Soon, it was time for Wei Jiayi to resume his work commitments. The morning sun was unusually bright as their helicopter soared over the emerald-green sea. Unlike their arrival two days prior, Zhao Jing now sat beside Wei Jiayi.
Upon reaching the capital, their first stop would be a meeting with their respective lawyers to finalize and sign the marital agreement they had negotiated.
The night before, at the end of their conversation, Wei Jiayi had earnestly proposed the idea to Zhao Jing. Since they had already reached a mutual agreement, it was best not to delay any further. If the necessary documents weren’t signed promptly, Zhao Jing’s company could be at risk. Noticing Wei Jiayi’s concern, Zhao Jing reassured him, “You don’t have to worry so much. The hardest part of managing leaks is already behind us.” He even boasted, “As long as confidentiality is tight, who would know we haven’t signed yet? It’s not like we’re at risk of splitting up.”
Despite his words, Zhao Jing still followed Wei Jiayi’s request and promptly contacted their lawyers and financial advisors, instructing them to convene immediately.
The signing took place at Lawyer Lin’s firm, in the branch office located in the capital. The building had bright, spotless windows, and a long conference table stretched across the meeting room. Wei Jiayi and Zhao Jing sat on opposite sides with their respective lawyers. Due to the large number of required notaries, the spacious room felt crowded and bustling.
Wei Jiayi wasn’t accustomed to such a formal setting. Everyone was dressed in suits, and the atmosphere was heavy with seriousness. Feeling out of place, he just wanted to get it over with. The agreement, along with its supporting documents, formed a thick stack, and there was more than one copy to sign. Wei Jiayi, who had limited mental capacity for these things, had always focused his attention on his professional field. Trusting Zhao Jing and their lawyers, he didn’t delve into the details, instead mechanically signing page after page as instructed.
His speed eventually prompted Zhao Jing to interrupt. “Wei Jiayi, could you at least look at it yourself?”
Wei Jiayi looked up to see Zhao Jing’s expression tinged with helplessness. “I’m honestly worried that one day, if I’m old and in surgery, the doctor could hand you anything, and you’d sign it without a second glance.”
At last, the process was completed, and the two parted ways for the time being.
During his flight, Wei Jiayi stayed busy, juggling calls with his agent and clients. In between, he managed to take a few short naps. Just as the plane was about to land, Zhao Jing messaged him to say he had arrived home.
Zhao Jing’s efficiency was as impressive as ever. Before bed, he had already forwarded Wei Jiayi a selection of videos and photos from real estate agents featuring several potential properties. “Let’s go check them out together when you’re back.”
Wei Jiayi watched the videos. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had mentally added a filter himself or if Zhao Jing had given the real estate agent very specific requirements, but the houses in these videos didn’t just look luxurious or high-tech—they also felt like homes. He also realized that ever since meeting Zhao Jing, life had felt like a game, with Zhao Jing leading him through challenges and collecting rewards. Though he had been thrown into it without warning, by the time he came to his senses, the grand prize was already in his hands, gifted by Zhao Jing, as confetti and cheers filled the sky.
Wei Jiayi’s work went smoothly this time. Most of the team members were people he had worked with before, so there was almost no adjustment period. Having lived in the city for over a decade, once relying on street photography to pay for his tuition and living expenses, he was intimately familiar with everything here. After the first day of shooting, Wei Jiayi took a few colleagues to a downtown restaurant for dinner.
Just as he was about to enter, the door swung open. His father walked out, accompanied by his stepmother and two younger siblings.
It was already 9:30 PM. The sky was dark, the streetlights dim, and the alley was lined with piles of gray and black snow, leaving the road filthy. At first, his father didn’t recognize him—it was his younger brother who did.
His brother was only thirteen, yet he was already almost as tall as Wei Jiayi. He was going through his voice-changing phase. As he spoke, he glanced at Wei Jiayi’s face, paused for two seconds, and then called out, “Ge.”
Wei Jiayi instinctively responded with a “Hi,” but for once, his mind went blank. Both parties stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of what to do. Wei Jiayi recovered first, motioning for his colleagues to go ahead and take their seats inside, then stepped aside to avoid blocking the entrance.
The five of them lingered there in silence before his father finally asked, “When did you get back?”
A gust of wind swept through the alley, blowing snowflakes off the eaves. Pulling his scarf tighter, Wei Jiayi answered politely, “I arrived yesterday. Just here for a few days for work.”
Turning to his younger brother, he asked, “Did you finish that art project?”
He had given his brother some advice on it but hadn’t followed up. His brother replied, “I finished it.”
After a brief pause, Wei Jiayi said, “Alright then, I’m heading in to eat.”
His father said, “Okay.” It was his stepmother who spoke next. “Jiayi, if you have time while you’re here, come home for a meal. Especially if you’re not planning to come back for the New Year.”
“Talk it over with your dad to set a time,” she added. “We’ll all be free.”
Wei Jiayi agreed and exchanged goodbyes with them before they crossed the street to retrieve their car. Then, he stepped into the warmth of the restaurant.
The unexpected encounter left him in a subdued mood. Fortunately, his colleagues didn’t ask any questions, and they enjoyed a hearty meal together, sharing a few drinks.
After returning to his hotel room and taking a shower, Wei Jiayi noticed that it had started snowing again outside. His father had texted him, asking how long he would be staying and when he’d be free, but he didn’t respond. He stood by the window, watching the snow for a while, until a video call from Zhao Jing came in.
It was morning on Zhao Jing’s side, with bright daylight streaming in. His strikingly handsome face somehow seemed to enhance both the phone’s clarity and audio quality. Zhao Jing asked, “How was work today?”
Instead of answering, Wei Jiayi said, “I ran into my dad’s family tonight.”
“What?” Zhao Jing’s brows furrowed slightly, his expression instantly guarded. “What do they want with you?”
Wei Jiayi had been feeling a bit troubled, but after speaking up, he felt much better. Maybe it was because he didn’t even need to say much—there was someone always fiercely protective of him, ready to condemn everything on his behalf, whether or not the other party deserved it.
“It was a coincidence. I ran into them at the restaurant entrance,” Wei Jiayi explained, walking to the bed and sitting down. “They asked me to come over for dinner in the next few days.”
Zhao Jing studied him for a few seconds before asking, “Do you want to go?”
“I don’t know,” Wei Jiayi admitted honestly. “If I don’t go, it feels like I’m holding a grudge. But if I do, I won’t know what to say. They’ve moved to a new house now, in another district far from where we used to live. It feels even less like family now… And you know what?” Wei Jiayi couldn’t help venting. “They were all wearing matching scarves and coats.”
It was truly over the top. He wouldn’t have been surprised if they had custom family slogan hoodies for a cruise. They clearly made for a picture-perfect happy family. Wei Jiayi was doing well now and had nothing to complain about—just a slight feeling of wistfulness. After all, despite being so closely related by blood, their lives were worlds apart.
“What’s the big deal?” Zhao Jing immediately reassured him. “We’ll wear matching outfits in the future too.”
Wei Jiayi froze for a second, envisioning Zhao Jing’s conservative wardrobe choices. Then, he quickly calmed down and regained his composure. “Oh, let’s talk about that later.”
Zhao Jing clearly knew why Wei Jiayi had said that. He shot him an annoyed glance, just about to say something Wei Jiayi wouldn’t want to hear, when Wei Jiayi quickly changed the topic. “I photographed something today. Wait a second.”
He opened his laptop, found a photo, and switched his phone to the rear camera to show it to Zhao Jing. The scene had felt familiar during the shoot, and suddenly, he remembered why.
“Isn’t this the glasshouse Wu Chao used for his birthday party?” Zhao Jing recognized it immediately. Then, unexpectedly, he added, “It’s also where you first saw me and secretly photographed me.”
Wei Jiayi was rendered speechless. He stayed silent for two seconds before Zhao Jing issued a new command. “Switch the camera back to the front.”
He switched back. Seeing that Wei Jiayi still wasn’t speaking, Zhao Jing continued, “I just remembered—you left early that day.” Rewriting history to his advantage, he pressed on. “Where did you go? You didn’t even stay to chat with me a bit more.”
Wei Jiayi tried to hold back, again and again, but he couldn’t anymore. “Excuse me, but was it me who avoided talking to you that day?”
“Wei Jiayi.” Zhao Jing raised an eyebrow. “You really hold grudges sometimes.”
Wei Jiayi stared at the screen in silence, taking in Zhao Jing’s undeniably good looks while reminding himself to stay patient. But before he had to try too hard, Zhao Jing finally admitted, “Alright, fine. I won’t blame you. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been harsh with you.”
“It’s my fault we didn’t get married sooner.” Zhao Jing’s gaze was honest, never relying on flowery words, and he made his conclusion with frankness. But then, his tone suddenly changed. “But I had thought about it before—if we had been together back then, when Li Mingmian got married, we would have lived together. When the tsunami came, I’d have climbed a tree while carrying you on my back.”
This made Wei Jiayi laugh.
Seeing him laugh, Zhao Jing’s expression softened. “Alright, go to bed early. The sooner you finish work, the sooner you can come home.”
After saying goodnight, Wei Jiayi thought for a while before finally replying to his father’s message, saying he wouldn’t have time this trip. Then, he promptly fell asleep.
Later that evening, after Zhao Jing’s final meeting concluded, his secretary brought him some good news: there had been a response regarding the property he had inquired about.
This property wasn’t on the market yet because the owners were quite selective. They had only recently chosen a real estate agent and hadn’t had a chance to clean or stage the home.
Zhao Jing deceived Wei Jiayi by saying he was getting ready for bed, earning a tense yet soft “Goodnight” from Wei Jiayi, who was taking a quick break between work tasks. Then, Zhao Jing set off for the city where Wei Jiayi was currently located.
After graduating, Zhao Jing often returned to this city since his company had significant business here. However, he rarely passed by the area where the property was located. It was a mid-range residential neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, with little connection to his life.
He arrived by car in the evening. The orange-yellow slanting sunlight shone on the snow-covered lawn. The house wasn’t large—it had beige exterior walls, two and a half floors, a basement, a yard, and a garage.
Both the real estate agent and the current homeowners were waiting for him beside an SUV.
Typically, homeowners weren’t involved in showings or negotiations. However, according to the agent, the couple had been intrigued to learn that someone was interested in their property even before it was officially listed. Insisting on meeting the potential buyer in person, they wanted to introduce the house themselves.
It was an unusual and somewhat unprofessional request, but Zhao Jing had agreed.
As he stepped out of the car, the real estate agent came forward to greet him. Zhao Jing gave a small nod in return.
The middle-aged man behind the agent stared at Zhao Jing’s car, his mouth slightly open, his expression one of surprise. He was tall and thin, dressed in a light blue shirt and trousers, with a thick down jacket draped over him and a scarf around his neck. It wasn’t clear if this was the “matching outfit” Wei Jiayi had mentioned.
“This is Mr. Wei,” the real estate agent introduced, “and this is Mr. Zhao.”
The homeowner extended his hand, intending to shake hands with Zhao Jing, but Zhao Jing simply walked toward the door. The agent hurriedly rushed ahead to open it for him. Through the glass of the main door, Zhao Jing noticed a faded Christmas window decal.
The living room had light-colored wooden flooring, and the gray sofa looked somewhat worn.
“The furniture hasn’t been dealt with yet,” the real estate agent explained. “We were planning to start renovations next week.”
Zhao Jing gave an “Mm,” just as the homeowner began speaking behind him. “Mr. Zhao, are you buying this place for your child’s schooling? The schools in this district are excellent. My own kids have done very well academically.”
“Really?” Zhao Jing, who had been inspecting the protective padding on the TV stand, turned around at the words. “What universities did they get into?”
“My eldest son studied photography and graduated from the best art university in the city. He’s now an internationally renowned photographer—his name is Wei Jiayi. You can look him up,” the homeowner said with a hint of pride. “And my youngest son just recently got into one of the top three private schools.”
Zhao Jing didn’t notice any traces of Wei Jiayi’s life in the living room, so he moved further inside.
The kitchen and dining room were connected, with a window overlooking a grass-covered backyard. A silver vase sat on the rectangular dining table. The homeowner had left it behind because it was old, and with no plants inside, it looked lonely on the table.
“Are the bedrooms upstairs?” Zhao Jing asked.
Both the homeowner and the real estate agent confirmed this, and he went upstairs to take a look. The white staircase felt narrow to Zhao Jing, with carpeting underfoot. On the second floor, three bedrooms and a study were arranged in a row.
The study faced the street. Zhao Jing walked in and saw two sets of desks and chairs for studying, along with a wall of bookshelves. Most of the books were gone, leaving only a few middle and high school textbooks scattered messily on the shelves.
Bending down, Zhao Jing pulled out a math textbook. When he opened it, he saw the owner’s name written inside, along with neatly made high school notes. Wei Jiayi’s handwriting was so orderly it almost looked printed.
“This belongs to my eldest son. He forgot to take it when he left,” the homeowner said again. “When the time comes, we’ll clean it all out for you.”
Ignoring him, Zhao Jing walked to the window and looked outside. He didn’t check the other bedrooms and instead went straight to the basement.
The basement light was dim, illuminating a pile of dust-covered clutter. There was an unsold nightstand, some books stacked on the floor, a rusty bicycle that looked like it had been passed down through seven or eight owners, two boxes of old clothes, and two more filled with miscellaneous items.
“This is just junk we cleared out when we converted the study. With the kids and everything, we never had time to sell them, so they just stayed here,” the homeowner explained, perhaps puzzled as to why Zhao Jing was inspecting the basement instead of the bedrooms.
Zhao Jing opened a box and found a small globe inside. It seemed to be a prize from an elementary school competition. Beneath the globe was a thick photo album. He pulled it out. The album’s white cover was slightly sticky to the touch.
Opening the first page, he saw the words “Cloud Collection Handbook” and “Wei Jiayi” written in handwriting far more childish than that of a high schooler. The second page contained a record of cloud photos, faded with time.
The first photo showed stratocumulus clouds over a nearby street. Zhao Jing guessed there must have been some kind of cloud-watching enthusiast group. Each page followed the same template, recording the date, location, weather, and a score. Thirteen-year-old Wei Jiayi had given this particular cloud a perfect ten.
Zhao Jing flipped through the entire album. Wei Jiayi’s activities seemed extremely limited in both scope and time. The photos were all taken around 4 PM, each one capturing local clouds that looked more or less the same.
Zhao Jing did a quick calculation. All the clouds in the thick album added up to only 415 points. He closed the album and noticed the real estate agent and homeowner exchanging glances behind him. Perhaps they were surprised at how long he had spent looking through it.
“Mr. Zhao, what do you think of this house?” the real estate agent asked.
“It’s fine. Leave the junk as it is; no need to move anything.”
He didn’t put the album down, keeping it in his hands. He felt his luck was still good—he had managed to reclaim a part of Wei Jiayi’s youth, one that Wei Jiayi always brushed off as dull and unimportant. Yet, in reality, it had been a lonely but endearing time.
The logic was simple. Wei Jiayi lacked confidence when looking back on his past, so Zhao Jing felt it was his responsibility to find and cherish these fragments—the pieces Wei Jiayi had thought unimportant and deliberately discarded. Zhao Jing would gather them up and bring them to the home that belonged to both of them.
As they left the house, Zhao Jing received a message from Wei Jiayi: “I’m done with work!”
“I didn’t go to my dad’s place for dinner after all.” Wei Jiayi told him: “I’m taking Xiao Chi to get Vietnamese noodles near my old school.”
Zhao Jing asked: “Is it good? Which place?”
The popular restaurant had a long queue, and outside, rain mixed with snow.
Wei Jiayi and Xiao Chi waited at the entrance for ten minutes before being allowed inside, then another twenty minutes before finally getting a seat by the window. The pho arrived quickly, a steaming bowl with tender pink beef, its warmth fogging up the window.
Knowing he could head home tomorrow, Wei Jiayi was in high spirits. Just as he was about to dig in, his phone buzzed with bad news. Due to weather conditions, his flight had been delayed by twelve hours. Xiao Chi received the same notification and, having recently gotten a girlfriend, looked even more devastated than Wei Jiayi. He sat across from him, sighing, unable to eat his noodles.
Wei Jiayi poked at his pho with his chopsticks a few times, then set them down as well. He sent Zhao Jing a message about the delay.
As soon as the message was sent, Zhao Jing called.
Wei Jiayi was a bit surprised—although a twelve-hour delay was unfortunate, it wasn’t a particularly major issue. It didn’t seem necessary to call immediately just to offer comfort. But when he picked up, he realized there was a lot of noise in the background on Zhao Jing’s end.
“Wei Jiayi, where are you?” Zhao Jing sounded shaken, his voice anxious. “What’s going on at this Vietnamese noodle place? Did something happen inside? Why is there such a big crowd at the entrance?”
