Dou Sheng stared at his phone, transfixed, until the second hand swept halfway across the dial.

“Make a wish, quick!” Che Ziming urged, eyes wide with anxiety. “It’s exactly midnight, a whole minute is almost up! Hurry!”

Dou Sheng snapped out of it with a few “ohs,” quickly locked his screen, set the phone aside, and closed his eyes before the flickering candlelight.

Everything had been a frantic rush, yet his expression was serene—more composed than at any point tonight.

Xie Lan watched him from the side. He saw the shadow cast by Dou Sheng’s long eyelashes as he closed his eyes. The candles were the only source of light in the room, and the play of light and shadow danced across that familiar face, fluctuating with every flicker of the flame.

Dou Sheng looked incredibly pious as he made his wish. It was the kind of sight that made one involuntarily pray along with him, hoping that everything he desired would come to fruition.

After a moment, Dou Sheng opened his eyes and blew out all the candles in one go.

“Nice!” Che Ziming clapped a few times. “I’ll get the lights!”

The room plunged into total darkness. The faint, charred scent of carbonized candle wicks filled the air. Suddenly, Xie Lan’s hand, resting on the sofa, was covered by another.

With their friends right there, Dou Sheng—silently yet boldly in the dark—intertwined their fingers, his knuckles gently rubbing and pressing against Xie Lan’s.

In that quiet, peaceful atmosphere, Xie Lan could hear his heart thumping powerfully in his chest, a wild, uncontrollable flutter.

Click. The lights came on.

Dou Sheng’s hand returned to his own lap the instant the room brightened.

Che Ziming walked back to the sofa and asked offhandedly, “What did you wish for?”

“As if I’d tell you,” Dou Sheng shot him a look of disbelief. “Come on, let’s cut the cake. You guys haven’t eaten yet, right?”

He stood up to grab the stack of paper plates that came with the cake, gesturing with the plastic knife as he pondered the best way to slice it.

Behind him, Xie Lan glanced at Wang Gou, and Wang Gou glanced at Dai You.

Dai You cleared his throat and said, “Dou-zi, take the fondant decorations off first.”

Dou Sheng hummed in agreement and carefully removed the “Dou-zi” (Dou) and maple leaf fondant pieces—designs he knew came from his boyfriend. There were many maple leaves, and he picked them off one by one with great care.

The group exchanged looks and, as if by pre-arranged signal, sat further back into the sofa.

Xie Lan, sitting right behind him, unscrupulously raised his phone.

Dou Sheng stood alone before the coffee table, leaning over to pick up the leaves. “The detail on these is amazing; the veins really look like plane tree leaves. Where did you guys get these custom-made?”

“Just found a place online,” Che Ziming said, stepping up beside him. “Let me help.”

Xie Lan shrank further back, pressing his spine against the sofa to ensure the camera framed both Dou Sheng and Che Ziming’s backs.

Dou Sheng said casually, “No need, just one left.”

He picked up the final leaf. Just as he was about to straighten up—faster than words could say—Che Ziming, possessed by sudden audacity, slammed his hand onto the back of Dou Sheng’s head.

Thud. Right into the cake.

“…”

Time froze for three seconds. Then, Dou Sheng shoved him away, struggling to lift his face out of the frosting, spitting out cream.

His mouth and face were entirely covered in white frosting, which was also dripping from his hair. He exploded in a rage: “Are you out of your—hic!“

“…”

There was too much cream; he’d inhaled a bit of it when he opened his mouth.

“Happy Birthday!!!” Everyone shouted together.

Xie Lan’s voice was mixed in there, buried under the raucous laughter of the group, but the joy overflowing in his eyes was unmistakable.

Dou Sheng, face covered in cream, turned his head in disbelief, wanting to confirm that his sweet, kind boyfriend hadn’t been part of this prank.

Instead, he turned straight into the lens his boyfriend was holding.

“…”

Xie Lan said very sweetly, “I’m recording a little update for your Bilibili. You have to keep up your professional grind even on your birthday.”

“…”

Dou Sheng stared at him through the frosting for a long time. Finally, he blew hard at a glob of cream hanging off his lip and laughed in spite of himself.

“I give up on you guys. How old are we?” Dou Sheng looked at the unrecognizable cake with a hint of regret. “Is there even any cake left to eat tonight?”

“Yes!” Wang Gou said immediately. “I protested that this move was wasteful, but they insisted. So we bought an extra-large one. The parts your face didn’t touch are still edible.”

Che Ziming bounced up and down, leaning on Yu Fei’s shoulder. “See how much skill that took? Look at how much of it I left intact!”

Dou Sheng looked ready to kick him out. He put on a cold, stern face. “Next year, you’re on the blacklist for my birthday.”

“Blacklist my foot! Come on, group photo! Hurry!” Che Ziming slung an arm around him. “Tradition must be upheld!”

Face still smeared with cream, Dou Sheng allowed himself to be manhandled. The six of them crowded onto the single sofa, with Che Ziming holding the phone.

He was originally hugging Dou Sheng’s shoulder, but just before the snap, he remembered something and lowered his hand.

“It’s awkward holding the camera and hugging you at the same time. Uh…” He turned around, his gaze catching Xie Lan, who was sitting on Dou Sheng’s other side. “Lan-ah, you hug him. Squeeze in, or we won’t fit in the frame.”

Xie Lan instinctively checked the others’ reactions.

Dai You and Wang Gou were smiling at the lens as if they hadn’t heard a word. Yu Fei was just impatiently urging him to hurry up.

So, Xie Lan contentedly wrapped his arm directly around Dou Sheng’s shoulder, flashing a peace sign right next to his cream-covered cheek.

Click. The moment was frozen.

“I’m going to wash my face,” Dou Sheng grumbled as he stood up. “You guys are insane.”

As he spoke, he naturally grabbed his phone. Che Ziming yelled after him, “You’re taking your phone to wash your face?”

“None of your business,” Dou Sheng maintained his cool, distant persona even with a face full of cake. “Go eat your crawfish.”

Leaving the noise behind, he entered the guest bathroom on the first floor and shut the door.

He felt like he was soaked in cheesecake frosting—sweet-scented all over. Looking at the “grand spectacle” of his face in the mirror, he wasn’t sure where to start cleaning.

He lightly licked the corner of his mouth. The cream was actually quite delicious.

The laughter continued outside. Dou Sheng glanced at the closed door and, without even washing his face, immediately tapped into YouTube, turning the volume down just a notch.

Xie Lan had rearranged the globally known birthday song. Every time the classic celebratory melody passed under his bow, it would transition seamlessly into another piece. Those interlaced movements sounded slightly unfamiliar at first, but upon closer listening, they were strikingly familiar. They were all pieces Dou Sheng (as a fan of S) had offhandedly praised in the past.

Xie Lan used to brush him off with “mm” and “ah” as if he didn’t want to discuss it, but it turned out he remembered everything. Not a single piece was missing; every section he had written into the medley was one of Dou Sheng’s favorites.

To make them harmonize with the birthday song, he had performed major “surgery” on the interludes. A three-and-a-half-minute medley involving over a dozen different musical styles, woven together so exquisitely that even a layman could feel the heart put into it.

After listening to it once, Dou Sheng felt so full of emotion it bordered on being overly sentimental. But his mind was blank—he couldn’t figure out when Xie Lan had written these pieces, let alone when he’d snuck out to record them.

Comments were flooding in from both domestic and international fans. Many knew what Xie Lan looked like now, but more were asking who QZFXR was, and why “S” would show his face for him.

Why else? Dou Sheng thought. Because I’m his boyfriend.

Dou Sheng clicked his tongue and stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

A familiar voice clearing its throat came from outside the door.

Xie Lan whispered softly, “It’s me.”

Dou Sheng let him in immediately.

Xie Lan froze for a second upon entering. “You haven’t washed your face? It’s going to harden if you wait.”

“Doing it now.” Dou Sheng turned on the tap and leaned over. “I figured you’d slip over here.”

Xie Lan gave an “mm.” “I told them I was going to the pantry to get a bottle opener.”

The guest bathroom downstairs was rarely used, so there was no facial cleanser—just a bottle of harsh, disinfecting hand soap.

Dou Sheng leaned over and splashed handful after handful of clear water onto his face. Cream and bits of cake were going everywhere. With his eyes closed, between splashes, he said, “I just watched the video.”

“Oh.” Xie Lan nodded instinctively. He paused for a bit, cleared his throat awkwardly, and couldn’t help asking, “Did you like it?”

“What do you think?” Dou Sheng turned off the water and grabbed two paper towels to dry his face. “I love it to death. Tomorrow I’m going live just to brag about it to my fans for a whole year.”

Xie Lan couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in his heart finally easing. “You can brag for a whole year over just this?”

“Yeah. I can narrate a million-word review off the top of my head.” Dou Sheng raised an eyebrow and clicked his tongue. “Believe it or not. I’ll bet you I can keep bragging about it until it connects right up to next year’s gift.”

“What’s the bet?” Xie Lan asked.

Dou Sheng crumpled the paper towel into a ball and tossed it into the bin. “If I win, little friend Xie Lan has to be at my beck and call.”

“Beck and call?” Xie Lan blinked. “What does that mean?”

Dou Sheng smirked, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “You’ll naturally find out once you agree.”

“…”

There was no doing anything with him. Xie Lan felt speechless yet also felt a strange sense of bashfulness. He leaned his back against the tiled wall, turning his head away.

But when Dou Sheng approached, he felt it—or rather, he had a premonition. He also had a secret sliver of anticipation.

Dou Sheng leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Preparing for the competition was so hard, yet you still put so much effort into this for me.”

Xie Lan felt his heart soften and whispered back, “As long as you like it.”

“I love it.” Dou Sheng’s nose rubbed affectionately against his cheek, his hand sliding under the hem of Xie Lan’s T-shirt.

“…”

As the familiar fingers slid across his skin, Xie Lan instinctively glanced at the door.

Dou Sheng buried his head against Xie Lan’s neck and collarbone, biting gently. The sound of the intimacy produced a faint, ambiguous echo in the empty bathroom. Xie Lan’s cheeks began to burn. He touched Dou Sheng’s waist, and Dou Sheng naturally lifted his head to kiss him.

It was a movement full of tension, yet Dou Sheng was steeped in the sweet scent of cheesecake frosting. As their lips met, Xie Lan felt as if even the tip of his tongue tasted a hint of sweetness.

On the other side of the door, the voices of Che Ziming and the others chatting and laughing were crystal clear. Yet Dou Sheng was bold, his fingers threading through Xie Lan’s hair, his kiss never-ending.

Outside, the four of them had finished picking through the group photos and left the final two for Dou Sheng and Xie Lan to choose from.

Yu Fei set his phone down. “Where are those two?”

Che Ziming said, “Dou Sheng went to wash his face, and Xie Lan went to get a bottle opener.”

Xie Lan emerged from the bathroom just then, having stopped by the pantry to pick up a random bottle opener, which he tossed onto the coffee table. His ruffled hair had been smoothed back into place, and aside from his cheeks being slightly red, there was nothing unusual about him.

“Let’s open the beer; it’s cold,” he said with calm poise. “Is there still cake?”

Dai You and the others had already sliced the remaining cake and plated it. “Yeah, grab whatever piece you want.”

Xie Lan thanked them and picked up a small plate. The scent of cheesecake frosting hit his nose, immediately bringing his boyfriend back to mind.

Xie Lan instinctively felt guilty. He glanced around to ensure no one was paying attention before lowering his head to take a spoonful of cream.

However, before he could put it in his mouth, Yu Fei suddenly asked, puzzled, “Is that cream on your hair?”

“Huh?” Xie Lan instinctively reached up. “Where is there cre—”

There really was. He felt it—on the top of his head, towards the back. And it wasn’t soft frosting; it felt more like water that hadn’t been rinsed off properly, mixed with cream, leaving a sticky residue.

Xie Lan immediately recalled Dou Sheng’s “misbehaving” hands on his head just now.

“Cough—” He suppressed a shiver of terror. “Must have gotten on me when the cake thing happened.”

Yu Fei looked even more confused. “But you were the furthest away…”

“Oh, come on!” Che Ziming clicked his tongue. “Are you throwing shade at me for slamming Dou Sheng’s head too hard and splashing cream on you? If I hadn’t used enough force, it would have been awkward if he didn’t go in!”

Yu Fei was stunned, then looked at him with disdain. “Are you sick? Who’s throwing shade at you? You’re always making everything about yourself.”

Dai You interrupted them in a timely manner. “Stop stalling and eat. This cake is better cold; once it warms up, the cheese gets a bit heavy.”

Xie Lan breathed a sigh of relief. “Right, let’s eat.” He quickly lowered his head and took a bite of cake.

Leading by example.

Dai You glanced at Wang Gou, who gave him a silent, approving nod.

Everyone finally relaxed. Wang Gou was about to eat his cake when he suddenly tasted a lingering flavor of spicy crawfish. He looked up. “Che Ziming, pass me a bottle of water. I need to rinse my mouth.”

Che Ziming was busy devouring his cake. Without looking up, he grabbed a bottle of water from the table and tossed it toward him.

The toss went wide, rolling across the sofa and onto the floor. Wang Gou had to lean over to retrieve it. As he looked up, he froze.

A section of Xie Lan’s collar was visibly stretched and deformed.

That in itself wasn’t the issue; the issue was that the deformed section revealed his collarbone. Near the collarbone, there wasn’t just a faint, ambiguous red mark—there was also a smear of cream.

His scalp went numb. He looked toward the bathroom in disbelief.

Xie Lan caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and said casually, “Dou Sheng might still be washing his face. It was all over his head and face; it takes several rinses. Cream is hard to wash out.”

Wang Gou turned back to stare at him and said coldly, “I can see that.”

Xie Lan continued eating his cake. After a few bites, he felt his collar was a bit tight against his neck, so he reached up to tug it.

“By the way,” Yu Fei suddenly looked up. “Xie Lan, you didn’t misread the spatial geometry problem, did you?”

“I don’t think so,” Xie Lan said. “Final answer was $96\sqrt{2}$, right?”

Yu Fei gave an “mm.” “I also…” His gaze unintentionally fell on Xie Lan’s neck.

Halfway through his sentence, a shadow suddenly lunged from Xie Lan’s right. Before he could react, he felt a cold, splat sensation on his collarbone. A large glob of loose, dense substance stuck to him and began to slide down.

“?”

Xie Lan was stunned. He looked down to see Wang Gou pressing a piece of cake against his left shoulder—his neck, shoulder, and even a bit of his chin were smeared with it. The cream was dripping down his clothes and onto the sofa in a spectacular mess.

Yu Fei fell into a state of shock, completely forgetting his question.

Xie Lan was also in a daze, slowly turning a “?” gaze toward Wang Gou.

“I FUCKING…!” Wang Gou gritted his teeth as if his throat were filled with a ton of popping candy. After flailing around for several seconds, he suddenly let out a howl.

“I FUCKING HATE YOU CITY PEOPLE!!!”

He had finally come up with a cover story. His eyes reddened, and his voice trembled with a sob. As he spoke, he grabbed the cake off Xie Lan’s body with his bare hands and slammed it onto Dai You. “Dammit! Dammit! I’ve never eaten such delicious cake in my life! Why?! Why do you get to eat this stuff every day?! Back in my hometown, I wouldn’t even dare to eat shit! I hate you! I’m going to use this delicious cake to slap you stupid rich kids to death!!”

Dou Sheng emerged from the bathroom just in time to see this “grand spectacle.”

Wang Gou was grabbing handfuls of cake and slapping cold cheesecake frosting onto the faces and bodies of Dai You, Che Ziming, and Yu Fei. All the while, he was wailing as if he were having a nervous breakdown.

No one fought back. They were all collectively petrified, letting him do as he pleased.

Wang Gou became more and more agitated. After slapping every single bit of cake from the table onto every single one of his friends, he finally started crying.

“AAAAHHH!!!! I’M GOING CRAZY!! I FUCKING CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE! I’M NOT BEING A HUMAN ANYMORE, HAHAHAHA—!!”

Crying and laughing at the same time, he turned around and, under the watchful eyes of everyone observing a psychiatric patient, snatched a beer from the table and began to chug it.

Xie Lan was completely stunned. He instinctively reached for his phone, but under the intense stress, he forgot what the domestic emergency number was. Or maybe he shouldn’t call emergency services—maybe he should call a mental health crisis center or something?

What was the number for that? 110?

Amidst the chaos, it was the worldly Dai You who finally stabilized the situation.

He shouted “Gou-zi! Gou-zi!” while standing up to snatch the beer from Wang Gou’s hand. “Stop drinking! Are you having an episode?”

“Yeah,” Che Ziming stared blankly, stuttering. “You… you… you actually ate shit in the countryside?”

“Fuck, your focus is a hundred miles off!” Yu Fei rolled his eyes on the spot. “Can you shut up?”

“I can…” Che Ziming’s gaze remained fixed, then he suddenly snapped to. “Wait! I thought you were pretty normal before. After all this time, it turns out you hate the rich?”

“Don’t talk nonsense!” Yu Fei irritably elbowed him. “Uh… Gou-zi, actually, there are a lot of delicious and fun things in this world. You can never finish consuming them all. What matters is being with brothers you get along with—being happy and free is true joy. And with your grades, there’s no way you’ll go back to a hard life. It’ll be easy for you to eat good food in the future.”

“I know,” Wang Gou wept. “Do you think I want to make this ‘hate the rich’ speech? I couldn’t think of any other way out! You don’t understand! I had no choice!”

Yu Fei and Che Ziming clearly didn’t understand. Xie Lan didn’t even dare to move.

What is ‘choufu’ (hating the rich)? Which two characters are they?

Dai You remained the worldly Dai You. He put his arm around Wang Gou and patted his shoulder. “Alright, alright, there, there. I know. I know your grievance.”

Wang Gou looked ashen. After a long time, he finally settled down, letting out a burp. “I’m going to be alone for a bit.”

He pushed Dai You away and wobbled forward a few steps. He passed Dou Sheng and gave a bitter laugh.

“You’re finally fucking out?”

Dou Sheng was also bewildered. This was the most confused he had been all year—maybe even since birth.

“Uh.” His lips moved, but he said nothing, silently stepping aside. “The… the bathroom is inside. You can be as ‘alone’ as you want…”

Wang Gou nodded haphazardly, leaving the world’s gaze behind as he walked toward the bathroom with singular courage.

At the bathroom door, he looked back at Dou Sheng. Dou Sheng was watching him with the kind of look one gives a sociopathic brother they still love.

Then he looked at Xie Lan. Xie Lan… was still in a daze. He had probably touched upon some vocabulary Xie Lan was unfamiliar with, as he had the expression he usually wore when trying to interpret classical Chinese through sheer guesswork.

Wang Gou said, “Remember, you owe me.”

Everyone froze.

Dou Sheng nodded hesitantly. “Fair enough.”

Yu Fei also nodded quickly. “Okay, okay. We owe you.”

Che Ziming was teary-eyed. “My god, Gou-zi, go calm down. It must be the pressure from the competition. Oh right! Yu Fei’s dad knows a lot of psychologists; I’ll make an appointment for you!”

“Right, right… right!” Yu Fei quickly pulled out his phone. “I’ll tell my dad right now. Hang in there!”

Xie Lan looked utterly bewildered. Finally, he spoke with difficulty: “Would listening to music make you feel better? I can play some pieces for you… or I can play the violin for you live right now?”

Wang Gou: “…”

Only Dai You. Only this one person in the whole world who understood him, respected him, and stood on the same front, looked at him with heartache.

“It’s fine. Let Gou-zi wash his face and steady himself. When he comes out, we’ll act like nothing happened.” He said with pity, “Don’t forget, Gou-zi (the puppy) is man’s best friend.”

Wang Gou gave a weary smile, stepped into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.

The living room was silent. Dou Sheng went to the kitchen to find a pack of wet wipes and came back to distribute them.

Xie Lan couldn’t help but whisper, “What exactly happened to Gou-zi?”

“He’s lost it. Looking at him, he probably has a history.” Dou Sheng paused and whispered, “Don’t be scared. If we have to, we’ll take him to the hospital tonight. We won’t abandon him.”

“Mm.”

Xie Lan took a wipe and pulled his collar open to clean the cream off his skin.

Yu Fei finished wiping his neck and reached over for two more wipes for his face. He looked up casually and froze.

Xie Lan noticed the movement and handed the wipe box to him. “Need more?”

“Yeah.” Yu Fei retracted his gaze, took a wipe from Xie Lan’s hand, and continued cleaning.

He hadn’t been mistaken. He hadn’t reacted the first time, but he could see it clearly now.

It was a hickey.