04 WeChat chat history
One week later.
When Wen Xueyan opened the door, Song Tiancheng had just returned home from his business trip. For the first time ever, he was wearing an apron and poked his head out of the kitchen, the aroma of her favorite chicken soup wafting from the clay pot.
"You're back? Wash your hands and have some dinner," he said with a smile.
The indifference Song Tiancheng had shown a few days earlier inexplicably melted away on this evening.
Wen Xueyan stared at the knot on his apron belt behind his waist and suddenly remembered what her best friend Ning Zhiyi had said: "When a man suddenly becomes attentive, he is either guilty or wants something from you."
She asked casually, "By the way, what's your phone password? Last time you rushed off to work before you finished telling me."
"You still remember this?" Song Tiancheng smiled, pulling out a tissue to wipe his hands and smoothly reciting a string of numbers, "It's the anniversary of our first meeting." He unlocked his phone and shoved it towards him; the screen was still warm from his palm. "Take a look."
He said he could just look around, but he stayed right next to him.
My WeChat chat list is spotless, as if it's been washed clean. My recent contacts are all from work groups, and the only pinned contact besides her is the "Family Happiness Group," which includes both sets of parents.
As Wen Xueyan's fingertips slid across the screen, Song Tiancheng scooped up a spoonful of soup and blew on it to cool it: "Taste it to see if it's salty enough? I made it according to a new recipe I learned online."
"It tastes good." Wen Xueyan took a bite.
Then she continued looking at the screen. In the "Not in frequent contact" category, there were several profile pictures that looked like women. One contact, whose nickname was "Class Monitor," had a chat history that stopped a year ago with a New Year's greeting, a group-sent GIF of fireworks followed by the message "Wishing my old classmate a prosperous year."
Scrolling further down, real estate agent Xiao Li's chat box is filled with the same greetings all year round. Spring Festival is all about "Happy New Year" with lanterns hanging high, Mid-Autumn Festival is all about "a perfect full moon and blooming flowers" with the moon rabbit pounding medicine. Every festival seems to be stuck in the same template, and even the greetings have the standardized feel of a showroom.
The latest post was from last week by Xiao Li: "Mr. Song, are you considering investing in a shop? A prime street-front shop offers immediate returns."
Song Tiancheng did not reply to these messages.
She suddenly remembered that on New Year's Eve two years ago, Song Tiancheng said while watching TV that these mass-sent New Year's greetings were like pre-made dishes in a supermarket—they looked like they had a lot of words and were fancy, but you couldn't taste the sincerity in them.
Just then, fireworks exploded outside the window, and he instinctively pulled her into his arms. The light from his phone screen reflected the shadows of the two of them embracing.
Looking back at these formulaic greetings now, they seem like a metaphor. Aren't many of the later conversations in the marriage just templates and routines in a pretty shell?
As she logged out of WeChat, her phone's screen saver lit up, displaying a background of Victoria Harbour. In the photo, Song Tiancheng was hugging her from behind, and the two of them were smiling happily.
"How was it? Satisfied with the check-up? I'll take you to buy a house tomorrow. Make sure you bring your documents too. Then we'll go to my parents' house for dinner. My mom said she misses the Kung Pao Chicken you used to make for her." Song Tiancheng reached for his phone.
Wen Xueyan lowered her head and drank her soup. She actually felt it was a bit salty, but for some reason, she didn't want to tell the truth. Later, she realized that pointing out that the soup was salty meant discussing why it was salty, a question she wasn't interested in.
Song Tiancheng turned off the screen and put it back in his pocket.
Song Tiancheng's gaze lingered on her face for a moment before turning to the dining table. "The balcony of the new house can be made bigger. You can put your favorite hanging chair there to sunbathe."
Wen Xueyan stared at the oil condensation on the surface of the soup and suddenly said, "I'll start working at your group's Nuosai Chemical Technology Company next month."
Wen Xueyan noticed her husband's fingers tighten slightly on the table, but he controlled his expression well. If it weren't for the fact that three years of marriage had made her familiar with his every micro-expression, she would have never noticed it.
"Mr. Cheng said he called you and introduced you to this job, right? He said you have a professional background. Are you sure you want to go?" Song Tiancheng's voice remained calm.
Wen Xueyan nodded.
"President Cheng is known in the industry for his strictness." He spoke calmly, trying to make his reminder sound like an objective statement. "He has extremely high expectations for his employees, almost to the point of being inhumane, and he doesn't hold back when criticizing them. And the chemical industry is something he pays special attention to, that kind of high-pressure environment... Can you adapt?" His gaze fell on Wen Xueyan's face, as if trying to assess whether she was truly prepared based on her reaction.
Wen Xueyan met his gaze, her expression unchanged: "I know President Cheng has a strong style. But work is the same everywhere, results-oriented. I can handle it."
Looking at her calm and resolute face, Song Tiancheng knew there was no turning back. She hadn't come to ask for his consent, but to inform him of a decision.
His expression relaxed, and the slight displeasure was well concealed deep in his eyes.
"It's a great opportunity," he finally said, his tone sounding as normal as ever.
Dinner ended in a subtle silence. Wen Xueyan was clearing away the dishes when, just as she was about to take the last plate into the kitchen, Song Tiancheng suddenly stood up. He walked behind her and put his arm around her shoulder. This sudden act of intimacy made Wen Xueyan stiffen slightly.
"Xueyan." His voice was deep, carrying a long-lost tenderness, his warm breath brushing against her ear.
Wen Xueyan didn't turn around, but simply stopped what she was doing. She could feel her husband's breath brushing against her hair and smell the familiar scent of aftershave. His chest was pressed against her back, and his body heat was transmitted through the fabric of his shirt.
Song Tiancheng tightened his arms slightly, holding her more firmly in his embrace.
He lowered his head, his nose gently brushing against the side of her neck, as if reliving a forgotten intimacy. This gesture made Wen Xueyan tremble involuntarily.
He didn't rush to turn her around, but instead slowly stroked her arm with one hand, his fingertips carrying a tentative warmth, sliding from her elbow to her wrist, and finally interlocking his fingers with her free hand.
“Turn around and let me see you,” he whispered.
Wen Xueyan hesitated for a moment, but finally slowly turned around. Song Tiancheng's hands slid to her waist and gently pulled her closer.
His gaze lingered on her face. His thumb traced her chin, slowly lifting her chin. This gesture made Wen Xueyan involuntarily hold her breath.
Under the light, his eyes were deep and unfathomable. His face slowly drew closer, and his warm breath brushed against her lips.
"Xueyan." His voice was deep.
"Um?"
“Tonight, I want you,” he whispered, his fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt and unbuttoning the back clasp. “Why don’t you go take a shower first? We haven’t been intimate in so long.”
His lips pressed down, capturing hers. The kiss came suddenly and urgently. Wen Xueyan neither responded nor refused, but simply stood there quietly, feeling this seemingly contradictory kiss.
When he finally released her, Song Tiancheng's forehead was pressed against hers, his eyes tightly closed, as if he was trying to gather some emotion.
“The previous layoff news made me too nervous, and it probably affected me in many ways,” he explained in a low voice, his fingers stroking her back. “Now that things have settled down, I feel better. I feel confident again.”
Half-believing, half-doubting, Wen Xueyan replied softly, "I'm on my period today."
Song Tiancheng did not hold Wen Xueyan's hand to help him as he had when they first got married.
At this moment, Song Tiancheng simply stepped back slightly, a knowing smile on his face: "It's alright, we'll talk about it next week. You should rest first; I just remembered I have some work to take care of."
She slowly walked into the bedroom and turned on the bathroom tap.
Warm water washed over her body; she closed her eyes, letting the water droplets splash on her face. The estrangement of the past year felt like a thin film separating her and Song Tiancheng. Would tonight bring an end to that estrangement?
As she dried her hair and stepped out of the bathroom, she saw Song Tiancheng sitting on the sofa in the living room, a laptop on his lap, his brow furrowed as he stared at the screen. His fingers flew across the keyboard.
"There's a bug that needs fixing," he explained without looking up.
Wen Xueyan nodded and went to the kitchen to pour water. From her angle, she could see her husband's focused profile.
A while later, Song Tiancheng's phone rang in the living room. He glanced at the caller ID, his expression changing slightly.
"It's Mr. Cheng on the phone, probably about the project," he explained, getting up and walking to the balcony, closing the glass door behind him.
Wen Xueyan watched her husband's back as he stood on the balcony.
He held his phone in one hand, while gesturing with the other, as if explaining something important.
Her gaze inadvertently swept over the laptop on the coffee table in the living room. The screen displayed Song Tiancheng's WeChat interface; he had forgotten to log out because he had taken a call.
Wen Xueyan hesitated for a moment. Checking a phone was one thing, looking at a computer was another. Besides, he had come prepared to check her phone. That inexplicable sense of unease propelled her forward. She quietly walked to the computer.
At the top of the screen is a contact with the nickname "Bamboo Heart Sweetie". The chat window displays several recent messages, the content of which is indeed related to programmer work:
"Brother Cheng, how should I set these parameters? [laughing and crying emoji]"
"Thank you, Brother Cheng! You're so amazing! I admire you so much! But do you know what I admire most about you?" "Brother Cheng, the meeting was so boring just now, so I was secretly optimizing the code you praised~ Praise me! [Praise me!]" The last message was a cute bunny emoji.
Song Tiancheng's reply was a concise two words: "Okay."
Although the content seemed to be work-related, the way he called her "Brother Cheng" and the intimate tone made her feel somewhat uncomfortable.
She moved her mouse, wanting to scroll up to view earlier chat logs.
She saw a message that said, "I'll send you the room number later."
Just then, a pair of hands reached out from behind her and covered her hand holding the mouse.
"Xueyan, what are you looking at?" Song Tiancheng's voice rang in her ear.
Welcome to leave comments if you enjoy reading this! Thank you!
So wonderful!
I can't get enough of it, hahaha, I wait for the updates every day!
As expected, this Mr. Song has a problem. (One chapter a day isn't enough!)
Mr. Song is up to no good~~ Teacher Yuanshan is amazing, so prolific and of such high quality, please accept my deepest respect and flowers.
Waiting for updates
Wow, thank you so much for your comment, it's so heartwarming!
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Thank you for your detailed and insightful comment.
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