Chapter 42 Was It You Who Sent the Texts?

Chapter 42: Was It You Who Sent the Text?

The night at the harbor was freezing, the wind damp and cold.

The Ferris wheel creaked as it started moving. Li Wangyue glanced back, thinking, with all that noise, even if he got on, he probably wouldn't dare ride it.

The original plan fell through, leaving the group stuck on the beach with nothing to do. They'd planned to watch the New Year's fireworks from the top of the Ferris wheel, but now they could only catch glimpses in the dark.

The place was buzzing, with couples and kids setting off fireworks. Zhao Bing wanted in, so he ran to a stall to buy some.

"What do you guys wanna play with?" Zhao Bing rummaged through the fireworks, picking up a handful of sparklers.

Ji Zhijia declined: "Thanks, but I'm past the fireworks phase."

Shang Wendu looked sideways: "That kid over there has a spinning cannon."

Ji Zhijia spun around: "Where? Where? I want one too."

"The last spinning cannon just got sold," the vendor suggested other fireworks: "This 'Heavenly Scattering Flowers' is fun too, and really pretty."

"I wanna play with the spinning cannon..." Ji Zhijia was disappointed.

"These have been a hot seller today; they're gone as soon as they come in," the vendor said cheerfully.

Zhao Bing looked at him, then at Ji Zhijia, rolled up his sleeves, and headed for the kids: "Leave it to me, I'll grab one back for you."

"Hey, hey, never mind." Ji Zhijia still knew better and pulled him back: "Robbery's illegal, that's a serious crime."

"Then I'll just buy you one?" Zhao Bing scratched his head.

Ji Zhijia pouted, grabbed two handheld fireworks, and handed them to Zhao Bing to pay for.

Zhao Bing came back with a bunch of fireworks, looking like he'd just bagged a big haul. He dumped them all on the ground, pulled out a lighter, and started sparking them up.

The lighter clicked twice but didn't catch. Zhao Bing frowned and shook it, but it still wouldn't light, which pissed him off.

Li Wangyue got up and walked over, steadied the firework tube for him, and lit the fuse. With a sizzle, sparks shot out of the tube, soared into the night sky, and exploded into bloom.

After lighting two or three, Zhao Bing felt it wasn't fun enough, so he cut open the fireworks and tied five of them together.

"That's way too dangerous..."

Li Wangyue was worried and was about to go stop him, but someone grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

Ting Zhenxi pulled a silver sparkler out of the bag and handed it to him.

Li Wangyue hesitated, then took the firework and sat back down on the sand.

Ting Zhenxi took out another one, held it next to his, and lit both sparklers at once with the lighter. They crackled in the night sky like ball lightning, with continuous threads of fire reflecting in their eyes.

Li Wangyue twisted the wire, and the firelight shifted shape.

It was dim here, quiet, with hardly anyone around. He couldn't help but look at the face beside him—half lit by the fireworks, the other half lost in the dark.

Ting Zhenxi had beautiful fingers. He seemed to want to touch those dancing sparks, to pinch them between his fingertips, savoring the burn.

Li Wangyue heard his breathing get heavier.

He couldn't tell if it was pain or excitement, or both.

He was always like this; he liked to put himself in danger.

Li Wangyue grabbed his hand to stop him from hurting himself, but it was too late. His fingers were already red and white from the burn, even a little peeled.

"Doesn't that hurt?" he asked.

"Yeah, it hurts," Ting Zhenxi said.

"Then why don't you just stop?" Li Wangyue reached for a band-aid in his pocket.

"Because it's fun."

Li Wangyue froze. As he looked up, he caught a glimpse of a scar on Ting Zhenxi's palm.

It ran from the webbing of his left thumb to the center of his wrist, hidden along the edge of his palm. It was faint, like it had been there for years, and he'd never noticed it before.

Li Wangyue pulled out a band-aid and an alcohol wipe: "Let me treat it. It would be bad if it got infected."

Ting Zhenxi didn't answer, just handed his hand over.

Li Wangyue opened the wipe, gently held his hand, and cleaned the burned fingertips.

"Does it hurt?" He felt a phantom pain in his own hand as well—the fingers connected to the heart—and he lowered his head to blow on the fingertips.

This time, his question went unanswered.

Ting Zhenxi looked down at his face, the warm breath brushing over the burning fingertips. It was a completely useless soothing gesture, childish to the extreme, yet it stirred an impulse in him to pinch his chin and make him look up.

His expression was serious as he treated the wound, with a high nose bridge, long eyelashes, and lips that seemed soft as he blew.

He thought of those nights, the sensation of kissing those lips, the mingling of damp breaths. He liked to bite, to break his lips, then lure him into biting his own, their blood mixing together, only to disappear with the fierce, passionate kisses.

They weren't blood-related, but their blood could merge.

Li Wangyue was slightly stunned. He looked up and only saw a face with an obscure expression.

But he clearly felt it—when he held Ting Zhenxi's wrist, he could feel his increasingly restless pulse.

The heartbeat under his palm grew heavier with each beat, like a fist pounding against his hand, yet the man's expression remained calm as ever, cold as ice.

"What is your wish?" Li Wangyue asked.

"Hmm?" Ting Zhenxi seemed distracted.

"The wish you wanted to make—what is it?" he repeated.

Ting Zhenxi didn't answer, just stared at the burning firework in his hand, lost in thought.

Perhaps he didn't want to say, and Li Wangyue didn't press further.

"I hope I can sleep well," he suddenly said.

"Huh?" Li Wangyue was surprised: "You don't sleep well?"

"I wasn't talking about myself."

"What..."

"Where did you get so many?!" A surprised shout came from a distance, interrupting his thoughts.

Shang Wendu was holding a small cart, filled with colorful spinning cannons, and casually tossed one over: "Found them."

Ji Zhijia threw down the boring "Heavenly Maiden Scattering Flowers" firework, circling the cart excitedly. "Damn, there's a multicolor cannon, and this one, a whistle cannon—it's amazing, sounds just like an eagle's cry. And this ribbon cannon—hey, hey, this one leaves a pattern when it explodes. Let me see what it is..."

Ji Zhijia crouched on the ground, picking and choosing, stuffing the good stuff into his arms.

"One hundred bucks each," Shang Wendu lit a cigarette. "Cash only, pay up before you play."

Ji Zhijia shot him a glare. "Cheapskate. Just some crappy fireworks, what's the harm in letting me play?"

"I bought these fireworks at a high price not for you to play with, but to sell and make a profit off the markup," Shang Wendu said, holding the cigarette and shrugging lightly. "What's in it for me if I let you play for free?"

"You're such a money-grubber," Ji Zhijia stood up indignantly and started bargaining. "One hundred is too expensive. Make it cheaper, come on."

"Ninety."

"Forty." Ji Zhijia cut it in half again.

Shang Wendu turned away mercilessly. "Fireworks for sale! The newest, coolest spinning cannons!"

"Hey, don't shout!" Ji Zhijia rushed over and grabbed him. "Let's talk it out, give me another shot..."

Shang Wendu pulled the guy off him and smoothed out his clothes. "Talk about what?"

"I didn't bring any money today. Can you just let me owe it?" Ji Zhijia reasoned with emotion. "For old times' sake..."

"For old times' sake?" Shang Wendu gave a sly smile. "One eighty bucks."

"How did it go up?" Ji Zhijia was shocked.

"Plus ten coupons for the new items at that chicken wing chain, or no deal."

"A price-gouging jerk who hikes prices on the spot, you never learn, do you?" Ji Zhijia gritted his teeth, but his eyes were glued to the fireworks. He didn't dare haggle anymore and accepted Shang Wendu's unfair deal.

With the promise secured, Shang Wendu kicked the cart over to him. "Go on, have fun."

"You treatin' me like a dog?" Ji Zhijia spat at him, flicked the lighter a few times, but it wouldn't catch. "Hey, give me a lighter."

Shang Wendu: "One eighty bucks."

"Fine, I'll go ask Wangyue." Ji Zhijia lost patience and turned to leave.

Shang Wendu's hand went for the lighter in his pocket, then stopped as he watched Ji Zhijia's back. After a beat, he tossed it into the fireworks pile in the cart.

Ji Zhijia ran over with a spinning cannon and saw Li Wangyue and Ting Zhenxi in the distance, each lighting a sparkler. They sat close, like they were talking, but he couldn't hear what about.

Ji Zhijia stopped, turned to leave, then turned back around, weighing the cannon in his hand, not wanting to barge in.

Li Wangyue's sparkler burned out. He stood up, dusted off his hands, and walked over.

"What's wrong?"

Ji Zhijia glanced at Ting Zhenxi off in the distance before answering, "Got a lighter? Mine's dead."

Li Wangyue handed him his. "You bought that many fireworks?"

"You bet, one's a hundred eighty. Total rip-off." Ji Zhijia gritted his teeth just thinking about it.

Li Wangyue arched an eyebrow. "Is a hundred eighty really that much? Someone once dropped 1888 on a membership card just to hit on a barista, and it's still not even used up..."

"Hey—" Ji Zhijia whined pitifully.

"Okay, okay, I'll quit." Li Wangyue knew when to back off. "Go have fun, but be careful—don't point it at anyone."

"I know, I'm not a little kid."

Ji Zhijia didn't give a damn. He hoisted the cannon onto his shoulder and lit the fuse.

The cannon had a crazy, powerful kick. The recoil knocked Ji Zhijia flat on his ass, and the gunpowder burst into colorful little streaks in the sky.

"So awesome!" Ji Zhijia was having a blast.

A few kids, seeing the spinning cannon in action, rushed over, clinging to Ji Zhijia's legs, wanting to play.

Ji Zhijia pried the kids off. "You've already played so many, you've made it so I can't buy any. Now just watch me play."

The kids weren't happy. They threw themselves on the ground, rolling and kicking up a fuss, but Ji Zhijia ignored them completely, amusing himself happily.

The kids were relentless, crawling around on the sand, nearly tripping Ji Zhijia several times, but he acted as if he didn't notice, treating them like speed bumps.

A hand reached out, grabbed the kid by the scruff of the neck, and tossed him aside with a few stumbling steps.

"Who's that?!" The kid screamed and turned around, only to see a gentle, refined man wearing glasses.

"There are free ice creams behind the stage over there. Don't you want to go get some?" Shang Wendu smiled warmly, brushing the dust off the kid's pants. "If you're late, they'll be all gone."

"Ice cream! Ice cream!" The kid immediately hopped away.

Ji Zhijia fired a shot, manually reloading, muttering under his breath. "A smooth talker, lying through his teeth."

"If I hadn't tricked him away, could you have played?" Shang Wendu snorted. "If you'd stepped on him, you'd be paying through the nose."

Ji Zhijia fell silent, his movements becoming jerky and clumsy, growing more irritated. "Why is it stuck? Can't move it. Damn, so annoying..."

"Idiot." Shang Wendu didn't hold back, grabbed it and took a look. "There's a latch here. After each shot, you have to turn it half a circle to reset it, then you can..."

"I know, I know." Ji Zhijia snatched it back. "I didn't ask for your help. Don't be so presumptuous."

With that, he hoisted it onto his shoulder and fired another shot into the night sky.

The recoil pushed him back half a step, and he landed right against someone's chest, firmly steadied.

Shang Wendu looked down. "Throwing yourself into my arms. Who's being presumptuous now?"

"Tsk, you're in my way. Move." Ji Zhijia stepped aside in disgust, bent down to forcefully reset the latch, and reloaded.

His hands were trembling, and so was his heart. Too bad the fireworks weren't stabilized; they shook on his shoulder with each shot.

He pursed his lips, stared at the night sky, and fired another one.

His palm went numb from the vibration, and the force knocked him backward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man approaching, and quickly averted his gaze.

Shang Wendu brushed past him, dodged to the side, and watched him fall onto the sand. His eyes behind the lenses curved slightly. "Fell, huh? So pitiful. Want me to pull you up? One eighty bucks a go."

Ji Zhijia closed his eyes. "Get lost."

The crowd suddenly erupted in noise, and the billboard on the distant building's exterior began a three-minute countdown.

Zhao Bing emerged from the crowd, covered in dust and grime, glitter all over him, and returned to the spot where they had set off fireworks.

"I think we still need a sense of ceremony," Zhao Bing said, picking a piece of glitter off his lips with his fingers. "I think I have a bottle of wine in my car. Want to grab it and drink together?"

"Sure, I'm thirsty anyway," Ji Zhijia said, after setting off his firecrackers.

"It's not great wine, but it's better than nothing." Zhao Bing brushed the glitter dust off himself and jogged toward where he parked. "Wait for me a moment."

He came back with a bottle of champagne and some disposable cups, which were quite small.

Time was running out. Zhao Bing popped open the champagne with brute force, a loud pop echoing through the night, adding to the vibe.

"One cup each, grab 'em quick." Zhao Bing glanced back at the three-minute countdown on the big screen across the way while pouring and handing out the cups.

A Bud at 520 Hertz

Li Wangyue handed the small cup of champagne to Ting Zhenxi first, and then noticed the scar on his palm.

He wanted to look away, but couldn't tear his eyes off it.

Was it a coincidence? Or was he seeing things?

In the countless photos sent from that anonymous number, there were images of holding underwear of all colors and styles, doing unspeakable things, using vulgar, degrading language to mock and humiliate him.

On that hand, there seemed to be a very faint scar too.

Five cups of champagne, one cup per person.

The noise around them was deafening, pounding in his ears, making even the cold winter night's blood boil in his veins.

"Ten!"

"Nine!"

Zhao Bing shouted excitedly, his hand shaking as he held the cup, speaking at a rapid-fire pace: "Last year, yadda yadda yadda, anyway, that's that. Next year, we gotta &￥%*@@*, got it?!"

"Didn't catch that!" Ji Zhijia yelled in confusion.

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

"Happy New Year!"

Ji Zhijia downed his champagne in one go.

"Good stuff!"

Li Wangyue was about to drink when someone grabbed his wrist. He looked at Ting Zhenxi in confusion.

Ting Zhenxi said nothing, but his expression was a bit off.

Shang Wendu glanced at Ji Zhijia, who had already drunk it, then pretended to examine his cup in sudden realization: "This looks like one of those urine test cups."

Ji Zhijia: ???

He stuck out his tongue in panic, grabbed the cup, and held it up to the light.

Zhao Bing looked completely unashamed: "They're clean, never been used."

"Thanks, man, appreciate the thought." Shang Wendu smiled and casually tossed the wine and cup into the trash.

Ji Zhijia stared at Zhao Bing in disbelief.

Zhao Bing grabbed his hand. "Oh, I think I might've used that cup before."

Ji Zhijia gagged, his eyes red, and lunged at him to throw a punch. Zhao Bing fled with his head down: "I'm joking! They're all clean! Really clean!"

Amid the chaos, Li Wangyue heard a voice.

"Happy New Year," it said.

He turned around, but the man's gaze wasn't on him; it was fixed on the two people messing around in the distance.

Li Wangyue thought he might have misheard, but the only person beside him was this one.

He softly replied, "Happy New Year."

After a moment of silence, he seemed to mutter to himself, "Will it really be happy?"

"It will, Li Wangyue." Ting Zhenxi finally looked at him, his eyes as deep as the ocean that night. "As long as you want it to be."

"I really want it," Li Wangyue said.

How could he not want happiness? Who wouldn't? But many things aren't achieved just by wanting them; things often go against our wishes.

Ting Zhenxi watched him for a moment, then looked up again into the distance. "I wasn't talking to you."