Happy Birthday

Cheng Shuo indeed didn't invite many people. Having relived it many times, he no longer pursued liveliness.

During his coming-of-age ceremony, he was still in his third year of high school.

Ms. Zhong and Mr. Cheng split his birthday party into two.

One venue was for Cheng Shuo's classmates and friends, the other was for business networking.

He was forced to wear a suit, custom-made early on by an old tailor. Of course, it fit well, but it still felt very constricting.

He stared at the pair of sapphire cufflinks on his cuffs for a long time and asked his mother, "Do I have to wear them? They're ridiculous."

Ms. Zhong's eyes swept over. She wasn't wearing a long evening gown but a business suit and high-heeled leather shoes. With a calm expression, she adjusted his collar for him.

"One has to pay a price for what one gets," she said. "Cheng Shuo, I can't promise you this will be the last time. In the future, for annual meetings and year-end social engagements, I'll have to take you to make an appearance. Get used to it early."

He still didn't like it. But talking to people and being likable had never been difficult for him. Putting on a pretense at the end of the year was considered the due price he had to pay for a life so carefree and boring that he needed to seek excitement in relationships that lasted less than three months.

He got used to the liveliness. After starting university, his birthdays were spent in nightclubs, at KTVs, in private rooms of high-end restaurants, opening bottles, singing, and then picking his next target.

In his drunken stupor, he would sneer at Chen Ziheng's departing back after finishing his meal, wrap an arm around Zhang Yijie's, and say, "Why do you always love singing sad love songs?"

Then, at twenty-one, he finally looked up and saw that his birthday party had shrunk, after carefully picking and choosing, to just four people. He suddenly wanted to laugh.

He replied one by one to the dense flood of 'Happy Birthday' messages on WeChat. As for inquiries about his birthday plans, he brushed them all off perfunctorily.

So much so that when Zhang Yijie rushed to the door carrying a bunch of things, he was a little stunned.

"How many people are here today?" His childhood friend sidled up. "You said it would be a small group, but how small is it that it's just the three of us?"

"And Chen Ziheng."

"Just four people?" Zhang Yijie asked. "Are you okay?"

"Isn't it great?" Cheng Shuo replied with a smile. "It's good to be quiet. Saves me the trouble of considering the atmosphere with so many people. I'd have to accept four or five cakes and blow out the candles three times. It's so annoying."

Something was eleven-tenths wrong.

Zhang Yijie looked around and wisely chose to change the subject: "Then hurry up and help me hang the banner I picked out."

Unfurled, his childhood friend's taste, as always, did not disappoint. It had the color scheme of a Coconut Palm brand coconut milk can, with sloppily written phrases: "Happy Birthday Cheng Shuo," "Crazy Since Childhood," "Twenty-One Years of Persistently Causing Chaos on Earth."

He looked at it and said, "So if twenty people came today, you were planning to make every one of them stare at this thing?"

Zhang Yijie chuckled and said, "Well, I wouldn't be the only one bringing you something. You'd definitely have to switch to a more decent one."

They pulled and tugged, and the tattered banner shone brilliantly above the television.

Zhang Yijie was inflating balloons and waved at the person walking over. "Isn't this banner super cool?"

Cen Zeng still had that cold, serious face. Upon hearing this, he actually stood there and studied it carefully for a good while. It was a rare sight to see Zhang Yijie feel embarrassed.

In the end, he turned his head and smiled. "Very interesting."

Zhang Yijie claimed victory and glanced happily at Cheng Shuo.

The next second, his balloon popped. Extreme joy begets sorrow.

Chen Ziheng, the diva, had clearly decided to avoid pleasantries with Cheng Shuo's motley crew, timing his entrance for the exact moment Cen Zeng was putting the dishes on the dining table.

As soon as he looked up, his expression was one of identical surprise to Zhang Yijie's. But he naturally pretended nothing was wrong, turned around, and went to the kitchen to help Cen Zeng bring out the last dish.

It was a very peaceful birthday meal. For once, Zhang Yijie and Chen Ziheng worked in concert, spilling all of Cheng Shuo's stories from childhood to the present day.

Cen Zeng listened from across the table, even asking questions from time to time: "So he moved his seat to the very back just to go claim the basketball court as soon as school was out?"

"Yeah," Zhang Yijie said with a grin. "Sometimes the teacher would still be dragging out the lesson, and he'd already be gone. It made our class president, Chen Ziheng, so mad that he would specifically call him out in class meetings."

"He just loves to put on a show," Cheng Shuo replied. "You see if it worked?"

"You guys have a really good relationship." Cen Zeng's eyes swept over Chen Ziheng and Cheng Shuo.

Both of them looked as if they had been utterly disgraced. Chen Ziheng put down his chopsticks. "Don't talk nonsense."

"Who has a good relationship with him?" Cheng Shuo pursed his lips.

The topic naturally shifted to Cen Zeng. Zhang Yijie said, "Your cooking is really delicious. Before I came, Cheng Shuo even threatened me that even if it was so bad I wanted to puke, I had to hold it in until I got home. Turns out he was just slandering you."

"Thank you."

Chen Ziheng asked about the School of Medicine, looking very curious. "How busy is it, really?"

"It's pretty much like taking the college entrance exam every year," Cen Zeng thought for a moment. "However, I don't think I'm the most suitable person to explain this."

"Having the department's top student explain this is a huge waste of talent," Cheng Shuo chimed in. "Go ask your own friends."

"Can you have some manners? I'm talking to Cen Zeng." Chen Ziheng gave him a sidelong glance.

As the conversation wound down, it was inevitably time for the singing of the birthday song and the eating of the cake.

His childhood friend knew his tastes and had bought an ice cream cake.

The three of them sang an off-key, out-of-tune rendition of the birthday song.

"Happy Birthday."

Cheng Shuo, wearing a silly paper crown that Zhang Yijie had specially bought, swept a rarely seen gentle gaze over the three of them, his eyes stopping on Cen Zeng's face as he smiled.

During the gift-opening part, Zhang Yijie gave him a case for his Nintendo Switch, complete with a stand, saying, "Of course you already have everything. But no matter how expensive the device, your wrists will hurt after playing for a long time. This will make it more comfortable."

Chen Ziheng hadn't actually picked a gift from a convenience store either; he gave him a projector, saying, "So you can watch all your bullshit embarrassing history in high definition in your bedroom."

Then it was Cen Zeng's turn.

He took the gift out of his backpack.

"It's a frozen section I made myself," Cen Zeng explained as Cheng Shuo stared at the ice-blue object.

"It's a mouse hematopoietic stem cell." He took a light breath. "It might be weird."

Cheng Shuo looked at the nearly transparent slide. He could barely see anything on it, just a layer so thin it was like a sliver of ice that could dissolve in the light at any moment.

Cen Zeng continued to explain, "It might be hard to see clearly because I didn't stain it. I originally wanted to use a common stain, but then I felt that if I stained it, it wouldn't be pure enough."

"A mouse hematopoietic stem cell is..." He had read many explanations, knew how to write the standard answer on an exam paper, and knew how to demonstrate an experimental procedure that would earn a perfect score.

But at this moment, he was still clumsy with his words.

"The primordial form of life. It's very vigorous. It has made many contributions to medical research."

What on earth was he saying?

"It symbolizes... the tenacity of life itself."

He thought for a moment. "Of course, it's also very fragile, but no matter how fragile, it can still create a small miracle."

The words couldn't express the meaning. They never could.

How absurd.

Cheng Shuo was stunned for a moment. He subconsciously rubbed the small glass slide, discovering that he, too, was at a loss for words.

"Okay," he said. "A miracle would be great."

At this moment, Zhang Yijie and Chen Ziheng exchanged a look.

Both of them read the helplessness in the other's expression.

"I don't get it, but it's pretty cool, huh," he spoke up.

"Cheng Shuo, did you even take biology?" This was Chen Ziheng.

However, the birthday boy seemed not to have heard them.

"I'll take good care of it." He just stared at Cen Zeng's face, calmly and without concealment.

[Author's Note]

Xiao Cheng, happy birthday. Let's go for a drink when you have time. I know you like to drink it neat, so I'll force myself to have some whiskey with you next time.