Chapter Sixty-Four: Happy Birthday

Han Ning had received excellent etiquette education from a young age. When she saw Yang Jiekai make that flawless, gentlemanly gesture of invitation, she instinctively reached out her hand. But midway, she suddenly recalled something, and withdrew her hand as swiftly as lightning. Seeing Yang Jiekai smiling warmly at her, she felt a rare embarrassment, her cheeks flushing as she turned her head aside and muttered, “Eat if you want, who wants to eat with you anyway? I’m not even hungry.”

Yang Jiekai merely smiled, unconcerned by Han Ning’s reaction. He turned, picked up the metal tray, and walked over, gently placing it on the coffee table in front of Han Ning.

“Please enjoy your meal,” he said softly, as he lifted the lid of the tray. Perhaps it was the first time he'd spoken to Han Ning in such a tender tone; usually, he was always so nonchalant.

Han Ning felt that Yang Jiekai’s sudden change in manner was strange, but before she could think much about it, a rich sweet aroma reached her nose.

She instinctively glanced at the tray, and was startled. Upon seeing its contents clearly, she asked in confusion, “Fruit cake?”

Wang Ma hadn’t expected that after all his fussing today, Yang Jiekai had only made a fruit cake. She looked at him, equally puzzled.

Yang Jiekai nodded and said with a smile, “Last time I accidentally ate your birthday cake, and I’ve felt guilty ever since. But I didn’t know where you got the cake from, so I decided to make one myself. It may not be exactly the same, but at least it’s a fruit cake. Why don’t you try it, see if it suits your taste? If you don’t like it, I can make another—I know a few other fruit cake recipes. When I was abroad, I befriended a pastry chef and learned a few tricks. It’s been a long time since I baked, so I’m not sure how it turned out…”

He stopped abruptly.

He noticed Han Ning’s eyes were now faintly red, her gaze brimming with tears as she stared at the fruit cake on the table, biting her lip.

“Hey... don’t cry! Is it because you don’t like the flavor? If you don’t, I’ll throw it out and make another one…” Yang Jiekai said, reaching for the tray.

“Wait!” Han Ning stopped him, gently wiped away her tears, took a deep breath, and said, “Let me taste it…”

Yang Jiekai paused, then donned a surprised, almost delighted expression. He turned quickly and dashed to the kitchen, soon returning with a knife and plate, carefully cutting a piece for Han Ning.

She took the plate, used her fork to pick up a small piece, and placed it in her mouth. After a few chews, her expression changed.

“How is it, not to your liking?” Yang Jiekai, seeing her reaction and thinking she disliked it, asked nervously.

Han Ning swallowed the cake, looked at Yang Jiekai in disbelief, and asked, “How do you know how to make a cake like this?”

Yang Jiekai scratched his head, unsure why she reacted this way. “Didn’t I just say? When I was abroad, I learned from a pastry chef…”

“This flavor—only the Winkle family from Northern Europe can make this kind of cake!”

Before Yang Jiekai could finish, Han Ning interrupted him.

Now it was Yang Jiekai’s turn to be astonished. He stared at her in surprise, “You know the Winkle family too?”

Han Ning nodded. “The Winkle family is the world’s oldest pastry lineage. They were once royal pastry chefs for a certain monarchy, and after that kingdom fell, their craft was passed down through generations. Even now, the Winkle family is unrivaled in the pastry world. Their cakes are unique, unmatched anywhere.”

Yang Jiekai had no idea why Han Ning knew so much about the Winkle family, but he feigned confusion. “Winkle family? Never heard of them. I just learned from an ordinary pastry chef.”

Han Ning didn’t detect any falsehood in his words, nor did she doubt him further. She simply assumed Yang Jiekai had been lucky enough to meet a pastry master from the Winkle family.

As for Han Ning’s familiarity with the Winkle family, it was because as a child, every year on her birthday, she would eat a cake brought from abroad. She’d heard it was her mother’s favorite. When she grew up, she discovered by chance that it was made by the ancient Winkle family.

Since then, she hadn’t tasted such a cake in years, and the Winkle family seemed to have stopped making them. Every year, her birthday cake was ordered from a foreign bakery with a vaguely similar flavor, but it was never quite the same.

After so many years, today, she tasted that cake again. When she first sensed the familiar flavor, she realized it was the taste she had longed for.

The flavor of the Winkle family’s cake was also the flavor of memories with her mother.

Yang Jiekai thoughtfully cut a piece for Wang Ma and didn’t forget to serve himself. He ate with satisfaction, though his manner was rather crude, causing Han Ning to feel secretly distressed. Such a fine cake, yet he ate it as if it were a simple bun.

Watching him, Han Ning gained a deeper appreciation for the saying “a cow munching on peonies.”

Yang Jiekai hadn’t expected Han Ning to enjoy the cake so much, so he had made a small one. Soon, the modest cake was finished by the three of them.

Han Ning was reluctant to stop, clearly not satisfied, but felt too shy to ask Yang Jiekai for more. She simply held her plate, pouting in silence.

But Yang Jiekai easily saw through her thoughts and willingly busied himself in the kitchen once again.

After he entered the kitchen, Han Ning’s eyes showed a playful triumph, while Wang Ma watched with a cheerful smile.

Half an hour later, Yang Jiekai emerged with a larger fruit cake. This time, Han Ning eagerly walked to the dining table without waiting to be invited.

“Wait!” Yang Jiekai suddenly shouted as Han Ning raised the knife to cut the cake. Watching her and Wang Ma’s puzzled faces, he explained with a smile, “Don’t you think something’s missing?”

Han Ning blanked, “Missing what?”

Yang Jiekai grinned, “Last time I ate your birthday cake by accident, so today I’m making it up to you. It’s a bit late, but doesn’t matter. Since it’s your birthday, shouldn’t we sing a birthday song and make a wish before eating the cake?”

Before Han Ning could respond, Yang Jiekai dashed to the storage room, rummaged around, and returned with a thick white candle.

“I didn’t think ahead, forgot to buy birthday candles, so we’ll use this instead!” he said, laughing as he stuck the large candle in the cake and dusted his hands. “All set: cake, candle, now you make your wish!”

“But…” Han Ning hesitated at the sight of the thick white candle, wanting to protest, but Yang Jiekai waved her off. “No buts! The candle’s big, coarse, and ugly, but it serves the purpose. Go ahead and make your wish!” He pulled out a lighter, ready to light the candle.

Wang Ma couldn’t hold back and said, “Young master, that candle is for Tomb-Sweeping Day!”

“Ah…” Yang Jiekai’s eyes widened in shock. He finally realized that the thick white candle was inappropriate for a birthday. Having grown up abroad, he wasn’t familiar with these customs and hadn’t considered the symbolism.

He was usually informal, but lighting such a candle for someone’s birthday was absolutely out of the question.

After a moment’s thought, he slapped his thigh. “Got it!” He fetched a fruit knife from the kitchen, pulled out the candle, and with a flick of his wrist, spun the knife expertly. Wax shavings flew everywhere.

In less than thirty seconds, he produced a delicate, petite candle, which he stuck in the cake. “Now it’s good!”

Han Ning snapped back from her amazement; Yang Jiekai’s knife skills were dazzling. She glanced at the refined candle and froze, her eyes misting with tears once again.

On the candle were engraved elegant cursive words: “Happy Birthday, Miss Han Ning.”

Wang Ma thoughtfully found three crystal wine glasses, opened a bottle of red wine, and turned off all the lights in the room.

The room was left in gentle candlelight.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you—” Yang Jiekai sang cheerfully, clapping along, and Wang Ma hummed along, her eyes also growing red. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d experienced such warmth.

“Happy birthday!” After singing, Yang Jiekai whistled and laughed, joining Wang Ma in applause.

“Darling, make a wish!” Yang Jiekai smiled at Han Ning, whose eyes sparkled with tears.

Han Ning wiped her eyes, pressed her palms together, closed her eyes, and made a wish.

Yang Jiekai didn’t know what Han Ning wished for, but Wang Ma knew exactly what it was.

A warm candlelit dinner, filled with joy—cake, candle, red wine.

After the meal, Wang Ma went to the kitchen to wash dishes.

Yang Jiekai stretched lazily, preparing to retire to his room.

“Wait,” Han Ning called after him.

He turned and asked gently, “Is there something you need?”

Han Ning smiled softly, “Thank you for today.”

Yang Jiekai smiled back, said nothing, and entered his room.

Inside, he lit a cigarette, exhaled a long plume of smoke, half-reclined on the bed, eyes closed, lost in thought.

Is this what home feels like?

Yang Jiekai’s unusual behavior today was tied to his mood. He yearned for a home, a warm and simple one. He was a fearsome night owl, but he was tired of flying. Now he just wanted to return to the nest.

“Little Ning,” Wang Ma said gently after finishing the dishes, seeing Han Ning hadn’t gone upstairs. “Young master seemed different today.”

“Oh? How so?” Han Ning replied casually.

Wang Ma smiled, “Today, you two looked just like a young couple. That’s how life should be for a pair.”

This time, Han Ning didn’t react with annoyance or embarrassment. She stood up, smiled at Wang Ma, and headed upstairs.