Chapter 234: Element

**Chapter 234: The Proposal**

Jiang Zhiyi didn’t notice when he’d held his breath.

He just stared at the card Wen Xian handed him. The gilded logo shimmered under the light, and in the bottom right corner was the private signature of a renowned jewelry master—infamously hard to secure within the industry. The card in Wen Xian’s hand was invaluable. It could fetch a fortune on the market.

He was serious—he wanted to customize two rings.

Jiang Zhiyi’s mind was reeling. Last night, he had been anxious over Song Xuan’s appearance, warning himself to take things slow, not to rush and scare Wen Xian away. But today, the other man had given him a cake—with this card hidden inside.

Rings always carried special meaning between couples. They weren’t given lightly.

Not dating. Not lovers. Was it… an engagement?

Wen Xian waited quietly for a long time, but Jiang Zhiyi just stared at the center of the cake, making no move to take the card. One hand still gripped the frosting knife, as if frozen in place.

Wen Xian thought, *Was this too sudden?*

From what he knew of others’ experiences, proposing and picking rings weren’t usually done together. Usually, feelings were confirmed first, followed by dating, then a long time getting to know each other. Only after an engagement was settled would rings be considered.

But Wen Xian felt they had already worked through all that—this life and the last. There was no one else—never had been, never would be. In his eagerness, he had simply gotten the card without thinking.

Wen Xian thought, *I really was too hasty.*

He needed to give Zhiyi time to react.

So, Wen Xian pressed a finger against the card. “Sorry, I didn’t think this through. We can talk about it later. Let’s try being boyfriends first.”

As he spoke, he reached to take the card back.

The next second, the frosting knife clattered onto the table. Jiang Zhiyi grabbed Wen Xian’s wrist and firmly pulled the card from his fingers. “No. I want this. You can’t take back a gift.”

His tone left no room for argument.

He took a tissue and carefully wiped the frosting off the card before tucking it away with great care.

Wen Xian let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Though they were like an old married couple already, this was his first confession across both lifetimes. He had been a nervous wreck, even mixing up the steps. Only after Jiang Zhiyi agreed did he remember the pack of candles in his pocket—for wishing on.

A slice had already been cut from the cake. Wen Xian pushed the candles into the center and stood to light them.

The match struck against the strip, and an orange flame flickered to life. Wen Xian nudged Jiang Zhiyi. “Come on, make a wish.”

Then, he clasped his hands together and closed his eyes first.

Bathed in the morning sunlight and candle glow, Wen Xian silently recited in his heart: *May my big Zhiyi and little Zhiyi be safe and sound, with smooth sailing ahead, free from suffering and illness.*

May he never again endure the struggles and chaos of his youth.

Once his wish was made, Wen Xian opened his eyes—only to find Jiang Zhiyi hadn’t closed his. He sat across from Wen Xian, his gaze fixed solely on him, on the soft candlelit glow outlining his features and reflecting in his lashes. His honey-brown eyes held only Wen Xian’s image, as if he were the only person in the world.

Wen Xian paused.

The cake seemed delicious in the candlelight, but Jiang Zhiyi behind it looked even tastier.

Softly, Wen Xian asked, “So… you’ve accepted my confession, right?”

His voice was low, rich with the deep notes of a cello. Jiang Zhiyi nodded. Wen Xian then asked, “Do you know what usually happens right after a confession?”

Jiang Zhiyi froze for a moment, then shook his head.

Then, Wen Xian suddenly loomed large in his vision—that handsome, carefree face right before his eyes. Wen Xian had a strikingly bold face, the epitome of intense beauty that only grew more overwhelming the closer one got, radiating an almost aggressive magnetism.

Jiang Zhiyi’s pupils contracted slightly, and the next second, he felt something cool press against his lips.

Wen Xian’s voice sounded in his ear, laced with unconcealed amusement: “Mr. Jiang, close your eyes.”

Jiang Zhiyi closed his eyes.

Then, soft lips met his.

Wen Xian’s lips were on the thinner side, yet just as tender to the touch. Unlike yesterday’s clumsy, dazed kiss, both of them were wide awake now—breaths mingling, their scents blending. Wen Xian easily slipped past Jiang Zhiyi’s teeth. He had drunk black coffee earlier, while Jiang Zhiyi’s mouth carried the taste of mint toothpaste and butter cake. As their flavors fused, tongues chased and brushed against each other, as if consuming one another whole.

Amid the slight breathlessness, Wen Xian raised a hand to cradle the back of Jiang Zhiyi’s head, deepening the kiss. Vivid sensations burst across his palate. Unlike the unyielding force of last night, Jiang Zhiyi, fully conscious now, was completely disarmed—giving ground inch by inch, overwhelmed by the strange and unfamiliar feelings, yet still yielding, welcoming, until there was no escape left.

Wen Xian murmured softly, “Mr. Jiang, breathe.”

Jiang Zhiyi gasped twice, his eyes lowered, not daring to look at Wen Xian. His hair was slightly disheveled, as if thoroughly kiss-drunk.

Wen Xian felt a perverse satisfaction.

Yesterday’s ambush had been a mess—Wen Xian’s kissing skills were terrible, and despite being the one on top, he had somehow failed to dominate, left bewildered and halfway through before he knew it, his dignity in tatters.

So this morning, Wen Xian had dedicated himself to research, watching countless videos with the same dogged determination he’d once applied when cramming for math exams after his credit card got frozen. After analyzing positions, breaking down key points, and reviewing techniques, he had finally mastered the art.

Seeing the famously decisive Jiang-zong reduced to flushed and disoriented filled Wen Xian with smug pleasure as he took a sip of coffee.

Ah, that’s more like it.

Seizing the moment while Jiang Zhiyi was still dazed, Wen Xian lightheartedly scanned their schedule. “Hmm, let’s see what to do on the first day after a successful confession. We could take a sightseeing cruise, listen to a street musician play blues or folk covers, or visit the riverside museum—they have ancient collections from the Royal era. Or do you have a favorite restaurant or bar in mind? We can go anywhere.”

Wen Xian had spent his most passionate twenties in this foreign city. During idle moments, he had boarded canal boats and wandered into riverside galleries countless times, never lonely even by himself. But if he could hold Jiang Zhiyi’s hand while doing so, it would be so much better.

Jiang Zhiyi said, “We could first…”

He bit his lip, hesitating.

In the early stages of a relationship, one shouldn’t seem too eager.

Wen Xian: “Hmm? What would you like to do?”

For passionate lovers, even feeding pigeons in the square—and getting pecked on the fingers and head—could become a joyful memory.

Jiang Zhiyi touched the card in his pocket. “The ring.”

Delays bred uncertainty; long nights invited trouble.

Jiang Zhiyi disliked passive waiting—he preferred locking things down.

Wen Xian laughed.

Sure.

Of course—his Jiang-zong. Even after two lifetimes, Jiang Zhiyi still adored him so much.

Wen Xian immediately made a call to book an appointment for that afternoon.

Like Jiang Zhiyi, he was just as impatient to finally get that wedding band. The brand’s headquarters were local, and as VIP clients with an invitation, they could work directly with the designer.

Wen Xian checked the address—it wasn’t far from the hotel. His convertible was parked in the hotel garage, so he decided to drive there.

After having lunch at the hotel, they glanced at their watches and realized they were almost late. Wen Xian instinctively reached out his hand. “Zhiyi.”

Jiang Zhiyi hesitated briefly before lowering his gaze and placing his hand in Wen Xian’s.

They had held hands countless times before, fingers intertwined, but now, after confessing their feelings, Jiang Zhiyi felt strangely self-conscious—until Wen Xian firmly pulled him close and locked their hands together.

Wen Xian tugged him along as they sprinted through the parking garage.

Both wore suits and dress shoes; their heels clicked sharply on the concrete floor.

Wen Xian moved faster, and Jiang Zhiyi could only follow, gazing at his profile in a daze—the rise and fall of his jacket hem and strands of hair swaying with each step. For a moment, in this foreign underground space, it felt like stepping back into high school, onto the sun-drenched playground where Wen Xian stood with his backpack slung over one shoulder, radiating youthful energy and vitality.

Back then, Wen Xian had been someone he could only admire from afar, an unattainable ideal. Now, he was holding his hand.

Only then did Jiang Zhiyi begin to feel the reality of it.

They were a couple—engaged—and on their way to custom-design rings.

Wen Xian led him to the car and bundled him into the passenger seat. This model was a far cry from the sleeker one Jiang Zhiyi would later buy for him, yet with Wen Xian behind the wheel and his lover beside him, he felt more alive than in his entire previous existence.

Back in high school, boys liked to show off in front of their crushes—like showing off a perfect three-step layup. At the time, Wen Xian had thought it childish, but now, he felt a similar impulse.

Jiang Zhiyi was in the passenger seat—he wanted to show off his driving skills.

He turned the steering wheel and sped out of the garage.

The road followed the canal, lined with 18th- and 19th-century buildings that had been carefully restored over the years. Red brick and granite façades featured white marble balconies adorned with geraniums and petunias, their lush greenery spilling down from upper floors like floral waterfalls. On the other side, the ancient canal flowed gently, the wind whispering past them. Everything was perfectly, beautifully ordinary.

It turned out that even familiar scenery looked different when sitting beside someone you love.

The convertible arrived at the destination. Wen Xian and Jiang Zhiyi stepped out, greeted by a waiting attendant who did a slight double-take at the sight of them.

During the reservation, the staff had already learned the two were here for wedding rings.

While same-sex couples were common nowadays, few seriously considered marriage—especially not two strikingly handsome East Asian men, tall and well-built like male models.

Then Wen Xian openly clasped Jiang Zhiyi’s hand.

He showed no hesitation in front of others—unabashed and proud, as if eager to announce to the world: *This is mine.*

Jiang Zhiyi stiffened for a second, then tightened his grip in return.

The brand’s outer hall resembled a small exhibition gallery, showcasing an exquisite collection of jewelry—rare gemstones and priceless antique pieces, each worth a fortune. In the VIP room, the designer brought over a catalog of basic designs and asked, “Do you have any ideas for your wedding rings? Or any design elements you’d like to incorporate?”

Many couples included meaningful motifs—couples who met on cruises might choose waves and coral, travel companions might opt for cabins and mountains, while office romances often favored career-related symbols. It was always something the designer needed to consider.

Wen Xian paused slightly.

He knew nothing about jewelry or design. He and Jiang Zhiyi had met young, known each other without truly knowing, wandered apart for years—compatible yet distant, tangled in misunderstandings. Their bond had crossed two lifetimes before finally reaching this engagement.

Their story was too complex, too layered to be captured in just one or two symbols. So Wen Xian slid the catalog over to Jiang Zhiyi, leaving the decision to him.

Jiang Zhiyi also knit his brows, as if nothing satisfied him.

The designer spread several design books across the table. “These are our past works. You can browse and see if any styles appeal to you.”

And so, the room fell silent, broken only by the soft rustle of turning pages.

Wen Xian was also flipping through the pages, but his attention remained fixed on Jiang Zhiyi. The genius was using the same intense focus he once reserved for tackling the most difficult high school exam questions—perhaps even more concentrated now—his sharp profile both elegant and striking.

Watching from the side, Wen Xian suddenly wondered, *Was it like this in his past life?*

Did that version of Jiang Zhiyi, the one who didn’t have him there beside her, also sit so earnestly in front of a designer, carefully choosing a ring?

Just then, when they reached a certain page, Jiang Zhiyi abruptly stopped. "This design element..."

The designer said, "Ah, the Ouroboros and the Möbius strip. These two designs represent endless cycles and infinity."

Wen Xian froze.

A tangled, wordless feeling rose in him as he stared at the interlinked rings on the page. "Zhiyi, you...?"

Jiang Zhiyi reached out, lightly tracing the illustration, his voice tinged with a confusion he didn’t understand himself. "I don’t know why, but... I really like this symbol."