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Chapter 28: Wallpaper

Jiang Liuyi stared at her phone in silence. Were the books Song Xian had sent really just that—nothing more? Or had her emotions been slipping out of control lately? After thinking it over for a while, she decided to just ask: [Did you buy those books?]

Song Xian hesitated a few seconds upon seeing the message. To avoid upsetting Jiang Liuyi, she didn’t answer directly for once, choosing instead to respond more gently: [Yeah, I haven’t been feeling great lately. Bought them to read, and figured I’d send them your way too.]

Jiang Liuyi frowned. Song Xian wasn’t feeling well?

Was it because of Yu Bai?

It had to be. Since they got married, Song Xian had always been steady. When had she ever been emotionally off? Only recently. It was all her fault. Guilt crept in as Jiang Liuyi lay at the edge of the sofa, holding her phone, no longer in the mood to practice.

Five-thirty had come and gone.

Still no sign of Song Xian.

She kept glancing toward the front door. She flipped through a few pages of the book on her phone, disinterested. Jiang Liubing messaged her every so often on WeChat, and each time Jiang Liuyi tapped in to glance, it was still about asking her to put in a word.

She’d left in a rush last time—hadn’t even spoken to Yu Bai.

And now, she had no intention of reaching out in private either.

Her phone kept vibrating with soft dings. Jiang Liuyi sighed quietly and replied to Jiang Liubing: [What is it?]

Jiang Liubing started typing: [Sis, what are you doing? You’re only replying now.]

Jiang Liuyi: [Resting.]

Jiang Liubing sounded a bit sulky: [Mom wants you to come home for dinner this weekend. You haven’t been back once since returning to China. Mom and Dad are talking about it again.]

She had also secretly arranged to invite Yu Bai, though she hadn’t told Jiang Liuyi.

Jiang Liuyi thought about it. It was true—she hadn’t gone back in a long time. Her relationship with her parents was strained. When she was studying piano, things had gotten pretty heated. After a particularly big argument, her father had dragged her back home. That time, he hadn’t forbidden her from playing anymore, but he hadn’t supported her either. So back then, she often went to Zhao Yuebai’s place just to use the piano.

After high school, when she got into university, Zhao Yuebai and the others had pooled money to buy her a piano, and she moved out. Since then, her contact with her family had been like this—she’d go back once when returning to the country, but rarely called. Every phone call turned into a fight.

And she hated fighting.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Jiang Liuyi looked at her phone and replied: [Got it. I’ll go back after Yuebai’s birthday.]

Jiang Liubing was thrilled.

She didn’t press further about Jiang Liubing contacting Yu Bai. Instead, Jiang Liuyi closed their chat and tapped on Song Xian’s profile picture, scrolling up through their messages. Song Xian always spoke in a serious, methodical way. In that sense, they were actually quite alike.

Jiang Liuyi stared at the screen for a couple of seconds—then noticed the “typing…” indicator appear at the top.

She abruptly sat up straight, her heart beating a little faster.

Song Xian was messaging her.

What would she say?

Just as Jiang Liuyi was beginning to anticipate, Song Xian sent: [I’ll be home late. Eat dinner without me.]

***

Gu Yuanyuan noticed Song Xian typing and chuckled. “Reporting to your wife again?”

Song Xian looked up. “It’s better to let her know.”

Gu Yuanyuan asked, “So what made you invite me out for dinner?”

Setting her phone aside, Song Xian stretched her neck. When her fingers brushed the skin at the back of her neck, it still stung faintly—Jiang Liuyi had bitten her hard last night. “I wanted to unwind,” she said.

“Fair enough,” Gu Yuanyuan replied. “Even married people need some personal space. This is how you keep a marriage fresh!”

Song Xian gave a soft laugh. Personal space didn’t really matter to her—she had already prepared for a life without it before they got married. It was just that Jiang Liuyi’s recent emotional ups and downs were getting hard to handle.

As much as she enjoyed intimacy, she couldn’t spend every day caught up in it. It was just too disruptive. Today, she had almost failed to get out of bed.

Gu Yuanyuan, still unaware of all this, was busy explaining the secrets of keeping a marriage fresh. Song Xian interrupted her gently, “Let’s order.”

The server handed them the menus. Gu Yuanyuan lowered her head to browse and asked, “Want to bring something back for your wife?”

Without even looking up, Song Xian said, “No need.”

Gu Yuanyuan gave a casual “Oh” and went on placing the order.

Song Xian turned her head slightly—Jiang Liuyi had just replied with a single message: [Got it.]

She was quiet for a moment, then turned off her phone.

At home, Jiang Liuyi had eaten dinner alone. She’d ordered from a familiar place—the owner had even thrown in an extra dish. After finishing her meal, she lay on the couch and went back to reading.

When Song Xian came home, she found Jiang Liuyi draped over the chaise lounge, head lowered, focused on the screen of her phone. After changing into her slippers, she walked over. Jiang Liuyi looked up and sat straighter. “You’re back.”

She hung up her bag and placed the wedding gift on the coffee table. “Have you eaten?” she asked Jiang Liuyi.

“I have,” Jiang Liuyi replied.

Song Xian nodded and went out to the balcony to fetch her pajamas—she was planning to take a shower. Jiang Liuyi remained seated on the couch. Even with Song Xian back, she hadn’t turned on an extra light or made much noise. Her footsteps were soft and quiet. Still, the whole house suddenly felt full, as though something had settled into place.

Warmth bloomed in her chest.

“Shower first?” Jiang Liuyi asked.

“Mm. Someone was smoking at the restaurant earlier,” Song Xian said.

She hated the smell of cigarettes. Jiang Liuyi watched as she stepped into the bathroom. The light flicked on, casting a soft yellow glow across the tiles. Jiang Liuyi boiled some water and brewed two cups of tea. By the time Song Xian came out, the tea had cooled to a perfect warmth. Jiang Liuyi took a sip and let it linger on her tongue—it was slightly sweet.

Good tea. She took another sip. “Want a refill?” she asked.

Just as Song Xian nodded, her phone rang from inside her bag. It was Gu Yuanyuan, asking if she’d forgotten something. Song Xian glanced at the coffee table. “What is it?”

“A red box,” Gu Yuanyuan said. “Mind if I open it to check?”

Song Xian remembered—it was the wedding gift from Yuan Hong. “I’ll swing by your place after work tomorrow to pick it up,” she said.

“Sure,” Gu Yuanyuan replied, then smacked her forehead. “Wait, I’m off tomorrow. Will your wife be home? I could drop it off instead.”

Song Xian said, “Alright, let me ask her.”

She covered the receiver and turned. “Are you home tomorrow?”

“I am,” Jiang Liuyi replied.

She hadn’t had anything scheduled lately. Song Xian said into the phone, “Then yeah, bring it over.”

“Great, sounds good. I’ll hang up now,” Gu Yuanyuan said cheerfully.

Song Xian ended the call.

Suddenly, fireworks lit up outside the window. Jiang Liuyi cradled her cup and stepped out onto the balcony to look. The city was bright with neon, the nightlife glowing red and gold. A firework shot up and exploded with a loud bang.

Song Xian followed with her own cup of tea. The evening breeze caught her long hair, lifting the ends into soft arcs. It drifted gently in the air, and the sight of it stirred something in Jiang Liuyi. She suddenly called out, “Song Xian, come here.”

She pointed to the spot beside her.

Song Xian looked over. “What is it?”

Jiang Liuyi guided her into the spot she’d just been standing in, took the phone from her hand, and instructed her to hold the teacup in one hand and the saucer in the other. Song Xian looked at her, confused, watching as Jiang Liuyi stepped back and raised the phone, ready to take a picture.

“A photo?” Song Xian asked.

Jiang Liuyi nodded.

“My camera’s on the coffee table,” Song Xian said. “Use that instead.”

Jiang Liuyi agreed and hurried over to grab the camera bag. Song Xian followed her out and took the camera from the bag, lowering her head to adjust the settings. Her movements were swift and sure, smooth with practice. The tips of her bangs were still damp, clinging to her cheek, and Jiang Liuyi had the sudden urge to tuck them behind her ear.

She reached out—then pulled her hand back.

Song Xian quickly finished adjusting the settings. “Go stand over there,” she told Jiang Liuyi.

Jiang Liuyi blinked. “You’re not shooting me.”

“I know,” Song Xian said. “I just want to check the lighting.”

Very professional. Jiang Liuyi smiled.

She stepped back out onto the balcony. The fireworks were still blooming outside, though quieter now. Song Xian tried several angles. The breeze tugged at her thin sleepwear, molding it to her frame, soft curves fully outlined. Jiang Liuyi lowered her gaze slightly and heard Song Xian say, “Okay, this angle works.”

She clicked twice.

Jiang Liuyi walked over. The person in the frame had a clear, defined profile—deep and composed. It was her own photo, yet somehow it looked a little unfamiliar.

She took the camera from Song Xian and said, “Your turn. Stand over there—I want to take one of you.”

Song Xian didn’t ask what the photo was for. Maybe Jiang Liuyi needed it for something. After all, she had asked about pictures earlier in the day. Without pressing, Song Xian obediently stepped into position. Just as Jiang Liuyi raised the camera, Song Xian asked, “Should I change clothes?”

Jiang Liuyi paused. “No need.”

Song Xian nodded and resumed the earlier pose. From Song Xian’s perspective, Jiang Liuyi snapped two shots in quick succession. The screen displayed an image of Song Xian holding her teacup—elegant, serene, exuding a gentle poise.

Afterwards, Jiang Liuyi asked her to send the photos. Song Xian asked, “What do you need them for?”

Receiving the files, Jiang Liuyi looked down, picked a filter, and said, “For my phone wallpaper.”

Song Xian froze, then turned her head, puzzled. “Your phone wallpaper?”

With my photo?

She couldn’t help it—curiosity got the better of her. “Why use a photo of me for that?”

Jiang Liuyi couldn’t find a filter that suited it—the original looked best. Without even lifting her head, she said, “Didn’t you use one of my photos as your wallpaper too?”

And not just one—there were several.

A faint warmth rose to her cheeks.

Song Xian frowned. “I didn’t.”

Jiang Liuyi turned. “Didn’t you show me the other day?”

Understanding dawned on Song Xian. Jiang Liuyi had misunderstood. “That was because He Xiaoying and the others liked the photo and asked me to help make some edits.”

She picked up her phone and unlocked it. Sure enough, her wallpaper was just a landscape.

Jiang Liuyi’s good mood vanished in an instant.

She had been midway through setting her own wallpaper. Her finger circled the screen without direction, stuck on the “save wallpaper?” prompt.

She stared down in silence for several long minutes before finally tapping save. After setting the new wallpaper, she looked up at Song Xian. “How’s this?”

The phone she handed over displayed the photo Song Xian had just taken—standing at the edge of the rooftop, teacup in hand, long hair fluttering in the breeze. The composition had a quiet poetry to it.

Song Xian gave her honest opinion. “Not bad.”

Jiang Liuyi withdrew her hand, thumb brushing over her phone as she asked tentatively, “Then do you want to change yours too?”

Song Xian didn’t care much about things like wallpapers. But if Jiang Liuyi wanted her to change it, then she would. “Sure,” she said.

Hearing that, Jiang Liuyi sent over the photo she liked best. “Use this one.”

Song Xian wasn’t very familiar with the steps, so Jiang Liuyi helped her set it. When the prompt appeared asking whether to apply the image as the wallpaper, the lock screen, or both, she paused—then selected both and saved.

When the phone turned off and lit up again, there it was: a photo of Jiang Liuyi standing beside the window in the photography studio.

It matched the mood of the one with Song Xian on the balcony perfectly.

Jiang Liuyi handed the phone back to Song Xian, her expression calm as usual. But the moment she turned away, the corners of her lips lifted ever so slightly into a quiet smile.

===

Guan Yu: a legendary general known for his red face and unwavering loyalty. Saying someone is “blushing like Guan Yu” is a playful exaggeration—implying their face is so flushed it rivals his iconic crimson complexion.