“Hey, Jin’an, how many birthday wishes have you received today? Over a hundred thousand?” Tang Shang suddenly asked.
Zhang Jin’an replied with a smile, “Probably.”
“More than that. He has way more than a hundred thousand fans,” a screenwriter added.
“I’m so jealous. If it were me, I’d be dying of happiness,” Yuan Yuan said.
No one noticed the light in Zhang Jin’an’s eyes dimming after hearing that; they were all too busy chatting about their envy.
“If it were me, I would’ve screenshotted them all to brag ages ago.”
“Hahaha, there you go again...”
The dinner lasted until eight o’clock, finally concluding with Zhang Jin’an sending out a large digital red envelope to the group. Everyone filtered out of the restaurant in small groups, said their goodbyes, and got into their respective cars to head back to the hotel.
On the way back, the car’s music was all Cantonese songs. The singer was Eason Chan, a favorite of Li Qiang’s. He belted out the lyrics along with Xiao Zhou the whole way, his voice even cracking when he got too carried away.
Zhang Jin’an didn’t say a word. He wasn’t playing any music, yet he kept his headphones on. He watched the fleeting scenery outside the window, letting the streetlights flash past his vision one by one until they vanished.
He didn’t know why he felt so gloomy. He should have been happy. So many people had sent him blessings and remembered his birthday. He had seen those thirty-plus stories written by Shen Qingwan, and *Tuanyuan* had updated today as well. Everything had gone smoothly today; he really should be happy.
But...
The car entered a tunnel. Zhang Jin’an closed his eyes, wanting to stop thinking.
*“Ten years ago, I didn’t know you, you didn’t belong to me. We were still the same, accompanying a stranger, walking through streets that gradually became familiar...”*
Before "Ten Years" could finish playing, they reached their destination. Li Qiang regretfully turned off the music.
Zhang Jin’an got out first and headed upstairs.
Standing in the elevator, he watched the floor numbers increase one by one.
“Three hours left, and then today is over,” Zhang Jin’an murmured to the empty air.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. No new messages.
Zhang Jin’an gave a self-mocking laugh. Was it because he was getting older that his heart was becoming fragile? It was just a "Happy Birthday"—why had he been dwelling on it until now?
The elevator stopped on the sixth floor, and Zhang Jin’an stepped out. The rooms in this hotel were arranged along a single hallway with the elevator in the middle, splitting into left and right wings. His room was to the left.
Zhang Jin’an turned left instinctively but stopped immediately. His pupils dilated instantly; it felt as if everything had frozen the moment he saw that person.
Standing not far from him was a figure wearing a white cap, a crisp shirt, and long trousers, with a box resting by his feet. He stood straight in front of a certain door, looking down at his phone before lifting it to his ear.
A few seconds later, Zhang Jin’an felt the phone in his pocket vibrate. Without taking his eyes off the person, he answered the call.
He watched as the person’s face broke into a smile the moment the call connected. The voice he heard in the hallway was identical to the one in his headphones—a refreshing voice, its frequency vibrating in sync with his own heartbeat.
“Brother, where are you right now?”
Zhang Jin’an didn’t answer. He began walking toward him.
“Brother?”
Thinking he hadn’t been heard, the other repeated the question.
The hotel was carpeted with soft rugs that muffled noise and footsteps. Zhang Jin’an usually liked this design; he liked quiet hallways and hushed whispers. But now, he perversely wanted to speak loudly. He wanted that person to hear his footsteps, to notice the change in the air around him.
When the distance between them was about two meters, Zhang Jin’an answered through the phone while calling out the other’s name: “...Siyang.”
The man naturally heard him and whipped his head around. Upon seeing him, he immediately beamed. “What a coincidence! I was just about to call—”
“When did you get back? Why didn’t you message me today?”
The cheerful words were cut short by this interrogation. The other man froze, and Zhang Jin’an froze as well. He regretted it the moment the words left his mouth.
*Dammit.* It was bad enough that it slipped out, but why did his tone sound so... aggrieved?
Jiang Siyang didn’t take it to heart, replying with a smile, “Because I figured I’d see you anyway, so I didn’t message. After all, a text isn’t as sincere as giving my wishes in person.”
“I see,” Zhang Jin’an replied.
“I didn’t realize you cared so much, Brother. Should I make it up to you now?” Jiang Siyang asked.
Zhang Jin’an shook his head. “No need. There are too many people spamming 'Happy Birthday' right now; your message would just get buried.”
Jiang Siyang seemed to be in a great mood, his smile bright and clear. Zhang Jin’an couldn’t help but let the corners of his own mouth turn up slightly.
“I saw the photos Yuan Yuan posted. The cake looked delicious,” Jiang Siyang said.
“It was pretty good. Chocolate,” Zhang Jin’an replied.
“A pity I didn’t get any,” Jiang Siyang said with a hint of regret. “When I finally checked my phone later, I realized I’d missed a ton of red envelopes too. Sigh, missing out on hundreds of millions every single day.”
Zhang Jin’an laughed. “Who did you learn that 'missing out on hundreds of millions' line from?”
“Xie Jie. He said it after looking at my phone.” Jiang Siyang took off his cap, smoothed his hair back, and put it back on. “I was supposed to come back tomorrow, but isn’t today your birthday, Brother? I thought, if I missed today, I wouldn’t know when the next chance would be. Besides, a gift has to be given on the actual day. So, I left halfway through dinner and rushed over on the high-speed rail.” He checked his phone and said with a bit of pride, “Three hours left. I guess I made it.”
Zhang Jin’an nodded. “Of course you did. Three hours is plenty of time.”
“This is the birthday gift I bought. I hope you like it, Brother.” Jiang Siyang picked up the box from the floor and handed it to Zhang Jin’an.
Zhang Jin’an took the cardboard box. He didn’t know what was inside, but it had some weight to it.
“Brother, happy birthday,” Jiang Siyang said.
Zhang Jin’an felt strange.
Clearly, this was the "Happy Birthday" he had been waiting for all day. Logically, the higher the expectation, the more excited one should be upon receiving it. Yet, when he heard those words, he felt nothing—it was as if he were hearing the most ordinary, mundane greeting.
But he didn’t dwell on it. Holding the box, he asked, “What is it?”
“Can’t tell you. Doesn’t a gift only have meaning if you unwrap it yourself?” Jiang Siyang gave a mysterious smile. “Now that the gift is delivered, I’ll head out.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow,” Zhang Jin’an said with a smile.
“See you tomorrow.” Jiang Siyang left just like that, as if he truly had rushed back solely to deliver the gift.
After Jiang Siyang left, Zhang Jin’an stood at his door for about half a minute. He took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside.
He set the box down right at the entrance, took a pair of scissors from a nearby drawer, and knelt down to start unpacking. When the first few words on the inner packaging were revealed, he stopped. He knew what it was.
It was a hoverboard.
The very hoverboard he had offhandedly mentioned wanting to buy again.
Zhang Jin’an looked at the mangled cardboard box. It felt as if the scissors in his right hand had pried open a crack in his heart. Something surged out like a flood breaching a dam, unstoppable and overwhelming. He felt as if he could hear the sound of waves crashing against the rocks.
But in reality, the room was silent. There wasn’t a sound from outside the door.
Zhang Jin’an didn’t know how long he had been kneeling there; he only knew his legs were numb when he finally stood up. He swept the scraps of cardboard into a pile, tidied the entryway, and carried the box to the side of his bed. He flopped straight back onto the bed and pulled out his phone.
He followed many people on Weibo. Whenever he refreshed his feed, a post he had just been looking at a second ago would vanish, so he tended to repost anything interesting immediately for fear of losing it.
After refreshing this time, the first post was a video from an interview program he followed. The guest being interviewed was Jiang Siyang.
This must have been the interview Jiang Siyang recorded during his last trip to Beijing. Without hesitation, Zhang Jin’an tapped the video.
Jiang Siyang was sitting on a cream-white sofa. His hair was styled in a side part, and he was wearing a sweatshirt with a galaxy printed in the center, holding a microphone.
As Jin’an had said before, Jiang Siyang looked good in anything. That easygoing smile of his could brighten anyone’s mood.
Zhang Jin’an knew this program well. Their questioning style involved using crowdsourced questions from netizens, so they used a lot of internet slang. Although Jiang Siyang understood some slang now, there was still much he didn’t know. The host would explain the meanings of the terms to him, and Jiang Siyang would nod seriously like a student in class. The bullet comments were all teasing him for his intense thirst for knowledge.
Host: “This is also a question from a netizen. Siyang, do you ever read fanfiction about your own CPs?”
Zhang Jin’an couldn’t help but think of *System-Restricted Reunion*, which he had flipped through several times. If that question were asked of him, he would definitely answer honestly: “No.”
*—The host is stirring up trouble hahahahaha*
*—God, this question is hilarious lolololol*
*—I bet Yang definitely doesn’t know what that is hahahaha*
*—He only logs onto Weibo once a century, how could he read CP fanfic hahahaha*
Jiang Siyang naturally didn’t understand. He asked confusedly, “What kind of fiction?”
Host: “You know what CP means, right?”
Jiang Siyang: “I know. It means teammates, or it can mean a couple.”
Host: “Right. CP fanfiction is when netizens pair you with someone and write a story about it.”
Jiang Siyang nodded. “Oh...”
Host: “Do you find it offensive when netizens write CP stories about you?”
Jiang Siyang scratched the corner of his eye. “I’m okay with it, mostly because I don’t go online much and I don’t read them. But I think as long as it doesn’t bother anyone else and people don’t start fights over it, they can write whatever they want. After all, it’s all fictional. As long as they’re happy.”
This was essentially a translation of the term "shipping within your own circle." *Not bad,* Zhang Jin’an thought, *he learned a new concept without even trying.*
The host smiled. “Next question. Many people are saying you’re chasing Zhang Jin’an’s clout right now. What do you have to say about that?”
This question made Zhang Jin’an frown.
It was true. As Jiang Siyang’s fan base grew, many people had emerged claiming that Jiang Siyang was using his "fanboy" persona to ride Jin’an’s coattails and grab attention.
It was a sharp question. If it were him, even he would have to think for a moment before answering.
“Brother Zhang Jin’an is a very good senior. I like his work, and I’m just happy to know him. I’ve never had any intention of chasing clout.”
Zhang Jin’an thought Jiang Siyang was finished, but then he saw Siyang give a slight smile to the camera. His "peach blossom" eyes curved slightly, and his gentle voice came through the headphones: “I don’t think anyone would do something like 'clout-chasing' to the person they like, would they?”
Zhang Jin’an froze.
For some reason, as he watched this scene, a line from one of *Tuanyuan’s* stories suddenly popped into his head: *“One knows not when the affection deepened; one simply looks back and finds they have fallen for that person’s every frown and every smile.”*
He knew what kind of person Jiang Siyang was—upright and honest. If he liked something, he liked it; if he didn’t, he didn’t. Therefore, Jiang Siyang’s phrase “the person I like” simply referred to a “favorite celebrity.” Even the bullet comments understood this.
Yet, his heart began to race. The sudden, rapid pounding even made him feel a bit dizzy.
Faced with these uncontrollable reactions, Zhang Jin’an hurriedly turned off his phone. His right hand, still gripping the device, dropped naturally onto the bed. He covered his eyes with his left hand, trying to use the darkness to hide from reality. But it was self-deception in the end; darkness only makes the senses more acute.
Zhang Jin’an felt as if the entire room was filled with the sound of his own heartbeat.
He recalled that this wasn’t the first time he had felt this way.
If his heart had stirred on the mountain that day, it was because the long-unseen scenery had moved him. If he had been in high spirits on that rainy day, it was because he had seen a rainbow he’d never noticed before. If his blood had felt like it was boiling that night, it was because someone was willing to talk with him. And if his heart felt like a rising tide today, it was because of the surprise brought by the gift.
But what about now?
Right now, there was no scenery, no rainbow, and not even another person present—only a turned-off phone.
Why was his heart racing like this now?
In truth, if he thought about it carefully, the phrase "Happy Birthday" was very ordinary. He had seen and heard it countless times today. Yet, he had still been waiting for a specific person to say it to him.
He didn’t care about the words; he cared about the person saying them.
Zhang Jin’an took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. A voice in his head told him—*Give up. You can’t find any more excuses.*
*You should have known long ago. This heartbeat is only because of Jiang Siyang.*
*You like Jiang Siyang.*
In fact, this affection was deeper and more far-reaching than he had imagined. It had long since taken root and sprouted in his heart. The flowers it bloomed were so numerous that even the gardeners of Eden couldn’t prune them all away.
*Congratulations. You have someone you like. You have begun a long, indefinite secret crush.*
“Tuanyuan... you wrote it backwards,” Zhang Jin’an whispered.
He was the one with the secret crush.
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
---|---|---
十年 | Ten Years | A famous melancholic song by Eason Chan.
平衡车 | Hoverboard / Self-balancing scooter | The gift Siyang gave to Jin'an.
蹭热度 | Clout-chasing / Riding coattails | Using someone else's fame for one's own gain.
桃花眼 | Peach blossom eyes | An eye shape considered very attractive and charming in Chinese culture.
暗恋 | Secret crush / Unrequited love | The realization Jin'an has at the end of the chapter.
圈地自萌 | Shipping within one's own circle | A fandom term meaning to enjoy fan content (like CP stories) privately without bothering the real people involved.
