Chapter 12 – Happy Birthday

Zhou Liao’s birthday was just like any other year: a relentless stream of well-wishing messages and calls from morning till night. Some were genuine, others hollow, and many were thinly veiled attempts to curry favor with gifts and favors.

Everyone wished him well—everyone except for those two. Yet, from the moment the clock struck midnight, he found himself trapped in the familiar, endless wait.

Bai Ling’s message was nearly drowned in the flood of notifications, buried beneath greetings from girls he’d met in bars, who after their perfunctory birthday wishes, asked when he’d be out again. If Chen Xian hadn’t reminded him, he wouldn’t have remembered to reply to Bai Ling’s message until he was already driving his sports car to the club that afternoon. He then made a show of calling her back.

“Sorry, darling, I just saw your message. I got back late last night after taking some drunk friends home. Just finished showering and checked my phone.”

“No worries. I’ve sent the gift by courier.”

“You really can’t make it today?” Zhou Liao asked, feigning reluctance as he slapped the steering wheel with one hand, swiftly maneuvering the car out of the garage.

“Nope, you guys have fun. I’m still working on my drawing,” Bai Ling said, her stylus hovering over the digital tablet as she stared at the nearly completed artwork on the screen. “I’m going to the hospital with my mom later.”

“Why the hospital? Did you catch a cold?”

“No, Qin Zhan’s grandmother’s condition seems to have worsened. We’re going to visit her.”

Zhou Liao narrowed his eyes slightly, gazing at the asphalt road ahead.

“I see…”

“Okay, I’ll hang up now. My mom’s hurrying me. Happy birthday!”

“Alright, thanks.” Zhou Liao rubbed his fingertips against the steering wheel. “Give her my best wishes.”

As soon as the call ended, Chen Xian turned to look at him. Zhou Liao had connected the car’s bluetooth, so he’d heard the entire conversation clearly.

“Qin Zhan’s grandmother?”

“Yeah, she has uremia.”

“Did Bai Ling tell you?”

“No, she’s really protective of Qin Zhan and wouldn’t share his personal matters. I found out when the hospital flagged his account for debt. I checked his spending history afterward and pieced it together.”

Chen Xian fell silent for a moment. Zhou Liao glanced at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Chen Xian shifted in his seat. Having been raised by his grandparents, he naturally felt sympathy for families with elderly relatives. He knew Qin Zhan’s hospitalization must be related to his brother, but since Zhou Liao hadn’t asked him to come along earlier, he knew Zhou Liao probably wanted to handle it alone, fearing Chen Xian might interfere if he were present.

“Bai Ling still doesn’t know why you’re dating her, does she?” Chen Xian abruptly changed the subject.

“I don’t know. She’s easy to coax,” Zhou Liao said, still pleased with this aspect of their relationship. Unlike most girls who were after his money, she didn’t seem particularly materialistic. Her emotions were written all over her face, she knew when to back off and kept her distance, never prying into his personal life.

“What’s the real deal with her and Qin Zhan? Does Qin Zhan really like her?” Chen Xian knew Zhou Liao’s “coax” was essentially a euphemism for “deceive.”

“Not sure about the liking part, but he definitely cares about her.”

As Zhou Liao spoke, his eyes kept darting to his phone. Each time a notification lit up, his heart would pound, but his expression darkened further with each name he saw.

For his birthday celebration, Zhou Liao had chosen Ding Ge, a private club they frequented and a favorite haunt of C City’s elite, offering both privacy and freedom.

After the car pulled up to the discreetly luxurious entrance, a man in a black suit stepped forward to bow and open the door. Zhou Liao tugged at his collar, tossed the car keys to the attendant, and followed the hostess with Chen Xian to their reserved private room.

The room was already packed with people, mostly smoking hookah and chatting. As soon as the door swung open, all eyes turned their way, and someone even whistled.

Zhou Liao wore a casual suit today, his hair slicked back, with only a few strands falling casually across his forehead. His features were strikingly handsome, bordering on arrogant and devilish, his face radiating privilege. Combined with his height and physique, rivaling those of models and celebrities, he naturally commanded attention.

……

The birthday party was extravagant and ostentatious, with Zhou Liao surrounded by fawning guests, seemingly enjoying his role as the center of attention. Yet no one noticed his grim expression as he retreated to the sofa to drink when the lights dimmed.

A minor influencer brought by one of the guests began walking toward him. By the time Zhou Liao lifted his glass, she had already settled beside him.

“Happy birthday, Young Master Zhou.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m Ling Yang, brought by Brother Zou. I’m a content creator now.” She raised her glass, her eyes sparkling with a smile. “I’m a first-year graduate student at the university next door, studying journalism.”

The woman exuded effortless charm. Only after hearing her introduction did Zhou Liao finally turn his head, catching glimpses of her face in the intermittent flashes of light. Her fair complexion and delicate features possessed an alluring charm that transcended mere prettiness—the type he’d often flirt with in bars. Under normal circumstances, he’d have teased her into sharing a couple of drinks and taken her back to his hotel. Though he wasn’t in the mood for anything physical, conversation wouldn’t hurt.

“Impressive, sis.”

“Oh, it’s just a hobby.” Ling Yang didn’t seem offended by his lack of interest in her drink. “Are you in a bad mood? Looks like I’m bothering you.”

Zhou Liao leaned back against the sofa and chuckled. “Maybe chatting with you could cheer me up.”

“Really?” Ling Yang blinked.

“Ling Yang, stop bothering Zhou Liao. He has a girlfriend,” Brother Zou called out, waving her over.

The group in the room was accustomed to Zhou Liao’s rapid turnover of romantic interests, so few were surprised by the announcement. Someone casually asked who it was this time.

“This one…” Brother Zou was about to answer when a knock came at the door.

A waiter stood at the entrance, holding an exquisite cake and a beautifully packaged gift box of men’s cologne.

“Excuse me, Young Master Zhou. These gifts have been delivered for you.”

Zhou Liao gripped his glass tightly, his heart beginning to race wildly. But as soon as the gifts were placed before him and he saw the signature on the card, his enthusiasm vanished. The secret hope he’d been harboring crashed, and visible irritation washed over him.

“Bai Ling…” someone read aloud from the card.

“That’s her—Boss Liao’s current flame.”

“She’s just light luxury. Does Boss Liao even go for that?”

Ling Yang noticed Zhou Liao hadn’t glanced at the cake or the cologne, his brow furrowed as he impatiently studied the signature on the card. She understood the situation at once.

“This is a new men’s fragrance from this brand—it’s really popular this year,” Ling Yang said, glancing at the others.

“I meant it’s low-class.”

“By the way, why isn’t Bai Ling here?”

“Just a fling, nothing serious,” one of the guys who had helped Zhou Liao beat up Qin Zhan earlier chimed in.

“Speaking of which, my mom gave me this brand back in middle school,” another person said, picking up the perfume to examine it.

“Your mom actually gave you something like this?”

“Our family was just starting to get on its feet back then. For my 18th birthday, my mom gave me a gift set to make up for all the gifts I hadn’t received from ages one to eighteen.”

“I remember now! I even went to your birthday party back then. Your parents threw a huge bash—on a cruise ship, right?”

“Yeah, my mom’s always been really good to me. Didn’t your family throw huge birthday parties for you every year too?”

“Well, my family considers birthdays pretty important. They can’t just ignore me, right?”

Chen Xian listened to the conversation around him and glanced at Zhou Liao. Zhou Liao was sitting in the shadows, his expression unreadable.

“Speaking of which, Boss Liao, how did you spend your 18th birthday back then? Did you also…?”

Zhou Liao slowly rose to his feet, a perfunctory smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I just remembered I have something urgent to attend to. You guys have fun. Tonight’s on me.”

“…Huh? It’s not even midnight yet—we haven’t had cake!”

“Why so sudden, Boss Liao?”

Zhou Liao didn’t respond. Amidst the group’s surprised and confused gazes, he shoved his hands into his pockets and pushed open the private room door.

“Zhou Liao…” Chen Xian stood up, wanting to follow him.

“Don’t follow me,” Zhou Liao growled in a low, menacing voice. “I have things to take care of.”

The sports car cruised aimlessly through the city. The late-night streets were nearly deserted, with only a few office building lights still burning.

A suffocating frustration churned within him. Just when he thought he’d finally learned to stop caring, reality would slap him across the face with its bloody hand.

He’d made countless excuses for them, but reality was what it was precisely because it never aligned with his imagined scenarios.

After driving for an indeterminate amount of time, Zhou Liao pulled over to the side of the road. He stared at his phone for what felt like an eternity before, with a last shred of hope, initiating a video call. It rang for an agonizingly long time—until his palms were nearly raw from gripping the phone too tightly—before it was finally answered.

The woman’s meticulously maintained face bore the stern and commanding presence of someone in a position of authority. She didn’t even glance at him when she answered, her gaze fixed on her computer screen with a hint of impatience.

“What is it?”

Zhou Liao’s adam’s apple bobbed nervously. Those three words nearly extinguished his remaining courage. He struggled to contain the suppressed emotions raging within him, threatening to tear him apart from the inside.

As if awaiting a response, the woman finally looked back at her phone. Her gaze, cold and indifferent under the screen’s pale glow, was all too familiar. In his youth, all his fears, his nightmares, his shadows—everything stemmed from the cold indifference he received when he sought her attention, the utter disregard he endured when he craved her affection.

“What trouble have you gotten into now?”

Zhou Liao clenched his fists, not uttering a single word.

“If there’s nothing important, I’m hanging up. I’m busy. If something comes up, call Uncle Lin to handle it,” she said coldly, her expression unchanging. “Or you can talk to your father.”

Zhou Liao hung up the phone without saying “Happy Birthday,” and naturally didn’t receive a “Happy Birthday” in return. They were born on the same day in different years. Zhou Liao thought no one in the world would want a gift on their birthday that would chain them for life.

The car was deathly silent. The stuffy, oppressive air in the cramped space seemed to shrink inward, as if crushing him, grinding him into a puddle of flesh.

It was the same every year.

Ever since he had beaten someone into the hospital at school for the first time, he understood that this was the only time his mother would look at him, the only time those indifferent eyes would show any flicker of emotion—even if it was a hint of resentment. But the act had grown stale.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly. Chen Xian’s persistent calls kept ringing through his phone. After hanging up again, Zhou Liao switched off his phone and stepped out of the car.

Without realizing it, he had driven out of the five districts, nearly reaching the urban village in the development zone. Along the road, he saw an elderly scavenger pedaling a wobbly tricycle, a farm woman still selling a few wilted greens late at night, a street vendor arguing with city management, and a beggar rummaging through trash cans for scraps of food. Almost everyone’s face was etched with the bitter hardships of life’s bullying.

As Zhou Liao passed an alleyway, he heard a child crying, begging for a small cake, something she had never had before. The adult snapped impatiently, “Your dad only gives us a few hundred yuan a month for the two of us to live on. Who has money to buy you a twenty-five yuan cake? Birthdays aren’t essential, you can go or stay as you please.”

The adult seemed to be deliberately provoking her, quickly walking away and leaving the child alone, sobbing uncontrollably until her entire body shook with hiccups.

Zhou Liao stood behind her, watching her trembling shoulders as she wept. After a moment, he stepped into the nearby pastry shop, which was about to close, and bought the most expensive cake in the store—a sixty-eight yuan creation—along with a single candle.

“Here,” Zhou Liao said, patting the child’s shoulder. “For you.”

The child turned around, tears still streaming down her face and snot clinging to her nose. Her mother had already disappeared into one of the buildings in the alley.

Seeing the child’s stunned expression, Zhou Liao irritably ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not a liar.”

He placed the cake on the air conditioner unit by the alley’s edge and opened the box. Using his usual cigarette lighter, he lit the candle. A spark instantly flared up between them, brighter than the dim streetlights, casting a warm, golden glow that lit up the dark alley.

The child’s eyes quickly reflected the candlelight, and Zhou Liao could see her barely concealed surprise and joy, as if this were the first birthday cake she had ever owned.

“Happy birthday,” he said.

As he watched her close her eyes to make a wish, Zhou Liao lowered his gaze.

Happy birthday to me too.