Still Frame Chapter 93
byChapter 93: Sanctuary
After Wen Jin washed up, he saw a slender figure leaning against the headboard of the snow-white bed in the bedroom, which was lit only by a single nightlight.
He let out a nearly inaudible sigh and approached, carrying the warm steam of the water. He placed the back of his hand against Zhang Liuxin’s cheek and said softly, “Tired?”
Zhang Liuxin struggled to open his eyes. It seemed to take him a moment to register that the place he was in was not a volatile battlefield, and the person before him was his long-separated husband.
He grasped the hand resting on his cheek and pressed his closed eyes against it. It was just like they used to be in Bernlin. Wen Jin’s heart stirred. He sat beside him, wrapping an arm around Zhang Liuxin and murmuring, “You’ve lost weight.”
Zhang Liuxin played with Wen Jin’s long fingers, looking at the weathered ring on his ring finger. “Look who’s talking. You too, you’ve lost too much weight.”
They stopped dwelling on the issue. Zhang Liuxin was too sleepy to keep his eyes open, so Wen Jin tucked the quilt around him and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead—since their reunion, he seemed unable to forgo any opportunity to kiss Zhang Liuxin.
“Go to sleep.”
Zhang Liuxin, sinking into the soft goose-down quilt, murmured, “Good night.”
Wen Jin, beside him, stiffened. He stared at Zhang Liuxin’s peaceful profile, looking incredibly restrained. After a moment, he finally spoke, “Liuxin, say ‘I love you.’”
Zhang Liuxin frowned, turned over, and instinctively nestled into Wen Jin’s embrace, seeking warmth. He had indeed become much thinner; Wen Jin could completely encircle him with just one arm.
“I love you,” Zhang Liuxin whispered in his arms, just like in countless scenes from Wen Jin’s dreams.
Zhang Liuxin slept soundly. Breaking his usual biological clock, he woke up close to ten o’clock. When he stirred, he realized a heavy arm was draped across his waist. Wen Jin, even in his sleep, held him tightly captive in his embrace with a very firm posture.
The slightest movement woke Wen Jin, whose eyes were surprisingly clear, making Zhang Liuxin wonder if he had slept at all last night.
“Good morning, A-Zhuo.”
Seeing the face that had brought him sweetness and pain, waiting and longing, so close to his own, Zhang Liuxin curved his lips. He leaned in instinctively and brushed his lips against the other man’s slightly pale mouth. Feeling a little embarrassed afterward, he propped himself up to sit, but Wen Jin pressed the back of his head, pulling him into a kiss that was too deep for the morning.
“Liuxin, good morning,” Wen Jin said in a husky voice. “Long time no see.”
Hearing this, a pang of sadness struck Zhang Liuxin, but Wen Jin’s hazy expression lasted only a moment. Once they got out of bed, Wen Jin reverted to his usual high-and-mighty demeanor.
“What are your plans for today?” Zhang Liuxin asked over breakfast.
“Weren’t you there yesterday when I gave instructions to Sixun?” Wen Jin ladled half a bowl more congee for him. “No plans. I’m spending time with you.”
Zhang Liuxin was still unaccustomed to such tender words coming from Wen Jin, so he lowered his eyes and quickened his pace of eating the congee.
“Aunt Lin learned many Bernlin specialty dishes, and so did I,” Wen Jin paused, not looking at him, but Zhang Liuxin looked up and saw Wen Jin’s lightly trembling eyelashes. “I learned how to make cat food. Your cat likes it very much.”
Zhang Liuxin found this novel and endearing. He couldn’t help but put down his spoon and stare intently at Wen Jin, wanting to hear what else he had to say.
“Last time you called her our daughter, and now she’s ‘my cat’?”
Wen Jin had no choice but to concede, “Fine, Camellia. She likes it very much. Also, your friend Jiang You, and your assistant Levi, they all miss you. Before coming here, I stayed in Bernlin for two days. Dorphy has grown eleven centimeters. Sister Hui has developed a new lemon jam. Daping said he is very proud of you and has read an article you published last year.”
Zhang Liuxin watched Wen Jin speak, word by word, listing the people important to him who missed him, yet not mentioning his own feelings or meeting his gaze directly.
“Wen Jin, what are you trying to say?”
Wen Jin was silent for a moment before looking at him. His eyes, dark as ink, were filled with uncertainty, tentative pleading, and even anxiety—all emotions that seemed vulnerable for him.
“I know the ceasefire in Segrant is temporary. The joint press conference will give you an extended leave. If you are willing, I want to go back to Yinzhou with you, or go to Bernlin, or Doguin, if you are willing.”
He said “if you are willing” twice. His hands on the table were visibly stiff. He was nervous, like a child afraid of separation and an uncertain future. When Zhang Liuxin realized this, he felt not just surprise, but deep affection.
Zhang Liuxin got up, walked to his side, and covered Wen Jin’s hand with his own. “Okay, I will go home with you. I miss Camellia very much, I miss Aunt Lin’s cooking, and I want to personally apologize to Jiang You…”
“Wen Jin, most importantly, I miss you very much.”
“Liuxin.”
“But I won’t give up my work,” discussing this so early in the morning seemed inappropriate, but Zhang Liuxin didn’t want Wen Jin to be anxious about it, so he spoke frankly. “A-Zhuo, I’m worried about your emotional state. Returning to Yinzhou is temporary. If work requires it later, I, I… will still come back here, to Segrant, without hesitation. I don’t know if you can accept this.”
Zhang Liuxin felt cruel, even though he had seen far more cruel people and events.
“It’s not that you are less important to me than my ideal job,” seeing Wen Jin fall silent, Zhang Liuxin’s heart fluttered, and he explained, “It’s just that I truly love this career. I have loved it for a long time, even if it’s dangerous, even if it might cost me my life.”
“I understand, Liuxin. There’s no need to compare. Anything important to you doesn’t need comparison,” Wen Jin squeezed his hand and pressed a devoted kiss to the back of it. “It’s the same for me. I love you deeply, even if you leave me.”
Zhang Liuxin’s eyes widened. Then, he heard Wen Jin say, “But in the future, I won’t let you leave without a word. Liuxin, I will accompany you, no matter which path you choose, no matter what outcome you pursue.”
Wen Jin had finally found peace. Zhang Liuxin didn’t know how many days and nights he had struggled with himself to achieve this calm acceptance.
“A-Zhuo…” Zhang Liuxin shook his head. “You should do what you want to do.”
“This is what I want to do,” Wen Jin suddenly smiled lightly. “I’ve worked at Inter-State University for so many years, served the State Committee, maintained the family corporation’s image through marriage. I’m not young anymore. It’s time to do things according to my own will.”
“I admit, sometimes I don’t handle my emotions well, so Chen Ji, if you’re worried, you’d better spend more time on me.”
Zhang Liuxin lowered his head and kissed him deeply until they were like patients sharing the same respirator, their eyes intertwined with life and death.
Finally, Wen Jin sighed and pleaded softly, “Just stay by my side more often.”
He couldn’t bear to clip Zhang Liuxin’s wings, yet he hoped he could be the place where Zhang Liuxin could safely rest.
After finishing their meal, Zhang Liuxin took him to see Beifu and handle the rest of his work. Passing a flower shop, Zhang Liuxin paused, went inside, and bought a bouquet. He singled out a pale pink, tender lily and presented it to Wen Jin, who was wearing a long black coat.
“‘To my dearest husband,’” Zhang Liuxin said in the Bernlin language.
Wen Jin accepted the flower and held Zhang Liuxin’s hand tighter. “‘Do not let it wither.’”
Zhang Liuxin smiled. “Never.”
Beifu was delighted to see them. She accepted the flowers Zhang Liuxin gave her and saw the ring on Wen Jin’s hand, finally returned to its rightful owner. She repeatedly offered thanks and congratulations, then asked Zhang Liuxin with a beaming smile if they were planning a new wedding, saying she would be happy to be a bridesmaid.
Zhang Liuxin felt a little shy, but Wen Jin raised an eyebrow slightly, as if he thought it was an excellent suggestion.
“So, you’re going back to Yinzhou?”
“Yes. What about you? Are you going back to your hometown?”
Beifu’s hometown was a small, religious state in the south. Zhang Liuxin found it hard to imagine this brave and spirited reporter being born in that region.
“Yes, my brother and sister-in-law had their third child. He’s a month old now, so I need to go back and see him. But before that, I want to visit Bernlin and see Reporter Daping. I haven’t seen him since his injury retirement, only exchanging emails occasionally.”
Zhang Liuxin nodded. “He was the one who first mentioned you to me, Beifu. When you return home, remember to contact me.”
Beifu smiled, seeing that Zhang Liuxin’s face finally held vitality, no longer the young man who was merely idealistic, blank, and sharply fragile when she first met him.
“Take care of your body,” Beifu pointed to his leg. “You are still very young.”
Wen Jin’s gaze followed hers, and a faint look of concern clouded his face. Zhang Liuxin patted the back of his hand. “It’s just an old ailment, no need to worry.”
He turned back to Beifu and asked her, “Have you submitted an application for a prosthetic limb to the medical organization?”
At this, Beifu’s expression brightened even more. Her eyes softened, and sincere happiness radiated from her lake-blue eyes.
“I have your husband to thank for that. His corporation’s investment made the application much easier. I submitted my press ID and disability certificate, and the person in charge contacted me personally, telling me to go to their temporary base for flexibility training in the next couple of days. Thank you, Mr. Wen.”
Wen Jin nodded. “That was the original intention of the project. Thank you, too, for helping Liuxin during this time.”
The three chatted for a few more minutes. Finally, Beifu stood up to see them off.
“Liuxin,” Beifu called his name in the Yinzhou dialect. “I know you will choose to come back, but I hope that day never comes.”
They both understood the meaning of her words. Zhang Liuxin nodded. “I hope so too.”
“Go and enjoy life,” Beifu hugged him gently. “I wish you happiness.”
“Beifu, I wish you joy.”
After saying goodbye, they walked back to the hotel hand in hand, swinging their arms lightly. Zhang Liuxin’s leg was inconvenient, so he walked slowly, but Wen Jin had completely adapted to his pace, staying tightly beside him.
“Are you reluctant to leave?”
“A little. Mainly the feeling of being pulled away from a state of tension. A-Zhuo, do you know? I’m a little afraid that the sound of gunfire will start again in the next second, and that everything now is just a mirage.”
Wen Jin was still holding the lily. In the cold wind, the beautiful, tender flower had not been destroyed, like a signal of spring’s arrival.
“Liuxin, I am by your side. I am real. Hold my hand and you will feel it.”
Their fingers were intertwined, their warm palms pressed together. The left hand is closer to the heart, so Zhang Liuxin distinctly felt Wen Jin’s heartbeat.
“Yes, I believe you.”
No matter when, the place where Wen Jin was, would always be his safe zone, his sanctuary.