Still Frame Chapter 26
byChapter 26 The North Star
On the way, they unexpectedly ran into Uncle Feng, who was accompanied by a very young-looking man.
Uncle Feng waved at them, his voice still booming, “Hey, what a coincidence, you guys are out for a walk too?”
Then, he smiled and patted the young man next to him on the shoulder, “This is my son, Feng Xi. He’s studying at Serin City University, currently in his junior year.”
Mentioning his son, Uncle Feng’s face was full of pride.
The young man was very slender, with light brown hair and a pair of emerald green eyes. His skin was pale, giving him an ethereal, elf-like lightness. He glanced at them and asked his father who they were.
“New employees at the Huisha shop,” Uncle Feng said cheerfully.
Feng Xi looked at the two of them, his gaze finally settling on Wen Jin. Unlike Qiu Yue, his eyes seemed to stick to Wen Jin, burning with an almost undisguised, intense interest.
This kind of scrutiny made Zhang Liuxin feel inexplicably wary. He subconsciously shifted his body slightly and said in Bernlinian, “Hello.”
Only then did Feng Xi look back at him, his gaze flat. His green pupils in the night resembled a feline preparing to hunt.
“Hello,” the young man said, his sharp back straight. He asked directly, “Is this your friend?”
Zhang Liuxin curved his eyes, “No, this is my husband.”
Feng Xi raised an eyebrow in surprise, narrowing his eyes. His gaze jumped between the two of them, finally landing on Zhang Liuxin. He nodded, concealing the subtle emotion in his eyes, and said nothing more.
Uncle Feng was also surprised, “So you two are a couple? I didn’t realize it when you came to the shop last time. Oh, right, I’ll deliver your newspaper tomorrow. Huisha ordered a month’s subscription.”
Zhang Liuxin asked, “When did Sister Hui order it?”
“Just this afternoon. She passed by my shop when she was out buying groceries and told me.”
Zhang Liuxin told Wen Jin, “Sister Hui ordered a month’s worth of newspapers.”
Wen Jin also looked a little surprised.
He ignored Feng Xi’s overly strong, scrutinizing gaze and said to Uncle Feng, “Alright, thank you. Be careful on your way back.”
“Sister Hui is really kind.”
Tu Huisha usually managed the bakery herself and had to look after her daughter, so she didn’t have much time to read the newspaper. It was obvious that the subscription was for Zhang Liuxin and Wen Jin.
“Mhm.”
Zhang Liuxin couldn’t help but think, “When we return to Yinzhou, what can we do to help her?”
Life over the past few days had proven that money didn’t seem that important in this small town. So Zhang Liuxin thought seriously, “How about buying lots of things for Feifei and upgrading her shop? There are many machines that can replace manual labor, which would make things much easier for her.”
Wen Jin said, “Good idea.”
Back in the attic, Wen Jin suddenly remembered and asked, “Was that Uncle Feng’s son?”
Zhang Liuxin’s body stiffened, and his tone unconsciously carried a hint of forcefulness, “Yes, why?”
“What did he say?”
Why was Wen Jin so curious? The fact that he hadn’t translated it proactively meant he didn’t want Wen Jin to know at all.
Zhang Liuxin placed the puzzle box on the table and deliberately said, “You should be able to understand a little.”
Wen Jin said frankly, “I don’t understand.”
Zhang Liuxin stopped talking. It wasn’t until he heard no more sound behind him that he paused his actions and turned around, seeing Wen Jin leaning against the headboard, unbuttoning his shirt with a serious expression.
Remembering the other man’s injury, Zhang Liuxin walked over and sat beside him. He watched as a expanse of chest was revealed before him. The wound on his chest had already scabbed over, but it was still very noticeable on Wen Jin’s body.
“Does it itch?”
Zhang Liuxin’s gaze moved up, inevitably seeing his collarbone, and further up, his Adam’s apple. The mole was hidden right there.
A restrained yet sensual mole. Zhang Liuxin withdrew his gaze.
“A little.”
Wen Jin made a move to scratch it, but Zhang Liuxin quickly pressed his hand down, “Don’t scratch it, it will leave a scar.”
“Alright.”
Wen Jin said ‘alright,’ but his hand didn’t move. Their fingers intertwined again, a distance many times more intimate than their bodies. The air seemed to be warming up. It was already cool in early autumn, but Zhang Liuxin felt a wave of heat.
He withdrew his hand and stood up, feeling that Wen Jin had been acting very strange lately. He had never been like this before. He started to suspect that the Bernlinian food had ruined both Wen Jin’s stomach and his mind.
He was a little distracted while unpacking the box. It wasn’t until he heard Wen Jin get up and enter the bathroom, followed by the sound of running water, that Zhang Liuxin focused.
This puzzle was estimated to have a thousand pieces and was exquisitely made. Only a few of Zhang Liuxin’s own collections could compare to it.
He suddenly felt like he had struck gold, but after searching for a long time, he couldn’t find the reference picture inside the box.
“No way…”
Zhang Liuxin hadn’t expected Uncle Da to be so ruthless—a thousand-plus piece puzzle without even a reference sheet.
When Wen Jin came out of the shower, he saw Zhang Liuxin meticulously separating the border pieces, looking extremely focused.
Just then, a North Star was framed by the skylight in the patch of starry sky. Wen Jin looked at the dazzling North Star, and after a moment, lowered his eyes to the scattered starry sky on the table.
Finally, he sat down next to Zhang Liuxin, looking from Zhang Liuxin’s slightly messy black hair to his olive-green eyes. They were truly a pair of exotic eyes, with soft, dense eyelashes and delicate, fragile skin, like precious green diamonds set on a piece of plain silk.
Zhang Liuxin was focused on his work. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Wen Jin sitting down beside him. “Wen Jin, the puzzle doesn’t have a picture. Can you tell me about the constellations?”
He was a little nervous. In front of Uncle Da, he could boldly claim that his husband knew a lot about astronomy by pretending Wen Jin couldn’t understand. But when it was just him and Wen Jin alone, he was always afraid to ask Wen Jin for a favor.
“I can.” Wen Jin spread out a piece of paper and drew the galaxy on it, simple and clear.
Wen Jin taught him to recognize planets and constellations, his voice magnetic and gentle. When he mentioned the North Star, Wen Jin told him to look up.
“The North Star is a triple-star system. Although it looks like only one star to the naked eye, it is actually composed of a primary star and two half-stars.”
Zhang Liuxin looked at the skylight and couldn’t help but sigh, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen stars this bright in Yinzhou.”
“Light pollution is too severe. It’s normal not to see them clearly in the city,” Wen Jin asked him, “Do you want to see them? I have an observatory.”
Zhang Liuxin was in the middle of his sentiment when he was suddenly hit by the mention of a private observatory. “Your assets cover an incredibly wide range.”
Wen Jin’s expression was casual. He picked up the book that had been forgotten overnight, opened it, and started reading, not forgetting to remind him, “Be careful not to strain your eyes with the puzzle.”
“I know,” he paused his movements and looked up, “Then why are you reading a book?”
Wen Jin had a slight myopia—one of the few flaws Zhang Liuxin had discovered in him. It seemed heaven was fair, letting Wen Jin also suffer from declining eyesight.
Zhang Liuxin put down the sorted puzzle pieces. Seeing that Wen Jin was genuinely reading the book, he asked doubtfully, “Can you understand it?”
“What does the first page say?”
If it was in Bernlinian, Zhang Liuxin could only grasp the general idea. However, he remembered that this was the book he and Wen Jin had seen in the library. He had read that book three times, so he could roughly recall what the first chapter was about.
“It’s about two main characters who are university alumni. Their first meeting was in autumn, at a corner filled with cotton roses.”
Wen Jin gave an “Mhm” and then asked, “Didn’t you say you couldn’t understand it last time?”
Zhang Liuxin stiffly pulled at the corners of his mouth.
“Because I read this book in college, but you probably don’t remember.”
Zhang Liuxin casually flipped through it. This book was older than the one borrowed from the library, and due to a different translation, it was also thicker.
“The library. My memory isn’t that bad,” Wen Jin said coolly, “It was raining heavily that day.”
“Right, with rain that heavy, you’d definitely remember.”
Later in Zhang Liuxin’s life, there were many downpours, but the one he remembered most vividly was that day—that sudden heavy rain that caused his and Wen Jin’s life paths to briefly intersect instead of remaining parallel.
“I remember someone didn’t bring an umbrella and looked like they were planning to walk in the rain.”
Zhang Liuxin said in surprise, “You still remember me?”
He hadn’t expected that Wen Jin, who had stood beside him like a human refrigeration unit, looking aloof and self-absorbed, would remember having once offered him half an umbrella.
However, Zhang Liuxin still defended his eighteen-year-old self, “I wasn’t planning to walk in the rain. I was waiting for someone to pick me up.”
Wen Jin’s expression looked even colder, carrying a subtle amount of irony. Perhaps it was Zhang Liuxin’s illusion, but his tone was utterly flat.
“Waiting for whom? That classmate of yours?”
His tone was subtly neutral. Zhang Liuxin couldn’t figure out what he meant, so he fell silent and stiffly changed the subject, asking him, “Then why did you go to that floor back then? I thought you didn’t read literary fiction.”
Wen Jin didn’t argue with him. He said, “Did you think I bought the books in the study at home for Camellia to read?”
Zhang Liuxin tentatively asked, “Do you still remember lending me your library card?”
“I remember. You went to the library without your card.” Wen Jin slightly raised his lip.
“I forgot it in the dorm.”
Zhang Liuxin had thought that Wen Jin wouldn’t remember the events of twelve years ago clearly, but he hadn’t expected every detail of that day to be vivid in his memory: the large black umbrella they shared, the red-covered book Wen Jin handed him, and Wen Jin’s library card, which had a photo of him that was hard to forget.
“I didn’t expect you to join the club as an advisor.”
Zhang Liuxin thought that if Wen Jin hadn’t joined the Botany Club, they probably wouldn’t have had any further interaction. His understanding of Wen Jin would have forever been limited to what Zhang Qiannan had told him, like a rat hiding in the dark, secretly observing details about him.
Wen Jin said, “Didn’t the former president tell you?”
“Are you talking about the reason you joined the club?”
“Mhm.”
Zhang Liuxin thought about it. Yes, she had mentioned it. The senior’s father was Wen Jin’s mentor. The Wen family was being scrutinized at the time, and Mrs. Yue had required Wen Jin to integrate more into campus life and participate in activities. That was how their Botany Club managed to snag such an important figure.
“Given our mindset at the time, we were all surprised that you actually participated.”
And Wen Jin didn’t break his word regarding subsequent club activities. As long as he was free, he basically attended on time.
For the first official club activity, Zhang Liuxin brought the book and the library card to return to Wen Jin. He thought that was the end of it, never expecting so many things to be entangled later on.