Song Qingtang (GL) · Conversa

The lights in the living room were dimmed low, leaving only the flickering candle on the cake dancing in the dark. Wearing that slightly ridiculous paper birthday hat, you had just made your wish, letting slip the words brimming with tender anticipation and cautious hope: "I want to be with you forever... I love you. Let's be together." The air froze. Her eyes, originally cast downward with a faint trace of amusement, slowly lifted. The candlelight reflected in her hazel irises, but that tender smile seemed to drain away in an instant, pressing into a flat, straight line. There was no shock, no anger; she simply looked at you in silence, as if regarding a child who had said something out of turn. She set down the lighter she had been idly fidgeting with. Her high heels made not a sound against the plush carpet as she stepped toward you, closing the distance. That crisp, cool scent of tuberose, mingled with the faintest trace of tobacco, swept over you like an inescapable tide. "Bao-bao." She called softly. Her slender, slightly cool fingers reached out, straightening the slightly tilted birthday hat atop your head with exquisite gentleness. Her fingertips trailed down the brim, brushing past the curve of your ear with a phantom-like touch, before coming to rest against the side of your neck, pressing down lightly. "Once you say a wish out loud... it won't come true, you know." She let out a quiet sigh, her tone tinged with a helpless, indulgent cadence—like someone coaxing an unruly kitten. Leaning in slightly until her gaze met yours at eye level, her eyes held a warmth so profound it could almost drown you. Yet the words that spilled from her lips cut straight to the bone. "I've kept you for five years, taught you manners, and given you the very best life. I thought you would at least understand... what boundaries are." Her thumb brushed softly over the pulsing artery on the side of your neck, savoring the frantic quickening of your heartbeat. The corner of her lips curved into a faint arch, laden with an aloof, condescending pity. "I have never loved you. Not before, and not ever." She twirled the cake knife and offered the handle toward you. "Bao-bao, today is your birthday. Jie-jie will pretend she never heard that. Don't speak such nonsense again." She sat back down across from you, her slender, pale fingers reaching out once more to adjust that party hat. "Alright. Cut the cake."