Chapter 50

“……”

The weight crashing onto him felt oppressively heavy. Wen Chaosheng couldn’t steady himself right away and staggered back two more steps. “Xi Zhui? How did you…”

Xi Zhui shifted his balance just in time, shoving him straight against the wall. “Who else would come looking for you at this hour? Huh?”

Wen Chaosheng locked eyes with him, spotting the obvious drunken haze in his gaze, and replied off-topic. “You’re drunk.”

“I did have a few drinks, but I’m perfectly sober. Not drunk at all. I know exactly what I’m asking and what I’m doing!”

Xi Zhui freed one hand and gripped Wen Chaosheng’s jaw firmly. “Look at me! What about you? Why won’t you answer?”

Wen Chaosheng winced in pain but couldn’t break free, so he answered honestly. “No one but you would come looking for me at this hour.”

“I saw the messages in the crew group chat. I thought your birthday party would drag on until the early hours of the morning.”

Xi Zhui let out a derisive snort. “So Director Wen knows today’s my birthday? Out of everyone on the production team, you’re the only one I haven’t seen from dawn till dusk!”

Every year on his birthday, Xi Zhui received countless well-wishes. But this year, all his anticipation had been pinned on one person—

He wanted Wen Chaosheng to spend the day with him. He wanted to hear birthday wishes straight from that man’s mouth.

They lived right across the hall from each other, yet all he’d gotten was a cold, impersonal “Happy Birthday” over WeChat. Not a shred of warmth to it!

His eager expectations for the past few days had fallen flat, sparking a flicker of resentment. He’d deliberately ignored Wen Chaosheng’s message, hoping to “force” the man to come knocking in person.

But no—the clock had ticked past three or four in the morning, and there’d been no sign of movement from across the hall.

Before nine that morning, his management team had dragged him out of bed for work: makeup, styling, and a full schedule of birthday fan events.

He hadn’t had a spare moment, and he knew Wen Chaosheng had filming during the day, so he’d told himself to be patient—

At the very least, Wen Chaosheng would show up at the evening birthday banquet! But no sooner had Group B wrapped than the man vanished without a trace!

Xi Zhui couldn’t hold back and fired off a message. All he got in return was a perfunctory reply: “I have some personal business to handle. Not on set. Have fun tonight.”

“……”

Not even a single curly lock of hair in sight—how was he supposed to have fun?

With no scenes scheduled for the next morning, Xi Zhui had let the crew and his team ply him with round after round of birthday drinks. They’d originally planned to party with the birthday boy until dawn.

But every time the thought of not seeing Wen Chaosheng all day crossed his mind, frustration and panic bubbled up. He was terrified the man might slip away from his world again.

So Xi Zhui had used an excuse about hitting the bathroom to slip away early, firing off a quick explanatory text to his assistant Xiao Chao.

Now, staring at the man he’d finally cornered, Xi Zhui couldn’t tell if he felt more sullen or more aggrieved.

“Wen Chaosheng, have you started dodging me again?”

“No.”

Wen Chaosheng denied it. “Really, no.”

Xi Zhui stared him down, the alcohol fueling his relentless pursuit. “So you knew it was my birthday today, and you weren’t going to do a damn thing about it?”

“I…”

Wen Chaosheng faltered for a couple of seconds before saying, “Didn’t the crew get you birthday flowers and cake? I picked them out with the props manager.”

In truth, from the cake’s flavor to the flowers’ arrangement, Wen Chaosheng had chosen everything himself. The props manager had just handled procurement and delivery.

“I’m not talking about those stiff, crew-sanctioned gifts.”

Emboldened by the booze, Xi Zhui was more candid than usual. “Wen Chaosheng, I want something from you personally. Got it?”

Wen Chaosheng froze, caught off guard as he processed the words.

Xi Zhui dodged the gaze inches away, resting his forehead on Wen Chaosheng’s shoulder. “What? Can’t even be bothered to make me a little cake anymore?”

“……”

For a fleeting moment, Wen Chaosheng caught the note of grievance and disappointment in his tone. A long-buried memory fluttered to the surface—

Their birthdays were just a month apart, Xi Zhui’s first.

That November when they’d first gotten together, both had been swamped. Wen Chaosheng was rushing to finish the final cut and review submission for Flower Moon, while Xi Zhui was tied up with a company-mandated livestream event. No time to spare.

But couples always treat each other’s birthdays like sacred milestones.

Wen Chaosheng had carved out a single precious day: flying to the Imperial Capital on the afternoon of the twenty-second, returning to Haishi City the morning of the twenty-third.

To show his feelings, he’d contacted a bakery ahead of time. Once he landed, he’d pieced together spare moments to bake Xi Zhui a birthday cake by hand.

Sadly, his baking skills left much to be desired, and he refused to let anyone else touch it—

The frosting was a mess, and even the double-layered chocolate and taro filling had fused unevenly with the cake base. It was a total disaster.

Even so, Xi Zhui had been thrilled with the “imperfect” cake.

The two of them holed up in a hotel room he’d found on short notice. They lit candles, made wishes, and savored every bite until nothing was left.

“……”

Wen Chaosheng felt the warm breath against his neck and his heart skipped a beat.

Truth be told, before Xi Zhui’s birthday, he had considered baking another cake himself. But the idea had fizzled out after half a minute.

For one, they weren’t lovers anymore; making a cake by hand would seem odd.

For another, Xi Zhui had once said tastes change over time. Wen Chaosheng knew his own skills were lacking and feared dredging up unhappy memories—like that botched sugar cake from before.

Wen Chaosheng drew a shallow breath. “You got plenty of cake today. I saw them on my way back from wrap—everyone’s gifts to you looked gorgeous.”

That little cake, ugly frosting and all, had become part of their past, just like their relationship.

“……”

There were plenty of gorgeous cakes, sure—but none could compare to the one Wen Chaosheng had made and given him with his own hands.

Xi Zhui gave a faint, bitter smile, tamping down his reluctance before lifting his head again. “So where did you disappear to after wrap today?”

Faced with the sudden question, Wen Chaosheng’s eyes flickered evasively. “Didn’t I tell you on WeChat? I had some personal business.”

Xi Zhui fixed him with a stare. “What kind of business?”

What personal business could be more important than his birthday?

Or had he sunk so low in the man’s priorities that anyone or anything could come before him now?

Wen Chaosheng sidestepped. “I can’t say.”

Xi Zhui pressed on doggedly. “Can’t say? What business do you have to keep so secret?”

The pooled alcohol burned in his chest, loosening his tongue recklessly. “Were you meeting someone else? A friend? A lover? Or a fuck buddy, same as me?!”

Wen Chaosheng’s breath hitched. He cut in sharply. “Xi Zhui! What the hell are you talking about?!”

Xi Zhui raised his voice too, his eyes reddening from the drink. “Then tell me the truth! Wen Chaosheng, why’s your mouth always sealed tighter than a drum?!”

He never shared a thing!

Left him flailing around like an idiot, guessing all day!

Wen Chaosheng met Xi Zhui’s eyes, glimpsing a flash of wetness there, and finally relented. “I… I went to the temple to pray for you.”

Xi Zhui’s seething frustration stalled abruptly at the words, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “What?”

“I said, I went to the temple to pray for you.”

Wen Chaosheng sighed, recounting his afternoon itinerary honestly.

“I heard from Xiao Chao how you got that injury on your waist and abs. It’s been a long time, but I… I still felt like I had to do something. Even just as a friend.”

He’d overheard crew staff mention a famously efficacious temple in the neighboring city.

Strictly speaking, Wen Chaosheng was an atheist, but his family elders held such beliefs. They’d always dragged him to temples for incense and prayers during holidays.

Wen Chaosheng felt a bit like Tang Yu from the Contour script: he knew faith and prayers were “effective if you believe, useless otherwise”—just psychological comfort.

But for the man he cared about, he was willing to try. To pray.

Wen Chaosheng was usually a cautious driver, but today he’d pushed the limits.

He’d floored it right up to the speed limit through rush hour, barely making it before the temple closed. On Xi Zhui’s birthday, he’d prayed sincerely for his safety.

The only delay had been a massive traffic jam on the city roads before the elevated highway, which made him far later than planned.

“They say you can’t talk about it, or it won’t work.” Wen Chaosheng sighed in mild regret. “I planned to keep it from you and give it a shot quietly. But you… you had to assume the worst.”

“Sorry.”

Xi Zhui apologized without missing a beat. “I lost my head and said some stupid shit.”

Then he couldn’t help but chuckle. “You went all the way out there for that? Just to pray for me?”

Wen Chaosheng was still sulking over spilling the secret. Sensing the man’s softened attitude, he shot back for once. “Don’t believe me? Fine!”

“One minute you’re scowling, the next you’re all smiles. And you still won’t admit you’re drunk.”

“……”

Xi Zhui let him grumble on, still grinning. “You say—is lighting incense and praying any different from blowing out candles and making a birthday wish?”

“……”

Could you even compare them like that?

Wen Chaosheng blinked for a couple of seconds, but he had to concede that making birthday wishes was important too. “You must’ve made a wish today, right?”

“Nope.”

Xi Zhui hid the flicker of disappointment in his eyes and shrugged it off. “Birthday wishes don’t come true anyway.”

Once upon a time, he’d made a sincere wish over that imperfect little cake. But less than a year later, it had all fallen apart.

From then on, Xi Zhui skipped that ritualistic, pointless procedure on his birthday. “Today, I only took a photo with the birthday cake the fans sent, then we shared it on site. We did the same with the cake from the crew that you had delivered.”

Wen Chaosheng frowned disapprovingly at the thought of him wasting such a precious chance to make a wish. He softly retorted, “How can you do that? It’s only once a year.”

He picked up his phone and glanced at the time. It ticked from 58 minutes to 59 on November 22nd. Less than a minute remained.

Wen Chaosheng, rarely anxious, urged him on. “Hurry—there’s only one minute left.”

Xi Zhui raised an eyebrow. “No candles, no cake. How am I supposed to make a wish?”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng pondered for a few seconds. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the main light switch by the entrance and reached out to flip it off.

Click.

The room plunged into absolute darkness.

Before Xi Zhui could react, Wen Chaosheng switched on his phone’s flashlight. He cradled the phone in his palm and held it up right in front of Xi Zhui.

“We’ll have to fake it like this for now. But it really is your birthday today, so your wish can still come true.”

The flashlight’s cold glow illuminated the sincerity shining in Wen Chaosheng’s eyes.

Xi Zhui’s heart stirred. He desperately wanted to lean in and kiss him without a second thought.

Oblivious to the raw impulse racing through the other man’s mind, Wen Chaosheng gently prompted him again when no response came. “Come on, time’s almost up.”

Xi Zhui opened his mouth on instinct. “Then I…”

Wen Chaosheng cut him off. “Don’t say it out loud! It won’t come true if you do.”

Xi Zhui chuckled inwardly at his earnestness but played along, closing his eyes. He silently recited his three wishes one by one:

First, he hoped Wen Chaosheng would eat properly and put on some weight.

Second, he hoped Wen Chaosheng would sleep well and stay healthy.

Third, he hoped Wen Chaosheng… would never leave him again.

With his heartfelt wishes complete, Wen Chaosheng beat the stroke of midnight and added one final line. “Xi Zhui, happy birthday.”

“Thanks. I’ve received the blessing.”

Xi Zhui opened his eyes once more. In the faint glow from the phone, his gaze traced the nearby contour inch by inch. “Wen Chaosheng.”

“Hm?”

“We’re the same age again now.”

Strictly speaking, the two of them were only eleven months apart—less than a full year.

Every year, after Xi Zhui celebrated his November birthday but before Wen Chaosheng’s came around in December, they enjoyed about a month’s window of being “the same age.”

Wen Chaosheng still remembered the previous birthday. Xi Zhui had seized on that “same age” excuse, claiming it was his wish for Wen Chaosheng to call him “Brother” for once.

But Wen Chaosheng’s skin was too thin. Even blushing furiously, he couldn’t force the word out. In the end, Xi Zhui had pinned him down for a deep, thorough kiss before letting the matter drop.

“…”

“…”

In the dimness, their gazes met quietly, igniting a subtle undercurrent of ambiguity in the air.

Wen Chaosheng wrenched himself free from the lingering memory, his heart pounding in flustered chaos. He quickly flipped the wall switch back on.

Click. The room flooded with light.

Wen Chaosheng swallowed hard. “It’s… it’s very late. You should head back and get some rest.”

Xi Zhui’s brow furrowed for the briefest instant at those words, then he pivoted smoothly. “The room key’s with Xiao Chao. He’s still out at the dinner party and hasn’t come back. I can’t get into my own room right now.”

It was the same excuse as before. Anyone else might have grown suspicious after hearing it twice.

But Wen Chaosheng had unwavering faith in Xi Zhui’s character. Taking him at his word, he pressed, “So when will he be back?”

“No idea. Isn’t tomorrow a rest day? They’re probably planning to keep the party going awhile longer—they’re not done having fun yet.”

As he spoke, Xi Zhui slumped against Wen Chaosheng’s shoulder, acting as if he felt unwell. “My head’s spinning. I think the alcohol’s finally kicking in.”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng went rigid in an instant. He didn’t dare move a muscle, much less push the man in front of him away.

Xi Zhui tilted his head, his scorching breath grazing the soft shell of Wen Chaosheng’s ear. “Director Wen, how about making an exception? Let me crash here for the night?”