Chapter 73: Honeymoon (3)

Before heading to the island, they revisited the small town where they had taken their second set of wedding photos.

It was winter then, during the Christmas holidays, and the town was filled with a strong festive atmosphere.

It was a decisive moment.

Unfortunately, by that time, their conflicts had reached an irreconcilable point.

Although she suggested taking a second set of wedding photos to ease the tension, deep down she knew their problems couldn’t be solved simply by another photo shoot.

But at that moment, there was no better solution.

They arrived in the town the day before the photo shoot.

That evening, she planned to go out for a walk — or rather, she wanted to walk with him.

Things were so tense between them, and no one knew what the future held; this might be their last trip together.

“I heard the town gets lively at night.”

She slowly wrapped her scarf in circles, glanced at him, and said, “I want to go for a walk. Will you come?”

Zhōu Shíyì nodded and got up to grab his coat.

Dressed in thick outerwear, they stepped outside.

The journey was silent, broken only by the crunching of snow beneath their feet: “crunch—crunch—.”

She had her hands in her pockets, looking at the shop windows lining the street, full of dazzling Christmas decorations, but she barely registered any of it.

“Zhōng Yì.”

“Hmm?”

She looked back at him.

Zhōu Shíyì asked, “When do you think your project will be finished?”

In the four years they had been together, he had never asked her when her project would end.

There were too many uncontrollable factors that could affect progress; no one could give an exact time. Usually, he just asked if she was tired.

But this time, he asked something even she couldn’t answer.

“It’s still early.”

He nodded, saying no more.

“Is there something on your mind?”

“No. Just suddenly remembered and asked casually.”

For some reason, at that moment, she felt uncertain inside.

She wondered if he was waiting for the project to finish so they could break up.

Before coming to the town, she had overheard his phone call with his father.

From what he said, Zhōu Yúnlián wanted him to go home for a matchmaking meeting during New Year’s, but he said he was busy, and the father and son ended the call on bad terms.

His wrist.

She didn’t know if he would eventually compromise with his family.

They walked to the town’s busiest main street, where a music festival was happening that night.

The crowd was dense, and perhaps worried about getting separated, Zhōu Shíyì reached out and held her hand.

They hadn’t been that close in a long time.

She still remembered turning to look at him then.

The Christmas lights illuminated his sharp profile, deep and captivating, yet distant and cold.

She always felt they couldn’t go far together.

At that moment, she suddenly wanted to cry.

Afterward, she kept walking ahead, holding his hand as they wove through the crowd.

That night was especially cold, and she never withdrew her hand from his pocket.

The next day, worried the photos might not turn out well, she contacted the photographer in advance and frankly admitted there were some issues between her and her fiancé, asking if they could include more intimate shots.

The photographer immediately understood and said it was no problem.

Unexpectedly, that day there were many kissing and hugging scenes, and the photographer kept saying their expressions were wrong, making them reshoot some scenes multiple times.

Years later, returning here, the streets were far less crowded than during Christmas.

Zhōng Yì, tired from walking, went into a nearby café and ordered two lattes.

Zhōu Shíyì gazed out the window.

Across the street was a building they had used as a shooting location, one angle capturing the entire street and the snowy mountains behind.

“What are you thinking about?” Zhōng Yì leaned against him and took a sip from his coffee.

Zhōu Shíyì smiled faintly, “Is it good?”

“Yeah.”

Picio

Zhōng Yì took another sip.

Zhōu Shíyì handed her his cup and took hers in return.

After sipping his coffee, he answered her earlier question: “I was thinking about the last time we came here for wedding photos.” Then he asked if she still remembered the photographer.

Zhōng Yì: “A little.”

She didn’t mention having talked to the photographer beforehand.

Zhōu Shíyì looked at her: “It’s probably more than a little. You went to see the photographer, I know.”

Zhōng Yì was startled and nearly forgot to drink the coffee at her lips.

“How do you know? Did the photographer tell you?”

Zhōu Shíyì: “Yeah.”

He had contacted the photographer before coming to the town, saying he had upset his fiancée and hoped the shoot could make her happy.

They wanted to extend the shoot to two days, or even longer if possible.

The photographer worried that the town’s few locations could be finished in half a day.

He told the photographer, “Just say our expressions aren’t right.”

Unexpectedly, Zhōng Yì had also gone to see the photographer.

That night, after the shoot, things got intense between them, and the condom broke.

Gulp.

Zhōu Shíyì asked, “Want to take another set of photos?”

Zhōng Yì shook her head, “It’s more meaningful to record everyday moments on my own.”

She used to be obsessed with recovering their wedding photos, trying to dissect the old phone chip to retrieve those erased videos, simply because her heart hadn’t healed yet.

But gradually, her feelings eased, and the obsession faded.

Zhōu Shíyì stood up, offering his hand: “Let’s go for another walk.”

Holding their coffees, they left the café.

Passing the spot where they had taken photos before, Zhōng Yì handed her cup to Zhōu Shíyì to hold.

She took out her phone to record their return four years later.

Ahead was an ice cream shop.

Zhōng Yì glanced silently at Zhōu Shíyì, a few steps behind her.

Sometimes, just one look from her was enough for him to understand.

Holding two coffees, he couldn’t easily pull out his cardholder and gestured for her to take care of it: “There’s a card and some cash.”

Before meeting her, he never carried cash—cards were enough.

After they got together, he developed the habit of carrying change. Sometimes, when she shopped at markets, some stalls only accepted cash.

Zhōng Yì pulled out his cardholder from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

That inner pocket was her treasure chest.

Zhōu Shíyì: “Did you really like going to markets before, or was it just to keep up the act of being broke?”

Zhōng Yì laughed and quickly explained, “I really liked it. When I was a kid, Shimu took me to the town market, and I helped carry things.”

Shimu would buy her an ice cream, and she would eat it as they walked.

Those were the happiest moments of her childhood, besides the times with her father.

As she spoke, she opened the cardholder and took out some change.

Zhōu Shíyì didn’t eat ice cream; she only bought one but always gave him a taste.

Zhōng Yì ate her ice cream, casually returning the cardholder to his inner pocket.

No need for more photos, she started clinging to Zhōu Shíyì.

He held his coffee, hesitant to hold her hand again, so she slipped her right hand into the pocket of his trousers.

This way, her hand wouldn’t get tired, and she could lean on him while walking.

Zhōu Shíyì tilted his head to look at her. As always, she loved sticking close to him while walking.

Once, early in their relationship, Níng Quē saw them so intimate on campus, utterly stunned — she never imagined he had such a gentle side when in love.

Gathering his thoughts, he finished the smaller cup of coffee, tossed the paper cup away, and held Zhōng Yì’s hand.

They stayed in the town only one day.

Early the next morning, they left for the third stop of their honeymoon—the island they had often vacationed on, and where they had taken their first set of wedding photos.

Before boarding, Zhōu Shíyì saw a post from his mother on social media.

No location tagged, but he recognized the background immediately—it was the island.

His mother liked vacationing there, too. After their breakup, he had even accompanied her there once.

He messaged his father: “Are you and Mom still on the island, or have you gone back?”

Zhōu Yúnlián: “Still on the island.”

Curious, he asked, “How do you know I’m here? Mom posted photos but didn’t tag me.”

Zhōu Shíyì: “That shadow in the photo should be yours, so it counts.”

Zhōu Yúnlián:

That shadow wasn’t cropped out because it was hard to do so; otherwise, when my wife edited the photos, it would have been removed.

Zhōu Shíyì: “Didn’t you say you’ve been too busy with the Group lately to take a vacation?”

Coming to the island was a last-minute decision by Zhōu Yúnlián.

After seeing off all the guests attending his son’s wedding at Windmill Village, Shí Fànyīn said she wanted to relax for a few days. He couldn’t very well let her go alone.

“I need to smooth things over with your mother before your father- and mother-in-law’s wedding.”

Zhōu Shíyì: “Zhōng Yì and I will arrive on the island tonight.”

Naturally, no one wanted to run into each other during the vacation.

Not even father and son.

Zhōu Yúnlián: “It’s such a big island, with several beaches. Don’t worry, you won’t bump into us.”

Zhōu Yúnlián: “Besides, the hotel we’re staying at is far from your villa.”

While he chatted with his father, Zhōng Yì messaged her father, sharing their honeymoon itinerary.

She sent a few photos taken in the town and didn’t disturb Zhōng Jiě, who was attending a brand endorsement dinner that evening.

“Dad, does this place look familiar?”

Jiāng Jìngyuān: “Where you and Zhōu Shíyì took your wedding photos.”

The snowy mountains rise just behind the town; he remembered it clearly.

Jiāng Jìngyuān told his daughter that he and his wife held their wedding in Beicheng.

“The family is small and old. Your grandpa can’t fly.”

The most important point: “Your mom loves lively weddings. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime event for her, and I don’t want to cut corners on the process.”

If the wedding were held on Hong Kong Island, many traditions wouldn’t be possible.

“The one on Hong Kong Island, your mom can hold it anytime she wants. Just like you and Zhōu Shíyì had your first wedding. The later one can follow your own wishes.”

Zhōng Yì: “Zhōng Jiě definitely loves lively weddings!”

Jiāng Jìngyuān: “When that time comes, the three of us will be on stage together. For your wedding, the three of us didn’t share the stage. But your mom and I—how could we not have you on stage?”

Zhōng Yì already—

Having witnessed Zhōng Jiě’s happiness at her own wedding.

After ending her chat with her father, she scrolled through the family group chat’s photos and videos.

Zhōu Shíyì glanced sideways and saw on her screen photos of the Min Ting family’s twins. The boy was called Shíshí, the girl NuoNuo.

Seven or eight months old—the most playful age.

Zhōng Yì kept scrolling and opened a video.

In it, NuoNuo crawled quickly while Shíshí chased after her.

Soon, the two crawled under the bed.

Their “giggle giggle” laughter was delightfully contagious.

Every time he saw videos of Shíshí and NuoNuo, or when he saw Chén Chén, he also wanted to have children with Zhōng Yì.

But then he reminded himself they had been apart for three years, and he wanted to give her more time for just the two of them.

The video ended, Zhōng Yì exited the family group chat, put her phone away, and turned to look at the person beside her.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, pondering how to bring it up.

Zhōu Shíyì turned his head and kissed her forehead: “Why so quiet?”

Zhōng Yì held his arm: “Have you ever thought about when you want to have children?”

“I’ll follow you. If you want them now, we can start. If you want more time alone together, we can postpone it for two more years.”

Zhōng Yì said, “Then when we get back, I’ll adjust my schedule.”

After a nonstop year, her body needed rest.

If all went well, she hoped to have a baby before the end of the year, so it would be born in summer.

Just now, watching the videos of Shíshí and NuoNuo, she really wanted to steal them home.

She smiled and asked him, “Among the 1,095 things you want to do for me, is having twins on the list?”

Zhōu Shíyì laughed and pulled her into his arms: “No comparing allowed.”