Chapter 14: What Gift?

It looked like his girlfriend had left behind some secret. On his way home, Yu Tu amused himself with a little guessing game—just thinking about it made the corner of his mouth twitch faintly: cleaning? Unlikely.
What could she have done?
Decorated? That was possible. Most likely, she’d placed her own photo somewhere…

His coworkers who shared the elevator with him decided from then on to keep their distance—especially avoid being the awkward contrast.

The door creaked open. Yu Tu stood frozen for a moment. It was already dark outside, but he could clearly see something new by the entrance—a half-wall cabinet, keys resting neatly on top. And just behind it, along the wall…

He stepped into the living room.

Bookshelves. Six towering, floor-to-ceiling shelves lined up in perfect row, warm wood grain, simple yet solid.

For the first time, Yu Tu took a selfie leaning against them, head tilted slightly upward. The living room lights were on; his shadow stretched long across the floor, trailing all the way to the far end of the shelves.

The wood was deep brown-black—making him look even paler. Anyone seeing this scene would’ve sighed, “Beautiful face, truly.”

He sent the photo to Jingjing.
*Warm. Surprising. I love it.*

After a pause, he forwarded it to his parents too.
*Bookshelves. Really love them.*

Qiao Jingjing’s birthday was January 21st. Early that morning, before work, Yu Tu video-called her.
“Happy birthday, Jingjing. The gift’ll have to wait till you’re back.”

“What kind of gift? Give me a hint?”

Yu Tu didn’t bite.
“No fan meetups this year?”

“In the team, my fans are super supportive…” She grinned proudly.
“So does that mean your girlfriend’s amazing?”

“Of course she is. No need to say it.”

“Wait—how did you even know my birthday? We never talked about it. Did you Google it?”

Yu Tu rubbed his temples wearily.
“Miss Qiao, you’re just not getting enough carbs. Your sugar levels are low.”

“So what’s the point?”

“High school, twice—final exams. Your admirers brought cakes to the exam hall. Once for physics, once during the city-wide English test.”

Jingjing froze. Guilty.
“Pei Pei already vouched for me! I didn’t even know who they were—none of them!”

“The teacher eventually believed me too. Even shared the cake with the whole class.”

Yu Tu nearly choked on his own words. Yeah, he’d eaten some. Stuffed himself silly. Why eat cake anyway?

He kept going, deadpan:
“Two cakes in sophomore year. Four in senior year.”

“But Pei Pei helped prove I didn’t know either!”

Jingjing gave up.
“Bye-bye. Gotta go shoot.”

Less than half a minute later, she called back. Yu Tu was already walking down the path, so he stopped and answered.

“Did you eat any?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Really? I don’t believe you.”

To tell or not to tell—this question grew more urgent, serious, and pressing as Lunar New Year vacation loomed.

On screen, Yu Tu had spent days reviewing dozens of decision-making methods—counting petals, weight tables, scientific vs. nonscientific approaches. But his answer stayed unchanged: *Whatever you want, I’m fine with it.*

Truth was, he wasn’t even thinking about it. With seven full days off—almost as much as the past few months combined—he needed to plan.

Wait—no. Six days. Jingjing had to attend the New Year’s Eve gala on the first day.

Five days. She still had to visit grandparents, parents, and both sets of in-laws.

Four days. She’d promised Pei Pei she’d help her new editor-in-chief boost ratings with a segment on the fifth. Right—local TV station, small but real.

Three days. Her family’s annual “Jingjing Appreciation Day” lasted all day and into the night.

Yu Tu’s version of “appreciation day” was basically the same.

Two days. He’d forgotten about New Year’s Eve itself.

Yu Tu rubbed his temples again.

Good news: he’d received three royalty statements—unexpected income, irregular and unpredictable. Usually, he’d immediately dive into his pre-made book list and spend every last penny.

Today, though, he only ordered two books.

Fewer tasks today. Time to organize his own collection—move things slowly, like an ant carrying its load home. Home. He glanced around the apartment he’d lived in for three and a half years.

Meanwhile, Qiao Jingjing was sneaking phone time between night shoots, hunting for a more scientific tool to solve binary choices. Xiao Zhu and Lingjie walked in.

“Jingjing, what do you need for the holiday? Let me handle it. Also, I picked out three notebooks.”

“Take a look. Each has its strengths. Filming starts around April, maybe early May. You can squeeze in a few announcements and magazine features when you’re free.”

Jingjing balanced her star persona—focused, professional—while secretly bubbling inside: *One whole year already…*

She needed to think hard about anniversaries. Three options? Five? Or pick five out of eight? Was there a tool for that?

Yu Tu returned home at noon on New Year’s Eve. His parents had already cooked dinner, beaming with joy. Their son was brilliant, yes—but they saw him so rarely. They couldn’t get enough.

After eating, they crowded together in the kitchen washing dishes. The space was tight. Every now and then, someone had to step aside.

Mom shooed Yu Tu out. He obeyed, reaching up to grab a bottle from the high shelf.

“Dad, should we drink this tonight?”

Jingjing arrived in the afternoon. At the gate, she told driver Wang to hurry back to Shanghai. Dad asked,
“How will you get back tomorrow?”

“Company arranged it. Don’t worry.”

“Is Jingjing asleep?”

“Almost. Gotta stay in shape—can’t afford to look bad on stage tomorrow.”

“Sleep well. I’ll come pick you up at nine. Today, actually. Later.”

“Happy Lunar New Year!”

“Happy Lunar New Year!”

Yu Tu always woke early. Mom watched him move around—fixing this, adjusting that—felt deeply at peace.

Jingjing, unusually, rose early too. Mom and Dad surrounded her at breakfast.

At nine sharp, Yu Tu rang the bell at Jingjing’s villa. Her parents came out to see her off—greeted by a tall, handsome young man.

“Jingjing, this is your colleague? Come in for a drink?”

“No thanks, let’s go.”

Jingjing led the way to the car. Yu Tu bowed politely.

“I’ll take Jingjing now, Mr. and Mrs. Qiao. Happy Lunar New Year!”

As the car pulled away, Mom nodded approvingly.
“Her company really knows how to choose. Look at him—clear eyes, strong jaw, clean-cut. So much better than those actors on TV.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Dad seemed distracted. Couldn’t bring himself to say “average,” but still… something felt off.

Then he paused.
“Wait… why does he look so familiar?”