Chapter 43: What Dress?

Under the flickering candlelight, the girl’s makeup was exquisite and bright, her demeanor poised as she gazed openly at the man before her, undisguised affection shimmering in her eyes.

It was clear she had dressed with particular care to attend Cheng Xingye’s birthday tonight.

She wore a white tweed dress in the classic style, paired with a matching quilted jacket; standing next to the man in his casual shirt, she seemed to radiate with brilliance.

Lu Qingyue felt a stifling frustration in her heart, thinking how unreliable Lu Yi was. He brought her along to Cheng Xingye’s birthday party, but not once did he think to remind her to dress up!

Nearly all the girls present were clad in beautiful, eye-catching party dresses. Only she had come in jeans and a knitted top—she felt so out of place she could barely stand to look at herself.

At an age when dressing up is everything, even someone as usually carefree as Lu Qingyue couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment and gloom at being so outshone.

She pouted sadly and tried to shrink behind Lu Yi, hoping to hide her overly plain outfit while everyone else’s attention was on Cheng Xingye. In a low, soft voice, she complained to Lu Yi, “Why didn’t you remind me to wear a dress today?”

Lu Yi glanced sideways at her, puzzled. “Why would you wear a dress in this cold weather?”

He truly didn’t understand—the room was full of girls in short skirts. Did girls not feel the cold in winter? The mind of a straight man simply couldn’t comprehend it.

But Lu Qingyue only grew more dejected, burying her head against his back and muttering miserably, “…But all the other girls are wearing dresses.”

She wanted to look beautiful too, to be seen by him.

—So that she, too, could stand dazzlingly at his side, like that older girl.

But how could Lu Yi possibly understand the twists and turns of a girl’s heart?

He frowned, feeling a bit exasperated, but seeing the clear sadness in her expression, he didn’t have the heart to chide her. Instead, he tried to comfort her, “Well, if you’re the only girl wearing pants, doesn’t that make you stand out even more?”

Lu Qingyue was speechless.

Standing out—what good was that?

If it really mattered, why hadn’t Cheng Xingye even glanced her way?

Irritated, Lu Qingyue turned her head away, refusing to speak to him any longer.

In the living room, everyone had gathered around, urging the birthday candles to be blown out.

Chen Shujie, ever the sycophant, had stuck all twenty-three candles into the cake—so many that the cake looked more like a joss stick holder at first glance.

Cheng Xingye stood before the “incense burner,” surrounded by friends, his face a picture of speechless resignation.

He was never one for lively gatherings; birthdays, to him, were usually a simple affair. But this year, Chen Shujie had insisted on throwing him a party. With nothing else to do before the New Year, he’d let it happen—never expecting this traitor would go so far as to get a massive cake and force him to make a wish.

He hadn’t made a birthday wish since he was eight. Now, pressed to do so, all he could think of were clichés: good health, academic success, wealth and prosperity.

Cheng Xingye was about to breeze through the ritual when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a slender figure in pale blue huddled in the crowd.

The girl wasn’t tall and was nearly swallowed by the throng, but Cheng Xingye’s gaze, always sharp, found her hiding behind Lu Yi, her little expression unmistakable.

She looked out of sorts, clutching a half-finished glass of juice, her lips drooping as if on the verge of tears, shrinking aggrievedly beside Lu Yi.

What had happened now?

He’d only been away for a few minutes—who had upset her?

Cheng Xingye frowned ever so slightly.

Someone beside him noticed his absent-mindedness and couldn’t help but prod, “Hey, Xingye, make your wish! The candles are about to burn into the cake!”

Jolted by the commotion, Cheng Xingye returned to himself, remembering everyone was waiting for his wish.

He withdrew his gaze and looked at the cake bristling with candles before him.

If he had to make a wish—

He closed his eyes.

May I see her again on this day next year.

…

Chen Shujie, with the confidence of a seasoned party planner, shepherded Cheng Xingye through the ritual: wishing, blowing out the candles, and cutting the cake.

After that, Chen Shujie took charge of slicing and serving. There were about four or five girls present, all crowding around the cake, chattering and demanding extra fruit in their slices.

Cheng Xingye, holding a piece of cake, glanced around the living room but didn’t spot Lu Qingyue.

The memory of her downcast face before the wish gnawed at him, a restless discomfort growing inside.

He realized that, unexpectedly, comforting someone could be addictive.

Now, knowing she was upset, he couldn’t help but feel compelled to cheer her up.

His gaze swept the room until he finally spotted the Lu siblings by the window, sitting on the tatami, along with his own hOShinO.

He had raised hOShinO, the Samoyed, for three or four years now; its temperament was more like a proud cat than a dog, rarely warming to strangers—only he could pet it.

Yet tonight, for some reason, hOShinO was uncharacteristically attached to the girl, nestling at her side and nuzzling her incessantly, as if drawn to her.

But Lu Qingyue, looking low-spirited, barely mustered the energy to play, her small hand absently stroking hOShinO’s head.

Beside her, Lu Yi was on the phone—judging by the rare smile on his usually cold face, it was his girlfriend.

Cheng Xingye had a vague sense that Lu Yi was in a relationship; he recalled the girl was Lu Yi’s desk-mate from high school. Lu Yi, however, was extremely private about it, rarely mentioning his girlfriend in the dorm.

In contrast to Lu Yi’s gentle, relaxed expression, Lu Qingyue looked all the more pitiful.

She knew hardly anyone here, so she could only cling to her leftover orange juice, waiting hopefully for Lu Yi to finish his call.

But Lu Yi was completely absorbed, taking his time before hanging up.

Lu Qingyue listened for a long while; though she couldn’t make out much, she sensed something out of the ordinary.

Lu Yi was usually aloof, never chatty. Yet tonight, he’d been on the phone for a full ten minutes—she needed both hands to count!

When he finally finished, his face relaxed, she couldn’t help but ask quietly, “Why were you on the phone so long?”

Lu Yi glanced at her, his tone dismissive and impatient, “Why do you care, kid?”

He rarely spoke of his relationship, especially not to a little brat like Lu Qingyue.

She’d find out who to call sister-in-law soon enough, when the time came for him to marry.

But Lu Qingyue didn’t have the energy to pursue it further. All the girls in the room were dressed up in beautiful skirts and heels—only she wore plain jeans. The weight of it pressed down, leaving her more dejected than ever.

She looked around, feeling increasingly out of place amid the glamor, nervously twisting the hem of her shirt as she mumbled, “I should have worn a dress today.”

Why she’d been obsessing over it all evening, she couldn’t say, but Lu Yi was already exasperated, rubbing his temples. “I swear, you little imp! All night long, it’s been nothing but ‘I should’ve worn a dress, I should’ve worn a dress!’ Where on earth am I supposed to get you a dress now?”

Lu Qingyue hung her head, not daring to respond, when suddenly a faint shadow fell over her.

A cool, clean scent of sea salt drifted down, and a familiar voice asked calmly behind her, “What’s this about a dress?”