HGG - 54

Misunderstandings, overly abbreviated processes, and your calm demeanor alongside my sudden descent into confusion spun together into an inescapable web.

Song Yi hesitated for a moment before asking: “Do you want to marry me?”

Chi Zhao silently gazed at the piano lid, his lips curling into an ambiguous smile as he countered: “Is that what loving you means?”

Fairy tales have only one ending.

The prince and princess held a grand wedding and lived happily ever after.

Song Yi’s heart sank quietly beneath the still surface of her mind. She suddenly felt pity for the person beside her.

“No,” Song Yi stated firmly. “It’s not like that.”

Marriage isn’t something so easily achieved, nor is love so simple.

The “loving someone” he spoke of wasn’t a title—it was an action.

“If we’re talking about this kind of ‘loving someone,’” Song Yi thought carefully, choosing her words with precision, “actually—”

She paused mid-sentence as the door to the conference room opened.

A waiter peeked in with a smile: “Sorry to interrupt, but I heard piano music earlier. The ship has docked.”

Beyond the door lay another world. Obligations awaited—people to entertain, partners to negotiate with—and Chi Zhao was immediately swept into exchanging pleasantries with others.

Zhan Heqing approached quickly, leaning close to whisper with a smile: “Chairman Dan wants you to come over.”

He nodded. Song Yi assumed the matter was settled, but just as he turned to leave, he unexpectedly glanced back.

Amidst the bustling crowd and noise, Chi Zhao reached out to steady her shoulder. Believing he had something important to convey, Song Yi instinctively leaned closer.

From major decisions at Chongming Games to minor tasks like notifying the driver to arrive early, all fell within Song Yi’s responsibilities. She wondered if there was anything particularly urgent he needed to emphasize?

Surrounded by the cacophony of voices, Chi Zhao moved entirely closer. He whispered into her ear: “I love you.”

Song Yi froze, furrowing her brow as she looked at him.

“Really.” With those words, he flashed her a mischievous grin. Taking a few steps back, he then turned to follow the others.

He was about to disappear from her sight. Overwhelmed by the sudden impact, Song Yi stood rooted in place, her heartbeat pounding audibly in her chest. At the last moment, she finally regained her composure.

“Chi Zhao.” Song Yi spoke in a detached tone.

She quickened her pace, chasing after him under the watchful eyes of the crowd.

Chi Zhao was caught off guard when she grabbed his wrist. Turning around, he saw Song Yi’s determined yet icy expression.

“I love you too,” she whispered in the same hushed tone, leaning in close.

The clamor of the crowd seemed sealed away behind an invisible barrier. Whatever transpired between them in that moment remained unknown to everyone else.

Her eyes were as dark and still as obsidian, yet within their silent depths shimmered a faint gleam of black light. Song Yi gazed directly into his eyes.

The dry ice melted, and the corners of her cold face softened into a faint smile. Song Yi declared confidently: “That’s the truth.”

Chi Zhao was stunned.

“Is that so?” The pitch-black sea breeze blew against him, his features glowing under the lamplight. Chi Zhao said, “Then we’ll see how it goes.”

As he turned and resumed walking, Zhan Heqing by his side inquired: “What were you two whispering about?”

Meanwhile, Song Yi picked up her phone, deftly preparing to contact the driver. Someone approached her, and when she turned her head, she realized it was Gao Jie.

Her face carried a heavy sense of vigilance. “You were so close just now. What did you say?”

Song Yi stared at her silently. “It’s none of your business,” she replied. “Rather than that, please spend more time with your father.”

On her first day back at work, Chi Zhao gave Song Yi a four-inch cream cake.

Sweets are considered sinful indulgences for women. Initially, Song Yi didn’t plan to accept it.

But he blocked the office doorway, refusing to let her pass unless she took it. For five long minutes, their gazes locked in a stalemate.

Xia Fan arrived yawning for work, only to be stuck outside along with her. After some persuasion and consideration of efficiency, Song Yi reluctantly accepted the cake.

The cream was sweet, the cake soft and chewy. It wasn’t large, so Song Yi simply forked pieces into her mouth.

Midway through, the fork struck something. Carefully lifting it, she discovered a ring nestled in the middle of the slice.

The diamond sparkled brightly in the center of the band. Song Yi looked up through the glass window at Chi Zhao, who was busy at his desk.

This trope appears in countless romantic TV dramas—a hidden ring inside dessert, followed by an on-the-spot proposal where surrounding guests applaud and cheer.

Such a clichéd yet heartwarming scene.

Song Yi clenched the diamond ring in her palm, standing helplessly before the now-ruined cake.

She prepared to confront him face-to-face, but Xia Fan happened to walk in holding a cup of coffee.

“Perfect timing—I was craving something sweet.” Without permission, he grabbed another fork and cut himself a piece to savor.

Just as Song Yi reached the door, she heard Xia Fan’s voice behind her: “What’s this?”

She turned around to see him spit out a ring.

Looking down, she realized it matched the one in her hand.

A bad feeling arose.

Inevitably, Song Yi returned, took the fork from Xia Fan, and began tearing apart the remaining cake.

Beneath the decorative cream topping, the cake was stuffed to the brim with eleven diamond rings.

She only had ten fingers.

And it wasn’t as though she could wear rings on every finger.

Song Yi intended to return the rings, but Chi Zhao was downstairs dressed in formal attire, occupied with meeting the Chongming board members, and kept declining to come up. Fortunately, she found the store receipt in his office drawer.

Song Yi left the company and headed to the jewelry shop. As she walked, she occasionally noticed people glancing behind her.

She turned her head by chance. A handsome man in a suit stood conspicuously in the middle of the sidewalk, completely exposed with no cover to hide behind. Seeing her notice him, he turned around and walked back toward her.

Song Yi had meant to maintain a stern expression, but an uncontrollable smile kept breaking through until she couldn’t help but laugh outright.

“Chi Zhao,” she called out, finally stopping him. “Let’s go together.”

The exclusive, pearl-white-themed jewelry store was bright, clear, and elegant, devoid of other customers. Even the salesperson stood silently like a mannequin inside.

Upon entering, Chi Zhao leisurely wandered around while Song Yi attempted to negotiate the return.

However, the salesperson maintained an aloof demeanor and politely declined.

After repeated attempts, they adhered strictly to protocol. While Song Yi contemplated how to handle the surplus rings, Chi Zhao unexpectedly chimed in: “Song Yi, wouldn’t this one look good too?”

Already at the door, she responded without turning her head: “Everything you pick looks good.”

He followed her out, observing her exasperated expression. “Are you really sure you want to return them?”

Song Yi remained silent, tacitly confirming.

Chi Zhao thoughtfully nodded. He turned back, and a few minutes later emerged saying: “Give the rings to them. The money will be refunded to the bank.”

She stared at him incredulously. Moments later, regaining her composure, Song Yi went inside and returned the rings as instructed.

The previously haughty salesperson inexplicably became much friendlier. Song Yi didn’t press further and exited to find Chi Zhao waiting at the door with a faint smile.

He accompanied her to the bus stop. Normally, Song Yi took the subway home, but checking her phone, she learned there was one last evening bus.

This area was already sparsely populated, and night buses were scarce. Upon reaching the empty bus stop, Chi Zhao asked: “Aren’t you curious how I managed it?”

Song Yi tilted her head, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“No matter what Chi Zhao accomplishes,” she said, “I won’t be surprised.”

Unexpectedly, he paused.

Chi Zhao lowered his gaze slightly, his desolate expression making him seem somewhat pitiable. Unbeknownst to them, night had almost fallen. The streetlights flickered on, and the remnants of sunset lingered, while the faint moonlight sighed imperceptibly.

“What are you thinking about?”

Her voice was dry and raspy. Chi Zhao lifted his eyes to find her carefully scrutinizing him, her face turned slightly.

Whenever Song Yi spoke, her gaze always carried a resilient yet cold earnestness. Through such eyes, she made Chi Zhao feel that she truly cared about him.

She genuinely wanted to know what he was thinking.

“I’m wondering what I can do for you,” Chi Zhao said.

He watched her smile.

Song Yi averted her gaze, pressing her lips together as if trying to suppress her laughter and bury certain emotions.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

At the intersection of late spring and early summer, the poplar trees stood lush and green, while the magnolia trees were shrouded in the twilight mist.

“On the ship, I didn’t finish what I wanted to say. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure how to proceed either,” Song Yi said. “But I know that Chi Zhao is gentler than anyone. So, I want to do something for Chi Zhao.”

To stay by your side forever, to extend my hand immediately when you need help, to be the first person you think of when you’re happy or sad.

“How exactly does one love someone? I’ve been pondering that question too.”

This is my love.

She said: “Let’s figure it out together.”

Song Yi was suddenly pulled, then bumped heavily into his shoulder. She exclaimed: “What’s wrong?”

The bus slowly approached, its doors opening and closing steadily after a few dozen seconds.

Chi Zhao’s face betrayed no emotion. He tightened his embrace and solemnly answered: “My body acted on its own.”

Though it wasn’t a joke, Song Yi couldn’t help but laugh. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she said: “Chi Zhao, um… I actually prepared a gift for you too. But since you acted so fast, I feel like it’s unnecessary now…”

“It’s necessary. Please give it to me.” Chi Zhao released her and earnestly asked, “May I ask what it is?”

Song Yi smiled and replied: “A cross-stitch piece that says ‘Harmony Brings Prosperity.’”

After a brief silence, Chi Zhao gravely responded: “I will treasure it dearly.”

As evening fell, the Japanese restaurant hadn’t yet opened for business but was already lit up—an unusual occurrence.

Chi Zhao, who had missed the last train, and Song Yi, who had also missed the last train, entered silently, lifting the curtain.

Before they could speak, they heard someone chatting casually in Japanese inside.

“Mishima.” Chi Zhao greeted first as he stepped inside.

Inside, a woman already sat at the bar. She wore a long, strapless dress, her linen-colored hair cascading down her shoulders.

The first to glance over was Mishima behind the bar, smiling. The instant her gaze met Chi Zhao’s, Mishima visibly stiffened.

“Chi Zhao.” He switched to Chinese, but his voice sounded as if it were caught in his throat. Mishima’s gaze quickly shifted back to the woman in front of her.

Turning around, she looked at Chi Zhao with a slight drunkenness akin to plum wine, then immediately broke into the same toothy grin as before.

During their high school field trip to Nagasaki, when the lights were turned off in the hostel, Chi Zhao instinctively said, “Let there be light.”

Then, Cui Ting’ai, who was part of his group and also of Chinese descent, asked: “What’s that?”

Chi Zhao didn’t answer.

That was their only incomplete conversation.

These two classmates weren’t close, but someone had unexpectedly bridged the gap between them after graduation.

After that incident, Chi Zhao never saw her again. Yet, countless times, he had wondered what he would say to Cui Ting’ai if they met again.

“Chi Zhao!” She called out with a laugh. “We were just talking about you!”

Song Yi silently observed Chi Zhao’s profile.

His smile was purely perfunctory, devoid of any emotion.

“At that time,” Chi Zhao said with a smile, voicing the question that had brewed endlessly in his heart day and night, “why didn’t you answer my brother’s call?”