Still Frame Chapter 89
byChapter 89 Prepare to Die
On the drive to Lü Zixia’s bar, Wen Jin, for the first time in ages, received a call from his father.
His father spoke first, asking what he was doing.
“Going to Zixia’s new bar to show support.”
“That’s fine. You and Zixia should have a good get-together.”
Wen Jin wasn’t in the mood for small talk with his father and cut straight to the chase: “Dad, is something wrong?”
They had just met yesterday at the corporation for a shareholders’ meeting to discuss matters concerning his second paternal uncle.
“Has your mother contacted you these past couple of days?”
Wen Jin lightly stepped on the brake, stopped by a red light. He rolled down the window, and the cool evening breeze blew into the car, causing the hanging ornament to sway.
Wen Jin remembered that this was a gift given to him and Zhang Liuxin by a royal princess from a certain state during a business trip. The princess was elegant and generous, telling them it was a mythical ornament meant for pairs, only to be owned by deeply affectionate partners.
Perhaps it was a local custom. Wen Jin politely accepted it, though he didn’t believe in myths. But one time, when he rode in Zhang Liuxin’s car, he noticed it hanging on the rearview mirror. So, he found his own from his study and hung it in his car.
“Wen Jin?” Wen Huaichuan’s tone was displeased. “What are you thinking about? I’m asking you a question.”
Wen Jin reached out and fiddled with the pendant, answering casually: “No. Isn’t she working?”
Wen Huaichuan knew instantly from his son’s voice that he wasn’t paying attention. He cleared his throat and spoke again in a serious tone: “Of course I know she’s working, but I can’t reach her. As a son, you should show some concern for your elders.”
The red light turned green. Wen Jin stepped on the gas and merged back into traffic: “Dad, as a husband, you should be the one concerned about your wife.”
“You…”
A vein throbbed on Wen Huaichuan’s temple. He furrowed his brow, swallowed twice, and his voice carried barely suppressed anger: “Wen Jin, where did you forget the etiquette I taught you as a child?”
“I haven’t forgotten, but I learned something new on this trip to Bernlin State,” Wen Jin said. “Apology is the most important step in repairing a marriage.”
“…”
There was silence on the other end for a moment. After a while, the call was hung up. Wen Jin gave a slight, dismissive smile and tossed his phone aside.
The place Lü Zixia chose was called a bar, but it was more like a high-end club. It covered a vast area, and walking inside felt dazzling and surreal, not far from being an otherworldly realm.
Led to a booth by the manager, Wen Jin endured various scrutinizing looks and respectful greetings. The first thing he said to Lü Zixia was impatient: “A bar this big doesn’t have private rooms?”
A pure-looking girl had been sitting next to Lü Zixia. Seeing Wen Jin arrive, she tactfully left. Lü Zixia waved him over and personally poured him a drink: “It’s livelier out here. What, did you think we were singing karaoke?”
He Qing was still dressed in his usual gentle style today—a khaki wool knit sweater paired with plaid trousers—looking even more out of place than Wen Jin in a bar setting, yet he was slowly sipping a glass of strong liquor.
Wen Jin sat down next to Duan Chengzi. Seeing his poor complexion, he asked: “What’s wrong? Trouble as soon as you get back to Yinzhou?”
As soon as he said it, he remembered Duan Chengzi telling him in Bernlin State that his boyfriend had run off. He fell silent for a moment, raised his glass, and clinked it against Duan Chengzi’s.
“Hey, hey, hey, what are you three doing? All looking gloomy, ruining the good cheer of my new bar,” Lü Zixia complained, patting He Qing and pulling Duan Chengzi closer. “Come on, we haven’t gathered in a long time. It’s rare that Brother Duan isn’t back with the troops. Let’s have a drink.”
The four of them drank, and the atmosphere finally relaxed. Lü Zixia was the youngest. To outsiders, he was a smiling tiger whose emotions were inscrutable, but with his childhood friends, he was always direct.
“A’Zhuo, what have you been busy with these past two days?”
“Back at the academy, taking on a longitudinal project.” Wen Jin answered every question, but his ink-dark phoenix eyes looked unfathomable under the lights, adding a layer of subtle loneliness.
Duan Chengzi asked him in a low voice: “Are you really not planning to bring him back?”
Wen Jin said unhurriedly: “One must let people do what they want to do.”
Lü Zixia probably knew the whole story. He didn’t mention the name but said: “A’Zhuo, Brother Zhuo, this is where I truly admire you. If it were me, I would use any means necessary to keep the person by my side.”
“Mm.” Duan Chengzi clinked glasses with him. He and Zixia were the same kind of people—if they liked something, they had to have it. Even if it was a bird, they would break its wings to keep it flying inside their cage.
He Qing momentarily zoned out, put down his glass, and signaled a waiter to bring some snacks, and also asked the kitchen to prepare a bowl of yam porridge.
“A’Qing, didn’t you eat enough?” Lü Zixia asked.
“It’s for you, you didn’t have dinner,” He Qing smiled at him, then shifted his gaze to Wen Jin. “Have you considered ‘what if’?”
He didn’t finish the “what if,” but Wen Jin understood.
Unexpectedly, upon hearing this, Wen Jin slightly curved his lips. A faint smile, like melting ice and snow, bloomed on his face, yet it still carried a chill, perhaps coupled with boundless solitude.
“I have. That’s why I spent half a day meeting with a lawyer today.”
At this, the other three froze. Duan Chengzi’s face changed. He grabbed Wen Jin: “A’Zhuo, don’t be impulsive. You have to believe that Liuxin is a good person and will be blessed by heaven.”
“Chengzi, when did you start saying things like that? But I do believe it,” Wen Jin’s expression and tone held a strange, indescribable lightness. He drained the remaining half glass of wine. Though slightly intoxicated, he remained calm and composed. “It’s best if there are no possibilities of accidents.”
This topic had shifted toward a heavy direction, which was not Lü Zixia’s intention. Just as the snacks were served, he quickly steered the conversation to lighter topics, finally managing to liven up the atmosphere again.
After two more drinks, Wen Jin stopped drinking. He leaned on the armrest, gazing at the prosperous night view of Huan City outside the floor-to-ceiling window. Light pollution had worsened in recent years. Even late at night, this metropolis was brightly lit, rarely showing the shadow of stars, let alone the North Star.
Sitting in this position overlooking the night view, Wen Jin found himself missing that small skylight. A rare feeling of regret arose, lamenting that he had never taken Zhang Liuxin to an observatory.
“A’Zhuo? Are you dizzy?”
On the other side, Duan Chengzi was asking Lü Zixia for tips on chasing people. He Qing had long put down his glass, nibbling intermittently on a piece of velvet cake. He sat next to Wen Jin and, seeing his dark expression, asked worriedly.
“No, just thinking about some things,” Wen Jin turned the question back to him. “What about you? Is there something you haven’t said?”
He Qing raised an eyebrow, surprised that Wen Jin had become so perceptive upon his return, noticing his unease.
“It’s nothing major. Not as surprising as the things you’ve been doing.”
“In your artist terms, ‘freedom is humanity, love is the heart.’ Is that the idea?”
He Qing chuckled: “It seems your trip to Bernlin was quite fruitful. You never used to say things like that. Didn’t you find it cheesy?”
Wen Jin was not good at, and rarely engaged in, expressing himself. Compared to flowery words, he preferred practical actions, because in his eyes, marriage might not be related to love, but it was certainly bundled with responsibility.
However, in the past two days, he frequently recalled the sight of Zhang Liuxin crying in front of him. He even dreamed about it during his short sleeping hours. So now he was reflecting on whether expression was truly important, and whether love that wasn’t expressed and perceived by the other person was truly love.
He voiced this question. He saw He Qing’s face change for a moment, then he smiled. But this smile was in stark contrast to the sweet velvet cake on the plate, saturated with bitterness.
“I’ve been thinking about that too recently.” He Qing leaned back on the soft sofa, his gaze fixed on nothingness, yet also seeming to conjure some imaginary figure without a focal point. His demeanor was both infatuated and sickly.
“A’Zhuo, do you know? My sister-in-law is pregnant.”
Wen Jin froze, words caught in his throat. Looking into He Qing’s eyes, he seemed to hear the sound of the other man’s broken heart.
“So I will never have the chance in this lifetime to speak those feelings that were never meant to see the light of day,” He Qing gave a miserable smile. “Of course, in your eyes, this certainly doesn’t count as love.”
So illicit, so pathological, so silent—how could it be qualified to be called love?
“But you are different, A’Zhuo, you are different. You are only temporarily separated. You will definitely have a chance in the future. I support you in expressing your feelings. Love needs to be nurtured.”
As he finished speaking, Wen Jin noticed a faint tear track already on He Qing’s cheek, slowly streaming out sorrow.
“A’Qing.” Wen Jin didn’t know what to say, so he just handed him a tissue.
It was Lü Zixia who noticed the situation and rushed over, wrapping an arm around He Qing’s shoulder, yelling at Wen Jin: “What are you two talking about? Why are you looking so dejected? A’Qing, did Wen Jin say something hurtful again?”
He Qing curved his lips: “No, Zixia. Have you finished your porridge? Do you want some side dishes? There’s a restaurant nearby run by an old acquaintance of mine. Their late-night snacks are good…”
He started to pull out his phone to call, but Lü Zixia snatched it away: “Perfect. I’m tired of drinking. Let’s all go to the restaurant for a late-night meal.”
Duan Chengzi agreed: “Sounds good. Is it far? Do we need to drive? I’ll call a driver.”
“Not far, let’s walk.”
“I’m dressed so formally today, A’Qing, and you want me to walk?”
“Then let Duan Chengzi carry you.”
“I can carry you with Wen Jin. How about it? Want to try?”
“…”
A few days later, Wen Jin flew to the island and spent a day with the Tu family. Zhong Sixun was quite surprised, as Wen Jin was usually busy with work and not the type to be overly enthusiastic, yet he had the patience to spend time with a family he had known for less than half a month.
Tu Huisha told him that some people from the city had arrived in the town, saying they were going to repair the roads and install internet cables for every household. Although they didn’t say it explicitly, it was certainly because of Wen Jin and his group.
“I brought some specialties from our state—lemons that Chen loves, and new season peaches,” Tu Huisha looked at Duofei running on the beach. “Thank you so much. Otherwise, I don’t know when I would have been able to bring Feifei to see such a beautiful sea.”
“Stay longer if you like it,” Wen Jin handed her a business card. “This is my secretary’s number. You can call this number if you need anything in the future.”
Tu Huisha shook her head: “You have already helped us so much.”
“It’s what we should do,” Wen Jin said. “It’s also my spouse’s wish.”
Tu Huisha had never met Zhang Liuxin. Duofei had asked Wen Jin where Liuxin was at first, receiving the reply that “he’s busy working at home.” But Tu Huisha was much more perceptive and sensed that things were not that simple. However, it was someone else’s family matter, so she didn’t press further.
“And this book. I saw signs that it had been flipped through, so I assume you looked at it in the attic,” Tu Huisha handed over a book with a red cover. “It’s nothing valuable, but take it as a keepsake.”
Wen Jin’s lowered eyelashes trembled. He took the book and flipped through a few pages, then smiled. “Mm, thank you.”
Seeing his animated expression, Tu Huisha asked an extra question: “Does this book have any special meaning for you?”
Wen Jin rubbed the cover, and only after a while did he speak: “I suppose so.”
Because Wen Jin was currently under investigation by the State Security Bureau—a mere formality, but requiring him to report in person every day—he prepared to return near dusk. Before leaving, he crouched down and hugged Duofei. Duofei whispered to him: “When can I see Liuxin? I miss him so much.”
“I miss him too. I promise you, I’ll bring him to Bernlin to see you next time.”
“Okay, we have to pinky promise.”
Wen Jin pinky promised the little girl.
After returning to Yinzhou, he immediately plunged back into work, busy with projects, until one day Zhong Sixun reminded him that Daping’s trip to Yinzhou was nearing its end. Only then did he make time to meet Daping.
They met at a private kitchen near the Silver Mirror Terrace. Daping looked well, suggesting his trip to Yinzhou had been pleasant. Upon seeing Wen Jin, he proactively poured tea and offered thanks.
“No need,” Wen Jin pressed down on his hand and gently clinked glasses with him. “Zhang Liuxin calls you Teacher, so consider this me fulfilling his duty as a student.”
Daping raised an eyebrow in surprise, not expecting Wen Jin to mention the distant Zhang Liuxin so calmly, without any change in expression.
Halfway through the meal, Wen Jin asked him in what capacity Zhang Liuxin went to Segrant and if he could truly become a war correspondent there.
Before Daping could speak, Wen Jin added: “I don’t like feeling completely out of control.”
Daping then explained everything. Having been a journalist for so many years, he had extensive contacts. In Segrant, besides foreign correspondents from various states, there were people from the United Journalists Association. Daping happened to have an acquaintance in the UJA, so he sent an email, asking them to give Zhang Liuxin a chance.
“Liuxin is fluent in five state languages. Although he has been working as an interview show host these past few years, he has done a lot of research on the journalism industry.”
Wen Jin nodded. He knew Zhang Liuxin spoke many languages, but he had never bothered to delve into the reason why he learned them.
“Now that I’ve told you, what do you plan to do?”
Wen Jin leaned back in his chair and surprisingly said: “I don’t plan to do anything. I’m not the Executive Officer of the United States. Where would I get that much power?”
Daping laughed. Wen Jin’s words were naturally false. Given his family’s status in Yinzhou and his personal influence, reaching into an organization like the United Journalists Association was not difficult.
“Forget it, just let him fly,” Wen Jin said at the end of the meal, sounding both helpless and compromising.
No matter what, they would meet again.
(They will meet in the next chapter)