EGRV 5 | Celebration

“You? Chasing someone?”

The clock struck 8:45 p.m., the room dim, lit only by a few flickering scented candles.

On the table, four dishes were neatly arranged: steam-pot chicken, grilled rice cakes, “two acres of land” stir-fry, and sautéed greens. Han Zhixia, drawn by the aroma, slowly emerged from the bedroom.

“Took a nap. You got here quick.”

“It’s been dark for hours,” Liang Muye said, lifting the lids off the takeout containers. “Eat up. Uncle Yuan’s not here today?”

Han Zhixia and his father, Liang Jiansheng, divorced twenty years ago. She raised Liang Muye and his younger brother, Liang Yichuan, mostly on her own. She never remarried, though she’d had several boyfriends, all of whom treated Liang Muye well enough. He nodded through their comings and goings. For the past few months, she’d been seeing a successful man surnamed Yuan. Liang Muye sensed all signs were positive, even talk of a “future.” They’d planned to look at properties in Hainan by year-end.

Han Zhixia didn’t respond, and Liang Muye caught the off vibe. “What’s up?”

“Nothing… he’s just been busy. Hasn’t come by much.”

Liang Muye served her some chicken, which she waved off. “Enough, I’ll do it myself. You must be hungry—eat.”

Her words carried an undercurrent he picked up on. When he’d arrived, the bedroom door was ajar, jazz drifting out. On the living room bar counter, a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon sat uncorked. Han Zhixia, a wine lover, wouldn’t leave her prized collection exposed to air. She said she overslept, but he’d already guessed most of the truth.

“No big deal. You can go to Paris for year-end, right? Li-jie was just there—I’ll get some tips from her,” Liang Muye said to comfort her.

He knew Han Zhixia had planned a Christmas trip to Paris with friends but canceled for her boyfriend’s Hainan plan. Now, it seemed Hainan was off.

He took a few bites, then, unable to stand the dimness, stood to turn on the light. “Much brighter.”

Han Zhixia tentatively asked about work, why he’d gone to Miyun. Liang Muye said, “Outdoor shoot for a sports brand. Li-jie called me to pinch-hit. Two days, went smoothly, so I’m back early.”

She noted his dusty athletic gear, his outdoor boots left outside to avoid tracking dirt in. “Two days out there—cold? Sounds tough.”

“Not bad. Wasn’t too cold.”

“It’s almost year-end. Your boss doesn’t give you a break?”

“Things pile up, you know how it is.” Liang Muye ate slowly, picking bones meticulously like Han Zhixia.

“You should take a year-end break. Running around like this is exhausting,” she urged, then added, “Your birthday’s coming up. Any plans?”

Liang Muye paused, answering patiently, “Nothing solid yet.”

Han Zhixia spoke plainly. “It’s been three years. You should celebrate your birthday.”

His birthday always fell just before the Lunar New Year, a festive time for family reunions and celebrations. But everything stopped in 2014.

That autumn, Liang Jiansheng handled Liang Yichuan’s enrollment in a Canadian high school, accompanying him there. Usually, Liang Muye drove his brother to the airport, but he was in Xinjiang handling Chen Nian’s affairs, only managing a rushed phone goodbye. He thought, Yichuan’s competing now, a little aerial star. Maybe we’ll meet by year-end. I could shoot his races. He didn’t know then that Liang Yichuan’s life was on a countdown.

Han Zhixia was at a bakery picking up Liang Muye’s birthday cake—a five-layer dark chocolate tiramisu—when she got the call from Liang Jiansheng across the ocean. She dropped the cake, legs buckling, unable to form a sentence. Liang Muye, calmer, drove to pick her up, and they headed straight to the airport.

Technically, on his birthday that year, he was crossing the Pacific, rushing from one farewell to another.

After returning from Canada, Han Zhixia couldn’t cry for a long time. One day, sitting at home, she got a call from the bakery.

Liang Muye was in the spare room, sorting Liang Yichuan’s things—items Han Zhixia couldn’t touch or even look at. He divided them into three piles: keep for family, give to friends, donate.

The bakery employee said, You paid but didn’t pick up the cake. I saw a colleague’s note today. We’llrefund your points and hope you’ll visit again.

Han Zhixia, watching Liang Muye’s back, broke down, hugging him and sobbing. Confused, he comforted her all night.

Last year, she finally brought it up, offering to take him for French food as a birthday celebration. He agreed but was called away by work at the last minute.

“If you don’t want to celebrate with me, that’s fine. Do it with friends,” she said.

“Mom, you’re overthinking. Last year was really just work.”

“Then pick another day,” Han Zhixia insisted. “If Yichuan were here, he wouldn’t want you skipping your birthday because of him. It’s a big day—your thirties.”

Liang Muye, seeing her name Yichuan, didn’t dodge. “It’s not about Yichuan. It’s about me.”

Growing up, he and Yichuan competed openly and subtly, Yichuan always aiming to surpass his ge as a benchmark. If Yichuan’s spirit knew his ge stopped celebrating birthdays because of him, he’d either cry or laugh.

Before leaving, Han Zhixia added, “If you get a break, visit your dad. He may not say it, but he wants to see you.”

Liang Muye nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

The day after the long dinner with Han Zhixia, Liang Jiansheng called. It was indeed his voice, but he didn’t mention missing him, only saying he’d bought a Canadian apartment in Liang Muye’s name and inviting him to visit by year-end.

Liang Muye was at his computer, selecting photos. Xu Xiaochen’s striking profile filled the 32-inch monitor, and his phone buzzed with messages from the model asking if he was busy.

Liang Muye turned to the phone and told Liang Jiansheng, “Alright.”

He was a man of action. During his freelance photography years, he kept a Patagonia waterproof duffel in his apartment, packed with cash, a water filter, outdoor clothing, meds, essentials, and his Nikon—ready to go anywhere in China within five hours.

Three years later, the bag sat dusty in a closet corner. Knowing Canada’s scenic outdoors awaited, he pulled it out.

At boarding, he glanced at the flight number—identical to the one three years ago. Same direct flight, 8 p.m. departure.

Sixteen hours later, he landed across the ocean.

He didn’t tell Liang Jiansheng. Instead, his old friend Cheng Yang, who lived near the airport, picked him up.

Cheng Yang, his childhood buddy and son of Han Zhixia’s best friend from military arts school, was also his university photography classmate. After graduation, Cheng Yang’s family immigrated to Canada, where he earned a master’s in media studies. Now a freelance photographer, he shot concerts, weddings, and kids’ birthdays. Driving Liang Muye, he ranted about recent gigs. Having done commercial shoots for two years, Liang Muye had plenty to say in return.

After work talk, they turned to leisure. Cheng Yang suddenly said, “Winter’s dull here. Come skiing with me.”

Liang Muye went quiet for a few seconds. Cheng Yang, quick-witted, realized his mistake. “Ah, it’s been a while—I forgot. Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Liang Muye brushed it off. “Nothing’s off-limits.”

Relieved, Cheng Yang changed the subject. “No skiing, fine. But come gear shopping with me. I’m chasing someone.”

Liang Muye raised an eyebrow. “You? Chasing someone?”

That piqued his interest.