Chapter 156 Happy Birthday, Husband

Lu Er lay completely limp on Song Jingmo’s sweat-damp chest, even his fingertips had lost all strength.

After a long moment, he finally lifted his sore, weak arms and gently wrapped them around Song Jingmo’s neck.

Pressing his flushed cheek against the hollow of his neck, he spoke with utmost intimacy, “Husband, happy birthday.”

Those words fell on Song Jingmo’s heart like the hottest brand, tender yet searing.

Especially that term.

Lu Er only ever used that word when pleading for his mercy.

But in the deep night after passion, this “husband” carried such intense emotion that it instantly shattered Song Jingmo’s carefully maintained composure.

His body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and then a wave of indescribable heat coursed through every limb.

He didn’t speak, only held him tighter.

Lu Er hummed softly, a hint of pride in his tone.

He lifted a hand to push at Song Jingmo’s sweat-damp shoulder. “Alright, get up. I have a gift for you.”

Song Jingmo took a few deep breaths, forcing his overly excited heart to calm.

He finally complied, moving just enough to give them some space but still keeping Lu Er securely in his arms, unwilling to let go completely.

Lu Er pouted, coaxing, “I bought you a cake… it’s in the fridge. You haven’t eaten it yet…”

Song Jingmo finally propped himself up.

Bathed in the moonlight streaming through the window, he looked at the person in his arms, face flushed, eyes dreamy yet stubbornly insisting on eating cake, and his heart melted completely.

He rose without turning on the lights.

Barefoot, stepping on the slightly cool floor.

Then he bent, sliding one hand under his knees and the other supporting his back.

With a small lift of strength, he scooped him up horizontally.

“Ah!”

Lu Er gasped, instinctively wrapping his arms around his neck. “What are you doing?!”

“Aren’t you going to eat cake?”

Holding him, Song Jingmo walked straight toward the bedroom.

His voice regained its usual calm, yet if one listened carefully, there was a trace of satisfaction, laziness, and tenderness. “Let’s go together.”

Lu Er, securely held in his arms, felt the warmth radiating from his strong chest and arms and couldn’t help laughing again.

He leaned close to his ear, whispering, “Orthopedic doctors have strong hands… you can lift me with just one hand…”

Recalling the earlier moment when he had restrained his wrist with one hand, his cheeks warmed again.

Song Jingmo glanced down at him.

In the moonlight, Lu Er’s cheeks still held a rosy glow, his eyes sparkling with a smile.

“You’ve gotten too thin.”

His voice carried a post-intimacy hoarseness. “Holding you feels lighter than before. You must’ve lost five or six pounds recently.”

“In our line of work, there’s no other way.”

Lu Er rested his face on his shoulder. “The camera makes people look wider. If you gain even a little weight, you look plump on screen. Directors and audiences will complain. We have to maintain our shape.”

As they spoke, they had already reached the kitchen.

Song Jingmo still held Lu Er and opened the fridge with one hand.

Inside, a beautifully packaged square cake box sat quietly.

On the table lay the jewelry store bag Lu Er had brought home, along with the dark red tie.

Song Jingmo carried him to the dining table and sat down first.

Adjusting his posture, he let Lu Er sit sideways on his lap.

Once he was settled in his arms, he freed one hand to open the cake box.

Lu Er, enjoying the intimacy, reached out to help, and together they untied the ribbon.

Inside was a delicately shaped cream cake.

On the white cream, chocolate sauce spelled out a simple “Happy Birthday,” dotted with a few fresh strawberries.

Not too flashy—just right for Song Jingmo’s taste.

He placed the number “29” candles on the cake, and Lu Er pulled out a matchbox and lit them with a flick.

The warm yellow candlelight flickered, illuminating their faces.

Lu Er hugged Song Jingmo’s neck, sitting up slightly.

He gazed at the small flames and cleared his throat.

Softly, he began to sing: “Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday to you… Jingmo, happy birthday!”

The simple melody was rendered tender and heartfelt by Lu Er.

In the quiet of the late night, it was like the most moving love confession, each word striking deep into Song Jingmo’s heart.

After finishing, his eyes curved like crescent moons, urging, “Quick, make a wish and blow out the candles.”

Song Jingmo lowered his head, looking at the person in his arms.

Lu Er’s face still carried the flushed glow of emotion, hair slightly messy against his forehead.

The candlelight bathed his delicate features in a warm, gentle glow, his peach-blossom eyes brimming with unreserved love.

Time seemed to stretch infinitely.

The high school days when he secretly watched him sleep in the library.

The lonely nights abroad, gazing at the moon and imagining his face.

The careful yet uncontrollable closeness after their reunion.

The hesitation and uncertainty caused by family pressure.

All the memories, all the emotions, surged like tides in his heart.

Eventually, they coalesced into this vivid, radiant, real face in his arms.

His Er Er, who had crossed thousands of miles, appeared on his birthday night in the most unexpected, heart-stirring way.

Lying in his bed, now sitting in his lap, lighting candles and singing for him.

A scene he had never even dared to imagine.

At this moment, dream and reality intertwined.

A surge of emotions—happiness, gratitude, bittersweetness, and long-held wishes fulfilled—flooded like a torrent.

It overwhelmed the calm composure Song Jingmo had always prided himself on.

Without warning, a warm drop slid down his sharply defined jawline.

Silently, it fell onto Lu Er’s hand.

Lu Er froze, seeing his reddened eyes glimmering with clear tears.

“Jingmo?”

Panicked, he raised his hand to wipe his tears. “What’s wrong? Did I… did I do something wrong? Don’t cry…”

Song Jingmo grasped his hand, pressing it to his chest.

Shaking his head, his voice choked, barely forming complete sentences.

He only held him tighter, burying his face in the familiar, fragrant hollow of his neck.

“No… you did perfectly.”

Every word soaked in scorching emotion. “Thank you for coming back… for this birthday…”

“I’ve imagined this… countless times… since high school… finally… it’s real…”

Song Jingmo’s words were a little jumbled, but Lu Er understood.

All the waiting, all the separations, all the struggles and uncertainties.

At this moment, they were soothed by the surprise of his crossing thousands of miles and the warmth of his presence.

Lu Er hugged him back. “My Dr. Song, from now on, I’ll be here for every birthday.”

Song Jingmo said nothing, only looked at him.

Then, slowly and reverently, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss, gentle to the utmost, onto Lu Er’s forehead.

Eyes closed, Song Jingmo made a wish once more.

A wish he had cherished for twenty-nine years—the simplest, most sincere desire.

He hoped that every year would have this day, every age this moment.

He hoped that the person in his arms would always remain by his side.