They had just gone to bed.
Liang Jingchuan changed into a clean set of clothes and walked over to Lan Yan’s side.
She sat curled up on the sofa, fiddling with the CD player.
She wore a T-shirt with his thin white sporty windbreaker jacket over it, which was even baggier than her own clothes and hung loosely off her shoulders.
“Can this thing still work?” Lan Yan shook the CD player in her hand.
“It can.” Liang Jingchuan didn’t look at her again. He took the power cord out of the box and plugged it into the player.
It was a dual plug-in and rechargeable model. Compared to designs from their era, it had a purer, bolder millennial vibe, and the physical buttons gave off a thick, retro feel.
Lan Yan pressed the play button and heard a buzzing sound from inside as it spun up.
“Too bad there’s no CD to test it with.” She sounded regretful.
She glanced at Liang Jingchuan and saw a faint smile on his face, so she asked, “Do you have one?”
“No.”
“Then what’s with that smile?”
“Nothing. Can’t I smile?”
“…You definitely have one.” After years of back-and-forth, she could guess about seventy or eighty percent of what his expressions meant.
Liang Jingchuan just smiled without saying a word.
Lan Yan tilted her head and thought for a moment. “What’s my birthday gift this year?”
Liang Jingchuan looked mildly surprised and lowered his head to gaze at her.
“…What’s with you staring at me like that?”
“It means, not bad for my little sister.”
“Who’s your little sister!”
“You just called me brother and now you’re going back on it…”
Lan Yan flushed with annoyance, turned around, and grabbed his neck. Liang Jingchuan cooperatively coughed twice. “Is the ‘kin’ in your ‘slay kin for justice’ the same ‘kin’ as in ‘murder one’s husband’…”
Before she could explode further, Liang Jingchuan reached out, pulled her into his arms, and stroked her back soothingly with a laugh. “Alright, alright, I won’t say any more nonsense. Do you still want your birthday gift?”
Lan Yan glared at him.
He smiled, reached out, and pulled a square, flat gift box from under the coffee table—though she didn’t know when he’d put it there.
It was wrapped in solid lake-blue paper—his gifts always came with carefully chosen wrapping too. When she unwrapped it, sure enough, it was a CD case with a white cover featuring a hand-drawn cluster of deep blue flames.
She checked both sides, but there was no track list, artist info, or any other CD details.
She opened it, and the disc inside matched the cover design.
Lan Yan looked at Liang Jingchuan with slight suspicion. He said, “Just listen to it—hold on, let me find you a pair of headphones.”
CD players from back then still used those old round-jack wired headphones.
Liang Jingchuan leaned over and rummaged under the coffee table again. “What a coincidence, there’s a pair right here.”
“…Can you act a little more convincingly?”
She plugged in the headphones, put them on, inserted the CD, and hit play.
She recognized the familiar, catchy intro after just one second. It was Eternal Flame. The original had an electric organ intro, but the melody in her headphones clearly came from a piano.
At the eighth second, the singing started.
A male voice an octave lower than the original, clear and pleasant, like clinking ice or striking jade.
After two lines, Lan Yan looked up in surprise and turned her head.
But he had already moved to the armrest, far away from her, and the moment she looked, he stood up to flee.
Lan Yan pounced quickly, grabbed his wrist, and yanked him back onto the sofa.
The song continued in her headphones.
Liang Jingchuan turned his face away toward the window, avoiding her gaze, but his ears had already turned bright red.
It was a far cry from the guy who could spout anything without shame.
Lan Yan really wanted to laugh at how cheesy he was being, but he sang really well. Amateur level, sure, but the kind that got the whole class clapping at KTV.
She knew he was decent at singing. She’d heard it back then when he deliberately teased her by clear-singing that theme song line, and occasionally she’d catch him humming while doing homework or hanging laundry.
Lan Yan walked in front of him, rested one knee on the sofa edge, and looked down at him.
She tilted her head and heard him singing in the headphones: “I believe it’s meant to be, darling. I watch you when you are sleeping, you belong with me.”
The hand Liang Jingchuan had propped on the armrest lifted to cover his face, as if to block himself or her view.
“…Go ahead and laugh if you want.” He mumbled.
Suddenly, Lan Yan sat on his lap, forcibly turned his head to face her, and said while holding back laughter, “You said I look like a high schooler? You’re the one. Even high schoolers don’t use such old-school moves to chase girls anymore.”
Liang Jingchuan stayed silent, feeling her fingers pinch his ear and rub it gently.
“Where’d you record this? The piano’s pretty good.” She had the headphones on, so she didn’t realize her voice was a bit louder than usual. “Whoa, your ears are so red.”
Liang Jingchuan closed his eyes briefly, feeling a bit dead inside.
“Wanna listen together…”
“…Just put me out of my misery.”
Laughter bubbled up from his shoulder. “I’m giving those words right back to you.”
“What?”
“Masterful move.”
Liang Jingchuan raised his brows.
The first playthrough ended, and Lan Yan hit rewind. “I’m listening again…”
Liang Jingchuan grabbed her hand, practically begging. “Take it home and listen alone if you want. A thousand times, whatever. The headphones are yours too.”
Lan Yan couldn’t hold back her full laugh anymore.
She paused the CD player, took off the headphones, looked up at Liang Jingchuan, and said seriously, “I really like the gift. Every one of them… thanks for the effort.”
“You laugh two less times and it wouldn’t be so much effort.”
Lan Yan burst out laughing again.
It wasn’t too early anymore, and tomorrow was Monday, so they discussed heading to bed.
As he got up from the sofa to brush his teeth in the bathroom, Liang Jingchuan’s phone vibrated again.
He picked it up, glanced at Lan Yan, and gave a half-smile.
“…”
Liang Jingchuan answered and hit speaker.
It wasn’t Chen Boyu—it was a woman’s voice.
Lan Yan shot him a glare—this guy never missed a chance to tease her.
“Jingchuan, are those two files I gave you the day before yesterday in your office? I had my assistant look and couldn’t find them.”
“I took them home, Sister Shan. I’ll bring them over tomorrow morning.”
“I’m going on a business trip tomorrow.”
“Are you still at the company? I can run them over.”
“No need, I’m about to leave. Where do you live?”
Liang Jingchuan gave his address.
“It’s on my way. I’ll come pick them up. I’ll call when I get there—you can just bring them to the neighborhood gate.”
Liang Jingchuan said okay.
After the call ended, he checked WeChat and saw Sister Shan had messaged him two hours ago. He’d been busy with other things and hadn’t noticed his phone.
Liang Jingchuan looked at Lan Yan. “You tired? If so, go rest first. Sister Shan might take a bit.”
Lan Yan whispered, “…I’m kinda hungry.”
Liang Jingchuan feigned surprise. “Already? We didn’t even work up much of a sweat.”
“Believe I won’t blast that CD on speaker?”
Liang Jingchuan surrendered immediately. “What do you want?”
“Any udon noodles left?”
“Yeah.”
“One portion’s too much for me. Eat with me.”
“Sure.”
Lan Yan grabbed her jacket from the sofa and headed toward the entryway.
Liang Jingchuan, washing a pot in the kitchen, glanced over. “Doing laundry?”
“Yeah. Want yours too?”
“Sure.”
“The pants…”
“Machine-washable, no dryer.”
“…Didn’t you say dry clean? Big liar.”
Liang Jingchuan’s lips curved up slightly. He teased her constantly because even her scoldings sounded like coquetry—irresistibly cute.
The washer and dryer were stacked side by side next to the bathroom. Lan Yan tossed their changed clothes into the machine, added detergent, started it, then had nothing to do and wandered into the kitchen.
The narrow space couldn’t fit two people, so she leaned against the pillar and watched Liang Jingchuan.
He picked up a white porcelain bowl from the counter and handed it to her. It held raspberries he’d washed sometime earlier.
Lan Yan unceremoniously hugged the bowl to herself but stayed put.
Liang Jingchuan laughed. “Oh, you’re here to keep me company, not beg for food?”
As soon as he said it, Lan Yan turned to leave.
But after pacing the living room alone for a bit, she drifted back to the kitchen unnoticed.
Liang Jingchuan was doing some inscrutable operations in the pot. He was the type to fancy up even tomato egg noodles, so he certainly wouldn’t just serve her plain udon.
The space was tight, but Lan Yan squeezed to his side and reached up.
Liang Jingchuan glanced down and saw her pluck a raspberry. He smiled, leaned down, and bit it.
“What are you making?” Lan Yan asked.
“Pan-fried mackerel pike.”
“So lavish. I’ll really gain weight.”
“Then work out more.”
“…”
Liang Jingchuan added slowly, “Like running, biking, playing ball…”
“You know there’s a phrase called ‘trying to hide it only makes it worse’?”
“Then do you know ‘Ying’s Book and Yan’s Talk’?”
Lan Yan froze for a second, quietly pulled out her phone, typed based on what she’d heard, and let autocorrect do its thing.
Ying’s Book and Yan’s Talk: Describes forced analogies or twisting the original meaning.
…She’d actually lost this round on idiom knowledge. It irked her a bit. What did a science guy like him need with such obscure idioms?
The doorbell rang at the entryway.
Liang Jingchuan turned down the heat. “Someone at the door?”
“Yeah. Probably Sister Shan.” Lan Yan set down the bowl. “You keep going. I’ll get it.”
Lan Yan shuffled over in slippers and opened the door.
The door swung open, and Lan Yan froze—two people stood outside.
Luo Shan, and Chen Boyu.
Luo Shan generally tuned out office gossip, but she knew the big boss’s ex-girlfriend. She’d seen Lan Yan at Chen Boyu’s birthday and the team-building event.
She was a little puzzled to see Lan Yan here but didn’t dwell on it. “Liang Jingchuan lives here, right? I need those two files from him…”