Good things put people in high spirits. Lu Xingyan, who was never good at holding his liquor, somehow broke his personal drinking record while keeping his father company and, for once, did not get drunk.
Later, Lu Yong’s driver brought him back. On the way, Lu Xingyan stopped at a flower shop and bought a bouquet of red roses. The card read: “An apology to my wife, who missed me.”
Jiang Ji got goosebumps from how cheesy it was and reminded him to get himself together and not forget about his stream.
It was the evening of June 29. The scorching sun had finally retreated, night was slowly settling in, and a slender crescent moon rose above the horizon.
Jiang Ji was in such a good mood that, unusually, he stayed with Lu Xingyan during the stream. He cut up a plate of watermelon for them to share. As soon as the stream ended, they went into the bedroom and made up for what they had not gotten enough of the night before, completely forgetting that the next day was a workday.
A workday would have been one thing. What was truly ridiculous was that the next morning, while lazily brushing his teeth, Lu Xingyan suddenly froze as his memory came rushing back. “Wait. Today is my graduation ceremony!”
Jiang Ji: “…”
That someone could be stupid enough to forget his own graduation ceremony left Jiang Ji speechless. He hurried Lu Xingyan through washing up and changing clothes. If they left now, they could still make it to the university in time.
“Come with me,” Lu Xingyan pleaded.
“Fine.” Jiang Ji had nothing urgent that morning, so postponing work for a while would not matter.
Jiang Ji drove while Lu Xingyan busied himself in the passenger seat, contacting his teacher, checking the class group chat, telling Lu Yong that he was graduating, and even squeezing in time to post on Moments: “One chapter of life ends, another begins. Everything is good. Grateful to Heaven.”
Jiang Ji glanced over. “Isn’t it a little early to post that? You should have waited until you had a photo in your graduation gown.”
“That’s fine. I’ll post again after we take pictures.” Lu Xingyan asked for his opinion. “Can I post one of us together? Bro, will you take a few photos with me later?”
Speaking of photos reminded Lu Xingyan of Jiang Ji’s birthday present again.
Jiang Ji’s birthday was July 27, still some time away. Conveniently, they had rented their current apartment for only a month, so the lease would expire around his birthday.
Once the graduation ceremony was over, Lu Xingyan created a family group chat and sent in the photos. Jiang Ji and Lu Yong did not say much, but Lu Xingyan and Jiang Wanyi chatted away. When Jiang Ji’s birthday came up, they reached a unanimous decision: they would celebrate it at home.
By then, the whole family could put their grievances behind them and truly make peace. Jiang Ji and Lu Xingyan could also move home and return to their normal lives.
That was the good part. The downside, as Lu Xingyan put it, was: “How are we supposed to divide the rooms after we move back? Can we still sleep together? Would it be bad if we got too carried away?”
“…”
His concern was reasonable, and Jiang Ji had no idea how to solve it either. Their parents would probably understand, but someone still had to be the one to say it out loud—to suggest combining their bedrooms into one. They might even need to do some minor renovations and replace the bed.
After thinking it over for a long while, Jiang Ji decided this difficult task was better left to Lu Xingyan. He had no intention of embarrassing himself in front of their parents.
Lu Xingyan had no fear of embarrassment and readily accepted the assignment.
As the saying went, as long as you were not embarrassed, the embarrassed ones would be everyone else. Lu Xingyan directly tagged Lu Yong and Jiang Wanyi in the family group chat and said without the slightest hesitation, “Dad, Mom, Bro and I will be moving back home after a while. From now on, we’re going to sleep in the same room.”
Lu Xingyan: “I’m thinking of knocking down the wall between our bedrooms and renovating them into one. We can make a separate gaming room next door for streaming. What do you think?”
Lu Xingyan: “Oh, and we’ll need a new bed. Might as well replace the furniture too. We can treat it as our newlywed room. New marriage, new atmosphere.”
The group chat fell completely silent.
Two minutes later, Lu Xingyan sent a cutesy sticker reminding them, “Someone answer me.”
For the sake of him finally changing how he addressed her and calling her “Mom,” Jiang Wanyi stepped forward. “That should be fine. But renovating will be troublesome, and you’ll need time to air the room out afterward. Won’t that mean you two have to stay outside longer?”
Lu Xingyan: “That’s fine. We’ll just treat it like an extended honeymoon.”
Lu Xingyan: “[so sweet.jpg]”
After a long silence, Jiang Wanyi replied with a formal smiling emoji.
Jiang Ji suspected his mother had never been this embarrassed in her life. He immediately stepped in to change the subject. Unfortunately, there was no obvious new topic to introduce, so he opened a news site and copied the first headline he saw.
Jiang Ji: “Click here: [Trump’s approval rating falls to historic low…]”
Unfortunately, nobody cared about Trump.
Lu Xingyan had no shame about flaunting their relationship in front of their parents. The moment Jiang Ji appeared in the chat, he sent a long string of kissing stickers and asked, “Bro, did you send that to the wrong group?”
Lu Xingyan: “We’re discussing the newlywed-room renovation. Any thoughts?”
Jiang Ji: “.”
Jiang Ji had no particular ideas. A simple renovation would be enough. The design should match the other rooms and blend with the villa’s overall style; otherwise it would look out of place.
In the end, Lu Xingyan handled everything anyway. After all, he had the most free time in the family.
From early July until Jiang Ji’s birthday, a little over twenty days later, Lu Xingyan spent his mornings researching renovations and choosing furniture and decorations, his afternoons writing code and continuing to refine the birthday present, and his evenings streaming without interruption. He was plenty busy himself.
They extended the apartment lease by another two months and planned to consider moving home around National Day.
Jiang Wanyi and Lu Yong let the two sons do whatever they wanted and did not rush them at all. Their acceptance grew steadily too. They had even started quietly liking the Moments posts where Lu Xingyan subtly showed off their relationship.
That outrageously unfilial son secretly told Jiang Ji, “I’m very pleased. Mom and Dad are teachable.”
“…”
Jiang Ji happened to be in a meeting when he received the message. Unusually, he failed to hold it in and laughed aloud in front of everyone. Every person in the conference room immediately turned to stare at him in astonishment.
One of the employees he was closer to asked, “President Jiang, you seem to have been in a particularly good mood lately. Something worth celebrating?”
“Yes.” Jiang Ji answered frankly, “I’ll hand out some wedding candy later.”
Now that was major news. Rumors that “Jiang Ji might be married” quickly spread through the company. Some people sincerely congratulated him, some quietly had their hearts broken, and even more wondered who his partner was, but there was nowhere to ask.
Miss Jeanne, his female assistant, was the closest person to the truth, yet the oblivious woman still had not figured out Jiang Ji and Lu Xingyan’s real relationship.
July 27 arrived—Jiang Ji’s birthday.
Although a birthday was a personal anniversary unique to each person, Jiang Ji had never placed much importance on his. Every year was ordinary: order a cake, have dinner with the family, receive a few presents from relatives and friends. Nothing more.
If someone asked whether any of Jiang Ji’s twenty-odd birthdays had been particularly memorable, his answer would have been no.
Lu Xingyan disagreed. “There was one. You just don’t remember.”
“What?”
“On your twentieth birthday, I played ‘Ode to Joy’ for you.”
“…Was that especially memorable?”
Not when I didn’t love you.
But today they were already in love, and when Jiang Ji looked back, everything in the past seemed to take on a different color. He suddenly remembered Lu Xingyan’s expression that day: outwardly reluctant when he was pushed toward the piano, yet playing with extraordinary seriousness. Afterward, he had seemed a little shy, afraid Jiang Ji would not like it, and hurried to make excuses in advance. “I haven’t played piano in years. I’m rusty.”
Back then, Lu Xingyan’s eyes had been full of anticipation. He wanted to be praised. Jiang Ji could tell, so he deliberately withheld it. “Not bad. At least you didn’t play anything wrong.”
Lu Xingyan had pursed his lips. “Tch. Who could mess up a piece this easy…”
There were countless fragments of memory like that, like gemstones scattered along the road of their youth, decorating Jiang Ji’s long and otherwise monotonous adolescence.
Today, they had come home for his birthday, and Lu Xingyan played “Ode to Joy” once again.
The piano, which had languished unseen for years, had been moved down from the third floor. Birthday decorations covered the living-room walls. Jiang Wanyi had personally cooked the food, Lu Yong had baked the cake, and Jiang Ji, the birthday boy, sat surrounded by them all, the corners of his mouth unconsciously curving upward.
Before they cut the cake, Lu Xingyan presented the birthday gift he had painstakingly made. He installed the software on Jiang Ji’s computer, connected it to the projector, and displayed it on the large screen.
“Bro, try it yourself.” Lu Xingyan moved aside and let Jiang Ji take over.
Jiang Ji opened the program. The screen flashed, and a pink heart appeared. It was not realistic, but drawn in an extremely cute, simple cartoon style. There was no need to guess who had drawn it.
“It’s called A Heart. There’s a lot in it, so you won’t finish looking through everything right away.” Lu Xingyan turned toward their parents with a grin. “And some of it isn’t suitable for them to see.”
“…” Jiang Ji laughed too. “Then we’ll look at it after we go back tonight.”
“No, there’s a lottery.”
“A lottery?”
“Yeah.” Lu Xingyan placed his hand over Jiang Ji’s and expertly opened a secondary page.
The software was simple but by no means crude, packed with content and obvious care. Before Jiang Ji could clearly see what Lu Xingyan had opened, a block of text half-hidden in the background flashed by. Brilliant fireworks burst across the screen, followed by a large wheel-shaped lottery machine.
There were ten prizes in the pool. Five were physical items—things like cameras and watches, all expensive but otherwise nothing special. The other five were virtual prizes labeled: “Revealed only if drawn.”
Jiang Ji’s curiosity was piqued. “How many times can I draw?”
“Once.” Lu Xingyan smiled mysteriously. “Go on.”
“…”
Jiang Ji pressed the button. The wheel spun rapidly. Just as he had hoped, the pointer landed on one of the “Revealed only if drawn” prizes. The answer popped up in the middle of the screen—
【Congratulations, Jiang Ji! All the prizes belong to you ^3^】
“All the prizes” included the other four unrevealed rewards:
① A wish check (Jiang Ji may fill it in freely);
② One “I love you” from Lu Xingyan every day (frequency may be increased as appropriate);
③ Twelve-year-old Lu Xingyan will tell you the story of how he fell in love with Jiang Ji at first sight (very touching);
④ One chance to grow old together with Lu Xingyan (no returns accepted).
Jiang Ji: “…”
For some reason, he felt as though he had been tricked.
No. He was being coaxed.
Lu Xingyan had gone to all this elaborate trouble, circling around in every possible way just to make him happy. He really had put a great deal of thought into it.
“Wait.” Jiang Ji suddenly realized something. “This lottery isn’t random, is it?”
“Right. No matter how many times you draw, the result will be the same.”
Jiang Ji: “…”
He really had put a great deal of thought into it.
Jiang Ji covered his forehead and laughed, finding Lu Xingyan childish and yet deeply moving at the same time. He hid his momentary loss of composure, and only after a while did he turn back to the dining table to cut the cake.
“Don’t forget to make a wish,” Jiang Wanyi reminded him. “And don’t say your birthday wish out loud, or it won’t come true.”
She and Lu Yong helped light the candles while Lu Xingyan sat down at the piano and played “Happy Birthday.”
Jiang Ji closed his eyes and clasped his hands together.
He could not possibly be any happier than he already was. He wished only that every year would have a day like today, every age a moment like this.
Beyond that, he asked nothing more of this life.
End of The Deception Plan Main Story.
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