Sang Yan hadn’t expected to hear this word from Wen Yifan’s mouth again after more than a year. Moreover, it had now escalated to the level of “redemption.”
He found it absurd, yet somewhat amusing. “What about me?”
Wen Yifan’s hands were ice-cold from the freezing weather, still touching his face. Her gaze was focused as her fingertips traced from his eyes, along the side of his face, stopping at the slightly indented dimple at the right corner of his mouth.
She stopped moving.
Her gaze followed suit, lowering.
“Go on,” Sang Yan allowed her touch, reaching out to hold her other hand, warming it in his. “You want to redeem me, and then what?”
“And then?” Wen Yifan raised her eyes a beat later, staring at his familiar features. She honestly expressed her inner desire, “Make you mine alone.”
Sang Yan’s eyebrows raised playfully: “Do you need to redeem me for that?”
“Yes. Because I saw you,” Wen Yifan pursed her lips, complaining softly, “smiling with other girls.”
After saying this, she continued to explain on his behalf: “But this must be a requirement of your job… Once I redeem you, you won’t have to do such things anymore.”
“Wen Shuangjiang, who taught you to throw dirt on people when you’re drunk?” Sang Yan’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. “Wasn’t today’s table full of men? Who did I smile at?”
Wen Yifan shook her head: “Not today.”
Sang Yan: “If not today, then when?”
“The first time I went to ‘work overtime,'” Wen Yifan spoke slowly as if recalling, “One night, you smiled at four girls and gave them your contact information.”
“…”
Such a distant event, Sang Yan had no memory of it at all, but he was certain he hadn’t done it. He stared straight at her, compromising by taking out his phone from his pocket: “See for yourself.”
Before Wen Yifan could take the phone, the sound of a car came from behind.
Sang Yan glanced sideways, it was an empty taxi. He directly stuffed the phone into Wen Yifan’s hand and raised his hand to hail it. Then, he pulled her up, half-embracing her: “Let’s go home.”
Wen Yifan, holding the phone, was still calling him: “Sang Yan.”
Sang Yan: “Hm?”
Wen Yifan was very serious: “I’m already preparing to raise money, you can’t smile at others.”
“…”
Sang Yan looked at her for a few seconds, suddenly feeling that there was no way to communicate with this drunk person. He opened the car door, pushing her into the car while reluctantly accepting this false accusation: “Alright, got it.”
Closing the car door, Sang Yan walked to the other side and got in.
Sang Yan told the driver the address and moved closer to Wen Yifan to fasten her seatbelt.
Staring at his actions and his close-up features, Wen Yifan felt uncomfortable, and dizzy from drinking too much: “Why do we need to wear seatbelts in the back seat?”
Sang Yan looked up: “You need to wear them no matter where you sit.”
“Oh.” Seeing him sit back, Wen Yifan looked at him, “Then why aren’t you wearing one?”
“It feels too tight for me.”
Wen Yifan oh-ed again, seeming to understand what he meant. The car fell silent, her gaze still on him. A few seconds later, she asked again: “Then why aren’t you wearing one?”
“…”
Sang Yan was silent for three seconds. Seeing that she was still looking at him, he compromised again, pulling the seatbelt and fastening it.
Seeing this, Wen Yifan seemed satisfied. She lowered her eyes, her gaze fixed on Sang Yan’s left hand. His sleeve was slightly rolled up, and the bracelet she had given him earlier was still on his left wrist as if he had never taken it off.
The thin red string with a small pendant. It didn’t match his style.
But after he put it on, it seemed quite fitting.
Wen Yifan reached for his hand, touching it lightly. The scene of Su Hao’an constantly teasing Sang Yan tonight floated in her mind. She felt a bit unhappy again and said softly: “Won’t you be laughed at for wearing this, like a little girl?”
“Hm?” Sang Yan said lazily, “What’s it to them?”
“…”
“Why did we leave so early?” Wen Yifan struggled to think, speaking slowly, “I just heard them say there would be a wedding night prank later…”
Sang Yan mimicked her slow pace, drawling: “Because a drunkard got drunk.”
Hearing this, Wen Yifan observed him: “Are you drunk?”
“…”
“Then I’ll make you some honey water when we get back,” Wen Yifan, in her drunken state, was talking more than usual, but her logic was still intact, “Then you should go to bed early, don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
Sang Yan turned his head: “What about you?”
Wen Yifan blinked: “I’m off tomorrow.”
“Mm,” Sang Yan pinched the flesh of her palm, his tone casual, “You have time, so you want to find something for me to do.”
“Well, since I’m planning to redeem you, you should forget about your identity as a top host,” Wen Yifan brought the topic back to this, her expression very serious, “It’s only natural for you to do anything for me.”
“…”
Sang Yan first learned about the title “top host” because of Su Hao’an. At that time, Su Hao’an heard about it from somewhere, was particularly dissatisfied, and specifically argued with him about who was the top host of this decadent street.
He couldn’t be bothered with Su Hao’an and didn’t take this nonsense to heart at all.
But Sang Yan never thought.
This title could become a catalyst for him to meet Wen Yifan again, and she seemed to be still hung up on it.
After a long silence.
As if he finally couldn’t hold back, Sang Yan laughed out loud. His shoulders shook slightly, his chest heaving with laughter, and after a while, he said: “Alright, what you say makes sense.”
“…”
“Also, your boyfriend is still pure. I don’t sell my art or my body, I earn money solely with my talent.” Sang Yan drawled, sounding frivolous, “So the money you’re spending, it’s not a loss.”
Wen Yifan nodded solemnly: “I know.”
Sang Yan: “So, come redeem me as soon as possible, okay?”
Wen Yifan nodded.
Listening to their conversation, the driver in front had a strange expression, frequently glancing back through the rearview mirror. Until they reached the entrance of Shangdu Huacheng, after taking Sang Yan’s money, he couldn’t help but advise: “Miss, I see you’re so pretty—”
Wen Yifan had just gotten out of the car and looked at the driver through the window: “Hm?”
“There’s no need to date a gigolo!”
“…”
Sang Yan directly closed the car door, smiling sarcastically: “Driver, do you always ruin other people’s business like this?”
“…”
Shangdu Huacheng’s property management was strict, and cars without registered license plates had to register various miscellaneous things to enter, which was particularly troublesome. So Sang Yan didn’t let the driver take the car in and stopped directly at the entrance.
But after sitting for the whole ride, Wen Yifan’s drunkenness seemed to have intensified, and she could barely stand steady now.
Sang Yan simply picked her up on his back.
Wen Yifan rested her chin on his shoulder, her arms around his neck. She seemed a bit sleepy, but kept muttering: “So, we definitely can’t rely on looks to make a living.”
Sang Yan listened quietly.
Wen Yifan: “This is the most hopeless path.”
“Mm.” Sang Yan went along with it, “No one’s asking you to rely on your looks to make a living.”
Wen Yifan shook her head: “There are.”
Hearing this, Sang Yan’s footsteps paused, he turned his head: “Who?”
Wen Yifan seemed to want to say something, but when she met his side profile, she swallowed her words. She looked away, thinking for a moment: “When I was in Yihe before, I first interned at a newspaper for more than two years, then I went to Yihe Radio and TV.”
Sang Yan rarely heard her mention her past, his expression slightly stunned.
“I got in through social recruitment, into one of their ace news programs,” Wen Yifan said. “I never thought I could get in, because usually only those with connections could. I just wanted to try, so I submitted my resume.”
Sang Yan responded: “And then?”
“Then,” Wen Yifan’s expression was a bit dazed as if she didn’t like this memory very much, “After I had been there for several months, I found out that many people in the team were saying that I got in by sleeping with the director.”
“…”
“I’m not concerned about these things. After all, people can say what they want, I can’t control their mouths.” Wen Yifan said, “But I never thought that my director wanted to sleep with me.”
Sang Yan’s footsteps stopped.
“He said with a face like mine, doing anything would be quicker and easier money than being a reporter, and he didn’t know what I was so proud of. Sleeping a few times wouldn’t be much loss to me.” Wen Yifan’s words stopped, and after a while, she said, “…I hate that place.”
Sang Yan comforted her in a low voice: “Mm, then we won’t go there anymore.”
Wen Yifan said in a barely audible voice: “Why do they all… say such things about me.”
Afraid of scaring her, Sang Yan suppressed the fury in his heart, trying to keep his tone calm: “Because they’re sick in the head.”
“…”
“Sang Yan.”
“Hm?”
“Before I returned to Nanwu,” Wen Yifan said softly, “I dreamed of you.”
“…”
“I dreamed that you came to Yihe, bringing you,” maybe because she had been talking for a while and was tired, Wen Yifan spoke with some difficulty, “bringing your, um, your wife. You were on your honeymoon.”
Sang Yan laughed: “What kind of dream is that?”
Wen Yifan: “You were very happy, and even smiled and greeted me.”
It was strange.
At that time, Wen Yifan hadn’t thought about Sang Yan for a long time.
But after waking up.
She suddenly wanted to return to Nanwu.
She hated Yihe.
She also hated Beiyu.
There wasn’t a single city she liked.
But at that moment.
She felt that at least her father’s grave was in Nanwu.
At least, in Nanwu, there was still someone she wanted to see but didn’t dare to.
“Alright then.” Sang Yan thought for a moment, his tone becoming more serious, “Then we’ll go to Yihe for a trip in the future.”
“…”
Wen Yifan stared blankly at his profile, inexplicably feeling a bit teary-eyed. She lowered her eyes, softly sniffled, and said in a very low voice: “Sang Yan, I’m sorry.”
“Hm?” Sang Yan asked, “Sorry for what?”
“I’m too heavy.”
“I haven’t said anything yet, and you’re already saying you’re heavy?” Sang Yan laughed, “Before you apologize, why don’t you weigh the meat on your bones, okay? Your bones are still digging into me.”
Wen Yifan didn’t say anything, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
I’m sorry.
My words were too harsh before.
Wen Yifan didn’t speak again, her thoughts drifting as the man before her occupied her entire sense of security. Her eyelids gradually drooped, her mind becoming heavy as she recalled Chen Junwen’s words at the wedding banquet today.
— “At that time, Fatty was crying there, drunk like an idiot. He mistook Sang Yan for the girl he pursued in college, shouting for half the night ‘Wan Lin! Am I your backup?’ Sang Yan had also drunk quite a bit, and like an idiot, he kept repeating his words.”
— “Huh? What did Sang Yan say?”
…
She didn’t know if she had misheard, imagined it, or if it had happened that way.
But Sang Yan shouldn’t say such things.
He couldn’t say such things.
He was such a proud person, he should always be proud.
He wouldn’t be defeated by anything.
So, he absolutely couldn’t have been… just waiting for her all this time.
An extremely intense sense of guilt almost overwhelmed her.
Wen Yifan didn’t want this to be real, feeling that she couldn’t bear such treatment.
— What did he say?
Wen Yifan didn’t dare to recall anymore.
She was exhausted to the extreme, slowly being pulled into the realm of dreams by this thick sleepiness.
In the dream, inside a bustling open-air food stall.
The man wore a white shirt, with a few buttons of the collar undone, and the sleeves slightly rolled up. His eyes were pitch black, his features tinged with a bit of dissolution from drunkenness, carelessly repeating Qian Fei’s words: “Am I your backup?”
Chen Junwen laughed nearby: “Sang Yan, have you been infected?”
“Am I yours,” as if he hadn’t heard, Sang Yan’s tone was light, “backup?”
“…”
Everything around seemed to be receding.
The bustling scene was clamorous, but it all seemed unrelated to him. As if they were in two different worlds.
Sang Yan’s Adam’s apple rolled lightly, the corners of his eyes slightly reddened by the alcohol. He lowered his eyes, twisting his lips in self-mockery, his voice hoarse to the extreme.
“Being a backup… is fine too.”