Chapter 7

Cui Xuan had thought Zhao Mingyue would sit in the back row with her, but Zhao Mingyue helped Grandma sit in the back, then carried the cake and went to sit in front.

The car began moving. Cui Xuan could not help sneaking a glance at Zhao Mingyue, but she only saw a slightly angled side profile. Following Zhao Mingyue’s gaze diagonally upward, her eyes unexpectedly collided with Zhao Mingyue’s in the rearview mirror.

Cui Xuan hurriedly lowered her head, feeling guilty in a way even she could not understand.

Cui Xuan did not speak much during the ride. Zhao Mingyue, on the other hand, chatted quite a bit with Grandma.

The apartment Zhao Mingyue rented near the school was not far from the cake shop either, and before long, they arrived. Cui Xuan got out of the car and very consciously stood under Zhao Mingyue’s umbrella, reaching out to take the cake.

Zhao Mingyue glanced at her from the side, handed her the cake, then walked ahead to lead the way and swiped her card to enter the elevator.

The driver helped move the things to the doorway, then left. Zhao Mingyue entered the passcode at the door, pulled open the heavy door first, and switched on the lights with a snap. The room instantly brightened.

A shoe rack stood at the entrance, and the floor was spotless. Cui Xuan and Grandma Cui stood outside the door, neither daring to go in for a moment.

Zhao Mingyue rubbed the soles of her shoes on the mat outside the door, then entered and rubbed them again on the mat inside. As she moved the basket by the door inward, she turned back and called to them, “Just rub your soles a couple of times. Come in.”

Cui Xuan and Grandma followed somewhat stiffly. They rubbed their shoes on the mat for a long time, cleaning the soles thoroughly before carefully, tentatively stepping onto the floor.

“So, what do you think? Nice decor, right?” Zhao Mingyue set down the bundles, turned on the warm air inside, and said with a smile, “I picked and arranged all the soft furnishings piece by piece. It took me half a year to get it like this. I painted the pictures on the walls myself too. Do they look good?”

“They look good.”

Worried that her poor praise would make Zhao Mingyue feel she was being perfunctory and insincere, Cui Xuan flushed red and squeezed out another sentence.

“They’re the prettiest I’ve ever seen… Really.”

“Good eye.” Zhao Mingyue smiled, took the cake from Cui Xuan’s hands, and placed it on the table. Then, as if out of curiosity, she asked, “What about if you lived here? Would you hang a wind chime by the window or the door?”

Cui Xuan’s gaze wandered around the room, and she unconsciously followed Zhao Mingyue’s words, thinking for a while. Then she quickly shook her head.

How could she possibly live here? Looking too much, thinking too much about things that could never happen and could never come true would only make a person feel disappointed.

She smiled at Zhao Mingyue and answered softly, “I don’t understand decorating, but it already looks very nice like this.”

Knowing that if they kept talking about this, Cui Xuan would grow uncomfortable, Zhao Mingyue stopped at the right time. She opened the fridge, looked inside, and changed the subject. “What should we eat tonight? I still have quite a lot of ingredients left. It’s just a pity I don’t know how to cook…”

Before going abroad, Zhao Mingyue had never personally cooked. It was only because she could not get used to foreign food that she began learning. Later, during those two years of paying off debt, she had simply made do with meals. After marrying Cui Xuan, however, her cooking skills had improved by leaps and bounds.

She could take care of cooking, but for Grandma Cui, being able to do something would probably make her feel more at ease.

Grandma Cui immediately perked up and hurriedly said, “I can! I’ll go wash the vegetables. You two rest first. The green bag has snacks inside. Little Fu, go share them with your classmate…”

Cui Xuan answered and quickly went to look through the basket.

Grandma Cui’s basket was [bailiantales.com]packed full. There were vegetables, fruits, snacks, eggs, cornmeal, and even a chicken and two fish.

Zhao Mingyue crouched down beside Cui Xuan and asked, “Is Little Fu your baby name? Or is that what people from your place call everyone?”

Cui Xuan was a little embarrassed. She buried her face lower and answered vaguely, “It’s my nickname.”

This was the first time Zhao Mingyue knew that Cui Xuan had such a nickname.

Her parents did not care for her, and her grandmother had passed away. Among the relatives Cui Xuan still kept in touch with, the only one Zhao Mingyue had interacted with was Cui Xuan’s cousin.

They had not met many times, and what Zhao Mingyue had learned from her were only broad pieces of the past.

Cui Xuan also rarely mentioned those old days to her, much less told her that she had such a childhood nickname.

If this was a dream, if this was her dream, would she know these things? How could she possibly know these things? Or was all of this only her imagination?

After a moment of silence, Zhao Mingyue came back to herself and continued, “Which ‘Fu’? The ‘fu’ in cream puff?”

Although she had never eaten one, Cui Xuan had seen labels in the cake shop for “yogurt puffs” and “cream puffs.” They were probably little egg cakes stuffed with cream or yogurt filling.

“No. It’s the ‘fu’ in good fortune, the ‘fu’ in enjoying blessings,” Cui Xuan answered seriously, her tone carrying a tiny bit of pride. “Grandma gave me that name.”

When everyone else said she was a jinx, only Grandma called her Little Fu.

Little Fu. Enjoying blessings.

Zhao Mingyue lowered her eyes and silently repeated it several times in her heart.

Grandma Cui had probably hoped Cui Xuan could enjoy blessings, but from childhood to adulthood, Cui Xuan had suffered who knew how many hardships. Later, after earning money, she had poured it all into Zhao Mingyue. In that short and bitter life, what blessings had she ever enjoyed?

Zhao Mingyue’s silence did not attract Cui Xuan’s attention. She was carefully looking through the snacks: sachima, snow crackers, steamed bun chips, dried tofu, walnut drinks, jellies, lollipops, red date milk… scattered bits and pieces, with all different dates.

She carefully picked some out, packed them into a bag, and handed it to Zhao Mingyue with both hands.

Zhao Mingyue asked, “Why do you have to choose so carefully?”

Cui Xuan mumbled wordlessly and only stuffed the remaining snacks into the green bag. If she had not tried to hide them, it would have been fine, but acting so secretively only made Zhao Mingyue curious.

Zhao Mingyue reached out. “I don’t want to eat these. I want to eat the ones you’re hiding.”

Cui Xuan held the bag and refused to let go, trying to persuade Zhao Mingyue. “They’re all the same. Really, they’re all the same…”

Grandma was in the kitchen. Cui Xuan could not win against Zhao Mingyue, nor did she dare struggle with her. Zhao Mingyue easily pulled the green bag over, grabbed a handful of snacks from inside, and examined them carefully.

They looked perfectly normal. Nothing special.

Unable to see anything odd, Zhao Mingyue was just about to put them back when she suddenly thought of something. She picked up a carton of milk and found the shelf life and production date.

So it had already been expired for a long time.

She wanted to say that this had been expired for ages and could no longer be drunk, but when she lifted her eyes and met Cui Xuan’s nervous gaze, she knew Cui Xuan did understand.

“Aren’t they all the same? What were you hiding them for?” Zhao Mingyue put the things back, stood, and conveniently pulled Cui Xuan up as well. “Come on. Let’s go help Grandma.”

In the village, Grandma Cui usually cooked with firewood, so she did not know how to use a gas stove. But after Zhao Mingyue explained it briefly, she learned very quickly.

Compared with cooking the dishes, preparing the ingredients took more effort. Even with the three of them working together, by the time four dishes and one soup were placed on the table, it was already nine o’clock at night.

Grandma Cui put a birthday hat on Cui Xuan, while Zhao Mingyue stuck candles into the cake.

Cui Xuan quietly looked at that exquisite, beautiful, expensive cake. She looked at Grandma, whose hair was graying, lighting the candles. She looked at Zhao Mingyue standing by the switch, ready to turn off the lights.

She watched quietly and seriously, as if she wanted to firmly imprint this scene into her eyes and engrave it into her heart.

The living room suddenly darkened. The warm yellow candlelight flickered gently, casting swaying shadows across their faces.

Under Grandma Cui’s smiling face, amid the birthday song Zhao Mingyue softly hummed, Cui Xuan pressed her hands together, closed her eyes, and made her wish aloud.

“I hope that on my birthday next year, I can still eat Grandma’s cooking!”

Grandma Cui brushed the loose hair by Cui Xuan’s forehead and cheeks to the side and tucked it under the birthday hat. “After today, you’ll be an adult. Why are you still making such a little wish?”

“This is what I want.” Cui Xuan pressed her cheek against Grandma’s rough, callused palm and gently rubbed against it. “Even after I become an adult, Grandma has to stay with me forever.”

Grandma Cui agreed again and again, smiling as she told her to blow out the candles.

The candles swayed and went out. Darkness suddenly fell before Zhao Mingyue’s eyes. This scene made her uncontrollably think of the past.

Cui Xuan’s birthday, her broken bone, Grandma’s accident—one after another, all of them had once happened on the same day.

Grandma had held on in the operating room until the next day, then passed away without leaving behind a single word. Cui Xuan had failed to celebrate her eighteenth birthday, and from then on, she never celebrated her birthday again.

The year she had just married Cui Xuan, Zhao Mingyue had unknowingly missed Cui Xuan’s birthday. In the second year, she had only prepared a gift. In the third year, their relationship gradually grew closer… By then, nine years had already passed since Grandma Cui’s death. Zhao Mingyue did not prepare a cake, but personally made longevity noodles to celebrate Cui Xuan’s birthday.

Celebrating a birthday alone always felt lonely and desolate. With family and friends, it became much livelier. Cui Xuan had had no one with her before, and later Zhao Mingyue had arrived, so she should have taken this matter to heart.

Thinking back now, that birthday celebration might not have brought Cui Xuan joy, but reopened old pain.

Even though at the time, Cui Xuan had smiled and thanked her, smiled and accepted the gift, smiled and cooperated with her by making a wish over a single candle.

“I hope I can see Mingyue every day.”

Back then, Cui Xuan had closed her eyes and softly made that wish, then blown out the candle. The candle flame went out in the air, but in Zhao Mingyue’s heart, it had set a prairie ablaze.

I hope I can see Mingyue every day.

The Mingyue she wanted to see every day—was it the bright moon in the sky, or her, Zhao Mingyue?

At the time, Zhao Mingyue had thought Cui Xuan was speaking a veiled love confession. Her mind had been filled with stunned secret delight, entirely unaware that this Mingyue was not that Mingyue. It was not the moon in the sky, nor was it her, Zhao Mingyue.

Later still.

At the very end.

She brought Cui Xuan back from that countryside house after Cui Xuan had burned with fever until she lost consciousness. Zhao Mingyue thought for a very long time and finally made up her mind.

The final year of their contract marriage.

That year, Cui Xuan’s birthday was in late March. There were only thirteen days left before the agreement ended, only thirteen days left before Cui Xuan died, and from this moment now, also thirteen days.

The last, worst birthday she had given Cui Xuan. The birthday on which she had pretended to be that Zhao Mingyue and was exposed and rejected by Cui Xuan, who even said they should divorce early.

She and Cui Xuan had broken into their first, and also final, fierce argument since getting married. Once they started arguing, words followed words, each sentence harsher than the last, until there was no time left to think.

She said the Zhao Mingyue in Cui Xuan’s fantasy did not exist at all. She said Cui Xuan’s foot had been crippled that day, and Grandma had died that day, and no amount of desperate fantasizing could change the present in the slightest. She said if Cui Xuan could not figure it out, she should go to Grandma’s grave and wake herself up.

When that slap swung over, Cui Xuan’s hand was still trembling. As for its force, it was not that heavy.

That was the first time Cui Xuan had ever laid a hand on her.

It was also the first slap Zhao Mingyue had ever received in this life.

Cui Xuan told her to leave.

The moment the words left Zhao Mingyue’s mouth, she began to regret them. Only after being slapped did she come fully awake. She rolled out, let the cold wind blow over her, and finally reacted to just how bastardly the things she had said had been.

When she turned back to apologize to Cui Xuan, she heard Cui Xuan crying through the door.

Cui Xuan very rarely, very rarely shed tears in front of her. Cui Xuan was always mature, elegant, and rational, as if she could resolve everything with ease. Zhao Mingyue had never heard Cui Xuan cry with such heartbreaking despair.

Zhao Mingyue lingered outside the door all night. The next day, Cui Xuan went to the company as usual. When she opened the door and saw Zhao Mingyue curled up outside, her expression was calm. She even nodded at her.

“Thank you for celebrating my birthday.”

Zhao Mingyue did not know what kind of state of mind Cui Xuan had been in when she said those words, but she understood that everything was over.

That wounded heart, which had been struck by the crushing, fatal blow Zhao Mingyue had dealt it, had from that moment onward completely closed the door it had once cracked open for her.

Now that a whole lifetime lay between them, Zhao Mingyue suddenly understood in a daze that what had been shattered and sealed off back then might not only have been Cui Xuan’s heart, but also that twisted obsession that had supported her will to live.

“Thank you for celebrating my birthday.”

The voice beside her ears almost overlapped with the one in her memory. Completely different, yet so similar, making Zhao Mingyue fall into a trance for a few seconds.

She came back to herself and met Cui Xuan’s sparkling eyes. Her gaze moved downward and saw the large piece of cake Cui Xuan was holding in both hands.

“For you! Zhao Mingyue.”

“Cui Xuan…”

Meeting Cui Xuan’s slightly puzzled gaze, she swallowed back the words she had wanted to say and instead said,

“Happy eighteenth birthday.”

And also…

I’m sorry.