After the ceremony concluded, everyone gathered for a simple lunch. The long dining table on the restaurant’s terrace offered a stunning view of the distant sea and blue sky. Zhao Jing and Wei Jiayi sat at opposite ends, with a noticeable distance between them. Wei Jiayi was seated next to the host, and the two seemed to be engaged in a lively conversation about an unknown topic. Their voices were soft, and Zhao Jing could only catch a word or two carried by the wind.
However, after Wei Jiayi’s public confession, Zhao Jing felt completely renewed, regaining full confidence in love. In this moment, he felt no jealousy. In fact, he even noticed Wei Jiayi showing his ring to the host.
The restaurant’s cuisine was quite good. As Zhao Jing ate and conversed with the mayor, he also found himself deep in thought. The more he reflected, the clearer everything became—like clouds parting to reveal the sun.
Finally, he allowed himself to look back and acknowledge the truth: the past week had been chaotic, perhaps the worst he had ever experienced.
Beyond managing the company’s adjustments and dealing with regulators and shareholders, Zhao Jing had spent all of his personal time locked in lukewarm arguments with a certain someone—arguments that never escalated because the other person was so passive that they never even turned into real fights.
Wei Jiayi was usually like a ball of cotton, yielding to anything Zhao Jing wanted. But for the first time, he had seriously opposed one of Zhao Jing’s decisions—out of distrust in their marriage. Zhao Jing saw this for what it was and felt utterly stifled, constantly fuming with anger.
Yet, outside of their arguments, Wei Jiayi was endlessly compliant and tender, as if he would agree to any unreasonable demand so long as the agreement remained unsigned. This left Zhao Jing lost in a haze of testing Wei Jiayi’s limits, unable to stop himself from pushing further.
Every morning upon waking up, Zhao Jing would look back at the photos Wei Jiayi had sent him at his request. He wanted to meet him, to push him until he was at a loss for words. Yet, more than anything, he wanted to force Wei Jiayi to sign the papers and hear him say sincerely that the vow he had made that night in a dimly lit church, before a priest, wasn’t a lie. That their marriage and love were not a fleeting impulse but something that would last a lifetime.
The unease and frustration Zhao Jing had never experienced before in his life, he finally experienced because of Wei Jiayi.
It was unpleasant, and it was no wonder nobody liked such feelings.
Thankfully, Zhao Jing’s discomfort lasted only a week before it came to an end. He had chosen to take the initiative and compromise, following Wei Jiayi’s wishes by signing half of the marriage agreement first.
—But that did not mean Zhao Jing had lost this little skirmish.
In marriage, the more understanding person chooses to endure—there’s no such thing as winning or losing. Zhao Jing wasn’t incapable of pressuring Wei Jiayi to sign the agreement, but as the more mature one, he had realized that running a family was not the same as executing a corporate acquisition. There was no need to rush.
Of course, what truly awakened Zhao Jing to this realization was Wei Jiayi’s heartfelt and fearless confession.
On the surface, Wei Jiayi navigated social circles effortlessly, but in reality, he was an exceptionally timid person who acted with extreme caution. This was evident in numerous small details: his reluctance to confess his feelings on Buderus Island, his hesitation to stop Zhao Jing from leaving. He had loved Zhao Jing madly but had only dared to buy matching rings. When Zhao Jing found them, Wei Jiayi’s fingers had trembled with panic. And even last night, when he was completely exhausted, he had still asked Zhao Jing if he wanted to keep going—just to make him happy.
Despite his nature, Wei Jiayi had loved Zhao Jing so much that, even in front of a camera that made him stammer and nervously glance around in fear, he had still said, “I love you.” How could Zhao Jing ask anything more of him, blame him for not being brave enough, or ever feel insecure again?
Contracts might require urgency, but earning Wei Jiayi’s trust in their family and love would require Zhao Jing’s actions and patience. Reflecting on his missteps in recent days, Zhao Jing realized that no one is born a perfect partner. Even he had areas in which he needed to grow.
Recalling Wei Jiayi’s heartfelt words of love, Zhao Jing vowed never to argue with him again. He resolved to adjust his approach to his family strategy, focusing more on understanding his partner’s inner world. It wouldn’t be enough to simply appreciate Wei Jiayi’s efforts after the fact—he needed to delve deeper, uncovering the roots of his timid personality.
Today, Wei Jiayi had already taken the first step by publicly confessing his feelings. From now on, Zhao Jing decided it was his turn to lead by example in strengthening their marriage.
After lunch, they didn’t return to the hotel right away. The restaurant was near the new elementary school that Lini had just started attending. Since it was a weekday, the mayor suggested they visit the school, so Zhao Jing, Wei Jiayi, and a few others followed him for a brief tour. Due to damage to homes and school buildings in the valley, the school had taken in many students, and the small classrooms were packed with children.
Zhao Jing’s seat at lunch had been far from Wei Jiayi’s, and even during the school tour, they didn’t walk together or exchange any words. Unsure if Zhao Jing was in a better mood, Wei Jiayi followed from behind, trying to stay out of the way.
Sunlight streamed through the classroom windows, illuminating the children’s heads. Standing by one of the windows, Wei Jiayi spotted Lini. He seemed to have grown a bit, his curly hair still fluffy as he sat attentively in class.
As Wei Jiayi quietly watched, a voice suddenly broke the silence. “Do you think Lini’s gotten taller?”
Turning his head, he saw that Zhao Jing had finally moved closer. They were separated by only half an arm’s length, but Zhao Jing’s height and presence still carried a strong sense of pressure.
Zhao Jing was no longer as unpredictable as he had been over the past two days—no more sudden mood swings, no more getting upset the moment he thought about Wei Jiayi resisting him. Instead, he had approached him on his own, his tone much calmer. Wei Jiayi figured it was the effect of his livestreamed confession, but he had no idea how long it would last.
Realizing he hadn’t responded to Zhao Jing’s question, Wei Jiayi nodded. “Yeah, a little. Kids grow so fast.”
Their eyes met, and Zhao Jing paused for a few seconds before moving a bit closer. His hand shifted slightly, though it didn’t touch Wei Jiayi. He glanced back at the classroom before whispering that he wanted to fund the construction of several new schools together with Wei Jiayi.
The word “together” carried many possible meanings. Wei Jiayi’s heart skipped a beat, wondering if this was another indirect nudge to sign the agreement. He hesitated for a moment, just about to agree, when Zhao Jing, too impatient to wait any longer, stepped in close, blocking out everyone else with his presence.
Reaching up, Zhao Jing lightly touched Wei Jiayi’s chin, his expression filled with satisfaction and happiness. As if he couldn’t hold back any longer, he swiftly leaned in, pressed a quick kiss to Wei Jiayi’s cheek, and murmured, “I love you too.”
“I won’t pressure you anymore,” Zhao Jing added, his tone straightforward, as if they’d never argued. “You can do whatever you want from now on.”
Wei Jiayi stood partially in the sunlight, while Zhao Jing was fully bathed in its glow.
To Wei Jiayi’s surprise, Zhao Jing had been so easily appeased. The compromise Wei Jiayi had been prepared to offer was no longer needed. Zhao Jing looked at him with joy, his hand lingering on Wei Jiayi’s face as if reluctant to let go. Standing there, he felt so real.
Some people remain blurry even when standing right in front of you. Some are beautiful, tall, and handsome; some are highly knowledgeable—yet still blurry. Wei Jiayi often encountered this problem at work. There were people who, even when captured in photos, left no lasting impression. But Zhao Jing wasn’t like that. He was so real that it made Wei Jiayi momentarily lose himself.
Looking at him, Wei Jiayi felt like an Eskimo living in an igloo. Life had been fine until one day, he fell in love with the idea of lighting a fire at home and became addicted to the warmth. Even if the fire consumed the oxygen, even if it melted the igloo, the heat was irresistible. He couldn’t think rationally—nor could he feel any resentment.
After happily touring the school, Zhao Jing generously made a donation on the spot but instructed the PR team not to document it.
On the drive back to the hotel, the head of PR mentioned plans to include the school donation in an upcoming promotional video. Clearly displeased, Zhao Jing rejected the idea outright and asked, “Isn’t the groundbreaking ceremony enough to edit?”
There were two PR staff members in the car, but neither said much. Meanwhile, Zhao Jing held Wei Jiayi’s left hand the entire ride, twisting the ring on his middle finger over and over, as if it were a fascinating toy. Though the tropical heat made Wei Jiayi uncomfortably hot, he didn’t pull his hand away, nor did he feel like he was tolerating it.
When they finally returned to the hotel room, Wei Jiayi entered first. He heard the door lock click behind him and Zhao Jing call his name. Before he could turn around, Zhao Jing wrapped him in an embrace from behind.
The hold was firm—not as forceful as last night, but still the most secure Wei Jiayi had ever felt. Zhao Jing’s presence was impossible to ignore; wherever he was, he commanded full attention. Yet despite this, he spoke as if afraid Wei Jiayi might not hear him clearly. Loudly and earnestly, he declared into Wei Jiayi’s ear, “We will never argue again, Wei Jiayi. Harsh words hurt like cold winds in June! That’s not something spouses should do to each other, do you understand?”
Having finally escaped the torment of the past few days and returned to normal married life, Wei Jiayi was so moved he wanted to cry—though he couldn’t. After hearing those words, he laughed instead and couldn’t help but ask, “May I ask what harsh words I said?”
Zhao Jing loosened his grip, placing his hands on Wei Jiayi’s shoulders to turn him around.
The villa’s living room was decorated in an old-fashioned resort style. The dark brown wooden floors had been recently polished to a glossy sheen. Outside, the pool area was surrounded by tropical trees that cast shadows over the space, making the lighting dim.
Wei Jiayi clung to Zhao Jing’s neck, kissing him as they tumbled onto the sofa. Between their kisses, Zhao Jing said sharply, “That’s a trap question. Are you trying to bring up old issues and start another fight? Wei Jiayi, don’t test me right after I just announced our family policy.”
On the sofa, Zhao Jing’s intentions were unmistakable. It didn’t take long for him to successfully remove Wei Jiayi’s shirt. Wei Jiayi didn’t object to doing it during the day—he had work the next day and would be heading to the city where he had spent his teenage years and university days to shoot a brand campaign. He planned to stay there for four days. With their relationship just getting back on track, the impending separation made him reluctant to let Zhao Jing go.
He found himself wishing his photographs could come to life, capturing Zhao Jing and storing him in an album to keep by his side. Tonight, whatever Zhao Jing wanted, Wei Jiayi was ready to give in.
But then, Zhao Jing suddenly noticed the marks on Wei Jiayi’s wrist and stopped.
When his sleeves had covered his wrists, Wei Jiayi hadn’t paid much attention beyond a faint ache. But now that they were exposed, the sight startled even him—it looked far worse than it had in the morning. Two red rings encircled his pale skin, not just swollen and irritated, but bruised and abraded.
Zhao Jing had often left marks on Wei Jiayi’s body before. Maybe Wei Jiayi bruised easily, but never like this—these looked like real wounds.
Noticing Zhao Jing lower his gaze with a troubled expression, as if regretting losing control and feeling guilty for hurting him, Wei Jiayi quickly said, “It just looks bad. It didn’t hurt at all yesterday.”
He wasn’t lying. He hadn’t even noticed the friction on his wrists. With the intensity of their activities, minor scrapes and bruises were sometimes inevitable. Placing his hands on Zhao Jing’s shoulders, Wei Jiayi leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. “If it hurt, I would’ve told you. It’s not like you wouldn’t stop if I did.”
“You never say anything.” Zhao Jing gripped his chin lightly, tilting his face upward and locking their eyes together. “Do you think I don’t know you by now?”
Caught in a moment of guilt, Wei Jiayi insisted, “At least yesterday, it really didn’t hurt.”
Zhao Jing didn’t believe him at all. He looked deep in thought, trying to recall last night. He couldn’t seem to remember Wei Jiayi showing any signs of pain, but his hand on Wei Jiayi’s waist tightened.
Yet, instead of continuing, Zhao Jing helped him put his shirt back on. He said to Wei Jiayi very seriously, “We don’t have to argue, but you need to tell me more about yourself.”
“I’ve told you everything. I haven’t kept anything from you.” Wei Jiayi was initially confused, finding Zhao Jing’s words a bit vague. He hadn’t even mentioned how Zhao Jing had completely inserted himself into his life, even digging into his past work. “I always send you my schedule as soon as it’s out.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Zhao Jing corrected him. His expression suddenly turned so serious that, for a moment, Wei Jiayi almost believed Zhao Jing was actually the more mature one.
“I’ve shown you my personal growth museum,” Zhao Jing explained. “But I know nothing about how you grew up.”
Wei Jiayi was stunned for a moment and immediately felt a bit embarrassed. He didn’t want to talk about it and almost never mentioned it because, compared to Zhao Jing, his past was so boring that even the best director couldn’t make a successful coming-of-age film out of it.
Zhao Jing saw right through him. Barely ten seconds passed before he exposed him expressionlessly. “You’re already coming up with excuses, aren’t you?”
“I want to hear it.” Zhao Jing looked at him, raised his right hand, and pressed it against his cheek, as if transferring warmth and courage to him. His voice carried no impatience. “I’m not hungry, I’m not tired, I don’t want to do it right away, and I won’t feel bored. Do you have any other excuses you want me to refute?”
Wei Jiayi felt touched but couldn’t resist the urge to challenge Zhao Jing. He immediately found an excuse. “I don’t know where to start.”
“…” Zhao Jing didn’t falter and gave him a sidelong glance. “Start with when your mom picked a maternity hospital.”
It was obviously a joke. Wei Jiayi chuckled and was tempted to call him crazy, but his expression soon grew more serious. “My mom passed away when I was four, so I don’t have many memories of her. My dad, a doctor at the time, delivered me at the hospital where he worked.”
“Later, when I was ten, my dad and stepmother—who were high school sweethearts—rekindled their romance across the ocean. They got married, and I moved with him to the city where we eventually went to school,” Wei Jiayi narrated simply, hoping to quickly summarize the first twenty-odd years of his life. Zhao Jing was listening attentively without interrupting.
“In eighth grade, my stepmother gave birth to my younger brother, and later, a younger sister. My dad’s medical license wasn’t valid there, so he started an import-export business and was busy every day. My stepmother worked too, so I had to stay home at night to look after my siblings and couldn’t go out. But after I went to university, they pretty much stopped keeping in touch with me. My room was even turned into a study.”
Zhao Jing didn’t ask why, but Wei Jiayi explained anyway. “I guess they never really saw me as part of the family. Once I became independent, there was no reason to keep my room. My dad paid for my first year of university tuition, but after that, I relied on scholarships and part-time jobs. When I graduated, I didn’t want to stay there anymore. It didn’t feel like home, so I came back.”
“I grew up in the Snowlake District, which is why I bought a house there. Alright, that’s the end of my story. You know everything after that. Thanks for listening.” Wei Jiayi let out a sigh of relief, leaned in, and kissed Zhao Jing on the cheek. “Thank you for not finding it boring.”
Zhao Jing was unusually quiet for a moment. At first, Wei Jiayi thought he might be at a loss for words, overwhelmed by his dull, colorless life story. But then Zhao Jing gently ran his hand across Wei Jiayi’s back, as though deep in thought. Wei Jiayi thought that Zhao Jing was probably about to comfort him but wasn’t very good at it, so he took his time choosing his words.
He guessed wrong. It was neither commentary nor consolation.
Zhao Jing’s voice was steady. “Wei Jiayi, Snowlake District is big. Let’s buy a home with full ownership—together.”
