Chapter 54: Side Story 2
Another winter arrived.
Jing Ciying hadn’t been fond of winter before, associating it with coldness and hardship.
But now, with Pei Songji’s birthday in winter, his feelings had shifted.
He couldn’t quite articulate the change, just a sense of deeper connection to the world, to the seasons, through Pei Songji.
But his newfound appreciation for winter was quickly overshadowed by a more pressing concern.
Pei Songji’s birthday was approaching; what should he get him?
It was a difficult question. Pei Songji had everything.
He tried to subtly inquire about Pei Songji’s wishes, but Pei Songji always gave the same answer.
“You.”
“I already have you,” Jing Ciying would retort, amused. They were married now; he wasn’t going anywhere.
Pei Songji would just chuckle and hold him tighter. “Then there’s nothing I want.”
Jing Ciying: “…”
Since he couldn’t get any clues from Pei Songji, he turned to his friends.
But Pei Songji’s social circle was small, and the only person he could ask was Chu Yang.
They had become closer since he and Pei Songji started dating.
He hesitated, then sent Chu Yang a message.
[Chu Yang, are you there? Need your advice.]
A quick response.
[Here.jpg]
[What’s up?]
[Do you know what Songji wants lately?]
Chu Yang instantly guessed his intention.
[Birthday gift troubles?]
[How did you know?]
[Because I’m having the same problem. But you shouldn’t, you’re married to him. Shouldn’t be that difficult.]
Jing Ciying felt a pang of guilt.
[Is it easy for you to choose gifts for your boyfriend?]
[Of course.]
Jing Ciying’s curiosity was piqued.
[What do you usually get him?]
Chu Yang didn’t respond immediately. Just as Jing Ciying was starting to wonder if he had overstepped, a link appeared in their chat window.
Trusting Chu Yang, he clicked on it without hesitation.
Then…
He quickly turned his phone face down, his face burning.
But Chu Yang continued sending messages, the phone vibrating on his desk.
He reluctantly turned his phone back over, his gaze falling on the image of… lingerie.
He quickly exited the page, seeing Chu Yang’s messages.
[Get him this. He’ll love it.]
[Why?]
[All men love this kind of thing.]
[Trust me, it’s more effective than anything else you could get him.]
[Seriously, I’m not kidding.]
Jing Ciying was skeptical.
[Have you tried this?]
A quick reply.
[Of course. How else would I know?]
Jing Ciying: I’m impressed.
He decided to end the conversation. He would rather die than wear something like that in front of Pei Songji.
But…
Would Pei Songji actually like it?
He continued pondering the gift dilemma, Chu Yang’s suggestion lingering in his mind.
Should he try it?
Although they had been intimate many times, it had always been… conventional. Perhaps Pei Songji was bored?
He hadn’t considered that before. They had always seemed compatible, Pei Songji always seemed satisfied. Why else would they be intimate so often?
He dismissed the thought.
He wouldn’t wear something like that.
…Probably not.
Pei Songji’s birthday arrived.
They both took the day off to visit his grandparents.
Pei Songji always celebrated his birthday with his family.
His grandmother was delighted to see Jing Ciying, fussing over him, while his grandfather summoned Pei Songji to his study.
His grandmother just chuckled, not interfering, chatting with Jing Ciying and offering him homemade snacks.
She asked him what he had gotten Pei Songji, and he almost choked on his pastry.
“What’s wrong? Here, have some tea,” she said, handing him a cup.
He took a sip, calming down.
“Cufflinks,” he said.
“A gift from you? He’ll wear them every day.”
He smiled, not mentioning that the cufflinks were made from a rare sapphire he had bought at an auction, almost depleting his savings.
He had had to ask Chu Yang for help; his own funds hadn’t been enough to even enter the auction.
Chu Yang, as always, had offered his unsolicited advice when he delivered the sapphire. “Seriously, if you gave him a choice, he’d rather see you in…”
“I know,” Jing Ciying had interrupted, embarrassed. They were in a public place; how could Chu Yang be so blatant? He still couldn’t understand how they had become friends; their personalities were so different.
“I have a gift for you too,” his grandmother said, handing him an antique jewelry box.
“For me? Why?” he asked, surprised.
“Songji gets a gift, so do you.”
“But it’s not my birthday. You already gave me a gift for my birthday.”
“I’m allowed to spoil you,” she said with a smile, handing him the box.
He opened it to see a large, uncut red diamond, at least ten carats. Red diamonds were rare, especially of this size. Even he, a non-expert, knew its value.
“Grandma, this is too much. I can’t accept this.”
“Nonsense,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Everything I own will be yours eventually. Who else would I give it to? It’s just… I love jewelry. I don’t have much that you can wear. This one isn’t cut yet; you can have it made into whatever you like, or just keep it as an investment.”
She pressed it into his hand. “Take it.”
He couldn’t refuse, so he accepted it gratefully. “Thank you, Grandma.”
They had lunch with his grandparents, then Pei Songji suggested an activity.
“Let’s go play some golf.”
The suggestion surprised Jing Ciying. Although Pei Songji had a small indoor golf course in his office, he had never seen him use it, even for business functions.
This was the first time he had expressed interest in playing golf.
He didn’t want to dampen his enthusiasm, so he agreed.
But he felt strangely awkward and self-conscious, unable to make a single shot.
“What’s wrong? Suddenly forgot how to play?” Pei Songji asked, amused. Jing Ciying had always been capable, learning anything and everything he needed to assist him, always excelling.
He was clearly off his game today.
“My arm hurts,” Jing Ciying said.
Pei Songji immediately put down his club. “Then let’s stop.”
He was about to take him back to the clubhouse when Jing Ciying said, “No, I’ll just watch you play.”
Pei Songji smiled. “Actually, I don’t really feel like playing either.”
“Why not?”
“Because… golf was my mother’s favorite sport.”
He forced a smile. “Let’s go.”
Jing Ciying hadn’t expected that. He didn’t know what to say, so he took Pei Songji’s hand and they walked back together, the silence comforting.
Wanting to cheer him up, Jing Ciying pulled out all the stops.
They had dinner at Pei Songji’s favorite French restaurant.
Back at their apartment, it was time for gifts.
Pei Songji opened the box, seeing the sapphire cufflinks, his eyes lighting up. “Thank you. I love them.”
He was about to put them on when Jing Ciying stopped him.
“Wait. There’s one more gift.”
“What?”
Jing Ciying took his hand and placed it on his collar.
Pei Songji looked at him, puzzled, then his eyes darkened as he understood, his fingers deftly unbuttoning Jing Ciying’s shirt, revealing the lacy lingerie beneath.
He stopped, his gaze intense.
Jing Ciying’s face burned. He turned to turn off the lights, but Pei Songji stopped him, pressing him against the wall.
“Leave the lights on. I want to see you.”
He placed the cufflink box in Jing Ciying’s hand. “Put these on for me later.”
Jing Ciying’s mind went blank, his face burning, and he took the box without thinking.
He would soon regret that decision.
The living room lights were dimmed, but not completely off, much to Jing Ciying’s embarrassment.
His clothes were discarded, his body clad only in a thin layer of lace, tiny bells tinkling with every movement.
His body ached, his hands trembling too much to hold the cufflinks, but Pei Songji, holding him close, insisted he put them on.
His fumbling fingers couldn’t manage the task, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes, and Pei Songji finally relented, kissing away his tears, his voice a low murmur in his ear.
“Who taught you this?”
Jing Ciying didn’t want to admit it, but Pei Songji was persistent, and he finally confessed.
“Chu Yang… he said… you would like it.”
Pei Songji chuckled, kissing his forehead. “He’s a bad influence. Stay away from him.”
Jing Ciying readily agreed, vowing never to listen to Chu Yang’s advice again.
But Pei Songji’s thoughts were elsewhere.
Thanks, buddy.
