Chapter 62: May I Have This Honor?

Wen Wan Ning looked at the screen, her eyes growing slightly warm.

She knew it—this video was made by Shen Jia Yan, the cake was bought by her, and the surprise was all prepared by her.

The video ended.

Her roommates sighed in admiration. “Wan Ning, you’ve been cute from childhood to now.”

Wen Wan Ning composed herself and smiled.

One of the roommates reacted. “Who made this video? It’s so heartfelt.”

Xiao Huan turned on the lights. “It was Jia Yan.”

Since Wen Wan Ning was in frequent contact with Shen Jia Yan, her dorm mates were somewhat familiar with her too.

“Oh, she’s really thoughtful.” The roommate turned around and spotted the snacks on her own desk. She hurried over excitedly. “Did Jia Yan buy these snacks for us too?”

Xiao Huan and the other roommate looked at their own desks. They had them too.

“Probably.” Xiao Huan turned back to Wen Wan Ning, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Jia Yan is too considerate. Not only is she good to you, but she takes care of us as well.”

Wen Wan Ning nodded. “Yeah, she really is.” She walked back to her own desk.

Sure enough, her desk had a few more things than the others.

There were noticeably more snacks, a delicate square gift box, a voice recorder pen beside it, and a handwritten note.

She sat down and opened the note, her fingertips gently tracing the familiar handwriting.

Shen Jia Yan’s writing was just like her—elegant and graceful.

*Wan Ning: Happy birthday! First off, my apologies. I’m sorry for contacting your roommates and entering your dorm to prepare all this without your permission.

You wouldn’t be mad at me, right? Because you’re the best Wan Ning in the world.

The record player that goes with the birthday gift—I was worried it might be inconvenient to carry, so I shipped it to your home address.

Record player? The matching birthday gift?

Wen Wan Ning’s delicate brows furrowed slightly. She set the note aside for now and picked up the gift box nearby.

She untied the ribbon and gently lifted the lid. Inside was a vinyl record, lying quietly in the center of the box. The sleeve was retro, with slightly yellowed edges, like a treasure from bygone times.

There was no need to guess—she knew this was the original soundtrack vinyl she’d casually mentioned to Shen Jia Yan before, one she loved and knew had collectible value but had never gotten around to hunting down.

Shen Jia Yan was always like this, remembering every word she’d said, even offhand remarks; noticing every fluctuation in her mood, even if she hid it well; willing to do so many little things for her without fanfare or disruption, yet warming her heart to the point of tears…

Wen Wan Ning held back the tears welling in her eyes, took a gentle breath, and picked up the note to continue reading.

The voice recorder pen has some recordings I made—little ramblings about you. Nothing important; listen whenever you have time. They might even help you sleep.

The snacks are some of your favorites plus some gentle, stomach-friendly ones. I know buying them contradicts telling you not to eat too many snacks, but still—eat fewer junk ones and more of the stomach-friendly kind.

Finally, of course, my most sincere wishes to the best girl in the world.

Wan Ning, happy birthday!

May your new year be as gentle, steadfast, and radiant as ever.

May you wake each day to sunlight you love, sounds you enjoy, and a version of yourself you like.

May you no longer linger on past regrets or anxiety over future uncertainties.

I want to laugh with you when you’re happy, hug you when you’re sad, and catch all your vulnerabilities when you’re tired.

I want to hold your hand through the seasons, through storms, and through every ordinary yet precious day.

May I have this honor?

A teardrop fell onto the paper, smudging the last few words.

“Wan Ning.” Xiao Huan called her over with a slice of cake.

Wen Wan Ning snapped back to reality, quickly lowering her head to wipe the moisture from her eye corner with her finger. She carefully folded the note.

She looked up and gave Xiao Huan a faint smile. “Hm? What is it?”

Xiao Huan handed her the cake, her gaze lingering for a moment on Wen Wan Ning’s reddened eyes. She hesitated, then said softly, “Here’s your cake.” She paused, then added, “Jia Yan came to set all this up herself. Do you want to ask if she’s still around? She could have a slice too.”

Wen Wan Ning took the cake and nodded, trying to make her expression look natural. “Sure, I’ll ask her.”

After seeing them enter the dorm, Shen Jia Yan quietly slipped away from the stairwell.

She headed straight to the dorm auntie’s room on the first floor and retrieved the bouquet of tulips she’d left there earlier.

The flowers were carefully wrapped in light purple pearlescent paper, tied with a pale blue ribbon. The petals still held some night dew, their elegant fragrance faintly drifting in the air.

Holding the flowers, she left the dormitory building, took a deep breath of the crisp night air, and walked toward the nearby small garden.

She’d scoped out that small garden before—it was quiet at this hour with hardly anyone around. It wasn’t large, filled with seasonal flowers and trees. Though it was early spring, a few early-blooming cherry blossoms were already quietly unfurling.

She approached a bench and sat down gently, placing the tulips on her lap. Her gaze turned toward the dormitory building.

She knew Wen Wan Ning must have seen the surprise by now.

She pictured her expression watching the video, the smile when reading the note, and the stunned tenderness when opening the gift box.

Her lips curved upward involuntarily.

A gentle breeze blew, carrying a chill that brushed her cheeks and her slightly tense heartbeat.

She looked down at the bouquet in her hands, gently rubbing the ribbon’s knot, rehearsing in her mind what she’d say to Wen Wan Ning later.

Her pocket vibrated lightly but clearly with her phone.

Shen Jia Yan paused, then set the tulips gently on the bench beside her.

She pulled out her phone. The screen lit up, the familiar name glowing in her eyes.

Incoming call: “Wen Wan Ning.”

They talked almost every day, but tonight, she suddenly felt nervous.

She took a deep breath and answered, her voice gentle but slightly husky. “Wan Ning?”

There was a brief silence on the other end, as if she was steadying herself too, before she softly replied, “Mm, Jia Yan… have you, um, gotten back to school?”

“Not yet,” she answered honestly.

There was another pause, then: “Then… do you want to come up for some cake?”

“No, you guys eat it.” Shen Jia Yan softened her voice. “I’m waiting for you in that small garden we strolled in before—the one near your dorm building. If you’re done, could you come over?” She paused, as if not wanting to pressure her, and added gently, “But no rush. Finish up first.”

Silence stretched for a few seconds on the line.

Those seconds felt elongated by the night breeze, and Shen Jia Yan’s heartbeat quickened unwittingly.

Her fingers tightened around the phone, knuckles whitening.

Until Wen Wan Ning’s voice came softly. “Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

Shen Jia Yan let out a soft “Mm,” her throat tight, but her voice even gentler than before. “Then… I’ll wait for you.”

After hanging up, she leaned back on the bench and exhaled softly, as if releasing something deep inside.

She looked down at the tulips beside her, their petals glowing softly under the streetlamp—like her heartbeat at that moment, calm yet resolute.

Wen Wan Ning checked the time, then glanced out the window.

The early spring night was still chilly, yet Shen Jia Yan had been waiting outside and even told her not to rush.

She stood, turned to her roommates, and said, “You guys eat first. I need to say a couple things to Jia Yan.”

She grabbed a jacket and left the dorm quickly.

The night breeze was cool, the hallway lights casting her slightly hurried shadow. She stepped out of the dormitory building, her steps light and quick.

Once outside, she jogged toward the small garden. Wind rushed past her ears. Just as she spotted the garden’s outline from afar, she slowed unconsciously.

Under the streetlamps, familiar tree shadows stood still. Flower scents wafted on the wind, mingling with the night’s chill against her cheeks.

She saw Shen Jia Yan.

She wore a black wool overcoat, sharply tailored with clean lines, layered over a creamy white turtleneck knit that softly hugged her neck in the breeze. Black Martin boots on her feet, laces casually tied, giving her an air of gentle coolness.

She sat quietly on the bench, cradling a bouquet. Red tulips glowed softly under the lamplight. She didn’t look up but seemed to sense Wen Wan Ning’s approach, turning her face slightly, her gaze tender as it met her.

Wen Wan Ning took a deep breath, suppressing the surging emotions in her chest, and walked slowly closer.

One step, then another.

Each one matched her heartbeat—heavy yet restrained.

She finally stopped right in front of Shen Jia Yan, just an arm’s length apart.

Shen Jia Yan looked up at her, eyes calm but holding depths of emotion. She said nothing, simply extending the red tulips gently toward her.

Wen Wan Ning stared at the bouquet, her fingertips trembling slightly. “This is…” she murmured.

Shen Jia Yan smiled softly, her voice tender. “This is the last gift for today. Happy birthday, Wan Ning.”

Wen Wan Ning looked down at the red tulips, petals quivering in the night breeze—like her heartbeat now.

She reached out slowly, fingertips brushing the petals, as if touching the softness Shen Jia Yan kept hidden in her heart.

“Thank you, Yan Yan,” she said softly. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me—every gift, every recording, every photo…” Her voice choked slightly, eyes reddening.

Shen Jia Yan listened quietly, her gaze tender and focused, as if etching this moment, every word, into her heart.

She looked at her, eyes full of affection, voice low and firm. “It’s me who should thank you, Wan Ning. Thank you for giving me this chance to show how much I care.”

The fulfillment of giving outweighed receiving, touching the soul more deeply.