[wen]: Matcha, fruit cream, or chocolate?
A random sentence. Ji Shuhe was completely confused and replied with a question mark.
A message came from the other side immediately.
[wen]: Cake. Pick a flavor you like.
Ji Shuhe finally understood.
[seedling]: I don't have any food allergies. I can eat anything.
[Wen]: I'm asking you to pick a flavor you like. Who asked if you have allergies?
That was even stranger. It wasn't her birthday, so why was she picking?
Ji Shuhe felt Wen Shaoyu was setting a trap for her. To avoid a trick, she replied with a pointless sentence.
[seedling]: There's nothing I dislike.
[wen]: ...
[wen]: Hearing your words is like hearing your words.
[wen]: Hurry up. Don't think about others. Pick something you like. After all, a person can't not know what they like.
But being clear about what she liked more was actually difficult for Ji Shuhe.
When her answer wasn't mandatory, Ji Shuhe always went along with whatever others chose.
Nothing she especially liked, nothing she especially disliked. If she didn't like eating something, she'd eat less. If she didn't like wearing something, she'd wear it less often.
She habitually accepted, habitually convinced herself. Habit became habit, so she never thought there was anything wrong with it. Besides, she wasn't the birthday person tomorrow. Acting on his behalf was inappropriate.
[seedling]: Why don't you choose yourself?
[wen]: I don't like cake.
Then why are you celebrating your birthday...
Ji Shuhe grumbled inwardly.
[wen]: You pick one for me.
But since Wen Shaoyu said this was a favor... Ji Shuhe's fingertips landed on the keyboard. The laptop, especially a thin and light one, had terrible heat dissipation. A slight warmth spread from her fingertips.
Matcha might be bitter, cream and fruit might be greasy. So chocolate it was. Chocolate-flavored things can't taste too bad. Except for Lizi, anyone could take a bite or two.
[seedling]: Chocolate.
After sending the message, Ji Shuhe suddenly became uncertain again and quickly added another sentence.
[seedling]: What do you think?
Downstairs at that moment.
Wen Shaoyu was holding his phone with both arms propped on the table. The cuffs of his fleece hoodie were too big, sliding down from his wrists to bunch up on his forearms, revealing his bony wrists.
He looked at Ji Shuhe's profile picture—a small grass with two leaves—and let out a light snort: "Told her to pick something she likes, but she just doesn't listen."
Wen Shaoyu still typed "Okay" and sent it. He leaned back into his chair, lowered his gaze to look at Lizi at his feet, who was gnawing on a toy with great enthusiasm.
He dropped his wrist to stroke the puppy's head, maliciously scaring Lizi: "She chose chocolate. Puppies can't eat chocolate. Looks like she doesn't want to include you. So you'll stay home and watch the house tomorrow."
"Woof!" Lizi didn't understand, but could sense the malicious tone and barked lowly at Wen Shaoyu.
"Shh." Wen Shaoyu gently pinched the puppy's muzzle. "Auntie goes to bed early and is a light sleeper. If you bark and disturb her rest, I won't be able to keep you either."
"Woo~" Lizi lay down gloomily, hugging his teething toy again, as if truly worried that tomorrow's gathering wouldn't include him.
Actually, it wasn't really a gathering. Wen Shaoyu thought it was more like using an excuse to have cake because he had a craving. He couldn't finish a whole cake alone, so he called others.
He didn't care about gifts either. He just wanted to teach Ji Shuhe a lesson. This little sprout couldn't be tamed, and he didn't want to stew alone.
He cared even less about his birthday, because the birthday belonged to two people—him and the mother who brought him into this world. And Wen Shaoyu had lost her forever years ago.
He had lost the carefully chosen cake, the table of sumptuous home-cooked dishes, and the mother who would hug him and wish him a happy birthday as he turned another year older.
He had lost his mother forever, and a mother had lost her daughter forever.
So since moving into Yong'anli, Wen Shaoyu had never celebrated a birthday again. If Auntie remembered, she would cook him a bowl of pork chop noodles. They would eat in silence, then unanimously think of the same person, and then become even more silent.
So the next day, when Ji Shuhe was sitting on a bench in the street park holding the cake, utterly puzzled as she watched her brother drag Wen Shaoyu to ask an uncle on the roadside to borrow a lighter to light the candles.
She really wanted to complain: why don't you celebrate at home? Why does it have to be here? But as soon as she opened her mouth, she got a mouthful of wind. The words she wanted to say ended up swallowed back down.
Ji Shulang pulled Wen Shaoyu back. Both were wearing navy blue school uniform jackets, and so was Ji Shuhe, but because she was afraid of the cold, she also wrapped a scarf before going out.
After all, it was the end of November, and Xinhai had already seen the prelude to a flash freeze cold snap. At this moment, the sky was half-dark, and the northwest wind was howling, not doing the birthday boy any favors.
The borrowed colorful plastic lighter was of terrible quality. When pressed, the flame shot up high. Ji Shulang, not used to it, had to light it twice before the candle caught fire.
The wick flickered with a tiny flame. This was the candle for Wen Shaoyu's 17th birthday—just one candle, trembling in the wind.
"Quick, quick, quick, don't let the wind blow it out!" Ji Shulang sucked his burned thumb and quickly stepped aside to make room for Wen Shaoyu. "You just had to pick an open, windy spot to eat cake. I'm so done with you."
Wen Shaoyu said nothing, staring at the flickering light, lost in thought.
Then Ji Shulang's grating voice began singing a fragmented birthday song. Ji Shuhe was too embarrassed to join in; she moved her lips slightly and reached out to shield the flame.
Then Wen Shaoyu pretended to make a wish, very quickly. Ji Shuhe felt that he probably couldn't even finish one wish before he opened his eyes and blew out the candle in one breath.
A faint burnt smell mixed with the sweet aroma of chocolate filled the air. Ji Shuhe twitched her nose, picking up a hint of melancholy bitterness.
Looking at the birthday boy himself, he didn't seem to be in high spirits either.
"Wen Shaoyu?" Ji Shuhe called softly, seeing him lost in thought again.
"Hmm." Wen Shaoyu looked at her. "What?"
Ji Shuhe thought she must have been mistaken. The strange fragility that had enveloped Wen Shaoyu moments ago instantly peeled away. His beautiful eyes looked at her, just like usual.
So she shook her head. "Nothing."
"Happy birthday to you."