Wen Shaoyu was taken aback, suddenly remembering what day it was. "Sorry, I forgot..."
"Wen Shaoyu, don't apologize. I know what's important." Ji Shuhe frowned, her features scrunching up. "So, do you want the cake?"
This time, Wen Shaoyu didn't hesitate. "Yes."
Ji Shuhe headed to the kitchen. She pulled a plastic container from the fridge. The triangular slice of cake sat on the lid, with the whole container inverted over it, perfectly preserving the cream decoration.
It was pitch black everywhere. Afraid Ji Shuhe might trip carrying the cake upstairs, Wen Shaoyu thought for a moment, then opened Granny Zheng's door and waited for her.
The light flickered on, dim at first, but enough to illuminate every corner. They entered the room, one after the other, and both felt at a loss—entering a familiar place at a completely unfamiliar time.
Granny Zheng lived alone. Unlike the bustling, lively atmosphere in Ji Shuhe's grandparents' house, she had decorated her room with great taste.
The walls were painted a duck-egg blue. A large mahogany bed sat in the center. On the left, a matching nightstand held a pull-chain lamp with a mottled glass shade, reading glasses, and regularly used medicine.
Against the wall stood two walnut-colored solid wood wardrobes with double doors. The brass handles and hinges were tarnished green with rust, but the wood's luster was well-preserved.
On the right side of the large bed was a dark, carved dressing table with an oval mirror. Carvings of indistinct style flanked the mirror frame. On the tabletop sat a blue tin box of Pehchaolin, a compact of Xie Fuchun's duck-egg powder, and a buffalo horn comb.
A chest of drawers leaned against the dressing table, as tall as the mirror. On top of the chest, besides an old-fashioned radio, sat a pothos plant, its green vines cascading down, complementing the green flannel curtains by the window.
Beneath the window was a single-seat upholstered armchair, also some kind of velvet material, covered with a bamboo mat in summer. From this spot, one had a full view of the courtyard. On clear days, the sun would shine from about eight or nine in the morning until evening.
Diagonally in front of the armchair was a round coffee table. On the other side sat a mismatched rattan chair. The table was covered with a piece of glass of unknown origin, under which were pressed foreign currency, Wen Shaoyu's ID photo, and business cards of nearby plumbers and electricians.
Behind the table was a photo wall, with pictures yellowed by the plum rain season. There were photos of Granny Zheng's late husband, family trip photos, but most were individual photos of her precious daughter.
Ji Shuhe often heard the sound of the radio from this room as she headed to school, and she frequently saw Granny Zheng sitting by the window reading from the open door. The only time she had actually entered the room was for Wen Shaoyu's birthday, when Granny Zheng had brought out a folding square table and insisted they eat again even though they were already full.
No wonder stories always have that saying about seeing things and remembering people. At this moment, even Ji Shuhe couldn't help recalling moments shared in this room with Granny Zheng.
Wen Shaoyu gestured for Ji Shuhe to sit on the armchair, while he sat on the rattan chair opposite. That chair had always been his spot.
Before her grandchild moved in, Granny Zheng's room only had the armchair. Later, wanting the two of them to eat without needing to set up a table, she specially found a rattan chair tall enough for Wen Shaoyu to sit and eat comfortably.
It was mismatched, but it suited Wen Shaoyu perfectly and wasn't damaged. Later, even though Granny Zheng would occasionally comment that the rattan chair was ugly, she couldn't bear to throw it away.
Ji Shuhe rested her chin on her hand, watching Wen Shaoyu carefully open the container and take out the cake. The sweet aroma of chocolate cream wafted over, and Wen Shaoyu looked up at her at the same time.
"Even when you're the birthday girl, you chose a chocolate cake?"
Ji Shuhe knew what he meant. "It's my birthday. Let's have less bitterness."
Wen Shaoyu was about to say something else, but Ji Shuhe cut him off. "It's my birthday, so don't lecture me."
"I wasn't going to lecture you." Wen Shaoyu used his fork to pick up a perfect rosette of cream. "Anyway, I like sweet things."
Ji Shuhe said nothing. She watched Wen Shaoyu eat the entire slice of cake, bite by bite, thinking to herself that she had chosen this flavor precisely because of him.
She knew he might not come back, but she thought, just in case, some sweetness might lift his mood.
The cake was finished in a few bites. As Wen Shaoyu cleared the table, his gaze swept across the clock on the wall. It was 11:55 PM on July 21st, five minutes until Ji Shuhe's birthday ended.
It dawned on him belatedly—not only had he forgotten her birthday, but he'd even finished the cake without saying a single word of blessing.
"Still five minutes left. I can't be the first, but I'll be the last." Wen Shaoyu didn't want to pass on his anxiety to the person before him. He took a few deep breaths, trying to lighten his tone. "Happy birthday, Xiao Miaomiao."
Ji Shuhe focused on him, for the first time not avoiding his gaze. She stared at him blankly, seeing her own reflection in his eyes—frowning, lips pressed tight, not a trace of happiness.
She let out a deep sigh, and the words spilled out before she could stop them. "Seeing you like this, how can I be happy?"