Chapter 52 For us, can't you restrain yourself a little?
"Mr. Song, I must emphasize again," the therapist said, pushing up his glasses and looking seriously at the blood-soaked bandage on Song Xingran's chest. "Strenuous exercise is absolutely prohibited while the wound is healing."
Wen Mu stood at the kitchen door, holding the tea prepared for the rehabilitation therapist in his hand, his face as black as the bottom of a pot.
Song Xingran was sitting on the sofa with his upper body naked. The newly changed bandage on his chest had stained a small spot red, but he still winked at her with a playful smile.
"What kind of strenuous exercise?" he asked deliberately, his voice full of teasing. "For example?"
The therapist continued bandaging with a blank expression: "Any activities that may cause the heart rate to exceed 120, increase blood pressure, or cause friction on the wound."
He paused, then added meaningfully, "Especially in the lives of married couples."
Wen Mu placed the teacup in his hand heavily on the coffee table with a "click", and a few drops of tea splashed out.
Her ears were red, but she forced herself to remain calm: "Tea."
"Thank you, Mrs. Song." The therapist took the teacup and continued to talk to Song Xingran, "You must control the intensity and frequency. Wait at least two more weeks."
"Two weeks?!"
Song Xingran wailed like a child whose toys had been confiscated, "Then I might as well just die."
Wen Mu finally couldn't help but pinch him: "I know, we will pay attention." She almost gritted her teeth to squeeze out these words.
"Thank you for the reminder."
After sending the therapist away, Wen Mu closed the door and turned to glare at the unrepentant man on the sofa. His pretty face, now aggrieved, had a touch of innocence—if you ignored the blood-soaked bandage on his chest.
"Teacher Wen," Song Xingran blinked, "It hurts."
"You deserve it." Wen Mu crossed his arms, "Who told you not to listen?"
"Why didn't I listen?" Song Xingran said confidently, "The rehabilitation therapist only said I can't do strenuous exercise, but he didn't say I can't exercise at all."
Wen Mu was furious: "You call that 'exercise'? The wounds are all open."
"Can you blame me?" Song Xingran tried to stand up, but it agitated his wound. He sat back down with a grin on his face. "I can't stop when I see you."
Wen Mu wanted to be angry, but he was amused by his painful and embarrassed look.
She walked over, gently peeled off the bandage and examined the wound: "Can't you restrain yourself a little? It's not like you haven't tasted it before."
"You're always so anxious. If you don't know me, you might think you're trying to drag me to reincarnation."
Song Xingran grabbed her hand and placed it on his bare chest: "I can't control myself."
"Every time I meet you, I'm as anxious as the first time."
The heartbeat under my palm was strong and powerful, and there were fine beads of sweat on my warm skin.
Wen Mu recalled the chaos of last night—how the man insisted on taking the lead despite her dissuasion, how he groaned but refused to stop when his movements were too violent and tore at the wound, and how he discovered that the bandage was soaked with blood only after it was over.
"Fool."
She cursed softly, but leaned over and carefully kissed around his wound.
"If you continue like this, I won't cooperate."
Song Xingran immediately became like a cat whose tail was stepped on: "No!"
He put his arm around her waist and said, "If you don't cooperate, I'll do something even more chaotic."
Wen Mu slapped his hand away: "Then just heal your wounds honestly."
She fetched the medicine box and disinfected and bandaged him again. "If it happens again, I'll move to the guest room to sleep."
The threat was indeed effective. The man immediately wilted, sitting obediently while she tended to his wounds, only occasionally glancing at her with an aggrieved look, like a scolded puppy.
Wen Mu's fingers gently stroked the scabbed scars, and a feeling of bitterness arose in his heart.
These scars were a record of that terrible night, of her fear of almost losing him.
"By the way, honey," Song Xingran broke the silence, his voice filled with rare hesitation, "How are you going to celebrate my birthday?"
Wen Mutou didn't even raise his head: "You already said it's your birthday, why are you asking me?"
"I'd like to invite some friends over to celebrate," Song Xingran observed her expression carefully. "Is that okay?"
Wen Mu stopped and looked up at him: "Why do you ask?"
Song Xingran scratched his head: "I'm afraid you don't like noise. They might be a little excited."
Wen Mu raised his eyebrows: "Am I so old-fashioned in your eyes? So unkind?"
"Didn't you tell me before we got married that you didn't like socializing?"
"But then again," he nodded honestly, "you seem a little... "
"Song Xingran." Wen Mu pretended to hit him, but he was grabbed by the wrist and gently pulled, and the whole person fell into his arms.
"Just kidding," Song Xingran smiled and kissed the tip of her nose, "My teacher Wen is the most open-minded."
Wen Mu snorted, but didn't struggle anymore: "Who are you inviting?"
"People from the team, a few childhood friends, my boss, maybe his wife will come too," Song Xingran counted. "About twenty or so?"
"Whatever you want." Wen Mu resumed bandaging, "This is your home anyway."
Song Xingran frowned: "It's our home."
Wen Mu paused for a moment, a warm feeling welling up in her heart. She didn't object, but just said "hmm" softly.
"It's a deal then?" Song Xingran's eyes lit up. "Party! Music! Dancing! Drinking!"
"No. Drinking. "
Wen Mu spoke word by word, tightening the bandage hard, causing the man to cry out.
"At least you can't. Your wounds haven't healed yet."
Song Xingran curled his lips: "That's so boring."
"Choose one of two," Wen Mu held up two fingers, "Party, or drink."
"Party." Song Xingran chose reluctantly, then became excited again, "Can I watch you dance?"
Wen Mu rolled his eyes: "No."
"Why?"
"Astronomers don't learn to dance for fear of attracting alien life."
Song Xingran burst into laughter, accidentally pulling at the wound and then baring his teeth again: "Teacher Wen, what kind of stereotype is this?"
Wen Mu couldn't help laughing: "What about you? A racing driver can dance?"
"Of course," the man raised his chin proudly, "I'm the dancing king of Silver Arrow."
"boast."
"If you don't believe me, wait and see."
The sunlight shines on the two of them, casting a layer of golden warmth on this ordinary morning.
Gasoline came over at some point, put his head on Song Xingran's knees, and looked at them with his black eyes.
Wen Mu looked at the man and the dog with the same expectant eyes, and suddenly felt that maybe a lively party would be nice.
*
On his birthday, the villa bustled with activity from the afternoon onward. The chefs prepared meals in the kitchen, waiters bustled around setting up the venue, and a makeshift dance floor and bar were set up in the garden. Wen Mu stood at the window of his second-floor bedroom, watching the bustling crowds below, feeling a bit dazed.
"nervous?"
Song Xingran hugged her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder.
The man looked particularly handsome today. His black silk shirt had three buttons casually open, revealing his collarbone and a small part of his chest. His tailor-made suit trousers wrapped around his slender legs. His black hair was carefully groomed, with a few strands hanging unruly in front of his forehead, adding a bit of unruly look.
"It's not my birthday, why are you so nervous?" Wen Mu turned around and straightened his collar. "But you, does your wound still hurt?"
Song Xingran shook his head and took the opportunity to steal a kiss: "It doesn't hurt anymore when I see you."
"You're so smooth-talking." Wen Mu slapped his restless hand away. "The guests are about to arrive. You should go down."
"Together."
"I'll change first."
Song Xingran looked her up and down at her simple white shirt and jeans: "Is this what you're wearing?"
Wen Mu smiled mysteriously: "Of course not. Now, get out."
An hour later, when Wen Mu appeared at the top of the stairs, the conversation in the hall stopped abruptly.
She wore a starry blue slip dress, embroidered with tiny silver threads that flowed with her steps, resembling a literal Milky Way. Her hair was loosely tied up, revealing her slender neck and collarbone. The only thing that remained unchanged were the gold-rimmed glasses on her nose, gleaming in the light.
Song Xingran stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her, her beautiful peach blossom eyes unblinking, as if she had seen some miracle.
"How about it?"
Wen Mu walked up to him and looked at him with raised eyebrows.
"Is she still the old-fashioned, boring, and scary female astronomy doctor you remember?"
Song Xingran's Adam's apple rolled: "No."
"I knew long ago that you weren't."
Wen Mu's lips curled slightly as he was embraced in his arms.
"I want to cancel the party now," the man said hoarsely.
"Why?"
"Because I want to carry you straight upstairs."
Wen Mu pinched his arm and said, "Bear with it."
The guests laughed good-naturedly.
Alex was the first to step forward and handed Song Xingran an exquisite gift box. "Happy birthday, little brat. From everyone in the team."
Song Xingran opened the gift box and found a car key inside - the latest model of Ferrari.
"Wow," he whistled, "Is this to encourage me to return to the team soon?"
Alex gave Wen Mu a meaningful look and said, "It's just a birthday present."
The party officially began, with delicious food, music, and laughter filling every corner of the villa.
Wen Mu was surprised to discover that Song Xingran could indeed dance, and he did so exceptionally well. His movements were fluid and powerful, with the precision and control of a race car driver, yet also imbued with a wild charm. When he stood in the center of the dance floor, everyone else became his foil.
"You can't believe it, right?" Alex had stood next to Wen Mu, a glass of champagne in his hand. "He was the champion of the London Underground Street Dance Competition when he was sixteen."
Wen Mu raised his eyebrows: "How much else does he know that I don't know?"
"There are many." Alex laughed, "This kid looks reckless on the surface, but he's actually very thoughtful."
He took a sip of his wine and said, "He specifically told everyone not to mention racing tonight, for fear that you would recall unhappy things."
Wen Mu's heart suddenly softened. She looked at Song Xingran on the dance floor. He was being taught dance steps by several female colleagues from the team. He had a bright smile on his face, but he would glance at her from time to time, as if to make sure she was still there.
The music switched to a slow song, and Song Xingran immediately walked towards her through the crowd, extending his hand: "Teacher Wen, do me a favor?"
Wen Mu was about to refuse when Alex took her glass and said, "Go ahead. Astronomers should come down to earth once in a while."
Without hesitation, the man pulled her onto the dance floor, his left hand gently around her waist, his right hand interlocking their fingers. His body warmth shone through the thin fabric, carrying a faint scent of mint and cedar.
"I can't dance." Wen Mu whispered, adjusting his glasses nervously.
"Just follow me." Song Xingran whispered in her ear, his breath sweeping across her earlobe, "Just like stars follow their orbits."
Wen Mu chuckled; "What if I step on you?"
"It doesn't matter, as long as it doesn't affect your future happiness."
"Yeah?"
"Yes—Ouch!"
The guests all looked at the two of them.
"Master Song, why are you so careless?" Wen Mu remained calm.
The man forced a smile despite the pain: "Teacher Wen, you are quite energetic."
"Thank you for the compliment."
Wen Mu relaxed and let Song Xingran lead him in swaying gently on the dance floor.
His steps were steady and gentle, completely unlike the reckless racer he usually was.
Wen Mu looked up at him and said, "Happy birthday."
The man's eyes reflected the broken light of the crystal chandelier: "I am happy only when you are here."
The dance ended and the fast-paced music started again. His friends urged Song Xingran to perform, and he looked at Wen Mu hesitantly.
"Go ahead." Wen Mu pushed him, "Let me see the strength of the 'Silver Arrow Dance King'."
The man grinned, took off his suit jacket and tossed it to her, unbuttoned two buttons of his shirt, and strode to the center of the dance floor.
When the music started, he seemed to be injected with new energy - his movements were clean and neat, full of power yet at ease, and every turn and every wave was precisely timed, causing screams from those around him.
Wen Mu leaned against the bar, staring at him intently.
The man who shines so brightly on the stage, the man who secretly learns to make dumplings in the middle of the night, and the patient who smiles weakly on the hospital bed, all overlap wonderfully and constitute all that she loves.
The party went on till late at night and the guests said goodbye one after another.
The clock pointed to eleven o'clock. Song Xingran walked up to Wen Mu and picked her up without saying a word.
"What?"
"It's time." Song Xingran strode towards the stairs.
"What time? Your wound—"
"Whatever. I won't die."
The man carried her upstairs to the observatory on the top floor, where the telescope he had specially prepared for her was placed, facing the transparent dome.
The weather is great tonight, the sky is full of stars and the Milky Way is clearly visible.
"You said you would teach me the constellations."
Song Xingran gently placed her on the observation chair, squatted beside her, and looked up at her expectantly.
"Let's start tonight."
"Teacher Wen, I will study hard."
My heart felt like it was gently bumped by something.
Wen Mu didn't expect that he still remembered what he said casually.
She said slowly: "This, you can learn it anytime. Today is your birthday, why don't you do something else?"
The man curled his lips and smiled: "It seems that Teacher Wen really wants to do something else with me."
"I didn't." Wen Mu lowered his eyes.
"I just think you should do something to make yourself happy."
"Wife." Song Xingran called her softly.
"I'm happy to do anything with you."
"Well, you should watch carefully and study hard."
Wen Mu adjusted the telescope and pointed it at the northern sky.
"This is the Ursa Major, also known as the Big Dipper."
The woman's clear and gentle voice was particularly clear in the quiet night.
Song Xingran listened attentively and asked questions from time to time, like a student with a strong thirst for knowledge.
When Wen Mu pointed to Vega, he suddenly held her hand.
They looked at each other in silence, only the warmth of their palms was felt.
After a moment, Song Xingran said softly, "Teacher Wen, you know what? Before every competition, I always look for this star."
Wen Mu: “Why?”
"Because it represents the Weaver Girl in Chinese legend," the man's thumb gently stroked her wrist, "You are my Weaver Girl."
The sudden love words made Wen Mu a little overwhelmed. She looked at the bright star through the telescope, and her vision began to blur.
"Are you stupid? The Weaver Girl and the Cowherd can only meet once a year. Do you like this?"
"I don't like it."
"I think we are luckier than them." Song Xingran leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "We can see each other every day."
Wen Mu adjusted the telescope and pointed it in another direction: "That's the Aquila constellation, and Altair is right there. The two stars are facing each other across the Milky Way."
The man reached out and turned the telescope, aiming it in a certain direction: "I want to see this more."
"The moon?" Wen Mu looked up in confusion. "There's nothing to see on the moon. It's full of holes and has been thoroughly studied."
"But it's the closest object to us, isn't it?"
Song Xingran's voice became low.
"Just like you. Your heart is closest to me."
As if pulled by a mysterious force, Wen Mu slowly turned around and met the man's focused and affectionate gaze.
She stared at him quietly, greedily breathing in the mint scent lingering around the man.
"You, put on perfume?"
“There’s always spraying.”
“It’s quite exquisite.”
"Men dress to please themselves."
Wen Mu wanted to speak again, but his lips were covered by a big hand.
"Teacher Wen, in this situation, don't you have anything you want to say to me?"
Wen Mu wondered what she should say, a romantic love talk, a seductive love talk, or a playful joke.
It seems that neither one is suitable.
"Happy birthday."
That's all she said at last.
"I hope that 25-year-old Song Xingran can still be himself."
Song Xingran smiled and slowly moved closer: "It's still half an hour before we get there."
"so?"
"So," his lips were almost touching hers, "my birthday wish is..."
Wen Mu closed his eyes and waited quietly for the kiss to fall.
However, the next second, she was suddenly picked up and the telescope was roughly pushed aside.
"Song Xingran!" She felt really distressed. "Telescopes are very expensive!"
"I'll pay."
The man strode towards the couch next to him.
“There are more important things to do now.”
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The author has something to say: Master Song: My wife smells so good, I can’t help crying
Teacher Wen: ...
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