“I know, but Bai Xizhou is on a business trip recently. You two can come stay at my place in Xincheng. Once he returns, I’ll arrange for you to meet,” Wen Ruqing said.
“No, we can wait for him to come back…” Wen Qing was interrupted. After a pause, her husband spoke through the phone: “Don’t worry about us—we’ll make our own plans. I intended to take your aunt out for a few days anyway.”
Wen Qing’s husband declined Wen Ruqing’s offer to stay. Wen Ruqing thought it unnecessary—they could stay at his place—but couldn’t persuade them. Eventually he revealed he was already at Bai Xizhou’s and that his old apartment was empty. That convinced them.
Over the next few days, Wen Ruqing focused on his own work. Every evening, Bai Xizhou called. When he couldn’t sleep, he’d ask Wen Ruqing to tell him The Steadfast Tin Soldier.
“You really like that story that much?” Wen Ruqing lay on his side, the phone to his ear, hearing Bai Xizhou’s rambling voice.
“I like your voice. I like the story too. I just… really like it. No reason.”
Bai Xizhou was on speaker, sitting at his laptop. He lied about working overtime.
“You sleepy yet?”
“Mm, I’ll sleep now.”
While Bai Xizhou stayed awake, Wen Ruqing drifted off. After yawned goodbyes, Bai Xizhou said, “Goodnight, sleep well,” and hung up. He resumed work until midnight, then finally shut down the laptop, stretched stiff neck muscles, and went to sleep—vowing to accept fewer business trips in future.
Ten days passed quickly for Wen Ruqing. He thumbed through the calendar at his bedside; Winter Solstice was almost here (circled in red).
A few days earlier, Wen Qing and her husband had arrived in Xincheng and moved into Wen Ruqing’s old apartment. Fully equipped, they spent their days sightseeing until late at night. Wen Ruqing no longer tried to help—they didn’t need him.
On Winter Solstice (a weekend), the office arranged a dumpling-making session. Tradition says you eat dumplings to avoid freezing hands, feet, and ears. Wen Ruqing had never heard of it.
He could neither knead dough nor make fillings, so he was assigned to wrap and drop dumplings—something he’d learned from Wen Qing. Xu Yuanyuan made a few and played with dough like a child, prompting Chen Qi to tease her. She retaliated with a faceful of flour.
“Can I take some home?” Wen Ruqing asked, as his dumplings filled a bamboo tray and were sent off to be boiled by Liang Yuchen.
“Who are the dumplings for?” Chen Qi joked.
“For my partner—who else?” Liang Yuchen sighed, amazed at how Wen Ruqing had changed since falling in love.
Wen Ruqing said nothing, quietly boxing some dumplings to take home.
On his way back, Wen Ruqing called Wen Qing, telling her he’d ordered dumplings for delivery to remind them to eat. He hadn’t hung up before walking into his apartment—only to be swept into someone’s arms, almost startled.
But a familiar scent of pine hit him.
“I’m back. Did you miss me?”
Bai Xizhou brushed against Wen Ruqing’s neck, sounding teasing, “Kiss me—come on.”
Wen Ruqing remained stiff. He was happy Bai Xizhou was back—but this wasn’t the right time for affection.
He was still on the phone.
“Bai Xizhou—the call is from my aunt,” Wen Ruqing said calmly, pulling away.
That’s when Bai Xizhou froze. Wen Ruqing sighed. “Also, I was still on call when you hugged me or asked for a kiss.”
Bai Xizhou quickly let go and glanced at the screen. The ongoing call was labeled “Aunt.”
“Aunt—no, yes—I just…” he blurted, fumbling for the phone. “Sorry, Aunt… it’s not what you think…”
“It’s fine—she knows,” Wen Ruqing immediately reassured, took back the phone, chatted, then ended the call. Leaning on the door, he looked conflicted.
Apparently, Bai Xizhou didn’t know Wen Qing was aware of their relationship. But there was nothing to panic about—back in Yunduan Town, Wen Qing had liked him already.
“Qingqing—it’s different. She might like me as your friend… but maybe not as your partner,” Bai Xizhou muttered, pacing with worry.
“That makes no sense—she’s always known,” Wen Ruqing said, cupping Bai Xizhou’s face. He kissed him quickly. “She really likes you.”
“Really?” His disbelief surfaced—Bewilderment over Wen Qing’s love. Family matters are always complicated.
“It’s true,” Wen Ruqing murmured into Bai Xizhou’s pine-scented hair. “They came to meet you. Lawyer Bai—you’re meeting the family tonight. Nervous?”
At Wen Ruqing’s question, Bai Xizhou stiffened in his arms. He ate the leftover dumplings later, but his mind wandered; that night he tossed and turned, unable to sleep—though Wen Ruqing slept soundly in his arms.
On Winter Solstice morning, Wen Ruqing woke early. Bai Xizhou—sleepless—stayed in bed, giving Wen Ruqing time to prepare.
He ordered flowers delivered to his old apartment and arranged a birthday cake to be picked up by his aunt. He told Wen Qing it was Bai Xizhou’s birthday; he planned to bring him over to celebrate and meet the family, but emphasized to delay serious conversations until after the party.
By noon, Bai Xizhou finally emerged from bed. Wen Ruqing came out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of noodles.
“It’s your birthday. You have to eat longevity noodles,” he said, sitting opposite Bai Xizhou with one hand under his chin, expectant.
Bai Xizhou took the chopsticks, looking dazed. He hadn’t celebrated a birthday in years—past ones held no joy. He even asked friends not to celebrate anymore. He’d never told Wen Ruqing that.
Now, he had a bowl of longevity noodles—prepared by the one he loved.
With egg and greens on top, the noodles looked irresistible. He ate fast, trying not to feel overwhelmed.
Wen Ruqing smiled, handed him a napkin, and said, “Eat slower—you won’t get them again today. I’ll cook them for you every birthday.”
Bai Xizhou nodded, “Mm,” and continued eating.
That afternoon, there was nothing planned so they cuddled and watched a romance film—light on plot but heavy on steamy scenes. They preferred subtle tension to overt intimacy.
Bai Xizhou kissed Wen Ruqing’s neck—only to be scolded.
“Don’t mess around,” Wen Ruqing said, eyes on the screen.
“I haven’t seen you in over ten days. This is my birthday—my only gift is noodles?” Bai Xizhou protested.
“Aren’t you being hugged right now?” Wen Ruqing replied, sitting on his lap. “Your gift is me.”
“Can I unwrap my present?”
“No marks—it’s family meeting tonight,” Wen Ruqing murmured, gently pushing him away.
“It’s cold—I can hide marks with a sweater. But if you really want, you can give me one too,” Bai Xizhou countered, lightly marking Wen Ruqing’s neck with a fresh kiss.
…
“You forgot to wear something…” Wen Ruqing half-playfully nudged him.
“Sorry…I forgot.” Bai Xizhou pretended to pull away.
Wen Ruqing inhaled, held onto his shoulders.
“Just like this.”
…
“I can’t anymore… I’m exhausted.”
“One more time,” Bai Xizhou insisted.
Cleanup was messy. Their passion had gone too deep. Wen Ruqing whimpered—almost in tears—but ended up biting Bai Xizhou playfully. He swore never again to let him finish inside—just this once.
When everything was done, Bai Xizhou carried Wen Ruqing out of the bathroom as evening neared. Wen Ruqing urged him to change, but he collapsed on the bed, still reluctant to move.
“Are you sure you want to meet my aunt tonight?” Bai Xizhou offered a turtleneck sweater.
Wen Ruqing’s bath-warm face glowed red. The white sweater made his skin look even softer, sleeves long enough to hide any marks on his wrists.
“We have to go,” Wen Ruqing said—his voice steady, throat warm and capped by Bai Xizhou’s hand, so he couldn’t speak loudly. His voice wasn’t broken.
Defeated, Bai Xizhou dressed him. They headed to the old apartment—knowing only that they were meeting parents. Neither expected what awaited.
Years later, Bai Xizhou would call this the happiest birthday of his life.
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