Still Frame Chapter 96
byChapter 96: Eternity’s Forever (End)
The two chatted along the way and soon arrived at the bar. Today, Lü Zixia had finally considered his friends’ feelings and booked a large private room. When Wen Jin and Zhang Liuxin entered, the room was already buzzing with excitement.
Seeing them, especially their hands that seemed inseparable for even a moment, Lü Zixia winked mischievously: “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, doesn’t it? You two look even more sickeningly sweet than Brother Duan and his fiancé.”
Wen Jin immediately turned up the lights. Lü Zixia squinted and leaned closer, saying, “You two are dressed like my university professors. Professor Wen, you’re even wearing glasses. Do you think I can’t see what’s on your neck?”
Wen Jin was the target of the teasing, but it was Zhang Liuxin who blushed. The private room was warm. He had originally intended to take off his scarf on the way, but after Lü Zixia’s comment, he quickly decided against it.
Wen Jin pushed Lü Zixia away and led Zhang Liuxin to sit next to He Qing. He Qing seemed to have changed; his hair was longer, and his eyes were gentle and refined. Seeing them, he said, “Liuxin, long time no see. I was just reading your article a few days ago.”
“Mr. He, long time no see. I wish you success with your solo exhibition next month.”
“Thank you. You and A-Zhuo must come and support me then.”
When He Qing smiled, Zhang Liuxin realized the change in him came from the dissipation of the melancholy in his eyes. The man now resembled a piece of jade that had been repolished and refined, radiating a gentle serenity.
On the other side, Duan Chengzhi formally introduced his fiancé to him and Wen Jin. Mr. Xia was indeed a popular singer; even in such a casual setting, he was dazzling. Zhang Liuxin only needed one glance to understand why Duan Chengzhi had been so obsessed with him.
“We’ve moved to a new house. When should we invite you over for dinner again?” Duan Chengzhi placed one hand on his partner’s waist, a gesture of complete possession. “A-Zhuo, how long has it been since you went to the group headquarters?”
Lü Zixia interjected, “He’s got a beauty in his arms now, why would he need to work? I heard he even took leave from the university.”
Wen Jin’s eyes behind his glasses narrowed slightly: “Who told you that?”
“Your student,” Lü Zixia chuckled.
Wen Jin wanted to say something, but mindful of Zhang Liuxin being nearby, he only gave Lü Zixia a warning look: “Zixia, some things are better left unsaid.”
The atmosphere froze for a second. Lü Zixia shrugged: “Got it. Just dating, I know my limits. By the way, Sister-in-law, do you want to know how many times I accompanied Wen Jin when he ‘accidentally’ ran into you during college?”
Zhang Liuxin was still not used to being called ‘Sister-in-law’ in front of him, but he was very curious about the content. He moved slightly, but Wen Jin pulled him back: “If you want to know anything, ask me.”
Lü Zixia rolled his eyes, calling them a bunch of sickeningly sweet gay men, and then moved closer to He Qing. Unfortunately, He Qing’s phone rang. He glanced at it, accepted the call with a subtle expression.
After a few sentences, He Qing picked up his coat and stood up: “My assistant is waiting for me downstairs. I have to leave now.”
He picked up a glass of wine and drank it in one gulp, then looked at Duan Chengzhi: “Brother Duan, Mr. Xia, see you at the housewarming party next time.”
“Wait,” Lü Zixia grabbed his wrist, his flirtatious eyes turning. “Isn’t an assistant supposed to wait? Why are you rushing?”
“It’s not a regular assistant. It’s that kid from the Ji family. He has a bad temper, and it’s cold outside.”
Before Lü Zixia could react, He Qing nodded to the Wen-Zhang couple and said, “Liuxin, I’ll come to Wenfei Terrace to see the cats next time.”
“Okay, Mr. He, take care.”
He Qing left so abruptly that Lü Zixia looked suspicious: “What is that little brat from the Ji family? He Qing is too nice to let him wait. A-Qing is too good-tempered.”
Zhang Liuxin smiled. He hadn’t expected that Young Master Lü, who was always called a “ladies’ man,” would have a day when he couldn’t see through a relationship.
The private room felt a bit stuffy, and Zhang Liuxin wanted to go out for some fresh air. As soon as he stood up, Wen Jin also rose. He pressed down on Wen Jin’s shoulder, urging him to sit back down: “I’m just going to the restroom. I’ll be back soon.”
With that, he held up his phone and whispered close to Wen Jin’s ear: “Don’t you have my location? Check it yourself.”
A slight crack appeared in Wen Jin’s perpetually icy face. He nodded slowly: “Come back quickly.”
Lü Zixia demanded that Wen Jin drink with him, complaining that Wen Jin had completely turned into a clingy man obsessed with love. Zhang Liuxin heard this and smiled, surprised that Wen Jin didn’t immediately refute it.
After washing his hands, he encountered a familiar yet strange person in the hallway. Zhang Liuxin wasn’t surprised. Looking at the face that only bore a two-tenths resemblance to his own, he thought, they were bound to meet eventually.
“Zhang Liuxin.” The name sounded utterly foreign coming from Zhang Qiannan’s mouth. It had been nine years since he last spoke to his younger brother.
“Is something the matter?” Zhang Liuxin’s expression was calm, and his gaze toward Zhang Qiannan was empty, as if he were facing a stranger.
Zhang Qiannan looked exactly as he did in Zhang Liuxin’s memory. Perhaps due to the seven years of missing experience, his demeanor and tone were still like they were in college: a bright, poisonous Venus flytrap.
“Is Wen Jin in the private room? I didn’t expect you would actually manage to seize the opportunity and marry Wen Jin.”
Zhang Qiannan spoke slowly, word by word, but he couldn’t hide his harshness.
Zhang Liuxin had no desire to talk more with him. He could share his and Wen Jin’s story with many people, but Zhang Qiannan was the last person who needed to hear it.
Zhang Qiannan, however, grabbed his arm tightly, his nails digging deep. Zhang Liuxin could feel the pain even through his clothes. He frowned and shook off the hand: “Zhang Qiannan, I have nothing to do with you. Wen Jin is my husband, and he has nothing to do with you either.”
“Your husband… Heh, if it weren’t for my accident, do you think it would be your turn? How could a bastard enter the Wen family’s door?” Zhang Qiannan’s tone grew increasingly frantic. “You haven’t shown your face for the past two years. I thought you were dead.”
Zhang Liuxin’s face was cold: “Shut up.”
“Why should I!” Zhang Qiannan raised a hand. “A cripple, a lame person who can barely walk, is actually playing the role of an affectionate husband with Wen Jin. Everyone outside is an idiot. They can’t see it, but I can see it immediately—Wen Jin doesn’t like you at all. Are you still dreaming your secret crush dream?”
“Zhang Qiannan, you look truly pathetic right now,” Zhang Liuxin curved his lips, his expression as gentle as a spring breeze. “Instead of raging here in impotent fury, why don’t you figure out how to clean up the mess at your family’s company?”
Mentioning the Zhang family made Zhang Qiannan’s face change. Just as he was about to say something, the door of the private room at the end of the corridor opened. Wen Jin looked over, his gaze instinctively falling on Zhang Liuxin. It was as if he only noticed Zhang Qiannan when he got closer, and he frowned slightly.
“Brother Wen…” Zhang Qiannan called out tremblingly, looking at him. The Wen Jin in his memory was already perfect enough, but having been refined by time, the current Wen Jin possessed an added layer of mature charm, making one’s heart flutter with a single glance.
Wen Jin’s gaze toward him, however, was utterly cold and indifferent, like looking at a dead object. He didn’t intend to speak to him. He raised his hand to adjust Zhang Liuxin’s scarf and held his hand: “Why are you so cold?”
“I just washed my hands with cold water.”
Wen Jin tightened his grip on the hand and tucked it into his own coat pocket. Neither of them paid any attention to Zhang Qiannan, leaving him to watch helplessly as the intimate figures of the two overlapped, walking one after the other back into the private room.
It wasn’t until a security guard, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, restrained him that he belatedly realized something. He recalled Wen Jin’s eyes just now—they were chilling when looking at him, but when gathering Zhang Liuxin’s hand into his palm, they were warm and melting, like an exposed yet gentle kiss.
“I won’t let you see him again,” Wen Jin told him after they returned to the private room.
Zhang Liuxin: “It’s fine. I never took him seriously anyway.”
Wen Jin fell silent. After a long pause, he looked at Zhang Liuxin and suddenly said, “Liuxin, I’m sorry.”
“What is it?”
“I looked into the car accident from back then. Was it because of me that you got into that car?”
Zhang Liuxin had long since put those things behind him. Fate was unreasonable. Zhang Liuxin had blamed himself, hated Zhang Qiannan, but he had never blamed Wen Jin, not even slightly.
“No, A-Zhuo, don’t overthink it. Accidents are unavoidable, and besides, it was so long ago.”
His only regret was that he hadn’t opened his eyes that late night after the accident when Wen Jin came to his bedside.
When he said this, Wen Jin’s eyes looked even more desolate, filled with sorrow. He only said, “I failed to protect you.”
“A-Zhuo, I can protect myself. I can even protect you. Don’t be too hard on yourself. We are lovers; we should naturally support and encourage each other.”
Wen Jin seemed comforted by his words. He stared at him for a moment and said, “Liuxin, tomorrow I’m taking you somewhere.”
Wen Jin took him to an observatory in the suburbs, along with that puzzle. The SUV drove into the forest. The sky was already very dark. Zhang Liuxin, wrapped in a cashmere coat, smiled and said, “Are you trying to kidnap me and sell me?”
“I couldn’t bear to,” Wen Jin also smiled slightly, parking the car.
The observatory wasn’t large, but upon entering, one would find the facilities new and complete. Even the spiral staircase was covered with thick carpet. Zhang Liuxin exclaimed again: “Do you really have a zoo?”
Wen Jin held the puzzle in one hand and led him upstairs with the other: “Only an aquarium.”
The top floor of the observatory was quite spacious. Besides the large astronomical telescope, there was a significant area sectioned off, furnished with a desk, bookshelves, and a tea set. Zhang Liuxin admired the crystal globe in the center for a while. He reached out and spun it, finding that the globe actually rotated, just like any ordinary globe.
“Where should we hang this puzzle?”
“How about behind the desk?”
Zhang Liuxin looked over and indeed found a large blank space behind the desk. There were faint marks on the wall, suggesting that the original painting had been moved to make room.
On the desk were some of Wen Jin’s calculation drafts. He had OCD; every sheet was placed perfectly straight, the edges aligned seamlessly.
As they hung the puzzle together, Zhang Liuxin asked, “Do you come here often? Where do you sleep at night?”
“Sometimes. There’s a rest area on the first floor.”
When Wen Jin suffered from insomnia, he would drive here alone with his work. After finishing the task at hand, he would look at the stars. Whenever he saw the North Star, he would wonder if Liuxin, being in the more northern Segrant, was closer to the North Star, and if he occasionally looked up and saw this brightest star, would he sometimes think of him too.
The puzzle was hung behind the desk. Zhang Liuxin looked at it for a while, and gradually, his gaze shifted to Wen Jin’s face.
Wen Jin led him to the astronomical telescope and taught him how to use it, just like in Bernlin, showing him which one was the North Star.
“The brightest one, I know. I won’t mistake it.” Stargazing was very novel for Zhang Liuxin. He talked to Wen Jin while looking at the vast, boundless starry sky, until Wen Jin stopped answering him. That was when he noticed something was amiss.
“A-Zhuo…” Zhang Liuxin froze, looking at the man kneeling on one knee before him. Wen Jin had come straight from a meeting today; beneath his coat was a formal black suit. Now, kneeling on one knee, he looked up slightly. The warm light poured down, illuminating his deep, phoenix-like eyes.
“Liuxin, after so many years of marriage, it wasn’t until you left two years ago that I realized I seemed to have never given you a proper ceremony.”
In Wen Jin’s palm lay a simple ring box.
“Whether it was a confession or a proposal, I was always self-righteous. I always thought that as long as you liked me and I liked you, we should naturally be together and enter into marriage. But I rarely truly got to know you or feel you.”
“So today, I want to put this ring on you again, to ask you to be my life partner, and to ask you to be the entirety of my remaining life.”
Inside the ring box lay the expensive diamond ring Zhang Liuxin had left behind two years ago. The green light spanned two years and shone brightly before him once more.
The last time Wen Jin spoke words like this was nine years ago at their wedding. They were like two dressed-up dolls pushed under the flashlights, becoming husbands amidst a luxurious backdrop and the blessings of various celebrities.
Now, in this observatory where only the two of them were present, there were no flowers, no applause, no flawless wedding vows, only Wen Jin looking at him, his hand holding the ring box trembling slightly.
“I do,” Zhang Liuxin looked deeply at his lover. Time had flown by. It had been twenty years since that first stunning glance, yet the feeling of excitement was still as fresh as ever. “A-Zhuo, I do.”
Wen Jin slowly pushed the ring onto his finger. This time, he spoke first: “Liuxin, I love you.”
Zhang Liuxin used the hand wearing the ring to cup his lover’s cheek and gently pressed a kiss onto his lips, like a peach blossom petal falling into a deep pool, or a willow leaf swaying down from the willow tree outside the window.
“I love you too, Wen Jin.”
If his and Wen Jin’s acquaintance and love were a movie, the former Zhang Liuxin always wished the film could stop at certain moments.
Like the moment he smelled the Ice Queen lily in the garden and looked up to see Wen Jin by the window curtain.
Like at the wedding, hearing Wen Jin’s profound vows and having him place a ring symbolizing their marriage on his finger.
Like in Bernlin, where they leaned shoulder-to-shoulder, intimately reading a book under the autumn sun.
And like this very moment, Zhang Liuxin wished time would stand still forever. But as he kissed Wen Jin, opening his eyes to see his lightly fluttering eyelashes, he stopped thinking that way. Because he knew that in the future, he and Wen Jin would have countless more frames of moments, and they possessed the love and courage to resist everything and face the long journey of life together.
—
End of Main Story.
“Still Frame” concludes here. Thank you all for accompanying Jin and Liu for the past three months. I have seen all your comments and bullet screens, and I am truly happy! I will occasionally drop extras and short snippets later on. Feel free to leave comments if there are any scenarios you’d like to see.
See you in the next book!