Chapter Thirty-Four: The Birthday Cake

Stepping out of the subway station, night had fully descended. Yishu walked beside Shixi, her feet treading on freshly laid paving stones, gleaming as if just washed. The old bricks, once displaced by the relentless growth of tree roots, had all been replaced.

A streetlamp standing between two trees stretched their shadows long and thin. Yishu stared, noticing that his shadow was a full head taller than her own.

"Where exactly are you taking me?" she couldn’t help but ask, her curiosity about Xu Shixi’s mysteriousness growing stronger.

"We’re almost there," he replied, smiling brightly. "You’ll see when we arrive."

"Oh?" Yishu responded softly.

A surprise, perhaps? He rarely gave her surprises. Those quiet, sincere gestures of affection were, in truth, the most perfect surprises of all. Yishu shifted her gaze from the shadows to him.

There was always a kind of confidence on his face, something that made her feel secure, made her want to draw near, to be close. The faint, elusive scent of masculinity he carried was something she couldn’t help but breathe in gently, careful not to inhale too deeply, afraid he might notice—afraid that if she absorbed it all at once, it would be gone forever.

At the end of the road, they turned onto a narrow side street. The further they went, the fewer the lights; here, the streetlamps were sparse, and the way was lit mostly by the glow spilling from the windows of nearby homes.

The light drifted softly over the cement, as though time itself had slowed its pace.

Alley Thirteen.

It was an old-fashioned cake shop, its signboard still bearing the style of the 1980s—vintage and nostalgic, though not in the sense of artificial imitation. It had truly survived from the last century, standing for more than thirty years. Streets and buildings around it had changed beyond recognition, but it remained unmoved, undergoing only minor repairs every few years.

From a hundred meters away, the rich aroma of cream swept over them in waves.

"Boss, I’m here," Xu Shixi called out as he pushed open the door, addressing an elderly man with graying hair behind the counter.

"You’ve finally come," the old man replied, adjusting his glasses and squinting at them. "I thought you might not make it."

"Something held us up," Shixi said, tugging Yishu gently inside. "Sorry to have kept you waiting."

"And this must be your girlfriend?" the old man smiled, his face kind. "You have good taste—she’s very beautiful."

"Hello..." Yishu blushed at the compliment, her cheeks growing warm. Thankfully, the shop’s lighting was dim enough to hide her embarrassment.

"I’ll leave you two to it," the old man said, untying the apron from around his waist and hanging it on the back of a nearby chair. Removing his glasses, he added, "When you’re done, just lock the door and leave the key under the flowerpot by the door."

"Alright, will do. Take care on your way home," Xu Shixi replied as he saw the old man out and closed the door behind him.

"Sit here a moment—I’ll be right back." He set down his suit jacket and headed through the door behind the counter.

Yishu stood in the center of the shop, turning slowly to take it all in. Everything bore the mark of time—decor and furnishings she’d only seen in films or TV series. A faint sadness swept over her. Nostalgia always seemed to draw out melancholy, as if it represented all that had been lost—things once new and bright, now faded with age.

The cake shop was small, barely twenty square meters including the kitchen, yet every inch was used to its fullest. By the window stood two dark wooden tables for guests to rest at. The walls were adorned with countless photos of couples, adding warmth to the weathered plaster.

The glass display case was empty—the cakes had all been sold. The owner only made as much as needed each day and never kept leftovers for the next.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Xu Shixi emerged carrying a round tray, atop which rested a pale yellow cake.

Yishu’s gaze settled on him. He was holding a cake? Was he planning to make one? Why, on a night like this, would he suddenly want to do that? It wasn’t a special day.

"I wanted to finish it before bringing it out, to surprise you," Xu Shixi said, placing the cake on the table and bending down to look up at her. "But it got late—I thought you might not want to wait."

"You want to make it yourself?" Yishu asked.

"I do."

"Why are you making me a cake?" she wondered aloud. "Is today a special day?"

Since Shixi had brought her to this cake shop in Alley Thirteen, the question had been turning over in her mind. Surely it wasn’t to mark something trivial, like the number of days since they met—that wasn’t his style at all.

"You really don’t remember?" A shadow of disappointment flickered in Xu Shixi’s eyes.

Yishu shook her head. She couldn’t think of anything—and didn’t want to guess.

"Silly, it’s your birthday," Xu Shixi couldn’t help but laugh.

Birthday? Of course—today was her birthday! Only now did Yishu remember: today she turned twenty-six. After tonight, she would leave twenty-five behind and step into her twenty-sixth year.

A birthday. How many years had it been since she last celebrated? At least five or six, she supposed. As people grow up, these holidays seem to lose their weight and anticipation, fading from memory and meaning.

"My birthday—how did you know?" she asked.

Xu Shixi smiled but didn’t answer.

Of course he knew. When you love someone, you can’t help but learn everything about them. It’s proof of love, and also its release.

"Want to try making it together?" Xu Shixi steadied a plate of cream on the table and, with a flourish, scooped a generous dollop onto the cake, smoothing it outwards like a steamroller.

"I’d like to try," Yishu replied, bending down to take another piping bag of cream. She pressed gently, and the white cream squeezed out in curling, thin lines, piling up like little white worms entwined together.

Xu Shixi burst into laughter. "Is that… a flower?"

Yishu laughed at her own unidentifiable creation. "It’s a resurrection plant—a kind of succulent."

The resurrection plant, also known as the mother-of-thousands, can sprout new shoots even if its leaves are broken off—resilient and easy to nurture.

Yishu had once longed to become such a plant: independent, proud, and singular, thriving in this world no matter the storms or seasons.

The finished cake looked rather appalling, despite Xu Shixi’s earnest study with the old chef, who’d imparted many secrets. But in the end, faced with the task, his mind went blank.

It was probably because Yishu was standing right there—her presence threw off his rhythm.

"When did you learn to make cakes?" she asked as she tried to tidy up her creation.

"Recently, from Master Jiang."

The old chef of this cake shop was a man of deep devotion. Now sixty-five, he’d run the shop for forty years. His wife had loved sweets, especially cake, but in those lean days even a month’s wages could barely buy one. Later, he left his factory job to apprentice at a cake shop, hoping to learn the craft so he could bake for her every day. The owner, moved by his passion, took him on and taught him everything, eventually passing Alley Thirteen to him. Yet fate was cruel, and his wife passed away soon after. For a while, he was lost in grief, but then he picked himself up. He set aside a wall in the shop for couples’ photos, inviting all who visited to leave a cherished memory.

So, when Xu Shixi shared his idea with Master Jiang, he agreed without hesitation. The regrets he bore could be made whole in the happiness of countless others.

The cake’s appearance left much to be desired, but the act of making it was filled with sweetness.

Yishu scooped up a dab of cream on her finger and, catching Shixi off guard, smeared it on the tip of his nose.

He looked up sharply, wiped it off with his right hand, and popped it into his mouth. Perhaps it was the best cake he’d ever tasted.

He then took a knife and plates, sliced a triangular piece, and handed it to Yishu. He didn’t tease her with cream in return.

Cradling her favorite cake—one made by her beloved—even the smallest bite was enough to fill her heart with sweetness, a taste she would savor for a long time to come.