Is this a marriage proposal?
The record player had just switched to "My Way," its melody filling the entire store. Wei Ting's gaze swept over the photos on the wall: a couple cuddling on a New York ferry, laughing and joking at a Shanghai pan-fried dumpling shop, an embrace downstairs in the editorial office—each photo carried the warmth of time. He approached step by step, and when he saw the dark brown gift box in Ning Zhichu's hands, his eyes welled up with tears.
"This is a gift for you." She handed over the gift box, her fingertips trembling. "The handmade photo album was just finished yesterday, and the cufflinks are custom-made. I don't know if you'll like them..." Before she could finish speaking, he pulled her into his arms. His embrace was tight, with the crisp texture of a suit jacket. His chin rested on the top of her head, and his voice was hoarse: "I like it, I like it very much."
Ning Zhichu leaned against him, listening to his steady heartbeat, feeling warm tears fall on the top of her head. She gently patted his back, like coaxing a child, "Why is President Wei still crying? I haven't sung you a birthday song yet." When he released her, there were still traces of redness in his eyes, but he smiled and pinched her chin, "Touched by my little girl."
He opened the gift box and picked up the cufflinks first—the silver metal surface was engraved with the coordinates of the Brooklyn Bridge in New York, and a small, delicate camera pattern was next to it. The back was engraved with "2024.10.15" and "W&N". "I wear them every day," he said, immediately taking off the pearl cufflinks from his shirt, putting on the new ones, and repeatedly rubbing the engravings with his fingertips.
Then he opened the handmade photo album, and she had filled the blank card on the last page with new content: a Polaroid photo of the two of them in front of the record store, which the clerk had secretly taken earlier. She was leaning on his shoulder and smiling, and he was looking down at her, his eyes full of tenderness. Next to the photo was written: "Mr. Wei's birthday is also our anniversary. From now on, I will spend every birthday with you."
Wei Ting closed the booklet and reached out to pull her into his arms. The melody from the record player continued, and as he lowered his head to kiss her, he smelled the sweet scent of tiramisu mixed with the cedarwood scent of himself. His movements were gentle, yet filled with unmistakable affection; his fingertips lightly gripped her waist, as if he wanted to meld her into his very bones.
“There’s another surprise.” Ning Zhichu pushed him aside and took out a velvet box from under the record player. The moment Wei Ting opened it, his breath caught in his throat—inside was a simple silver ring with “N” and “W” engraved on the inside of the band, and a small sapphire set in the center, the color of the torch of the Statue of Liberty in New York.
"It's not a proposal," she quickly explained, her ears burning. "I just wanted to... engrave our names together, like couple rings, but not too flashy, and suitable for you to wear all the time." She picked up the ring and carefully slipped it onto his ring finger. "I secretly measured the size; I don't know if it will fit."
Wei Ting stared at the ring on her finger and suddenly smiled. He took out an identical velvet box from his suit pocket, opened it, and handed it to her: "Looks like we're on the same page." Inside was a women's ring, with the same letters engraved on the inside of the band and a small pearl set in it, perfectly matching the necklace around her neck.
"You were all prepared already?" Ning Zhichu's eyes lit up as she watched him put the ring on her hand; it fit perfectly. Wei Ting lowered his head and kissed the back of her hand, his voice filled with laughter: "I ordered it as soon as I got back from New York. I originally planned to give it to you on your birthday, but you beat me to it."
The music from the record player gradually faded, and the twilight seeped in through the window, bathing the entire shop in a warm yellow glow. Ning Zhichu leaned on Wei Ting's shoulder, listening to him recount the process of preparing the ring: "I had the designer revise the design three times. The first one was too ornate, and I was afraid you wouldn't find it suitable for everyday wear; the second one was too simple, and I was afraid you wouldn't think I put enough effort into it..."
“It’s very thoughtful, I really like it.” She looked up and kissed his chin, seeing the tenderness in his eyes, and suddenly remembered the first time she met him—at the interview site of Wall Street Insights, he was wearing a black suit, with sharp eyes, but when she spilled her coffee, he handed her a tissue and whispered, “Be careful, it’s hot.”
When they left the record store, night had already fallen. Wei Ting held her hand as they walked under the sycamore trees, their rings shimmering under the streetlights. As they passed their usual pan-fried dumpling shop, he suddenly pulled her inside: "Boss, two baskets of fresh pork pan-fried dumplings and a bowl of beef soup, please."
The owner greeted him with a smile: "Mr. Wei, it's been a long time. And this is...?" "My girlfriend." Wei Ting held her hand, his fingertips gently caressing her ring, his eyes filled with a smile. "Today is my birthday, so I brought her here to eat my favorite pan-fried buns."
The pan-fried buns had just been served, and the aroma of meat wafted over in the steam. Wei Ting picked up his chopsticks, took one, and held it to her lips: "Blow on it before you eat, be careful it's hot." She took a small bite, and the delicious broth gushed out. He immediately handed her a tissue, the action as natural as if he had done it a thousand times before.
“Actually, I originally booked a restaurant on the Bund.” He sipped his beef soup and suddenly spoke up, “I even hired a band to sing the songs you hummed in New York.” He put down his chopsticks and took her hand, “But now I feel that this place is better than any fancy restaurant.”
Ning Zhichu smiled, picked up a pan-fried dumpling and held it to his lips: "President Wei, are you won over by my surprise?" He opened his mouth and took a bite, his eyes full of doting: "Yes." Wei Ting laughed loudly.
When Ning Zhichu returned to Wei Ting's apartment that evening, the living room was lit by a warm yellow light. She had just changed her shoes when she saw a huge birthday cake on the coffee table, with "Happy Birthday Wei Ting & Ning Zhichu" written on it in chocolate. "My mom brought this over this afternoon, saying we should eat it together," Wei Ting said, hugging her from behind and resting his chin on the top of her head. "She said that from now on, my birthday will also be your holiday."
As they cut the cake, some cream got on Ning Zhichu's nose. Wei Ting reached out to wipe it away for her, gently pinching her chin with his fingertips: "My little girl, you're naughty again." When he lowered his head to kiss her, the sweet scent of cream mixed with the cedar smell on his body spread between their lips and teeth.
Late at night, Ning Zhichu leaned against Wei Ting, gazing at the Shanghai night view outside the window. His fingertips gently caressed her ring, his voice drowsy: "How about we go to Florence for your birthday next year? You said you wanted to see the sunrise there." She nodded, snuggling closer to him, and heard him whisper, "The year after that, we'll go to Iceland to see the Northern Lights, and the year after that, we'll go to Antarctica to see the penguins. Every birthday after that, we'll go to a new place."
She closed her eyes, feeling his body temperature and heartbeat, the pearl necklace around her neck swaying gently. A handmade photo album sat on the bedside table, the gold lettering on the cover gleaming in the moonlight; their rings overlapped, casting small shadows on the blanket.
She suddenly understood that the best love is never about grand, dramatic vows, but rather a gentle, enduring love: he remembers her preferences and cherishes her feelings; she understands his tenderness and responds to his deep affection with the most heartfelt gesture. Birthday surprises are merely the vehicle; what truly touches the heart is the unwavering determination—"I want to spend the rest of my life with you"—hidden in every photo album, every ring, and every embrace.
The sycamore branches outside the window swayed gently in the moonlight, and the warmth of early spring seeped in through the window, enveloping the two of them and creating the sweetest moment on this birthday night.
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