The real conversation about birthdays came as they stepped into the snow outside.
Li Jichuan had eaten too much. The restaurant backed onto a small park, and Su Pu suggested a walk to digest.
The park was quiet at night, save for a few listless dog walkers and their energetic pets.
They walked slowly, leaving gentle prints in the soft snow.
“My birthday… is the same day as my mother’s,” Li Jichuan said quietly, exhaling a puff of white in the cold air.
“When I was little, that day made me happiest. Every candle I blew out twice—first my mother, then me.”
Su Pu held his hand tightly, feeling the subtle strength in the grasp.
Li Jichuan smiled, finally at peace. He no longer cared about the past.
“After my parents left, birthdays lost their meaning. The day became a faint memory. I almost forgot when my own birthday was, only remembering long after the fact.”
They reached the center of the park. The flower beds usually held roses, but now, winter covered them in snow, making the scene barren.
Bang—bang—
Fireworks exploded in the distant sky, the final surprise of the night carefully planned by Su Pu.
Even in his sickest days, he had been moved by fireworks on New Year’s Eve. He wanted to give that joy to Li Jichuan—to make up for missed fireworks, for the nights that had brought him to tears.
Li Jichuan understood instantly, tilting his head back to admire the display.
For some reason, a tinge of salt reached his lips, yet it didn’t taste bitter. It was sweet.
Su Pu stood on tiptoe, brushing the tears from his face with the back of his hand, never mocking his sensitivity.
Eyes shifting constantly, Li Jichuan tried to memorize the night—the taste of food, the sweetness of the cake, the unending fireworks, the clumsy yet passionate love, and the cold air contrasting sharply, swirling together in visible breath, vanishing into the night.
He wished the memory could last forever. The child who had never celebrated a birthday since adolescence felt cherished that night.
From then on, he was loved and would love generously in return.
The lingering warmth of that birthday became one of Li Jichuan’s sources of comfort.
He sometimes imagined building a “museum” just for the two of them—a place to exhibit, preserve, and maintain their happiest memories, keeping them fresh forever.
Meanwhile, Su Pu, deeply moved by Li Jichuan’s tears, could not let it go.
Somewhere along the way, he had unconsciously assigned Li Jichuan the role of a perfect caregiver, believing he should always be strong, composed, and in control.
But recent events had taught him that fate is unpredictable—no one can foresee the future, no matter how capable.
From his grandfather’s passing to his sudden illness and self-imposed isolation…
Then, as recovery came, he was kidnapped, facing life-and-death situations.
Su Pu realized he had been spoiled, naturally placing Li Jichuan at the center of his world, focusing on healing himself while forgetting to care for the most important person beside him.
Li Jichuan must have been scared.
After all, for him, Su Pu was the only family he had. No matter what form Su Pu took, Li Jichuan held tightly to his hand, dragging him forward.
So, how had Li Jichuan’s fear finally been soothed?
“What are you thinking about, Xiao Pu?”
Pei Zhicheng had noticed Su Pu staring dreamily at his hand on his chin all morning and finally asked.
Su Pu lowered his gaze briefly, then looked up, eyes passing through the café’s floor-to-ceiling window.
The sun had risen; snow was swept to the sides of the street, sparkling like diamonds.
The sky, washed by the snow, was intensely blue. Music drifted softly, and the aroma of coffee filled the air.
Su Pu thought for a moment, smiling faintly: “Little Pei… I’m really happy.”
“Ah?” Pei Zhicheng tilted his head, confused. “What?”
“You asked before if I was happy, and I said I didn’t know.”
Now, Su Pu’s voice trailed softly at the end of each sentence, his sense of rhythm still forming.
Yet he emphasized once more: “Now… I know. I’m happy… and I feel so blessed.”
Pei Zhicheng, half understanding, murmured, “Ah… but then why are you spacing out?”
Su Pu giggled, hiding his mouth, changing the subject.
He had a little secret now.
A secret he would tell no one.
He confided to Pei Zhicheng: “I want… Li Jichuan to feel this happy too…”
Pei Zhicheng snorted. If only Li Jichuan knew how happy he already was every day!
He glanced at the once-timid little mute, now grinning and rubbing his cheeks, trying not to look so overjoyed.
But his smile barely lasted two seconds before curling up again, burying his face in the table, chuckling foolishly.
A few days later, Su Pu began his secret mission.
To avoid drawing attention and ensure the plan went smoothly, he arranged the meeting at a café on the opposite side of the city.
Midway through, his phone rang—Li Jichuan rarely called during work hours, always messaging first.
Su Pu stepped aside, worried it might be urgent.
Li Jichuan’s voice was calm: “Xiao Pu, are you working?”
Feeling guilty, Su Pu whispered a soft “Mm.”
“Dinner together tonight?” Li Jichuan asked.
Su Pu’s fingers tightened around his phone, pressing against the metal frame, feeling a small sting. “Is… something wrong?”
“Can’t I call you if there’s nothing wrong?” Li Jichuan teased lightly.
“Oh,” Su Pu relaxed, “Okay.”
“Wait for me at the café after work. Don’t wander off.”
“Okay,” Su Pu said, hanging up, and returned to his meeting.
On the sidewalk, Li Jichuan lowered his phone, staring intently into the street-facing café window.
He had told him not to run off—but he’d gone far anyway.
After a few moments, Li Jichuan got into the car. The driver asked if he wanted to return to the office or head to the Dandelion Café.
Li Jichuan rolled his eyes, unimpressed: “Only the office, I guess.”
The driver nodded and merged into traffic.
After two blocks, a laugh came from the back seat. Li Jichuan rubbed his face, clearly amused.
“Hah… never met someone this bad at lying. What am I going to do with you?”