When he returned home that day, Huo Ranyin used the excuse that there were flaws in the renovation to call in workers to fix up a few Schrödinger-esque details, taking the opportunity to remove the surveillance camera in the corner of the living room.
From Huo Ranyin’s quiet observation, Ji Xun didn’t harbor any suspicion whatsoever. He didn’t even care about the workers who had suddenly shown up in the apartment, much less have the patience to listen to the sounds of hammering and banging; he simply sat in the study holding a book to pass the time.
Yet reading wasn’t Ji Xun’s focus either.
Huo Ranyin passed by the study twice and caught sight of the book in Ji Xun’s hands—he hadn’t turned more than two pages.
Given Ji Xun’s normal reading speed, that amount of time would have been enough for him to flip through a book from cover to cover and throw in a couple of scathing yet humorous critiques.
Huo Ranyin showed nothing on his face, but inwardly, he relaxed slightly.
He didn’t want Ji Xun to discover that he had accidentally opened the surveillance feed.
Yet seeing Ji Xun so absentminded, appearing as though he truly hadn’t noticed a thing, gave Huo Ranyin a subtle, peculiar feeling—
A feeling that Ji Xun was truly at home, by his side, having shed all vigilance and lazily dozing off.
He had become very easy to fool.
Midway through, Ji Xun took a phone call.
Huo Ranyin didn’t listen closely to what the other person was saying, only catching Ji Xun’s tone, which wasn’t very pleasant—it seemed something had been delayed.
Was this anger… vent frustration from redirected annoyance?
That evening, right up until bedtime, Huo Ranyin waited for Ji Xun to bring up the subject with him.
Yet from start to finish, Ji Xun showed no intention of speaking up.
As he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, Huo Ranyin thought hazily:
Could it be that Ji Xun still hasn’t finished rehearsing?
Or did he feel that the workers coming over to work today ruined his inner sense of ceremony?
Huo Ranyin quietly waited another day without showing a trace, yet that day turned out just like the previous one. From daytime until the night when both of them were lying in bed, Ji Xun still made no move.
Huo Ranyin even began to feel a bit perplexed over it.
Is this matter really that difficult to handle? Does it make Ji Xun hesitate this much?
Is it truly worth taking 48 hours to prepare without being ready?
In 48 hours, they had both managed to come back alive from Mr. Liu’s ship.
Then Huo Ranyin realized that he had merely happened to see Ji Xun’s preparation on the 21st by chance—it didn’t mean Ji Xun hadn’t been preparing during the times he hadn’t seen. In fact, using simple logic, one could deduce that Ji Xun had likely been agonizing over this matter for half a month, if not nearly a whole month…
On the third day, after getting off work from the police station, Huo Ranyin thought of this matter again.
He realized that something he hadn’t cared much about originally had, in a strange turn of events after discovering Ji Xun’s preparation, become a source of inner hesitation for him once more.
He shook his head inwardly.
As he turned his key to open the door, he made a decision: if Ji Xun still didn’t speak tonight, then he would be the one to bring it up—
The door opened.
The sky had turned dark, and no lights were on inside.
Yet someone was there, hiding in the dark.
Huo Ranyin’s hand rested near his waist.
He called out softly, “Ji Xun?”
A sweet, fragrant aroma suddenly washed over his nose.
In the dim space, Huo Ranyin saw a familiar figure carrying something out from the kitchen toward the island counter.
Then, a small light flickered on, illuminating the cake on the island counter, illuminating a smiling Ji Xun, and illuminating a stunned Huo Ranyin.
“Welcome home. And,” Ji Xun said, “today is your birthday. I prepared a gift that I’d like to give you.”
“…You gave me a scare.” Huo Ranyin lowered his hand. Relaxing his posture, he stepped inside, suddenly understanding what Ji Xun had been waiting for over the past few days.
He had been waiting for his birthday.
He hadn’t even thought of that himself. Perhaps Ji Xun wasn’t the only one who had suddenly become foolish.
Though it was understandable.
“I never used to celebrate my birthday in the past…” Huo Ranyin walked up to the island counter and looked at the cake on the table.
The cake wasn’t large—just six inches. On top of the plain cream sat two small figurines holding hands. Although Huo Ranyin didn’t care much for sweets, he quite liked how it looked as he stared at it. He said to Ji Xun, “You can eat more of it later.”
“Mhm,” Ji Xun hummed. “Before we light the candles, let’s open a gift first.”
The gift sat right next to the cake on the island counter—a thin, plain white box tied with a ribbon.
The box was somewhat large, with no markings on the outside, making it impossible to tell what was inside.
“Okay,” Huo Ranyin replied. At the same time, he wondered if Ji Xun’s apology might be hidden inside this gift. Perhaps it was—that would fit Ji Xun’s style.
The box opened.
Inside was a wide, long book with a hardcover. The cover design resembled his old, most important diary notebook. But when opened, there was only a single page inside—a single, jet-black page scattered with faint, dim starlight, like little guideposts stretching continuously forward.
Huo Ranyin was a bit surprised.
At that moment, something was placed into Huo Ranyin’s palm.
It was a small ceramic figure crafted in Ji Xun’s likeness, holding a cake. A candle was stuck into the cake—and the candle was actually lit, softly illuminating the words “Happy Birthday” on the tiny cake cup.
This ceramic figure was just about the right size to hold in one’s palm. As Huo Ranyin held it, he turned it over in his hand, finding it exceedingly adorable. Wasn’t this a mini-chibi version of today’s Ji Xun?
However, besides being cute, the ceramic figure was emitting heat.
He cast a puzzled look toward Ji Xun.
“Try placing it on the page,” Ji Xun said, a touch of mystery in his voice. “Start from the top left corner.”
Huo Ranyin followed his instructions.
When he pressed the little cake-holding Ji Xun onto the page, the jet-black paper underwent a transformation. The dark ink rapidly retreated outward, centered around the ceramic figure. On the paper, Huo Ranyin saw an illustration—
An illustration of an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes.
This is… me, Huo Ranyin thought.
Me, freshly born into the world.
Yet a faint trace of confusion rose in his mind.
Why make an illustration like this?
Ji Xun should know that he didn’t… didn’t particularly want to look back on his past.
The heat source expanded outward, the blackness swiftly fading away as more illustrations surfaced.
A newly born Huo Ranyin.
Huo Ranyin at one year old, at two years old, at three years old…
Learning to talk, learning to walk, going to school…
One version of Huo Ranyin after another grew older, breaking through the darkness in the light and warmth to stride rapidly forward.
The ceramic figure in his hand steadily emitted heat, as though Ji Xun were holding a cake inscribed with “Happy Birthday,” illuminating his past life.
The subtle instinct to avoid the past gradually dissolved as he watched the growing “Huo Ranyin” on the pages.
The various events of the past began to echo in his mind… The more one tried to avoid them, the harder they were to forget. The memories were so clear—so clear that they prompted him to move the ceramic figure in his hand, allowing the heat source to shine upon his 17-year-old self.
His 17-year-old self.
Appeared on the page.
Appearing there was not just him, but another person as well.
Ji Xun was there too.
Their paths had briefly intersected, overlapping closely.
Huo Ranyin’s gaze lingered on this illustration for a long time.
“Quite something to reminisce about, isn’t it?” Ji Xun said softly at this moment. “Lately, when I reflect back on that period—the 20-year-old me meeting the 17-year-old you—I met my little hero.”
Huo Ranyin raised his eyes, looking at Ji Xun with a gaze that shone exceptionally bright.
Then he lowered his eyes again.
His movements became relaxed and natural.
Moving past the heat source, Huo Ranyin was alone once more.
Yet winding lines appeared across his figure—a telephone cord, and at the end of that line was the person he wished to contact.
This connection lasted a very long time.
Spanning a full nine years.
Huo Ranyin entered university; Huo Ranyin graduated. Huo Ranyin started working; Huo Ranyin narrowly escaped death.
Twenty-five years of life passed by.
Leaving behind a single slender line that extended beyond the pages of the book.
It was his life.
At that moment, Ji Xun held Huo Ranyin’s hand, together with the warm ceramic figure resting inside it, raising them up.
“It looks a bit like your old notebook. I did that on purpose. From today onward, I hope the only notebook you remember is this one. And, before we light the real 26th birthday cake, there are a few things I’d like to say to you.”
Ji Xun took a deep breath.
“I want to apologize to you.”
Ji Xun’s gaze fixed directly on Huo Ranyin.
Huo Ranyin realized he saw immense tenderness in those eyes—and perhaps a touch of anxiety as well.
Anxiety born because of Huo Ranyin.
“I know that when we went aboard the ship earlier, I lied to you and let down your trust.”
“I kept suspecting you,” Huo Ranyin said in a low voice.
“Yes, you kept suspecting me,” Ji Xun offered him a smile. “Yet paradoxically, you trusted me deeply. Your suspicions weren’t wrong—I really did take advantage of your trust… I want to say to you: I’m sorry.”
Huo Ranyin pressed his lips together.
He felt his chest swell, expanding to the point of a faint ache.
Unconsciously, he tightened his grip around the ceramic figure in his hand.
“Our relationship has been intertwined with lies from the very beginning, never truly candid. As a result, I actually don’t know how to prove to you now that every single word I’m saying comes straight from the bottom of my heart, without a trace of falsehood. I don’t know how to lay my true heart bare before you. But I still want to say… I want to ask… are you willing to give me a chance?”
“Are you willing to give me a chance to clear away the lingering misgivings in your heart? I want your heart to be completely free of any gloom.”
“Huo Ranyin, I…” Ji Xun let out a slight huff of annoyance at himself. “I practiced this so many times, but when the time actually comes to say it, I still can’t say it well enough.”
“I know,” Huo Ranyin said softly.
“What?”
I know you practiced many times, and I even know what you looked like while practicing.
Yet he kept this tiny secret hidden deep in his heart.
“I believe you. I’m a police officer. Naturally, I can see right through your sincerity and falsehood with complete clarity,” Huo Ranyin said.
He noticed Ji Xun staring at him, holding his breath. Ji Xun was nervous.
He found himself growing nervously tense as well.
Ever since Ji Xun had jumped down toward him from the ship without a moment’s hesitation.
Ever since Ji Xun had cut the rope under the sea to forge a way out for the two of them together.
“I believed long ago that you would never fail my trust again,” Huo Ranyin finished in one breath. “As for lies… it doesn’t matter. Lies have nothing to do with trust.”
Trust was trust.
A little lie was just a little riddle.
Unraveling a little lie was a little pleasure—a way of getting along unique to him and Ji Xun.
“I told you before, I’m not that stupid. I’ll always see through your lies…”
Huo Ranyin offered a low, intimate murmur of complaint.
“You foolish detective.”
The gift had been viewed, and the apology had been brought to a satisfying close.
Huo Ranyin felt as though he could finally relax and thoroughly enjoy his first real birthday.
Yet Ji Xun was still nervous.
How strange—why is Ji Xun still nervous?
Is there still something left unfinished?
“So—” Ji Xun paused for a moment. “Your 26th birthday, and every single birthday in the years to come—”
Huo Ranyin felt his hands being grasped even tighter.
Tighter to the point of faint discomfort.
The grip pulled his heart, which had just relaxed, right back up again—
Lifting it even higher than before.
“—will I be able to celebrate all of them with you?” Ji Xun asked.
Huo Ranyin’s hands were held by Ji Xun’s left hand. He guided Huo Ranyin to open the mini-cake held by the ceramic figure.
Inside the mini-cake was hidden a pair of matching rings.
The design of the rings looked as though two plain, separate lines—after briefly crossing paths twice—had finally wound tightly around each other. Once intertwined, diamonds were embedded atop them, transforming the once-ordinary bands into a dazzling, brilliant glow.
Just like Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin, who had separated only to meet once more.
“Huo Ranyin.” Ji Xun’s voice carried a faint tremor. “I love you.”
He asked gently, with a soft smile:
“Shall we stay together for a lifetime?”
Huo Ranyin’s mind went completely blank.
He didn’t know if he voiced an agreement, but he knew that Ji Xun slipped the ring onto his finger, then took his hand to light the candles on the main cake. As the dotted flickering flames softly illuminated the cake and Huo Ranyin’s face—
They held hands and made a wish together in front of the cake.
Wishing for peace and safety, for joy and happiness.
For him and me.
Then, Huo Ranyin blew out the candles.
Together, their hands—now wearing the diamond rings—cut into the cake.
Ji Xun turned his head and smiled at Huo Ranyin:
“Huo Ranyin.”
My little hero.
“Happy birthday.”
May every year to come be filled with a happy birthday.
