Chapter 54 Cutting Out the Heart
Wen Bairan still remembered that the first birthday after getting together with Zhou Lin was spent up in the mountains.
At that time, two-day-one-night or three-day-two-night getaways were popular. People would set off on Friday afternoon, return on Sunday, and still have to make it to an 8 a.m. class on Monday morning. The destinations weren’t far, just in the surrounding areas.
Back then, Wen Bairan was really into Zen meditation. Zhou Lin found a secluded mountain woods with several scattered wooden cabins. Each cabin stood independently yet clustered around a relatively open clearing. An oil lamp hung at the entrance of every room, and natural tranquility filled every corner. She was sold the moment she saw the pictures.
The day before their departure, she told Zhou Lin to come early. His car couldn’t drive up the mountain, so they had to hike the rest of the way up. Although the area was developed as a scenic area, it still felt unsafe after dark.
Zhou Lin promised he would at the time, but when he finally answered her call the next day, it was already 3 p.m.
Wen Bairan had expected this from him. When they met, she sat sulking in the car without saying a word.
Zhou Lin tried to explain that he hadn’t meant to be late. After her call the previous day, he had set an alarm, worried he wouldn’t wake up. He even considered staying up all night, but he dozed off around 5 or 6 a.m. and woke up to find it was already too late.
While waiting at a red light, he grabbed Wen Bairan’s hand and pressed it to his face, putting on a cute act. "Look," he said, "check out these dark circles? And this stubble? I was so worried you'd be waiting anxiously that I even forgot to shave before leaving."
Young Master Zhou should've checked himself in the mirror before saying that—his carefully styled textured fringe and his carefully coordinated hiking gear spoke otherwise.
His natural looks were already exceptional; with a little effort, he could easily rival advertising models, even surpassing them with his innate edginess and posh vibe.
Wen Bairan wanted to scold him, but she could indeed see the signs he'd pulled an all-nighter on his face. Remembering his earnest promise from the night before, she felt the scratchy feeling of his stubble against her fingertips, both numb and ticklish.
Angry and speechless, she gave his cheek a hard pinch and said, "For all I know you were up all night gaming with Jiang Shijin?"
"Ouch!" He grimaced but didn’t pull away, swearing, "You told me not to stay up too late. I haven’t gone out at all these past few days."
His act of being wronged seemed convincing.
Wen Bairan snorted, half-believing, half-doubting. "You’d better be telling the truth."
They were still in the early passionate stage of their relationship then. Wen Bairan didn’t yet realize that playing vulnerable was just Zhou Lin's move. Feeling that she shouldn’t push too hard since he had already explained himself, she let go of his cheek. But as she withdrew her hand, he caught it.
The spoiled Young Master Zhou had super thin skin. A red mark had already appeared where she had pinched him, silently protesting her roughness. His words and demeanor were both pleading. "Don’t be mad, birthday girl. It’s your birthday—forgive me, okay?"
Wen Bairan was taken aback, her heart softening instantly. She was about to ask if it hurt when Zhou Lin leaned down and kissed the back of her hand, flashing a playful smirk. "I’ll make it up to you good once we get there, alright?"
He stressed it so obviously it was hard to miss his implication.
......Wen Bairan’s face flushed instantly. She tried to pull her hand back, but he held on tightly.
For a while, they tugged at each other like they were in a tug-of-war, but he stubbornly refused to let go.
Annoyed, Wen Bairan thought, Fine, you can hold it. I’ll just ignore you.
She turned her head away to look out the window, but Zhou Lin watched her ears growing redder by the second, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. He interlaced his fingers with hers without hesitation and let out a cheerful whistle. "Let’s go!"
The changing traffic light signaled a clear road ahead.
By the time they arrived, it was almost 8 p.m.
It was raining on the mountain, and the staff, worried about safety, almost didn’t allow them to go up.
Seeing Wen Bairan’s recently improved mood about to turn sour again, Zhou Lin spoke to the staff, and twenty minutes later, they got the okay to go up.
They changed into their hiking gear in the car and followed the guide up the mountain.
Despite Zhou Lin’s usual routine of clubbing and gaming, he was actually really athletic.
The path was slippery from the rain, and Wen Bairan nearly fell several times, but Zhou Lin, like he had eyes in the back of his head, always caught her in time.
The conditions for hiking on a rainy night were rough going. He led the way, breaking trail for her. Raindrops soaked his windbreaker and cowboy hat. He was loaded down with their gear for the stay, holding a hiking stick in one hand and gripping Wen Bairan tightly with the other, frequently turning back to check on her.
The faint moonlight softened each look he threw her way, and the falling raindrops created dreamy, rippling rings of light in Wen Bairan’s eyes. As she looked up at his capable figure, she felt, for the first time, that he was truly reliable.
The originally planned one-hour ascent turned into two.
When they finally reached their reserved cabin, Wen Bairan noticed that the oil lamp swaying in the wind at the door was actually electric. Although it looked almost identical to the one in the pictures, it lacked some of the rustic feel. But the sound of rain pattering on leaves and the sight of other lit cabins nearby made her forget all the frustrations and difficulties of the journey.
Once inside, Zhou Lin urged her to take a shower first to avoid catching a cold.
Concerned that he was still wet, she quickly rinsed off to warm herself. When she came out, she found Zhou Lin fumbling to put batteries in candles, looking as awkward as a first-time thief.
She paused, her eyes drifting to the room’s only king-sized bed, adorned with flowers and a cake. The flowers, stifled in the bag during the trip, were already wilting. The cake, which he had learned to make from a video tutorial the night before, had its crooked flowers and English letters smudged together from the bumpy ride. Knowing that extinguishing a fire would be difficult in such an environment, he had specially prepared electric candles but forgot to put in the batteries. He was dumbfounded when he took them out.
He hadn’t expected Wen Bairan to finish her shower so quickly. Zhou Lin scrambled up from the floor, looking adorably awkward.
He confessed openly, "Okay, I admit I messed up, but don’t scold me just yet. I wanted to surprise you, but I had no idea making a cake would be this hard. Putting the dough in the oven was manageable, but piping the cream nearly killed me. You know I’m not good with hands-on stuff. I ruined several batches and had to start over. I waited and waited and ended up falling asleep. Fortunately, the last attempt around noon turned out okay, but I completely forgot about these candles needing batteries."
He scratched his head nervously. The young master, usually waited on hand and foot for all his indulgent pleasures, now resembled an innocent high school boy—eager for enthusiastic praise yet worried that his efforts might only anger Wen Bairan further.
"Now you know what I was doing up all night last night."
Wen Bairan stood frozen by the bathroom door. In the less than 50-square-meter cabin, the only sound was the rain outside.
Her gaze flickered like the night shadows beyond the windows.
Zhou Lin watched her just as intently.
As her eyes grew warm and moist, his expression softened, and he opened his arms to her. "Happy birthday, my treasure."
Her eyes burned with warmth as she ran into his embrace, and he caught her firmly.
"Thank you!" she said.
Feeling her quiet sobs against his neck, Zhou Lin hooked one arm under her legs and lifted her, letting her wrap herself around him.
He gently bumped his forehead against her cheek, his mischievous side resurfacing. "A verbal thanks isn’t enough, is it?"
His implication was clear, and she didn’t shy away. Instead, she offered her lips.
She tried to mimic the way he usually kissed her, nibbling clumsily at his mouth.
Her inexperienced attempt amused Zhou Lin. "Trying to eat me? I don’t mind, but what about the cake? I worked on it all night—you have to eat it first, no matter what."
Whether it was his teasing or being overwhelmingly touched, Wen Bairan burst into tears, sobbing, "Why did you do all this? Zhou Lin, tell me honestly, do you love me very much?"
It was her twentieth birthday.
On that day, at twenty years old,
Zhou Lin said to her, "Of course I love you. No one else could make me love like this, Ran. You’re the first, and you’ll be the last."
Later, she would occasionally look back on that moment and find it incredible. How had she managed to ask such a cheesy and childish question? And how could Zhou Lin so brazenly claim she would be the last?
But this conversation indeed resurfaced countless times in moments when Wen Bairan wanted to give up, echoing in her ears again and again, holding back her fading resolve.
In short, everything that seemed absurd and unbelievable to others later happened naturally at that time.
For the first twenty years of her life, Wen Bairan had always scoffed at the idea of love—simply because she had never received that kind of fierce, all-consuming devotion powerful enough to override her rationality.
Even now, at twenty-eight, if she were to return to that scene and watch Zhou Lin frantically putting batteries in the candles scattered all over the floor, she would still rush into his arms—only she probably wouldn’t shed tears so easily anymore.
Over the years, she had come to understand why love only works in the moment.
Fairy tales had long warned them:
once the clock strikes twelve, the magic disappears.
In the living room, the dusty and worn-out man sitting across the coffee table looked nothing like the polished rich kid from a few months ago.
Wen Bairan gazed at him, feeling a little strange for a moment.
Zhou Lin explained that the project originally scheduled for completion last week had been delayed. He had rushed over directly from the construction site, afraid of not being there by midnight to blow out the candles with her. He hadn’t even changed his clothes.
This time, he wasn’t lying.
Wen Bairan noticed the dust and dirt on his brown coat and jeans. The man who once couldn’t stand the slightest speck of dirt now hadn’t even noticed the large rust mark on his cuff.
Holding back a pang in her chest, she managed a smile and said, “You still look handsome.”
Zhou Lin paused slightly and replied, “You’re too nice. Shouldn’t you be getting me back right now?”
Wen Bairan didn’t understand why she would want revenge.
Before she could ask, he opened the cake box. As he handed her the utensils, his dark eyes remained the same as always—burning with intensity. “I wanted to make it myself, but I didn’t have time. How about I make you a bowl of longevity noodles instead?”
It didn’t sound like something a young master would say. Someone accustomed to a pampered life shouldn’t even know where the gas stove switch was—that would be more in line with his persona.
In fact, the first time he came here, he had no idea why her kitchen wasn’t getting hot water. Wen Bairan told him he had to turn on the gas, and he asked, “Where?” She was upstairs tidying up at the time and called out for him to check the cabinet. Then she remembered he wouldn’t know where the gas meter was, so she went downstairs to do it herself. Zhou Lin watched her tinkering with it for a while, then scowled and said, “This place is such a hassle.”
Look at him—a man who had never lifted a finger around the house—now talking about making noodles for her.
The feeling was hard to describe, like that princess dress she had longed for in the shop window as a child. By the time she finally got it, she’d outgrown it, leaving her with nothing but loss and regret.
Seeing him actually get up to make the noodles, Wen Bairan hurriedly said, “Forget it, let’s just have some cake.”
Zhou Lin paused, then just sat back down, sitting cross-legged and smiling as he said he had recently learned to cook. “It’s too late today,” he said, “but I’ll show you what I can do another time.”
His smile still made him look like a big boy, but now there was a bit of weariness in his eyes.
Wen Bairan couldn’t help but frown and ask if things were tough out there, and why he had never mentioned it.
Zhou Lin replied calmly that there was nothing to talk about. “I’m a man,” he said. “What man complains about a little hardship when he comes home?”
The moment he naturally said “home,” both of them froze.
Everything familiar in the living room seemed to stand still.
Only the two fish drifted peacefully in the river of time.
Wen Bairan knew he had seen it all.
Song Xu was leaving on a business trip tonight and had specially come to celebrate her birthday before he left. They shared a brief, tender kiss goodbye—all warmth and blessings conveyed without words.
This kind of unspoken understanding had never existed in her relationship with Zhou Lin.
He was straightforward, saying whatever came to mind. His sweet talk could be overwhelming, and his temper just as often pissed her off.
Wen Bairan’s eyes fluttered, her lips quivered slightly as if she wanted to say something, but no sound came out.
Zhou Lin broke the silence first.
“I know what you want to say.”
“And you know I’m not the kind to cling on.”
The darkness in his eyes deepened, as if he didn’t want her to see the gloom. He covered it with a smile—
a smile that looked even more bitter.
“I came today just to celebrate your birthday and to apologize.”
“I promised you I would propose before you turned twenty-eight.”
“I’m sorry. I broke that promise.”
The moment he finished speaking, Wen Bairan felt as though a thousand needles stabbed her chest. Memories rushed through her mind, slammed from the past into the present. In those fragmented images—forests, sunsets, wind, and birdsong—they pieced together the dead-serious look in twenty-year-old Zhou Lin’s eyes under the eaves.
“Wen Bairan, I will definitely marry you.”
They were on the deck of the wooden cabin at the time. Wen Bairan leaned against the railing, Zhou Lin holding her from behind.
The setting sun filtered through the dense forest into splotches of dazzling color. The mountain breeze blew gently, so incredibly soothing. She had been quietly enjoying the peace around her when the man above her suddenly spoke.
She opened her eyes and looked up, seeing only his distant gaze. “Why are you bringing this up?” she asked, puzzled.
He said, “I don’t know why. I just thought of it yesterday on the way up the mountain, and again this morning watching the sunrise. What’s even more amazing is that I still think it now! Have you heard? Any passing thought, if repeated three times, becomes reality. I’ve thought it countless times over the past two days, so I’m certain—we will get married!”
His whimsical way of speaking left Wen Bairan unsure how to react. If she laughed, he seemed serious; if she didn’t, he was clearly talking nonsense.
They were only twenty, hadn’t even graduated from university. The future was a blank slate, and marriage felt ages away.
After a pause, she joked, “Marriage is too far off. Let’s talk about proposing first.” She ribbed him, “You’re not going to make me eat that sour cake again, are you?”
Zhou Lin had added too much lemon juice to the cake batter, and the cream was too sweet. The contrast in flavors was stark. The night before, both of them spat it out after one bite. They stared at each other, stunned, not sure who started laughing first, but soon they were rolling on the bed, clutching each other and cracking up.
She was being nasty, still making fun of the cake he had made with his own hands. “Looking for trouble, are you?” Zhou Lin snapped in mock anger and leaned down to nip her cheek.
Wen Bairan shrieked and tried to wiggle away, but the arms braced on either side of her were sturdier than the wooden railing.
Only when she was too exhausted to laugh anymore did Zhou Lin finally stop.
He rested his chin heavily on the top of her head, as if deep in thought, and said, “Give it a few more years. Before you turn twenty-eight, I’ll give you an unforgettable proposal.”
When Zhou Lin said something, he meant it—
provided he still remembered he’d said it.
Eight years had passed. Wen Bairan admitted she had once believed and even looked forward to those words. But in the end, she realized that most promises made in the heat of passion don’t hold up.
She didn’t know why Zhou Lin was bringing this up now. They had already parted ways. He didn’t need to remember any of this anymore.
Her frown deepened.
“A Lin, stop.”
Zhou Lin had done a lot of thinking during his time away, especially after Li Yuan passed away. The Li family had fallen into chaos, and Zhou’s mother was frightened, suspecting that Zhou Lin was also hiding something from the family. Otherwise, why would he suddenly become so diligent and never come home?
She said, "A Lin, you must never be like your cousin. No matter what happens, always discuss it with the family first. Anything is fine, as long as you are safe and sound—we’re okay with anything."
Zhou Lin blurted out, "I want to get married."
His mother replied, "That's good, of course it is. But who with?" She cautiously added, "Didn't you and that Wen girl already break up?"
Only then did he remember—the words "We will definitely get married" in his mind were from eight years ago.
Seeing Wen Bairan's tightly furrowed brows, Zhou Lin suddenly jolted back to the present.
There was a hint of hurt and confusion in his eyes: "Lately, for some reason, I keep remembering things I thought I had completely forgotten. Ran Ran, do you ever feel this way?"
Wen Bairan said she didn’t, because she had already let it go.
She said, "A Lin, you should let go too."
"Let go?" Zhou Lin muttered, repeating the words.
At first, he thought he had already let go.
It was just an eight-year-long relationship; just a heartless woman; once it ended, it ended—it didn’t feel like much of anything.
He thought he would be fine, that without Wen Bairan, there were plenty of others out there waiting to be with him. During those few days with Su Yi, he kept seeing shadows of Wen Bairan’s past in her. It was only later that he realized how awful it was—he was revisiting his past with Wen Bairan through someone else. Wasn’t that just pathetic?
Even though everyone, including himself, believed his heartbreak hang-ups would never heal, why then—why did seeing her give that same soft smile to another man hurt even more than witnessing them kiss in the car?
Now, sitting here, watching her across from him, he realized there weren’t many memories of them in this apartment, and even those were slowly being replaced by another man.
But that wasn’t what hurt the most.
What truly made him feel a pain worse than a knife to the heart was the way Wen Bairan looked at him now.
It was her distant, cold tone as she said she had already let go.
…