After dinner ended, Zhu Wenshu, instead of relaxing, started to feel uneasy.

Everything felt too out of the ordinary—she had a nagging suspicion her parents were holding back some kind of surprise.

Sure enough, once the table was cleared, her parents exchanged a glance by the kitchen, then turned to the living room with a smile. “Who wants to watch the Gala anyway? So boring.”

The two of them disappeared into a bedroom and emerged hauling out—a home karaoke machine.

Her uncle, who’d been holding himself back for a while now, and with a few drinks in him, could no longer contain his enthusiasm, warmly pulling Ling Chen over and insisting they do a duet together.

“Maybe we should skip that,” Zhu Wenshu said, stepping in front of Ling Chen. “He caught a cold recently, his voice isn’t great.”

Her uncle wouldn’t hear of it, insisting that even with a cold, Ling Chen could still sing.

Under Zhu Wenshu’s repeated attempts to talk him out of it, even Ling Chen couldn’t stand watching any longer.

Zhu Wenshu turned to look at him. “Are you sure……?”

Ling Chen raised an eyebrow, looking utterly confident, as if to say: and I can’t out-sing our uncle?

And then, Ling Chen watched as Zhu Wenshu’s uncle picked out a song called “Borrow Five Hundred More Years from Heaven.”

He kept his smile fixed, turning to say to the uncle, “How about we switch it up?”

The uncle said no problem, then promptly selected “Ode to the Loyal and Patriotic” instead.

“What’s wrong?” the uncle asked. “Can’t hit the notes?”

Before long, uncle and Ling Chen had their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, belting out “Defend the Yellow River” together.

The two of them split it into sections, and when it came time for the uncle’s part, he’d turn and glare at Ling Chen, signaling clearly: this part’s mine, don’t you dare sing it.

Ling Chen made a gesture, and when the uncle didn’t budge, he said, “I’m just harmonizing behind you.”

The uncle immediately mustered up all his strength and went for the high notes.

Let him have his fun. No one could tell the difference anyway.

—

In another city.

After finishing her New Year’s Eve dinner, Shi Xue’er hadn’t forgotten to make her rounds through Ling Chen’s Weibo feed, checking for any rumors floating around.

Satisfied after a good twenty minutes of scrolling, she was about to go grab some red envelopes when a certain post caught her eye.

@Little Gu Doesn’t Eat: My neighbor sounds just like Ling Chen lol.

Attached was a video.

Please, Shi Xue’er thought, if everyone who sang got compared to Ling Chen, where would that even end?

But ten seconds into the clip, she let out a “holy crap”—she’d clicked in, and sure enough, this person’s IP address was listed as Huiyang.

[Solo Angling in the Snow River, Charming Madam]: Teacher Zhu! Please remind Ling Chen to mind his idol image!!

By the time Zhu Wenshu got Shi Xue’er’s message, her uncle was already trying to rope Ling Chen into a sixth duet.

The moment she said, “Uncle, why don’t you take a break,” she got an immediate response.

“Then you go.” Her uncle held the microphone out to her. “Teacher Zhu, sing us one.”

No one else in the family said anything—some were on their phones, others eating snacks—but everyone was, without exception, holding back a smile.

“……I think I’ll pass.”

Zhu Wenshu pushed the microphone away. “I’m not really feeling it today.”

“Just sing whatever.”

Ling Chen leaned his head over. “I want to hear.”

Having had a bit to drink, Ling Chen’s cheeks had turned slightly pink.

As he leaned against her shoulder, Zhu Wenshu could see the flush creeping up the tips of his ears.

Who could possibly resist that.

Gritting her teeth, Zhu Wenshu took the microphone.

As the opening notes of “Ningxia” started to play, Zhu Wenshu gripped the mic with both hands, Ling Chen still nuzzled against her neck.

“A tranquil summer night~”

“Countless stars fill the sky~”

Ling Chen lifted his head.

“In my heart, a bit of longing~”

“Longing for your face~”

Ling Chen sat up straight.

“I could pretend not to see it~”

Ling Chen started pretending he couldn’t hear it either.

When the song ended, the entire living room went dead silent.

Ling Chen stared fixedly at the TV, his mind racing through all sorts of thoughts.

If we ever had a child, there’d be a fifty percent chance they’d take after Zhu Wenshu.

If that happened, he’d absolutely make sure the kid studied hard and never dreamed of following in his father’s musical footsteps.

“……What.”

Zhu Wenshu broke the silence in the room, deadpan. “Was I off-key?”

Off-key, the uncle thought. You weren’t even in the same zip code as the key.

“No.”

Ling Chen straightened his expression and said with a smile, “Your version is better than the original.”

Zhu Wenshu: “……”

As it approached midnight, most of the guests had already left.

When Zhu Wenshu walked Ling Chen down to the ground floor, he looked up at the sky.

“What are you looking at?”

Zhu Wenshu clasped her hands behind her back, looking up in the same direction.

The streetlight was broken, and building management hadn’t gotten around to fixing it yet. The sky above was pitch black, nothing visible at all.

Ling Chen tucked his hands into his coat pockets, breathing out a puff of white mist.

“I remember there should be fireworks around this time.”

Zhu Wenshu almost blurted out that Huiyang had banned fireworks for years now, hadn’t he heard?

But then, on second thought—

Ling Chen’s memories of the New Year probably still lingered somewhere years back.

After that, his Spring Festivals had instead become a kind of torment, watching every family around him reunite while his own couldn’t.

Luckily, Zhu Wenshu had come prepared.

She tilted her upper body slightly, saying with a knowing air, “That’s right, it is about time for fireworks.”

Ling Chen was still gazing up at the night sky.

A moment later, he heard a faint crackling sound, and the air carried the faint scent of gunpowder smoke.

He turned around to see Zhu Wenshu holding two lit sparklers.

“Happy New Year, Ling Chen.”

The silver flames traced through the darkness along the length of the sparklers, flickering into the shape of a heart, casting a soft blur over Zhu Wenshu’s features—only her eyes stood out, bright and vivid, reflecting both Ling Chen and the sparks within them.

But he stayed quiet for a long while.

In the flickering light, Zhu Wenshu saw a swirl of emotions pass through his eyes.

In the bitter cold of the night, his hair a little disheveled, his eyes lowered, he looked as if he were lost in memory.

“Forget about that fireworks display back in high school.”

Zhu Wenshu pressed a sparkler into his hand. “This one’s from me to you.”

“Did you just steal my role?”

Ling Chen suddenly laughed, his head lowered, gently waving the sparkler in his hand.

“My memory’s not so good, I’ve long since forgotten all about it.”

“That won’t do.”

Zhu Wenshu said, “From now on, whenever you see fireworks, I need you to think of tonight.”

“Understood, Teacher Zhu.”

As the two of them talked, the sparklers burned down, leaving behind just two blackened sticks.

Seeing Ling Chen staring at the sticks in his hand without saying anything, Zhu Wenshu asked, “What, still want to play?”

“Not really.”

Ling Chen let out a soft sigh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a lively New Year.”

There’d been a lavish New Year’s Eve dinner, elders he could truly call “mom and dad,” and the person he loved most, right there beside him.

Never again would he have to feel that ache of missing her most during every festive season.

Suddenly, a light fragrance drifted over. When Ling Chen looked up, Zhu Wenshu’s face was right there, close to his.

She rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Every year from now on will be just as lively as this one,” Zhu Wenshu said softly. “Our home.”

Ling Chen looked at her, and in her eyes he saw complete, unwavering certainty.

He reached up, cradling the back of her head. “Mm,” he murmured, and tilted his head down to kiss her.

In the space between the long winter and the arrival of a new spring, they shared a slow, tender kiss.

(—End of Full Text—)