Delicate Beauty in the Palm : Chapter 45 - Like Burning in Fire
Chen Die felt like her heart had stopped for a moment before it started pounding wildly again, faster and faster, as if her blood had started boiling from just that one sentence.
She gripped her phone tightly. “I’ll be right back.”
Wen Liang leaned against the car door and flicked some ash off his cigarette. “You’re out?”
“Yeah, at the hospital.”
Wen Liang was momentarily stunned, then let out a low chuckle from deep in his throat. It was rich and magnetic. After he laughed, he said in a low voice, “Little girl, your heart’s still too soft.”
Chen Die pressed her lips together and didn’t respond.
Wen Liang said again, “Want me to come pick you up?”
Just then, Chen Die flagged down a taxi and quickly replied, “No need, I’m already in a taxi. You go up first, don’t stand around in the wind. The door code is the same as my phone password.”
She had only recently changed the smart lock.
Chen Die pulled her cap lower and got into the taxi, not wanting to be recognized at a time like this. She even lowered her voice. “To Lifan Xinyuan.”
The driver dropped her off at the entrance of the residential complex.
Across the street was a convenience store. She paused, then walked in and grabbed a few cans of beer.
On the way back, the wind suddenly picked up.
Chen Die kept her head down, holding onto her hat, but her steps grew quicker. Her body felt hot, her heart was pounding, filled with a strange, overwhelming emotion.
In the end, she couldn’t help but start running.
Back in school, Chen Die had always done poorly in P.E. After the college entrance exam, Wen Liang had taken her to the seaside for a few days.
He’d tried teaching her to swim, but his methods were rough—he simply tossed her into the water and watched her flail until she was choking and coughing. Then he’d lift her out effortlessly, wait for her to catch her breath, and throw her back in again. After several rounds, she finally learned how to swim.
But her stamina was poor. After swimming a short distance, she’d get tired and have to be carried back to shore by Wen Liang.
Now, Chen Die sprinted into the building, took the elevator up, and ran to her door to punch in the code and enter.
She was still panting hard. Her hair was a mess from the wind, her cap was in her hand, and she had a bag of beer. The mask made her face feel clammy from her breath, and overall, she looked a complete mess.
Wen Liang was sitting on the sofa, cigarette in his mouth. When he heard the door, he turned his head.
He looked calm, lifting his eyelids lazily to glance her up and down, then slowly raised an eyebrow.
“Ran back?” he teased her.
Only then did Chen Die start to feel embarrassed. She raised a hand to fix her messy hair, changed her shoes slowly, and walked inside, setting the bag of beer on the table.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the hospital?” she asked in a low voice while pulling the curtains shut.
“It’s fine.” He leaned forward to flick some ash into the trash can, then slouched back again. “Why aren’t you coming over?”
“…Oh.” Chen Die moved over and sat down on the single-seater sofa beside him.
“You even bought beer,” Wen Liang said, nodding toward the bag.
“I figured you might want to drink, so I grabbed some.”
Wen Liang chuckled. He hooked a finger into the bag, pulled out a can, popped the tab, extinguished his cigarette in the trash, then took a swig.
His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. He drank so fast some spilled from the corner of his mouth, which he casually wiped away.
Chen Die watched his every move, then reached for a can herself. Just as she was about to open it, Wen Liang reached over.
Holding the can, her fingers brushed against his as he helped her open it with one hand.
Chen Die took a sip. “I ran into Aunt Zhang at the hospital.”
“En?”
“I… asked her about your mom.”
“Ah.” Wen Liang let out a quiet sigh, then took another sip of beer. “That was a long time ago.”
“I don’t have work tomorrow. If you want to drink, I can drink with you,” Chen Die said, watching him.
Drowning sorrows in alcohol doesn’t help—but at least, for a few hours, it can numb the pain.
Wen Liang raised an eyebrow. “What, you trust me that much not to try anything?”
“Wen Liang.”
Chen Die frowned. His complete calm at this moment felt like a child refusing to cooperate. “It’s okay to be sad in front of me. It’s even okay to cry.”
“What’s there to be sad about? My mom died nineteen years ago. He’s lived long enough already.”
Chen Die took a deep breath. “Then why did you come to find me tonight?”
Before she died, Shen Yunshu had said to him, ‘People still need to hold on to certain things.’
Wen Liang didn’t fully understand. He couldn’t understand why, after everything she and Wen Huaiyuan had gone through, she was still so sure—even if given another chance, she’d still choose the same path.
But somehow, because of that one sentence, he felt like a part of him had been forever frozen at that age.
Wen Liang was nearly 30 now, but he was still stubborn and tough, like a steel rod in his character kept him rigid. He had turned himself into someone cold and unapproachable.
He stared at Chen Die for a moment.
Her gaze was gentle, but firm.
After a while, Wen Liang curled his lips slightly and looked at the bottles and cans on the coffee table. “Just this little bit of alcohol, and you say you're going to drink with me?”
He finally gave in, no longer keeping up that rigid front. Chen Die let out a quiet breath of relief and immediately pulled out her phone.
“I’ll order more delivery.”
“And get something to eat too,” Wen Liang said. “I haven’t had dinner. I’m hungry.”
“You’re drinking without even eating first?” Chen Die immediately snatched the beer can from his hand and gave him a stern look. “What do you want to eat?”
Wen Liang, surprisingly obedient now, said, “Anything’s fine.”
“I’ll order some noodles—it’ll get here quickly.”
“Okay.”
Chen Die ordered a bowl of homestyle beef noodles and a few more cans of beer.
She had flown back to Yan City today, dropped off at her complex by Chen Shao. Before she could even go inside, she got the news of Wen Huaiyuan’s death and rushed to the hospital. She hadn’t stopped all day.
Now, she felt sticky with sweat, her hair tangled and messy from the wind.
“I’m going to take a shower. Wait a bit,” she said, getting up. “Don’t drink until after we eat.”
Wen Liang responded with a hum.
Chen Die went into the bedroom, gently closing the door behind her. Soon, the sound of running water came from the bathroom.
The sound distracted Wen Liang, his mind wandering restlessly. He didn’t have the energy to get up, so he lay back on the couch, eyes roaming around her apartment.
Compared to the villa in the western suburbs, this place was nothing special.
And with Chen Die’s busy schedule these days, even the fresh flowers and plants she used to keep were gone. The room lacked life.
But the sound of water from the bathroom beat like a drum on Wen Liang’s heart, waking something inside him—as if he was alive again.
Chen Die didn’t take long.
She took a quick shower, washed her hair, got dressed, and came out.
She wore soft slippers and a thick winter nightgown. Her damp black hair hung down her back, soaking a patch of the fabric.
Wen Liang leaned forward and turned up the temperature on the AC.
But just as he finished, there was a sudden beep, and the whole apartment went dark—the lights flicked off, and the AC shut down.
Chen Die blinked, stunned for a moment. Then she realized, “Looks like the power’s out.”
She’d been flying to different cities for work these days and forgot to pay the electric bill. She pulled out her phone and opened the app. “Hang on, I’ll pay the bill now.”
Even after paying, it would take half an hour for the power to come back. The lights hadn’t returned yet, but the food delivery arrived.
Chen Die was about to get the door when Wen Liang stopped her. “I’ll go.”
He opened the door, took the delivery from the courier, and brought the beef noodles and a few beers over to the coffee table. The aroma instantly filled the room.
Chen Die brought out a scented candle from the back room.
She looked down at Wen Liang and held out her palm. “Hand me the lighter.”
“Here.”
Chen Die took it and lit the candle.
The blue flame flared up, illuminating half of her face. The corner of her eye curved gently, like a soft brushstroke across Wen Liang’s heart.
The candle cast a dim, warm glow, lighting only a small circle around it. Chen Die lowered her head slightly, her black hair slipping over her shoulder to her chest.
She held the candle out toward him.
Wen Liang looked up at her but didn’t take it right away.
The rest of the room was pitch-black, except for the light around Chen Die. Holding the candle, she looked like a goddess of light straight out of a movie, glowing with a special effect.
He suddenly laughed.
Chen Die asked, “What are you laughing at?”
“I got lucky.”
“Huh?”
He didn’t explain. He just took the candle from her and placed it on the coffee table, then broke apart his chopsticks and leaned forward to eat his noodles.
Chen Die sat beside him, drying her hair with a towel.
Without power, the apartment had started to cool down. Her damp hair clung to her neck, sending chills through her.
She rubbed her hands together and breathed into her palms for warmth—then Wen Liang reached out and took her hands into his.
His hands were large enough to completely envelop Chen Die’s. Wen Liang lowered his eyes, as if this gesture came naturally to him, gently clasping her hand and tucking it into his coat pocket, their fingers intertwined inside.
“What did Aunt Zhang say to you?” Wen Liang asked first.
Chen Die gave a simple recount of what Aunt Zhang had told her at the hospital.
Wen Liang finished the last bite of his noodles, tied up the utensils, and said, “That’s pretty much it.”
Hearing confirmation from him made Chen Die’s heart ache even more. She held his hand and asked softly, “Do you hate Wen Huaiyuan?”
“I used to. Not anymore. Doesn’t seem necessary now.”
In the face of death, the past dissolves.
Besides, Shen Yunshu had still loved Wen Huaiyuan until her dying breath.
Wen Liang pulled out another cigarette. He couldn’t find the lighter after using it to light the candle earlier, so he groped around the couch.
Just then, there was another beep.
The power came back on.
Wen Liang found the lighter and lit his cigarette.
He slowly exhaled a puff of smoke before speaking again. “Before he passed, Wen Huaiyuan asked to see me alone in his hospital room. He could barely speak—his voice was weak, stuttering.”
Chen Die listened quietly.
“He apologized. Said he was sorry to me and my mother. But that he had no time left to make things right.”
Chen Die suddenly didn’t want to hear anymore.
Wen Huaiyuan had dropped a simple apology and left this world. One of them—Wen Liang’s mother—had passed away years ago. And now this apology came too late for Wen Liang too.
He had been such a proud person, but because of those things, he had lived for so long under pitying and mocking gazes.
Even Shen Yunshu had once tried to take Wen Liang away. In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to do it, but even the thought had left scars on him.
Wen Liang was only ten years old at the time. Chen Die didn’t know how he managed to process all of it and still say “It’s okay” to Shen Yunshu in the end.
But why did it have to be this way?
Why did he have to go through all that?
She didn’t speak anymore. Just quietly brought over two glasses and filled them with alcohol.
But as she was about to drink, Wen Liang grabbed her wrist. With a flick of his fingers, he easily snatched the glass from her hand. Then he raised an eyebrow and glanced at her sideways. “Why does it look like you’re the one drinking to drown your sorrows?”
Chen Die looked at him, then turned away, lowering her head.
Her shoulders slumped. Her whole body seemed deflated. Then she lifted a hand and covered her eyes.
“Chen Die,” Wen Liang called.
She didn’t respond, head still down. It was unclear if she was crying, but her breathing grew unsteady.
Wen Liang reached out, gently tilted her head up with the back of his hand against her forehead, and sighed. “Lingling.”
Her eyes were red, but she hadn’t shed a tear.
“At this rate,” Wen Liang said, teasing lightly, “you’re just going to get drunk and bite me again.” With that, he downed both glasses of alcohol himself, then casually tossed the last can into the trash.
He grabbed Chen Die by the arm and pulled her up too, reaching out to ruffle her damp hair. “Go dry your hair first.”
“I’m leaving. Get some sleep. It’s nothing—don’t worry.” Wen Liang said.
Chen Die’s eyes were red. She couldn’t speak, biting her lip hard to hold back her emotions.
Wen Liang looked at her for a moment, then flicked her forehead with his fingers before turning to leave. “I’m going.”
Chen Die watched his back.
He walked to the entrance, changed his shoes, and grabbed the doorknob.
Every movement looked slowed down in Chen Die’s eyes, like a movie scene in slow motion. Every detail etched itself deeply into her mind.
She saw his hand tighten, the doorknob slowly turning down, the door just about to open—
Chen Die suddenly rushed forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him from behind, burying her face in his broad back.
Wen Liang froze at the motion. The door had just opened, but he closed it again.
Chen Die sniffled and hugged him tighter around the waist, lowering her head as she spoke with quiet sincerity: “Wen Liang, I want to tell you what 9523 means.”
“What?” Wen Liang turned around.
“It’s the T9 keypad abbreviation of our names’ pinyin. When I was 16, that was my password. And I’ve been using it ever since.”
She looked up at him. Her eyes were wet, glistening with a longing that couldn’t be faked. “I’ve liked you since I was 16. I still do. I really, really like you.”
In that moment, all the walls and defenses Chen Die had built inside her heart crumbled into ruins.
But she didn’t need them anymore.
She didn’t want him to change. She didn’t need Wen Liang to become gentle or kind, or to turn into the kind of man society would say is ‘worthy’ of love.
Wen Liang was Wen Liang.
A ‘good man’ by the world’s standards wouldn’t have brought a strange teenage girl home, wouldn’t have drawn a knife on someone just because she was hurt, wouldn’t have acted without regard for consequences just to stand up for her.
But Wen Liang did.
And she only wanted him.
Only when the destination was Wen Liang did her blood feel so alive, her heart beat so loud
In fact, Chen Die felt that it was only in moments like this that her existence had meaning.
From the moment she spoke, Wen Liang had stayed silent, showing no reaction.
The shame of confessing and not getting a response immediately burned her cheeks red. It surged through her like fire.
She didn’t dare look at him but also didn’t want to retreat, like she had so many times before.
So she hugged him again—this time from the front—and buried her face in his chest.
It was warm. She didn’t know if it was her blush or his body heat.
A moment later, Wen Liang finally reacted—he lifted his right hand and lazily wrapped it around her waist, returning the hug.
Then, he suddenly laughed boldly, like he had just won a battle.
“You’re crazy about me, aren’t you?” he grinned as he asked.
Wen Liang, the bastard, could be so damn infuriating.
Even at a moment like this, he had to keep the upper hand—relaxed, smug, utterly confident
He was certain Chen Die was his. In his world, he was king—arrogant, wild, untouchable.
But Chen Die had nowhere to hide. She had become his believer the moment she met him at sixteen.
She gripped his shirt tightly and nodded with all her strength. “Yes.”
Wen Liang smiled like he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.
Then he bent down and pulled her into a hard embrace. The light carved the lines of his profile like a sculpture.
“Congratulations,” he whispered into her ear. “Me too.”
With those words, Chen Die felt like she was set ablaze.
The moon had finally come to her.
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