Chapter 65: Happy Birthday
Song Yinxing had imagined this scene countless times.
Every night, counting down to midnight when his birthday would begin, he had hoped that someone would come to open the door of his room, push in a cream cake adorned with candles, and wish him a happy birthday.
But why did people even celebrate their own birthdays?
The day he was born wasn’t the birthday of any great figure, nor did it mark an uprising or a revolution, and it certainly wasn’t a moment that could change the world.
It was just an ordinary moment. On lucky occasions, it might fall on a Saturday or a weekend; other times, school would occupy the entire day.
He repeatedly used similar arguments to convince himself of this.
Until he saw Gu Yang in front of him, and for a fleeting moment, he heard the sound of his emotional defenses collapsing.
It turned out that he had always cared.
Seeing him standing there motionless, Gu Yang tiptoed slightly, trying to meet his eyes: “You don’t want me to come in?”
Song Yinxing, like a wind-up puppet that only moved when prodded, fumbled to get the slippers. But Gu Yang was wearing high-top leather boots, and with both hands holding the cake, it was impossible to remove them.
He didn’t know why he did it, but he half-kneeling down, intending to help take off Gu Yang’s boots.
Gu Yang pulled back his feet slightly. With no strange intentions, he couldn’t help but complain: “Don’t you know you should put the cake down first?”
Hearing this, Song Yinxing suddenly woke as if from a dream. He stood up again and took the cake from Gu Yang’s hands.
It was a small four-inch cream cake, with “happy birthday” scrawled unevenly in yellow icing.
“At this hour, most bakeries are closed. It’s lucky I could even get one. You’re not allowed to dislike it.”
Having been exposed to the cold wind all the way in the taxi, Gu Yang’s voice still carried a nasal tone as he spoke.
“How could I dislike it?” Song Yinxing’s voice was still a bit hoarse, his gaze clinging to Gu Yang like a magnet.
Even though it was only his second trip here, Gu Yang recognized the bench he had sat on last time and pulled it out to sit down.
Song Yinxing asked softly: “Weren’t you supposed to be at a birthday banquet? Why did it end so early?”
“Something came up.” Thinking about the previous scene, Gu Yang’s lips even curved slightly. “Anyway, it was over early. Otherwise, you could have watched a real dog-eats-dog show.”
“Ye Chen actually tried to poison me on my birthday. After being classmates for three years, that’s really going too far.” Gu Yang complained lightly.
Song Yinxing instantly felt his heart tighten: “Are you okay?”
As he spoke, he observed Gu Yang carefully.
“I’m fine. I stayed in my room; he got himself admitted to the hospital.”
In his previous life, the only thing Song Yinxing knew about Ye Chen was that during a quarrel with Lu Ran, he accidentally pushed him down the stairs, causing serious injuries, and Lu Ran had to take a year off.
Later, the Lu family came demanding an explanation, and Ye Chen transferred out of Guanli Middle School.
11:58 PM.
The clock on the wall kept ticking. With each faint click of the second hand, Song Yinxing’s heartbeat coincided with it.
Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly remembered something, ran to his room, took the gift box from the drawer, handed it to Gu Yang, and said:
“Happy Birthday.”
At the moment the day was about to end, he finally said the words aloud to Gu Yang.
Gu Yang remained seated, took the small gift box from Song Yinxing, and opened it. Inside was a necklace: a thin silver chain with a pendant of a sea-blue semi-precious stone.
“For me?”
Song Yinxing nodded, his gaze never leaving him.
Gu Yang took out the necklace. The silver chain wrapped around his fingers, and the sea-blue stone shimmered subtly under the light, reflecting on his calm expression.
“It’s beautiful.” He turned his head slightly, his gray eyes like clouds dispersing before a storm. The delicate blue light flashed briefly. “Are you going to help me put it on?”
Song Yinxing’s heart raced even faster. Yet his expression remained calm. Silently, he took the necklace from Gu Yang’s hands, unclasped it, bent down, and draped it around Gu Yang’s neck, holding him gently in his arms.
In this posture, the tip of his nose brushed against Gu Yang’s hair, a faint floral scent with a slightly damp trace lingering.
This was probably the least valuable gift Gu Yang had ever received.
Song Yinxing thought.
“I’ll work hard to earn more money. Every year from now on, I’ll give you better gifts.” Song Yinxing said, his lips brushing Gu Yang’s ear. The words were solemn.
“Why say every year?” Gu Yang asked abruptly.
Song Yinxing recoiled as if burned, withdrawing his hand, looking at him helplessly.
What Gu Qingxu had once said seemed to haunt him like a recurring nightmare—was it the same in Gu Yang’s mind? That high school was their last intersection?
Gu Yang lowered his eyes, his dense lashes shading his expression.
The process didn’t take long, yet Song Yinxing felt it like an eternity. Every tick of the second hand felt like torture, and the person before him was like a god ready to pass judgment.
After a long silence, Gu Yang slowly lifted his head, extended his hand, fingers slightly curled, revealing only his pinky: “Then okay, let’s agree on every year.”
Song Yinxing couldn’t describe Gu Yang’s expression at that moment, but he would never forget this day.
Like every scar once inflicted upon him, even if gone now, the pain would never be forgotten.
He carefully hooked his finger with Gu Yang’s. Gu Yang lightly shook his hand like a child, then stamped it with his thumb.
After this, Gu Yang exhaled deeply, as if such a simple act had drained all his energy.
“It’s past twelve,” he murmured. “Now it’s my turn to wish you a happy birthday.”
“Ah, I didn’t prepare a gift.” His sleepy tone made the nasal twang more obvious. “But I didn’t expect you to have one either, even though you didn’t attend my birthday banquet.”
“This cake is enough,” Song Yinxing said. “It’s already the best birthday gift I’ve ever received.”
“The best…” Gu Yang repeated, still holding his hand. “Then I’ll also give you gifts every year. That’s our promise.”
The touch of their skin burned. Song Yinxing nodded lightly. In his eyes, this mutual promise was like a chain linking them together.
He could no longer ignore his own selfish desire.
He wanted to be with Gu Yang, to hold his gaze entirely, to feel his presence at every moment.
His gaze clung to him, tracing every movement, even each strand of hair.
There had always been a large void in his heart, like a barren desert where the wind howled, impossible to fill.
“It really feels like a dream,” Song Yinxing whispered.
“Why? You’re not awake yet?”
“No.” Song Yinxing shook his head. “I just never understood why you’ve helped me so many times.”
His hands clenched unconsciously as he spoke.
Wouldn’t it have been easier to play dumb and maintain the status quo? Not to pry into the reasons, just cherish the present? Who could predict what excessive curiosity would bring?
Since childhood, he could spend hours at his desk struggling with an unsolvable problem. His stubborn nature—never turning back until hitting a wall—might have contributed to the tragedy of his previous life.
But now he asked, because it was Gu Yang.
“When I was little, I was playing in the street. A fortune-teller came up and offered to read my hand. I showed it to him.”
“He said that in my past life, I was a scholar in ancient times, chivalrous and helpful, but I failed to fulfill an important person’s wish, dying frustrated, so I reincarnated to continue my will.”
“He stopped there and asked me for fifty yuan first, saying he would then tell me more about my life story.”
“I was about to pay when the nanny pulled me away. She told me to be careful; these are all scams meant to take money.”
Song Yinxing: “…”
He had met such swindlers before, though they only asked for five yuan, probably judging by the person. They spoke endlessly about an impending chaotic era, giving him a name for luck. He ran away, fearing deception.
Such tricks only worked on children or superstitious elders. Any normal person wouldn’t believe them—it was foolish.
“But I don’t think that way,” Gu Yang said, faintly smiling. “How would she know the fortune-teller wasn’t some hidden sage?”
Song Yinxing silently withdrew his earlier statement.
“Unfortunately, there’s no one around me who truly needs help. On the surface, everyone seems fine; after all, they’re rich, and money solves 90% of the world’s troubles.”
So in the end, he could only fantasize like Don Quixote—pretending to be a knight, righting wrongs, helping the weak—turning windmills into giants, and sheep into enemies, lost in his own world.
Until that woman’s passing severed his last connection with the world.
Gu Yang still couldn’t understand the principles behind being able to see the world like a book.
But regardless, the result was that he had seen it all.
He had witnessed countless hidden stories, initially just observing out of curiosity.
But at some point, the hard shell of his heart was pried open; light leaked in. He saw himself, and he saw others.
A profound sense of compassion welled up uncontrollably—not weakness, but a silent river flowing deep in his soul.
He finally felt he could do something.
Song Yinxing finally received an answer, neither exactly a reason nor entirely separate from it.
His feelings were subtle, like being struck by flowers at the curtain call.
Yet for him, it was a good enough answer.
No matter what, Gu Yang had walked toward him. Now it was his turn to walk toward him.
No matter how much effort it required, even if it meant getting hurt.
“Do you have a lighter?” Gu Yang said, opening the plastic lotus candle that came with the cake.
Snapping back to reality, Song Yinxing fetched one from the kitchen, lit the candle, and watched as the lotus bloomed with flames.
He turned off the room lights, leaving only the candle burning, accompanied by the electronic melody of the birthday song.
