day, my mother told me—if it weren’t for Grandpa and Grandfather, she wouldn’t have married my father. Wouldn’t have had me. To her, she was just a product with a price tag. She said the reason she stayed home was because after Grandpa died, Grandfather made her. He removed her from all her positions. It wasn’t her choice.”
Bai Xizhou’s tone was calm. The scent of chamomile lingered at his nose.
“She said she used to fantasize that maybe they’d fall in love after marriage, like in those novels. But a year after the wedding, my dad told her they were in an open marriage. He already had a family outside. But by then—she was already pregnant with me.”
She blamed all her misfortune on him.
If Bai Xizhou hadn’t been born, she could’ve divorced his dad the moment she found out about the affair. But because he was born—and because of the business deal between the families—she had never had a choice.
After burning everything that tied her to this family, she left one summer morning for another country. And she never came back.
Until a year ago. She contacted Bai Xizhou, saying she wanted to meet.
But by then, he was no longer that desperate child.
“And my dad? After she left, he took over my education. He used to ignore me. Now, he tried to control me—wanting me to follow his plan. So I rebelled. He wanted me to study finance, so I chose law. He wanted me in the family business, I went abroad, and later joined a law firm instead. My decisions were always defiant. Because of that, he hit me many times. So in college, I cut ties.”
He was a lot like Sun Yizhi, and yet not. Both were products of emotionally neglectful homes. But Bai Xizhou had the strength to rise above it. Sun Yizhi lacked the power to escape, trapped in nightmares, walking a dark path.
That’s one of the reasons Bai Xizhou took that case—because some people spend their whole lives trying to patch the holes left by childhood.
“Luckily,” Wen Ruqing said gently, running his fingers through Bai Xizhou’s hair, “you’re doing well now. You don’t have to please them anymore. You’re no longer the byproduct of a loveless marriage. You’re your own person. From the moment you left that house, you no longer needed their approval to survive. Right?”
The perfect-on-the-surface Bai Xizhou had a shattered past. But he was slowly learning to mend himself. He hid his scars, until he found someone he could trust—someone who wouldn’t flinch at his wounds.
“Yeah. It’s all in the past now,” Bai Xizhou said. A weight lifted from his chest.
“I have someone really important now.”
That last part was so soft even Wen Ruqing didn’t hear.
He glanced at his phone—it was late. The day was nearly over. He couldn’t believe he had sat in the park with Bai Xizhou for hours.
Both slightly tipsy, Bai Xizhou called a driver. He had Wen Ruqing dropped off first. Before Wen Ruqing got out, Bai Xizhou looked at him. The car was dark, so his expression was unreadable. But his voice came through:
“Qingqing… the first day of being 27 has arrived.”
Wen Ruqing looked at his phone.
Midnight.
A brand new day had begun.
—
Frozen Starlight
Somewhere I read: Too much emotional connection can lead to sexual desire.
And now here’s Bai Xizhou, emotionally baring his soul—probably hoping to gain some pity from his wife in the process.
Wen Ruqing: “Scheming little top.” (has-seen-it-all.jpg)
