Chapter 54
“My birthday…?” Song Shuci was taken aback.
After so many years of being busy, with so many things to remember, although he remembered the date of his birthday, he always forgot when it actually approached. Work troubles, daily trivialities, anything could take precedence over his birthday.
“I knew you would forget,” Jian Wu glanced at his watch, “It’s okay, there are still two minutes left.”
He lit the candles on the cake, turned off the lights, leaving only the flickering candlelight, which cast a soft, warm shadow on Jian Wu’s face. He then tried to put a comical birthday hat on Song Shuci, who, before he could be touched, took a step back: “This hat is too ugly.” His aesthetic sense couldn’t tolerate such a thing on his head.
But seeing Jian Wu’s slightly disappointed expression, he hesitated for a moment, then relented: “Fine, I’ll wear it… for a bit.”
Half a minute later, he sat in the middle of the sofa, a flamboyant birthday hat perched on his head.
Jian Wu took several photos of him, like a reporter conducting an interview. Just as Song Shuci was starting to regret his decision, Jian Wu finally put away his phone and said: “It’s midnight, make a wish.”
As the phone screen went dark, the white light disappeared, leaving only the warm glow of the candles.
Song Shuci looked at him for a moment, then, looking at the candlelight, suggested: “Make a wish with me.”
“Ah?”
He stared at the tiny flames, “I’ll share half of my wish with you.”
“That won’t do.”
He looked into Jian Wu’s eyes: “I say it’s okay, then it’s okay.”
Jian Wu turned his head away, using his guitar as a shield: “Then you make a wish first, I’ll sing for you.”
“Okay.”
Song Shuci didn’t insist. He closed his eyes in the darkness, and soon, the melody of “Happy Birthday” filled the air. He could feel the warmth of the candlelight and the vibration of the guitar strings.
People with good voices were just unfair. Even such a familiar song, sung by him, was exceptionally moving, bringing back countless memories of the songs Jian Wu had sung for him.
He hid his emotions, opened his eyes, and looked at the young man holding the guitar: “Your turn.”
“Okay.” Jian Wu put down his guitar, took a few steps closer, and put his hands together.
He closed his eyes, not noticing Song Shuci staring at him as he made his wish, missing the overly affectionate gaze and the barely contained love in his eyes.
When he opened his eyes, Song Shuci had already looked away, his gaze back on the cake.
They had celebrated birthdays together too many times. Without a word, they both leaned down and blew out the candles simultaneously.
After blowing out the candles, they leaned back on the sofa, neither of them turning on the lights. A brief moment of festivity, followed by a long silence.
After a long time, Song Shuci finally asked: “Should we turn on the lights?”
Jian Wu, who had his eyes closed, opened them and looked around the living room: “I can see.”
As he spoke, his gaze suddenly fell on the family photo under the TV.
After a moment, he stood up, walked forward, and took the photo frame.
It was a photo of him, his mother, and his father. Jian Yu in the photo was still very young, while his father, already ill, looked slightly tired. This was their last family trip together. Considering his father’s condition, they hadn’t gone far, just to a neighboring city.
His father was a workaholic no less than Song Shuci. In his memory, his father rarely had a proper dinner. Every night, he was either teaching students at school or working on math problems at home. Even during that trip, his father was still working on problems, saying he wanted to prepare a few more difficult questions before the college entrance exam.
Jian Yu told him to rest, but his father secretly worked on problems under the covers. When Jian Yu discovered it, she, usually good-tempered, argued with him, but after the argument, she collapsed in his arms and cried.
And as she cried, his father vomited blood.
Jian Wu’s father had left him many memories, but most of the scenes in Jian Wu’s mind now were of his father vomiting blood.
The image was so deeply ingrained in his memory that even after almost ten years, seeing Song Shuci vomit blood, he still couldn’t remain calm.
Song Shuci, like his father, worked himself to the bone, a repeat of history.
Jian Wu placed the photo face down on the table and suddenly asked Song Shuci: “Do you know which line in the wedding vows I like the most?”
“Which one?”
“Being together forever.”
A crisp sound echoed in the air, Jian Wu opening a beer. Song Shuci frowned slightly. He knew Jian Wu could hold his liquor, but he was drinking too much today.
Jian Wu took two large gulps and continued: “But that’s impossible. Everyone will leave eventually, from the moment we’re born, we start saying goodbye, no one can live forever. And most of the time, when a couple meets, they’ve already lived a third of their lives, no one can truly accompany another person from birth to death, for a lifetime.”
Song Shuci, after hearing this, was silent for a long time.
So long that even the slightly tipsy Jian Wu realized he was being overly sentimental.
Actually, in a way, he and Song Shuci were quite similar. Song Shuci never revealed his inner thoughts to others, and Jian Wu also never talked about his father or death with anyone.
Even during the many years they were together, he rarely brought up these topics.
“Hey, what am I even saying?”
He realized he was being too negative, broke the silence, cut a piece of cake, and offered it to Song Shuci, trying to lighten the mood. But Song Shuci didn’t take the cake, instead, he took his hand.
“Do you think I can?”
In that moment, Jian Wu clearly heard his own heartbeat.
He watched Song Shuci’s lips move and heard him say: “I was born a little earlier than you, so I was part of your first half of life. From now on, I’ll maintain a healthy lifestyle, take care of my body… and try to stay with you until you don’t want to live anymore.”
The wind from the balcony was too strong, and Jian Wu’s hand, holding the cake, trembled slightly.
He looked at Song Shuci, opened his mouth, but the white veil casually draped on the sofa was blown up by the wind, covering his face, interrupting his words.
He had chosen several veils for his mother’s wedding, and the unused ones were piled on the back of the sofa, now swaying in the wind, rustling.
The night was quiet, his breath seemed to still. Song Shuci looked at him, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly.
Jian Wu could have removed the veil, but he didn’t, so the next second, Song Shuci pressed his shoulders and pushed him down onto the sofa.
The kiss, through the veil, had a rough texture, unlike a normal kiss, making Jian Wu’s lips sting slightly. The white veil blurred his vision, preventing him from seeing Song Shuci’s face clearly.
He suddenly remembered one night after the hospital proposal, he and Song Shuci went to the mall for dinner, then looked at wedding rings. Although they couldn’t afford them, they still patiently looked at every brand in the mall.
Although they broke up not long after that sweet, short night, at that moment, he had truly looked forward to marrying him.
The veil was lifted, like the end of a dream.
Jian Wu looked up and saw Song Shuci’s face clearly.
He could feel Song Shuci’s blood rushing and his barely contained desire. Their bodies were too familiar with each other, even a kiss through a veil was enough to arouse them.
Perhaps the alcohol had taken over his mind. He looked at Song Shuci in the darkness for a moment, then suddenly reached out and unbuttoned his shirt.
Song Shuci’s mind exploded.
Jian Wu had drunk too much tonight, the entire room filled with the heavy scent of alcohol, intoxicating even without drinking.
Song Shuci thought, he might also be drunk.
He bit Jian Wu’s collarbone almost the moment he saw it.
Wenming and Wansui were asleep, and the room was very quiet. His lips pressed against the hot skin of Jian Wu’s neck, listening to his heavy breathing and soft moans, the rustling of fabric exceptionally clear.
Deepening the kiss, Song Shuci reached out to unbutton his shirt further, but Jian Wu stopped him. The young man looked at him with hazy eyes, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol: “I don’t want to take off my clothes.”
Song Shuci didn’t insist. He put his hand on his waist, pulled his shirt out of his pants, and slid his hand underneath.
Anyway, even if he couldn’t see, he was so familiar with this body that he didn’t need to see to know exactly where Jian Wu was most sensitive.
The moment he touched his skin, they both gasped, barely suppressing the shivers brought on by the overly familiar touch.
Jian Wu’s eyes flickered, and he struggled to get up, saying they should go to the bed. Song Shuci, his Adam’s apple bobbing, touched his head and pushed him back onto the sofa, leaving no room for resistance: “Right here.”
The sofa was too cramped, there was nowhere to escape.
Soon, Jian Wu’s body started trembling slightly. He curled up involuntarily, and Song Shuci straightened him out. His neck was covered in hickeys, his white shirt, although not removed, was pulled open, sliding off his shoulder.
As he withdrew his hand, Song Shuci felt a slightly raised bump on Jian Wu’s lower left abdomen. Jian Wu’s skin around his waist and abdomen had always been smooth, his muscles toned. This bump made him feel a little strange.
He lowered his head, wanting to lift his shirt and take a look, but Jian Wu, as if suddenly sobering up, pressed his hand against his shirt.
“When did you get a scar here?” Song Shuci asked in a low voice.
“Tattoo,” Jian Wu panted, lying without changing his expression, “I had it removed later, it didn’t heal properly, so it left a scar.”
Song Shuci had never had a tattoo and didn’t know if it would leave a scar, but Jian Wu’s reaction, coupled with his refusal to take off his clothes, was interpreted by him as the young man not wanting to reveal his imperfect body.
“I don’t mind,” he said.
Jian Wu was silent for a while, then suddenly lifted his chin and kissed him. He seemed aroused, but his hand, pressing against his shirt, didn’t loosen its grip.
Song Shuci’s blood rushed from the kiss, and he quickly compromised, withdrawing his hand from between Jian Wu’s hand and his shirt.
Alcohol intensified the feeling of a racing heart. Perhaps because they were drunk, they were both a little reckless, pulling at each other’s clothes, their lips and teeth kissing and biting, the pain and pleasure both distinct.
The belt buckle hit the carpet with a thud, and Jian Wu’s lower body felt a chill as his black trousers were pulled down, his long legs gleaming white in the darkness.
The night breeze blew, and he instinctively curled his legs, but Song Shuci grabbed his ankle.
The man caressed the skin of his ankle, leaned down, pressed against his chest, and asked in a low voice: “Do you have everything?”
Jian Wu covered his face with his arm: “Just do it.”
Song Shuci pulled his hand away and looked at him: “It’ll hurt.”
Jian Wu swallowed: “…It’s okay.”
Song Shuci looked at him for a while, then turned to the cake on the coffee table, the beautiful cake covered in white cream peaks.
After a while, he took off his watch and scooped up some cream with the cake knife.
He loved preparing Jian Wu.
He loved watching Jian Wu in his hands, his eyes closed, his brow slightly furrowed, his lower lip bitten, letting out soft moans.
His eyes had adjusted to the darkness just right now. The moonlight allowed him to see Jian Wu’s expression clearly. He placed one hand on Jian Wu’s smooth knee, the other busy between his legs.
Then, he replaced his hand with his own.
Revisiting this familiar territory, the long-suppressed desire was fully ignited. It was difficult for Song Shuci to describe his feelings at that moment, the excitement, the thrill, the intense satisfaction, and the ache in his heart, all exploding within him, making him lose track of time and place.
He expertly lifted Jian Wu’s leg and placed it on his shoulder, his body and mind consumed by a frantic urge and pleasure.
He soon heard Jian Wu’s suppressed moans, about to break free.
“Don’t hold back,” he caressed Jian Wu’s chin, freed his lower lip from between his teeth, and said earnestly, “Your moans are even better than your singing.”
This passionate indulgence lasted until the early hours of the morning.
Song Shuci was still in his suit, only his hair was messy, and his forehead slightly sweaty.
He looked at the man on the sofa under the moonlight.
The crumpled white veil covered Jian Wu’s eyes, only his damp, red lips and the sharp lines of his lower face were visible.
The white shirt couldn’t hide his flushed legs. The sweet scent of cake filled the air. The cool night breeze dispelled the summer heat. The moonlight shone on him, both holy and sensual.
Song Shuci stared at this scene for a long time, then suddenly spoke:
“Did you drink so much because you only dared to sleep with me when you were drunk, or are you planning to tell me tomorrow morning that you were drunk… and pretend you don’t remember anything?”
