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◎Even kisses have grown unfamiliar.◎
Yue Jincheng held the bookmark, staring at it for a very long time.
For nearly a month, his heart had been restless, his state imbalanced—but in this moment, everything settled strangely and quietly.
“BOOM!”
It wasn’t until a loud explosion came from outside that he silently turned his head to look.
After the reunion dinner, the younger generation was fully immersed in the party. They’d shipped an entire truckload of fireworks from thousands of miles away—each piece the latest model, their lights rich and layered with texture.
The cool-toned glow reflected in his eyes. Though faint like fireflies, it gradually melted the icy chill within.
At ten o’clock in the evening, every tree in the orchard was adorned with festive little lanterns, and every door in the house bore red “fu” characters written by Zhou Xiaojun and Yue Jia together.
The crooked ones were clearly the handiwork of little Jia, who was thoughtful enough not to hurt anyone’s eyes—they were only pasted on Fu Jiaxi’s bedroom door.
When Yue Jincheng arrived, he was immediately pulled by the boy’s small hand and led eagerly to admire them.
“Dad, did I write them well?”
Not exactly praiseworthy, Yue Jincheng opted for another form of compliment: “Your attitude is good.”
Yue Jia’s eyes sparkled. “Then take a picture and send it to Mom, okay?”
Yue Jincheng: “….”
Yue Jia picked up a marker, stood on tiptoe, and added one more stroke—a plump little heart.
“You have to take it now, Dad, please!”
Yue Jincheng agreed, holding his phone in one hand while positioning him next to the “fu” character for a photo together.
Yue Jia was excited. “Did you send it?”
“…I’ll send it later.”
“No, send it now! Mom always tells me kids shouldn’t procrastinate, let alone adults.” Yue Jia insisted, standing guard. “Dad, you’re supposed to be my role model.”
Yue Jincheng was speechless. This child, when it came to reasoning, had a way of cutting straight to the point—it was impressive.
He could only comply.
Yue Jia acted like a proctor, watching the entire process closely. At the slightest hesitation, he would start lecturing again.
Opening Fu Jiaxi’s chat window, the latest message was from over a month ago.
During those intimate days when they were inseparable, Fu Jiaxi had asked if he was coming home for dinner.
He had replied, “Yes.”
She responded with an emoji: a kiss.
“Huh, Mom sent you a kiss!” Yue Jia sounded a little disappointed. “Mom’s so busy; she hasn’t hugged me in such a long time.”
“Do you miss your mom?” Yue Jincheng asked.
“Kind of… I do miss her, but I don’t dwell on it.”
Yue Jincheng couldn’t help but smile.
Sometimes, little Jia exhibited a maturity beyond his years.
“Mom isn’t out playing around. She’s working hard, earning money to buy me Legos and new clothes. She works really hard.”
Yue Jincheng hummed in agreement. “Yes. Your mom is doing what she loves and setting an example for you. She’s great, and I hope you grow up to be just like her.”
Yue Jia blinked. “Dad, you said the same thing Mom did.”
“What?”
“Mom said you work hard, earn money, and set a good example for me. She told me to learn from you and make you my goal.”
Yue Jia pointed at his phone. “Have you sent it yet? I can’t wait for Mom to see it!”
It was sent.
After hearing these words, Yue Jincheng no longer hesitated.
Manor Yuan was far from the city center, and the fireworks in the suburbs burned even more fiercely and vibrantly. One after another, they soared into the sky, sacrificing themselves to bid farewell to the old year and welcome the new.
Zhou Xiaojun was elderly, and this year, she aged particularly quickly. Her steps were no longer spry, and the time she spent on her phone had drastically decreased. Most of the time, she liked to sleep, leaning back in her rocking chair in the ancestral hall, often dozing off without realizing it.
As for Yue Jia, who had boldly declared he would stay up late with his dad, he was sound asleep before ten o’clock.
Yue Jincheng stood alone in the outer courtyard, one hand tucked into his pocket, tilting his face slightly upward to watch the fireworks bloom across the sky.
Midnight approached, and the world grew even livelier.
Unable to resist, he checked his phone again. It was his private number, quiet during holidays except for a few people.
Fu Jiaxi’s profile remained at the top of the list.
She still hadn’t replied.
“You, standing outside without a coat—you’ll catch a cold,” came Zhou Xiaojun’s voice. With labored steps, she carried a cashmere shawl in her hands.
“Grandma, why aren’t you asleep yet?” Yue Jincheng frowned, rushing to support her.
“You, day after day… When I’m lying in that tiny wooden box someday, I won’t rest easy.” Zhou Xiaojun sighed, accepting life and death with equanimity.
Yue Jincheng fell silent. “It’s New Year’s Day today. Let’s not talk about this.”
“Alright. I’m already at this age—living one more day means gaining one more day. But you still have such a long road ahead.”
Yue Jincheng spoke softly, his words carrying double meaning. “Grandma, I’ve come this far. Are you not satisfied?”
Zhou Xiaojun looked at him. “More than satisfaction, I care about you.”
Yue Jincheng closed his eyes, his tightly clenched fist instantly loosening as it slowly dropped to his side.
“So many people have been sending messages to me—some joking, some serious, some asking me to mediate. I’ve been pretending to be oblivious and brushing them off.” Zhou Xiaojun waved her hand dismissively. “I’m tired of listening, sick of it. I’ve heard it all my life; my ears have never had a moment’s peace. What’s the point of all this fighting? You only need so much to live on. Living a clear, transparent life is more important than anything else.”
Yue Jincheng remained silent.
Zhou Xiaojun said, “In this regard, Jiaxi is better than you.”
Yue Jincheng turned his head away.
His grandmother was one of the few warm refuges in his life. In front of her, he didn’t need to restrain or suppress himself.
He said in a low voice, “All I want is to give her a good life. Am I wrong?”
“You’re completely wrong.” Zhou Xiaojun raised her voice, her tone resolute. “What you think is good—have you ever considered whether it aligns with what she thinks is good? Didn’t you fall for her precisely because she’s different from others? If you love those qualities in her, then why are you trying so hard to smooth them out, to erase them? I truly can’t understand.”
The fireworks exploded wildly—it must be the countdown to the New Year.
Old and young stood together in the night, heads tilted upward to gaze at the dark sky.
Their states of mind differed, but there was no need to articulate it. Just like this moment.
Yue Jincheng was suddenly moved. Even though they watched the same fireworks, their thoughts were as different as mountains and rivers. But so what? The fireworks were still the same, dancing gracefully through the night, flickering calmly between light and shadow.
Zhou Xiaojun was old and couldn’t endure the cold night for long.
Yue Jincheng helped her back inside, softening his tone. “You should rest. Tomorrow is the first day of the lunar year—I’ll go to the ancestral hall to burn incense and listen to sutras. Don’t worry; I know what I’m doing.”
At the stroke of midnight, the night sky blazed like daylight.
Amidst the deafening celebrations, Yue Jincheng heard Zhou Xiaojun say, “Happy New Year, Chengcheng.”
Her aged hand, warm and firm, clasped his wrist briefly.
That warmth lingered in Yue Jincheng’s memory for many, many years to come.
Only once, never to be relived again.
________________________________________
The first meal of the morning was a custom of Manor Yuan on the first day of the lunar year.
Abundant, solemn, and symbolic of a prosperous beginning.
Uncle Liu lit two strings of red candles and firecrackers, creating a joyous racket.
With the indoor heating, Yue Jincheng wore only a close-fitting beige cashmere sweater as he made New Year greetings calls to several officials.
Yue Jia’s outfit was perfectly festive—an elegant long down jacket with traditional Chinese frog buttons, his neatly combed bangs framing his bright, snow-kissed face. His shining eyes matched his radiant smile.
This mischievous child had been building snowmen with Uncle Liu—and even placed Yue Jincheng’s sunglasses on the snowman.
Yue Jincheng glanced over, realizing his several-thousand-dollar glasses were now ruined.
Zhou Xiaojun had spent the entire morning in the ancestral hall, likely with much to say to the Buddha. Only now did she emerge with faltering steps.
Her padded jacket was in muted tones, with golden threads woven through it—a subtle elegance. A few wisps of faint sandalwood incense clung to her shoulders, drifting into their noses, calming and invigorating.
“Mommy!!”
At that moment, Yue Jia’s delighted scream echoed from outside the courtyard.
“Happy New Year, my precious son!”
The familiar voice—soft, crisp, and joyful—rang out.
Yue Jincheng froze, thinking he was hallucinating.
“Uncle Yu!!” Yue Jia was even more excited.
“Hello there, little Jia. Happy New Year! Here’s your red envelope.”
Yu Yanqing had also arrived.
With Fu Jiaxi.
Zhou Xiaojun shot her grandson a glance. “Hurry up and help me. The snowy ground is slippery.”
Yue Jincheng could only accompany her outside.
Preoccupied with thoughts, he forgot to put on his coat. The thin cashmere sweater retained warmth but offered no protection against the wind. Stepping outdoors, the cold air hit him like icy spring water, drenching him head to toe.
Fu Jiaxi and Yu Yanqing greeted Zhou Xiaojun one after the other.
Yu Yanqing then nodded at Yue Jincheng. “President Yue, Happy New Year. It’s been a while.”
Yue Jincheng’s tone was indifferent. “Happy New Year to you too.”
Fu Jiaxi glanced at him, lips slightly parted, unsure how to begin.
Yue Jincheng’s gaze was distant as he descended two steps and took the gift box from her hands.
Fu Jiaxi didn’t hesitate, releasing it willingly.
Yu Yanqing supported Zhou Xiaojun, chatting as they headed toward the main hall. “Yes, work has been busy, but don’t worry—I’ve been taking care of myself.”
Their voices faded.
Here, Yue Jia tugged at both their hands. “Mom, come see the snowman I built!”
Fu Jiaxi said, “I saw it as soon as I walked in. Why are you using Daddy’s sunglasses?”
“Daddy has two pairs—one is older. I wanted to use the old ones, but Daddy wouldn’t let me. He said they were a birthday gift from you, Mom.” Yue Jia spread his hands innocently, mimicking an adult. “What could I do?”
That pair of sunglasses had been bought with money Fu Jiaxi earned during those early days when they first got together. She’d worked several all-nighters translating contract documents to afford them.
He had been using them ever since, carefully maintaining them.
For a moment, Fu Jiaxi was speechless. Yue Jincheng watched her from under the corridor.
Uncle Liu waved at the right moment. “Jia, come on. Let’s go feed the fish.”
After Yue Jia left, silence fell completely.
Yue Jincheng said, “It’s cold outside. Let’s go inside.”
Fu Jiaxi nodded. “Mm.”
The steps were slippery, and she wore boots with a slight heel, making it easy to lose balance on the snow.
Yue Jincheng quickly steadied her arm, helping her regain balance.
Though he was lightly dressed, his palm felt scorching hot.
Fu Jiaxi softly thanked him, not resisting as she tightly gripped his arm for support.
Yue Jincheng said, “These steps are really inconvenient. I’ll have someone level them out once spring arrives.”
Fu Jiaxi agreed. “Good idea. Grandma is getting older, and her mobility isn’t great—it’s not safe.”
As they entered the house, their hands were still intertwined, appearing close and intimate.
Zhou Xiaojun beamed, looking at them like festive New Year figurines.
Yu Yanqing remained expressionless, sipping his tea quietly.
“Come, sit down,” Zhou Xiaojun finally examined Fu Jiaxi closely. “You’ve lost weight, and your complexion is darker.”
“Mm, I just returned from Sanya.” Fu Jiaxi replied. “I haven’t lost weight—I’ve gained some.”
Yue Jincheng cast a fleeting glance at her, dismissing her words as nonsense.
“What have you been busy with? Where have you traveled? Did you meet any handsome boys? Tell Grandma everything.”
“I’ve been to many places, mostly abroad. Grandma, Switzerland is beautiful. Next time, I’ll take you there.” Fu Jiaxi shared her recent experiences, her tone soft and gentle, her eyes calm and smiling.
When Zhou Xiaojun didn’t understand something, Fu Jiaxi patiently explained, using her fingers for emphasis.
Yue Jincheng observed silently. He realized that every phase of Fu Jiaxi’s life had undergone subtle changes. When they first met, she was energetic and cheerful. During their courtship, she was affectionate and considerate. After marriage, her resilience began to show. As a mother, she became strong and independent.
But now, Fu Jiaxi exuded a remarkable sense of inclusiveness. She had sifted through each phase of herself, growing increasingly composed and steady.
Yue Jincheng couldn’t deny that she was indeed striving toward becoming a “better version of herself” and had achieved significant progress.
His earlier anger, indignation, and loss of control stemmed from selfishness—a selfish desire to keep her by his side, unconsciously interfering with her choices.
Everyone has the right to choose a better path for themselves.
Yue Jincheng had reflected late at night before, but none of those moments compared to this one. Seeing her vividly before him, the vitality radiating from within moved him deeply.
Zhou Xiaojun turned to Yu Yanqing. “And you? Have you mistreated our Jiaxi? Have you paid her well? Have you overworked her?”
Yu Yanqing wore a caramel-colored sheepskin jacket today, perfectly suited to his minimalist style, enhancing his refined handsomeness. He smiled. “Ask her yourself. This morning, I even gave her a big red envelope.”
Yue Jincheng was unusually sharp. This morning?
That word carried endless implications.
Instinctively, he looked at Fu Jiaxi.
Fu Jiaxi merely smiled, reserved and faint, without betraying much emotion.
After sitting for a while, Zhou Xiaojun invited Fu Jiaxi to copy sutras with her in the ancestral hall and later bring them to the temple for offerings.
Yu Yanqing was a guest, so naturally, Yue Jincheng had to entertain him.
They walked toward the koi pond, exiting through the side hall and traversing a long corridor. This was the most scenic spot in Manor Yuan, designed in traditional Chinese style, harmonizing mountains and water, balanced and elegant.
Neither spoke during the first half of the walk.
After passing the halfway point, Yu Yanqing finally spoke slowly. “Aren’t you going to ask about her recent situation?”
Yue Jincheng replied indifferently. “She already told Grandma everything. I heard every word.”
“That was hers, not ours.”
Yu Yanqing slowed his pace.
Yue Jincheng fell silent abruptly.
The snowy day remained gloomy, showing no signs of clearing. Soon, fine snowflakes began drifting down again.
Yue Jincheng’s voice turned cold. “Master Yu’s New Year visit is a pretense; showing off is the real purpose.”
Yu Yanqing smirked provocatively. “Then, President Yue, do you feel threatened?”
“Whether I do or not doesn’t stop her from making her own choices, does it?” Yue Jincheng shot him a glance. “Master Yu’s question lacks sophistication.”
“You’re right. I was too subtle, trying to spare your feelings and be tactful.” Yu Yanqing spoke calmly. “I underestimated your resilience. Shall I be more direct?”
Whether boasting or provoking, Yu Yanqing’s words shattered Yue Jincheng’s composure.
His breathing quickened slightly, and his tone grew hostile. “Spring hasn’t arrived yet, and your smugness seems premature.”
Yu Yanqing crossed his arms, replying calmly. “I checked the calendar. Spring begins in ten days.”
Yue Jincheng’s brow darkened with restrained anger. “Fine. You succeeded.”
Yu Yanqing was momentarily stunned, then laughed. “How rare—to hear such words from President Yue in my lifetime. Truly rare.”
Yue Jincheng didn’t want to speak further. He sidestepped, moving away slightly, then took another large step to distance himself.
Frustrated, he reached into his pocket for a cigarette, only to find it empty—he must have left it somewhere.
Yu Yanqing’s demeanor remained calm throughout, even during the provocation. His focus didn’t seem to lie in whether he had angered Yue Jincheng or not.
“This place… does it look familiar?” Yu Yanqing suddenly asked.
Yue Jincheng, agitated, snapped, “I’ve been here thousands of times. What’s there to recognize?”
Yu Yanqing chuckled, offering no further explanation, and continued walking ahead.
Reaching a pillar, he slowed his steps, turned slightly, and deliberately glanced at Yue Jincheng once more.
His figure disappeared around the corner, finally out of sight.
Yue Jincheng felt hollow and blocked, his thoughts muddled, as if he had forgotten how to walk, his head heavy and his feet light.
Struggling forward a few steps, he suddenly remembered something.
First, he looked at the vermilion pillar, then at the steps farther away.
He recalled.
Last year’s Spring Festival, also on the first day of the lunar year.
Yu Yanqing had been invited by Zhou Xiaojun to celebrate at Manor Yuan. Early that morning, Yue Jincheng had brought Jia to pay respects.
Back then, the tension between the two men crackled, their gazes waging war even without words.
It was also on this very corridor where Yue Jincheng had kissed Fu Jiaxi on the first day of the New Year.
He had already seen Yu Yanqing at the time. Driven by petty competitiveness, he intentionally made sure the man witnessed it.
Now, the snowfall refreshed the scene, and the familiar faces returned.
Only the roles had shifted, truly embodying the saying, “Ten years is not too late for revenge.”
Yue Jincheng looked up at the sky—an endless expanse of gray, like a frozen sea.
________________________________________
On the second day of the lunar year, Zhou Xiaojun went to the temple to offer the copied sutras, bringing Yue Jia along. She didn’t want Yue Jincheng and Fu Jiaxi to join them, instructing the couple to pick them up in the afternoon. Grandmother and grandson would eat vegetarian meals at the temple.
The car’s heater provided warmth, and the faint citrus scent was refreshing.
Fu Jiaxi sat in the passenger seat, on a call.
Yu Yanqing was at the airport, briefing her on some work matters before boarding.
About five minutes later, the call ended.
Yue Jincheng calmly asked, “Where is he spending the New Year?”
“America, handling some trust fund business.” Fu Jiaxi replied. “He’ll stay longer this time and won’t return until after the Lantern Festival.”
Yue Jincheng’s hand on the steering wheel tightened imperceptibly.
Without revealing his emotions, he asked, “Why didn’t you go with him?”
“I’m not his laborer. It’s the New Year—taking a vacation is my right.” Fu Jiaxi was clear-headed.
“After being apart for so long, does he have no thoughts about it?” He couldn’t restrain himself, masking his insecurity with feigned indifference.
Fu Jiaxi was too perceptive of his tone—it likely wasn’t a compliment.
She chose to play along, her voice light and airy. “No, he’s fine. He takes good care of me.”
Yue Jincheng fell silent.
The steering wheel, however, bore the brunt of his frustration, nearly being clawed apart in just a few minutes.
Silence stretched on.
Fu Jiaxi happily scrolled through short videos, the sound muted, but she laughed at the content, completely ignoring the ticking time bomb in the car.
They arrived at the entrance of Manor Yuan. Fu Jiaxi turned off the app and prepared to get out.
Click. The car door locked.
Fu Jiaxi looked at him, puzzled.
Yue Jincheng asked, “How exactly does he take care of you?”
Fu Jiaxi tilted her head slightly, answering smoothly. “We commute together, work together, sometimes eat together. Whenever a new restaurant opens, we check it out. At the negotiating table, we divide tasks clearly and complement each other professionally. On business trips, we bring gifts for each other. Does that count as taking care of me?”
Yue Jincheng’s throat tightened, his expression growing darker and more somber.
He turned his head, pulling Fu Jiaxi closer and kissing her without restraint.
There was no gentlemanly exploration—only the invasion of a brute.
From passive acceptance to gradual adaptation, Fu Jiaxi’s eyelashes fluttered, and she relaxed.
Oxygen depleted, her soul drifted away.
Yue Jincheng lifted his head, his gaze intense and raw. “He hasn’t taken care of you at all. Even kissing has grown unfamiliar.”
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