Chapter 113: Sprouting
When Wen Yan finished tying the small bell and turned around, he caught Pei Zhouye in the middle of taking a photo. In the frame, Wen Yan was half-crouched beside the cherry tree, his hand still resting on the branch where the bell hung. Behind him was the snow-dusted roof of the cabin, and the lingering glow of the sunset fell across his hair like scattered gold.
“Why are you taking photos of me secretly?” Wen Yan ran over with a flush, intending to snatch the phone and delete it, but Pei Zhouye held it high out of reach.
“Doesn’t it look good?” Pei Zhouye pulled up the photo to show him, his voice brimming with pride. “Look at the lighting. It’s even more natural than the one you took in Maple Leaf Valley.”
Wen Yan leaned in to look. In the photo, his eyes were curved into crescents from his smile, and even the dimples at the corners of his mouth were clearly visible. He stopped trying to grab the phone and instead muttered softly, “Still, you shouldn’t take them secretly…”
Before he could finish, Pei Zhouye pinched his cheek. “In the future, I’m going to capture every version of you—how you look when you’re eating, when you’re reading, and even when you’re crouching under the grape trellis picking up leaves.”
On the way back, Wen Yan leaned against the car window, looking at the photo on the phone. He couldn’t help but zoom in, his fingers tracing the cherry tree in the image over and over. “Next spring, we have to come earlier,” he said, turning to Pei Zhouye. “Maybe we’ll catch the moment the tree sprouts. The little buds must be a tender green, like freshly shelled beans.”
“Alright,” Pei Zhouye freed one hand to clasp Wen Yan’s. “Starting in early March, we’ll come once a week. We’ll film the sprouting process and turn it into a short video.” He had already planned it out; he wanted to make a “Time Commemorative Album” for Wen Yan. It wouldn’t just have photos, but also videos and handwritten notes, recording every little thing they experienced together.
Once they got home, Wen Yan immediately printed the photo and pasted it onto the first page of a new album. Beside it, he drew a tiny bell and labeled it: Winter 2024, the Cabin’s Cherry Tree. While Wen Yan was busy, Pei Zhouye slipped into the kitchen, took out the strawberries he had bought that morning, washed them, and placed them in a bowl with a drizzle of honey.
“Take a break and have some strawberries.” Pei Zhouye held the bowl out to him. “They’re fresh and just washed.” Wen Yan set the album down, popped a strawberry into his mouth, and the sweet juice mixed with the fragrance of honey burst across his tongue. “Delicious!” His eyes lit up, and he picked up another to hold against Pei Zhouye’s lips. “You have one too.”
The two sat on the sofa, feeding each other strawberries while a lighthearted variety show played on the television, their laughter ringing out occasionally. Leaning into Pei Zhouye’s embrace, Wen Yan suddenly remembered something and sat up. “Oh, right. It’s Professor Zhang’s grandson’s Manyue next week. Shouldn’t we prepare a gift?”
“It’s already ready,” Pei Zhouye said with a smile. “I went to the antique market last week and found a small Changming Suo. It’s solid silver and engraved with the characters for ‘Peace.’ I’ll bring it to Professor Zhang tomorrow.” He knew the professor liked traditional things, so he had searched for a long time to find that long-life lock and even had someone polish it until it shone.
Wen Yan looked at him in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me? I was thinking of going to pick one out together.”
“I wanted to give you a surprise,” Pei Zhouye pinched his nose. “Besides, I know you’ve been preoccupied with the cherry tree lately and didn’t want you to get distracted.”
The next day, they went to Professor Zhang’s home together. The professor’s wife was already waiting at the door, greeting them warmly. “Wen Yan, Zhouye, come in quickly! The baby just woke up, so it’s the perfect time for you to hold him.”
Walking into the living room, Wen Yan saw Professor Zhang holding a tiny infant swaddled in pink. The baby’s eyes were closed, his little face flushed a healthy pink—he looked incredibly precious. “Professor Zhang, this is a gift for the child.” Pei Zhouye handed over the Changming Suo.
Professor Zhang took the lock, examined it carefully, and smiled. “This is good stuff. Solid silver and engraved with ‘Peace.’ You’ve really put thought into this.” He handed the lock to his wife. “Put it away for now; we’ll let her wear it when she’s a bit older.”
Wen Yan leaned in and gingerly touched the baby’s tiny hand. It was small and soft, like a tuft of cotton. “So cute,” he whispered. “Even smaller than I imagined.”
“You were this small once too,” Professor Zhang said with a chuckle. “Time flies. In the blink of an eye, you’ve grown up and found such a wonderful partner.” He looked at Wen Yan and Pei Zhouye, his eyes full of gratification.
At noon, Professor Zhang insisted they stay for lunch. His wife had prepared a spread of dishes, including Wen Yan’s favorite sweet and sour ribs and Pei Zhouye’s favorite Hongshaorou. At the table, the professor asked about their lives. Wen Yan excitedly talked about the cherry tree and their plans for next year, while Pei Zhouye chimed in, occasionally placing food on Wen Yan’s plate. The atmosphere was exceptionally heartwarming.
As they left, the professor’s wife packed several jars of her homemade pickles for them. “I made these myself—no additives. Take them home and try them; if you like them, I’ll give you more next time.”
“Thank you, Ayi,” Wen Yan took the jars. “Your pickles are the best.”
On the drive home, Wen Yan leaned against Pei Zhouye’s shoulder, watching the streetscape recede. “Pei Zhouye, do you think we’ll have a home this cozy in the future?”
“We will,” Pei Zhouye squeezed his hand. “We already do, don’t we? Wherever you are is home.”
Back at the house, Wen Yan put the pickles in the fridge and went to the study to organize photos. Pei Zhouye went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Knowing Wen Yan loved sweet and sour ribs, he had specifically asked Professor Zhang’s wife for the recipe, wanting to give Wen Yan a surprise.
After finishing with the photos, Wen Yan walked into the kitchen to find Pei Zhouye cutting ribs. His movements were a bit stiff, but he was incredibly focused. “What made you think of making sweet and sour ribs?” He walked over and wrapped his arms around Pei Zhouye’s waist from behind.
“I wanted you to taste my cooking,” Pei Zhouye turned back and smiled. “Though it might not be as good as Ayi‘s, so don’t be too picky.”
“I won’t,” Wen Yan buried his head against the man’s back. “As long as you make it, I’ll love it.”
Pei Zhouye’s movements paused. He turned around and pulled Wen Yan into a gentle hug. “With those words, it’s enough.”
At dinner, Wen Yan tried the ribs. While the flavor wasn’t as authentic as the professor’s wife’s version, it carried a subtle sweetness of love. “It’s good,” he said with a smile. “Better than what they make in restaurants.”
Watching his happy expression, Pei Zhouye’s heart felt full. He knew his cooking might not be the best, but as long as Wen Yan liked it, he was willing to keep doing it forever.
As the days passed, winter drew to a close and the footsteps of spring grew nearer. Wen Yan checked on the cherry tree every day. Even through a screen—Pei Zhouye had installed surveillance—he could feel the breath of spring in the minute changes.
“Pei Zhouye, look! The cherry tree looks like it has buds!” One day, Wen Yan excitedly pulled Pei Zhouye over to look at the monitor. On the screen, tiny, tender green nubs had appeared on the branches. Though small, they were bursting with life.
“They really are there!” Pei Zhouye was delighted. “Let’s go to the cabin tomorrow to check on it and give it some water.”
Early the next morning, they drove to the cabin. The moment they stepped out of the car, Wen Yan rushed to the cherry tree to examine the buds. “It really is sprouting!” he said excitedly. “It’s even clearer than on the monitor.”
Pei Zhouye walked over and handed Wen Yan a small trowel. “Let’s loosen the soil and give it some water so it grows faster.”
Together, they loosened the soil and watered the tree, the warm sun bathing them. Looking at the tender green buds, Wen Yan’s heart was full of anticipation. “When they grow a bit more, they’ll bloom. It’ll be beautiful then.”
“It will,” Pei Zhouye said with a laugh. “When the time comes, we’ll set up a small table under the tree, drink tea, and watch the flowers. It’ll be so comfortable.”
Before leaving the cabin, Wen Yan tied a small red string to the tree, as if cheering it on. “We’ll be back next week,” he told the tree. “I hope you grow a bit faster.”
On the way back, Wen Yan leaned in Pei Zhouye’s arms, humming a small tune in a wonderful mood. Pei Zhouye looked at his happy face and couldn’t help but smile. “That happy?”
“Of course,” Wen Yan nodded. “Seeing the cherry tree sprout feels like seeing hope. It feels like everything is going to get better and better.”
Pei Zhouye took his hand and rubbed it gently. “It will, because we’re always together.”
Home again, Wen Yan printed out the photo of the sprouting tree and pasted it into the album. Beside it, he wrote: Spring 2025. The cherry tree has sprouted. I hope it grows healthy and strong, just like our love—always full of life.
Reading his words, Pei Zhouye was deeply moved. He hugged Wen Yan from behind and whispered in his ear, “Our love will be like the cherry tree. No matter the wind or rain, it will keep growing and never wither.”
Wen Yan turned around, wrapped his arms around Pei Zhouye’s waist, and buried his face in his chest. “I believe you, because you’re here.”
Over the next few weeks, they visited the cabin every weekend. The buds grew by the day, eventually turning into tender green leaves, and the branches grew sturdier. Wen Yan even bought fertilizer and applied it carefully according to the instructions, hoping for the best growth.
One day, while watering the tree, Wen Yan suddenly noticed several small flower buds on the branches. “Pei Zhouye, look! There are flower buds!” he shouted in excitement.
Pei Zhouye ran over and followed his finger. Sure enough, there were several small white buds, like tiny pearls. “Wonderful!” He was happy too. “In a few more days, the buds will bloom.”
Wen Yan caressed the buds with extreme care, afraid of damaging them. “I’ve never seen cherry blossoms before,” he whispered. “I wonder what they’ll look like when they open.”
“I looked it up. They’re white and small, growing in clusters. They’re very pretty,” Pei Zhouye said with a smile. “We have to take plenty of photos then and fill up the entire album.”
Wen Yan nodded, his eyes full of anticipation. He imagined the tree covered in white blossoms; when the wind blew, the petals would fall like a flurry of white snow. It would be a beautiful sight.
As the days passed, the buds grew larger and larger until, on one sunny morning, the white flowers bloomed. When Wen Yan and Pei Zhouye reached the cabin, the tree was already in full bloom. Clusters of white flowers hung from the branches like fragments of white clouds, shimmering with a faint luster under the sun.
“Too beautiful!” Wen Yan couldn’t help but exclaim. “Even more beautiful than I imagined.”
Pei Zhouye pulled out his camera and took endless photos of Wen Yan and the tree. Wen Yan ran back and forth under the branches, occasionally stopping to smell the fragrance, his face radiant with happiness.
“Pei Zhouye, you come take some too.” Wen Yan took Pei Zhouye’s hand and made him stand under the tree. Pei Zhouye stood there with a smile, and Wen Yan raised the camera to press the shutter. In the photo, Pei Zhouye stood beneath the blossoms, the sunlight falling on him, a tender smile on his face. He looked exceptionally handsome.
They stayed under the tree for a long time, only leaving reluctantly as the sun began to set. On the drive back, Wen Yan kept scrolling through the photos, murmuring, “So good-looking. I’m going to print all of these out tomorrow and put them in the album.”
Watching his happy face, Pei Zhouye felt a surge of warmth. He knew these seemingly ordinary little things were the most precious memories of their love. In the days to come, they would experience many more moments like this—watching the cherry tree bear fruit, enjoying the shade under the grape trellis, camping by the sea, and creating countless more beautiful memories.
Back home, Wen Yan immediately exported the photos and selected the best ones to print the next day. Pei Zhouye went to the kitchen to prepare Wen Yan’s favorite cherry cake. He had specifically bought fresh cherry jam to make the flavor even richer.
Wen Yan sat in the living room, watching Pei Zhouye’s busy figure, his heart full of happiness. He knew that as long as he had Pei Zhouye by his side, he wouldn’t be afraid of any future difficulties. Because their love, like this cherry tree, would grow stronger and more beautiful under the nourishment of time.
The next day, Wen Yan pasted the printed photos into the album and wrote a note beside them: Spring 20XX. The cherry tree has bloomed. The white flowers are beautiful, just like our love—pure and wonderful. I hope we can be like this cherry tree, always together and always happy.
Pei Zhouye read his words and smiled. “We will be. Always.”
In the days that followed, the two continued their peaceful and happy life. Wen Yan occasionally went to the lab to help Li Wei with some matters, and Pei Zhouye stayed busy with the company, but no matter how busy they were, they always made time for each other—to eat, walk, and watch movies together.
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