Still Frame Chapter 86

It should have been obvious. From the moment Zhang Liuxin overheard his conversation with Duan Chengzi, from the moment Zhang Liuxin learned the truth about his mother’s death, from the gentle yet sorrowful look in Zhang Liuxin’s eyes these past two days…

Wen Jin recalled his own drowsy state last night. The light kiss on his lips, carrying Zhang Liuxin’s scent, now felt as if it had never happened. Was he retaliating against me? Because of the sleeping pills on the plane, he used the same trick: after a goodnight kiss, he chose to leave.

“What do you mean?” Duan Chengzi didn’t understand what was happening. “Where did he go? Did he say goodbye to someone or…”

His voice trailed off. Duan Chengzi saw from Wen Jin’s expression that Zhang Liuxin’s departure was likely not brief. Today was the day they were supposed to return to Yinzhou, yet Zhang Liuxin had left sometime last night, taking his clothes but leaving behind the wedding ring.

“The town isn’t big, there are only two main roads,” Duan Chengzi recovered and patted Wen Jin’s shoulder. “I’ll send people to look for him and contact the police.”

His gaze moved past Wen Jin to the exoskeleton placed next to the wardrobe. The thought, “Liuxin’s exoskeleton needs charging, he can’t have gone far,” died in his throat.

Wen Jin also saw the exoskeleton. Levi had just finished charging it yesterday. When Zhang Liuxin regained the ability to walk like a normal person, a smile had bloomed on his lips. He was clearly happy, so why did he leave the exoskeleton here?

Just like when Zhang Liuxin kissed him, he was smiling, so why did he leave him here?

At this thought, a sudden, inexplicable headache and heart palpitation made Wen Jin’s legs give way. The tall man nearly collapsed like a flower about to break, but Duan Chengzi quickly caught him, pressing his shoulder and seating him on the edge of the bed. He grabbed a pastry from outside and put it in Wen Jin’s hand, lifting his chin to urge him to eat something.

Wen Jin didn’t move. He looked up at Duan Chengzi, his eyes utterly vacant and desolate. Duan Chengzi’s heart skipped a beat, feeling that this look was terribly familiar. He remembered seven years ago, when Wen Jin learned that Zhang Liuxin’s legs would be difficult to fully recover, he had shown the same fragile expression, like a forsaken dawn that would never see daylight again.

“No need,” Duan Chengzi hadn’t yet understood why Wen Jin suddenly said Zhang Liuxin was gone, when he saw him clutching the ring and saying the opposite. “Don’t look for him.”

“What do you mean?” Duan Chengzi thought, You look like you desperately need the emergency medicine named Zhang Liuxin. “There seems to be surveillance here. I’ll ask the front desk to check. The weather is unstable tonight; he won’t have gone far.”

Duan Chengzi’s life motto was that what he claimed as his own, he would hold tightly, even if the other party’s wishes differed from his, and even if the other party repeatedly tried to fly away.

Wen Jin unfolded the white paper again. Scattered across it were some words Duan Chengzi couldn’t understand. Wen Jin pointed to a small, inconspicuous phrase in the corner and said, “This means ‘I love you’ in Bernlinian.”

Initially, Zhang Liuxin taught him that “I love you” meant “I was wrong.” Wen Jin had gone along with it, using the excuse of apologizing to express his affection many times. He remembered how to write the phrase, and he remembered that the phrase hadn’t been on the paper originally.

Zhang Liuxin had left it behind. Amidst a collection of words and sentences related to them, he left an apology that only Wen Jin could understand. But facing the ring, Wen Jin couldn’t discern how much “love” was contained in that phrase.

“A confession,” Duan Chengzi was completely confused by their romantic games. “He likes you so much, where could he possibly go?”

Wen Jin shook his head, looking dejected. After a while, he said, “Can we return to Yinzhou this afternoon instead? I want to go see someone.”

Duan Chengzi had already made many arrangements in Yinzhou, including Wen Huaichuan and Yue Yun, who had both decided to take time out of their busy schedules to meet them at the airport today. With Wen Jin’s change of plans, they wouldn’t be able to land in Yinzhou until at least the evening.

But—

He looked at Wen Jin’s expression, his gaze stubbornly fixed on the so-called “I love you.” Finally, he sighed and asked, “Who do you want to see?”

Daping.

Wen Jin stood before the old door. Although he knew it was impossible, as he knocked, a faint hope ignited in his heart, a luxurious wish that Zhang Liuxin would open the door, his eyes wide in surprise, calling out “A’Zhuo.”

But this secret expectation was dashed. He heard the creak of a wheelchair, and the next second, the door opened. Daping, sitting in the wheelchair, looked over with a gentle, calm expression, showing no surprise. “You came.”

“Yes.”

“Come in and sit.”

Aunt Mo wasn’t home, but there was a freshly brewed pot of tea on the coffee table. Perhaps Daping had foreseen something. In any case, as soon as Wen Jin sat down, the other man said, “Have some tea, Mr. Wen.”

Wen Jin didn’t move. He got straight to the point. “Where is Zhang Liuxin?”

His eyes held a cold, sharp, sword-like intensity. Daping merely shook his head gently, poured himself a cup of tea, and took a sip, holding the cup. He said, “With your family’s influence, finding one person shouldn’t be too difficult. Since you are here asking me, it means you don’t want to go against his wishes either.”

Daping, true to his reputation as a famous journalist, hit the nail on the head. Wen Jin’s dark eyes quickly dimmed, reverting to a pool of stagnant, waveless water.

“He came to see you yesterday. Did you help him leave here? The typhoon weather is very dangerous.”

“I don’t have that much capability, I just did what I could,” Daping didn’t deny it. He took another sip of tea, looking at Wen Jin with the scrutiny of an elder. “You’ve been married for so long, do you think he was happy?”

Wen Jin froze, looking away, replying rather impolitely, “That’s none of your concern.”

Daping seemed to see through him and laughed heartily twice. “He wants to be a journalist. You must know that.”

Wen Jin felt a surge of annoyance, sensing the old man was deliberately provoking him, but when he was genuinely stung, he felt extremely irritated.

“And a war correspondent, at that. Honestly, not many people who grow up in a highly developed place like Yinzhou, far from war, have that dream.”

Wen Jin’s expression grew colder. He knew Daping was a famous war correspondent, and it was natural for Zhang Liuxin to admire him, but he hadn’t realized that his dream of journalism followed Daping’s path.

Thinking this, his expression became even gloomier. “Where did he go?”

Before Daping could speak, Wen Jin pulled out his phone, quickly searched for war news, scanning various reports line by line. He then recalled a certain place mentioned during his and Zhang Liuxin’s previous visit to Daping.

He stared at the words on the screen: “tense situation,” “high-risk confrontation,” “white-hot,” “rapid spread.” His gaze finally settled on a place name, and he spoke, almost choked with emotion, “Saiglant?”

The place that cost Daping his ability to walk, the place where the fires of war never ceased, the place that would be extremely cold in winter.

A battlefield thousands of miles away from Bernlin, from Yinzhou, and from Wen Jin.

After receiving Daping’s confirming look, Wen Jin immediately stood up and dialed Zhong Sixun’s number. He couldn’t allow Zhang Liuxin to go to such a dangerous place. He decided to send people immediately to track him down and bring him back.

“Mr. Wen, please calm down,” Daping’s demeanor was unhurried, urging him to sit. “That place is very dangerous. I advised him against it.”

The call connected. Zhong Sixun asked what was wrong, but Wen Jin weakly lowered his hand and sat back on the sofa, his dull eyes fixed on the void. He told the person on the other end that it was nothing.

“Liuxin calls me teacher, so naturally, I must live up to that responsibility. I advised him, telling him that the front line is not like documentaries or books. Smoke, gunfire, and death fall indiscriminately on everyone.”

Wen Jin knew this truth well. Duan Chengzi was a soldier, had participated in peacekeeping, and had been to the front line many times, nearly losing his life twice. Yue Yun had tearfully begged him by his hospital bed to retire, but he refused. Wen Jin stood by the bed, looking at his frail older brother, and asked why. Duan Chengzi told him that someone had to do these things. Knowing he couldn’t persuade him, Wen Jin later proactively applied to several post-war reconstruction projects, doing what he could.

Daping saw him lost in thought and continued, “The second time he came to see me, he told me about his car accident and marrying you. I understand the feeling of not being able to control one’s own body, but at my age, I don’t have many years left, so being in a wheelchair is fine. But Liuxin is different.”

“However, he is very strong. He wasn’t overly mournful that day. Before leaving, he asked me how to get to Saiglant. I’ve seen that expression on the faces of too many young people. But considering he had you by his side, I figured he wouldn’t act rashly, so I told him.”

“Sure enough, a few days ago at the wedding, he saw me and told me he couldn’t bear to leave. I knew it, and I wasn’t surprised.”

Wen Jin felt as if he had been struck on the head. The extreme surprise and disbelief made him almost afraid to think deeply, yet he couldn’t stop his mind from racing. He recalled Zhang Liuxin, who smiled so gently at him on their wedding day, his eyes filled with fervent love.

So at that time, Liuxin hadn’t thought about leaving.

But now he had left without looking back. The reason was obvious: it was because of his concealment, because of the accident he had orchestrated.

“Mr. Wen, you don’t need to overthink it. Liuxin told me it wasn’t your fault,” Daping saw through his thoughts, sighing that this couple truly understood each other. “It’s just that he felt that he was almost thirty and hadn’t done anything he truly wanted to do. It was too regrettable. Plus, he would pass through the place where he lived as a child along the way, and he wanted to see it.”

Wen Jin spoke bitterly, “You’re telling me all this, aren’t you afraid I’ll drive out to find him right now?”

Daping stated with certainty, “You won’t.”

Wen Jin closed his eyes, a faint redness staining the corners. He neither confirmed nor denied it.

Daping looked at the man before him, who had shed his coldness and arrogance. Half-comforting, half-persuading, he said, “Mr. Wen, some people are simply not meant to be caged pearl birds. So give him a chance, let him freely pursue his dream like a flying bird.”

What flowery words.

Wen Jin was silent for a while, ultimately remaining seated. He didn’t agree with the notion of a caged pearl bird. He simply felt that since Zhang Liuxin had married him, they should support each other. He should do everything in his power to provide his husband with a good living environment and mitigate all risks.

But was this truly what Zhang Liuxin wanted?

The expensive diamond ring left behind in his inner jacket pocket suddenly pressed painfully against his heart. Half of him yearned to see Zhang Liuxin right now, to chase after him recklessly, telling him not to leave, even if he had to take Wen Jin along; the other half rationally calmed down. Liuxin had never truly deceived him in all the years they had known each other, except for this one time. Why not grant him the freedom that was truly unbound by marriage and identity?

After an unknown amount of time, Daping heard the man speak again. “Saiglant is so cold. In winter, his legs must hurt terribly.”

In Yinzhou, Zhang Liuxin rarely showed signs of pain in front of him, so Wen Jin had naturally assumed he was taking excellent care of him. But the image of Liuxin tearfully questioning him the day before yesterday still lingered, and he began to doubt himself again.

Was Liuxin too strong, or was he too indifferent?

Daping watched the clouds of worry gather between Wen Jin’s brows. The latter finally spoke, weary, “He didn’t even take the exoskeleton.”

Yet, just a few days ago, when the exoskeleton malfunctioned, he had looked so dependent on him.

Then, Wen Jin stood up, lowered his eyes, and thanked Daping, regaining the refined and composed appearance of a noble young master. He added, “After the matters in Yinzhou are settled, I will send people to pick up the Tu family to visit Yinzhou. You and Aunt Mo should come too.”

Daping was surprised, not expecting Wen Jin’s previous offer to be serious. Seeing his earnest expression, Wen Jin said, “I know people at the Silver Mirror Terrace. I will draft an invitation and send it over. Yinzhou has changed a lot in recent years; you should come and see.”

“Thank you.” Daping composed himself and expressed his gratitude.

Wen Jin left Daping’s house. The sky outside was still gloomy, with occasional gusts of wind. Due to the typhoon, the streets were deserted, giving the area a desolate feel. He couldn’t help but wonder, where was Zhang Liuxin now?

Had he reached Doge’in? Would seeing that small town remind him of his distant childhood? Would he recall his mother’s image in that town?

Thinking these thoughts, he returned to the guesthouse. The other three were waiting for him. Levi had also heard from Duan Chengzi and felt heavy-hearted knowing Zhang Liuxin had left on his own. He silently recalled the expression Zhang Liuxin wore when they talked two days ago. If he had realized sooner the underlying sorrow of impending departure, he would have tried harder to persuade him.

Duan Chengzi was biting on a cigarette. Wen Jin’s state worried him. His eyelid kept twitching, afraid that his love-struck brother would go chasing after Zhang Liuxin and leave him to clean up the mess. Fortunately, Wen Jin had returned, and apart from his slightly cold expression, he seemed normal.

“Are your things packed?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

Wen Jin didn’t mention Zhang Liuxin to them again. Until they boarded the plane, he showed no emotion. The panic and desolation from the morning had left no trace on him.

“A’Zhuo,” Duan Chengzi spoke to him. “Get some rest.”

Wen Jin nodded. He wasn’t sleepy, but he turned his head to look out the window. The large expanse of vegetation covering Bernlin State gradually shrank, swallowed by layers of white clouds. Their private jet, like a flying bird, soared into the sky.