“Chi Yao, happy eighteenth birthday.”
“I prepared a cake for you too, but we’ll have to cut it when you get home—though fortunately, you can make a wish without the cake,” Lin Zhexia held the burning candle and urged, “Hurry up and make a wish.”
“Wishes made on your birthday are the most effective,” she emphasized.
The umbrella was a bit small, and the wind blew from all around.
Chi Yao looked at the candlelight, stunned: “Where did you get the candle?”
Lin Zhexia: “That’s a magician’s secret.”
Chi Yao gave her another look.
She stopped joking and honestly explained: “When I was leaving, the owner almost forgot to give them to me, so I could only put them in my pocket.”
The rain continued to fall.
Chi Yao’s eyes were illuminated by the light for a moment.
He looked at the candlelight that seemed capable of dispelling darkness in the rainy night, and the girl’s delicate profile outlined by the light.
Before Lin Zhexia arrived, these few hours had been blank for him.
After she came, time began to flow again.
Lin Zhexia was afraid the wind would blow out the candle and reminded him: “You should close your eyes when making a wish.”
Chi Yao’s Adam’s apple moved slightly, then he closed his eyes.
At this moment, it was hard for him to think about what “wish” he had.
He fell into a strange illusion where it seemed he had nothing, yet was surrounded by everything. The slight warmth brought by this candle, soft and warm, withstood the fierce wind and rain. It gave him a kind of courage to face whatever might happen.
“Have you made your wish?” Lin Zhexia asked.
Chi Yao responded softly.
“What did you wish for?” she asked again.
After asking, she realized: “No, birthday wishes shouldn’t be told. Don’t…”
Don’t tell me.
Before she could finish, Chi Yao opened his eyes and called her name: “Lin Zhexia.”
As he opened his eyes, the candle happened to go out.
“Let me hug you.”