Qin Yage felt a sharp sting in her nose, her eyes burning slightly. She rarely celebrated birthdays—only once that she could recall. After that stingy stepmom entered the picture, birthdays vanished. Her brother Qin An was even worse off; he didn’t even know his own birth date. For both siblings, the day they’d been trafficked had become their shared birthday.

Qin An stroked Yage’s silky hair, chuckling. “Silly girl. Cry if you need to. But after? You’re eating every last crumb of that cake.”

Yage finally broke. She buried herself in Qin An’s chest, sobbing until his shirt was soaked through. Only then did her cries soften to hiccups.

He wiped her tears, patting her shoulder. “Go blow out the candles. You’ve nearly drowned them already.”

“Wait—I need to make a wish first.”

Yage closed her eyes, hands clasped tight. A quiet hope took root in her heart. *I want to stay like this forever…*

*Whoosh—*

She exhaled hard, snuffing all the candles in one breath, chest heaving.

“How about a birthday song?” Qin An suggested.

“Ew, gross. Especially yours.”

“How can a birthday song be gross?”

“It just *is*. Those lyrics? Impossible to sing without cringing…” Yage trailed off, shuddering. Singing it would give her goosebumps. She’d rather skip dessert entirely.

“Fine. Eat up.”

Qin An’s homemade cake vanished fast—Yage devoured half in seconds. *Is her stomach a bottomless pit?* he wondered. *Especially for sugar.*

“Brother, aren’t you having any?” Cream smeared her lips as she asked.

“Watching you eat fills me up. You finish it.” He cut her another slice.

The early-maturing girl flushed faintly, misinterpreting his words.

“Hmph. Ignoring you now.” She muttered, expecting him to cave in a minute or two.

But Yage dug in her heels. Stubbornness ran deep in their blood—once set, not even a thousand oxen could budge them.

She wiped her mouth the moment the last bite disappeared, then *slammed* her bedroom door shut.

Qin An froze. *What did I do?* His pocket held one ungiven gift. barging in might not earn true silence, but a two-day cold war? Kids’ tempers made no sense.

He cleared the dishes, showered, and slumped on the couch. The TV flickered:

*“Recent violent clashes abroad targeted an East Asian couple—the wife pregnant. Our embassy is coordinating to ensure citizen safety.”*

*Them? Doesn’t matter. I dumped that ten-billion-yuan hot potato in their laps anyway.*

He flipped channels, landing on local news:

*“Several wolves escaped the zoo, entering Forest Park. Authorities urge caution to nearby tourists.”*

*“Breaking: A violent robbery at Daguang Jewelers last night left one dead, seventeen injured. Suspects remain at large. Citizens advised vigilance.”*

Two mugshots flashed—a bald brute, a scar-faced thug. Both looked like hardened killers.

*Boring.*

Qin An settled on a Japanese cartoon. *At least their animations have soul. Ours? Still building the skeleton.*

He popped a piece of Green Stripe gum—today’s winnings from An Qi. Minty. Fresh.

*She always chewed gum to calm her nerves,* he remembered. *That day in Paris… the flower girl at Place de la Concorde… the first bouquet bought before Palais de la Porte Dorée… the scent still vivid. Our vows under the Eiffel Tower, witnessed by snow-white doves.*

*Even as she lay dying in my arms, murmuring words I couldn’t catch… she pressed her gum into my mouth. Her last whisper: “Odd one… I—”*

*Her body turned cold. Only the gum burned hot on my tongue—bitter, though all sweetness should’ve been gone.*

Yage padded in, damp hair tied up, bare feet on the couch. Seeing Qin An lost in thought, her cheeks puffed like an angry squirrel. *Still watching baby cartoons? And Japanese ones? Unbelievable!* She snatched the remote, flipping channels at lightning speed until a rerun of a melodrama filled the screen. Boredom faded fast; soon her face mirrored every onscreen emotion.

Qin An snapped back to the present the moment she sat down.

*Here we go again,* he sighed inwardly.

Ever since she’d “discovered” couch-cuddling was comfier than floor-sitting—and “better for her eyes”—she’d claimed him as her nightly human cushion.

As usual, he leaned close, breathing in her milky scent—sweet, warm from her shower, layered with faint floral soap.

“Still watching this? Boring, little woman.”

“Better than your kiddie cartoons, big boy.”

“Remote. Now.”

“Nope.”

“Then I’ll take it.”

“Ha! No tickling! That’s cheating!”

“Surrender?” Qin An intensified his assault.

“Never! Die first! Haha—”

Exhausted, Yage finally yielded.

Flushed and breathless, she panted, “Stealing from your sister? Penalty: one hundred lollipops.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It *does*.” She spun around, eyes glinting. “If it doesn’t…”

She struck back with his own weapon.

After a breathless tug-of-war, Qin An still refused to pay. His lollipop debt had long passed astronomical—*and* he’d rounded down the zeros. Every time she got flustered, she’d blurt: “Fine! Add fifty more lollipops!”

Yage’s nose twitched. Her sweet-tooth radar was sharper than a bee’s.

“What’re you chewing?”

“Gum.”

“Got more?”

Finding gum thrilled her like Columbus spotting land. She’d banned it from her “approved sweets list” after hearing it tasted awful. Yet now… it seemed fascinating. Delicious. Her rosy lips parted like a temptress’s as a bold plan formed.

“Open your mouth. I need to *check* it’s gum.”

Qin An obeyed with an “Ah,” amused by her sugar obsession. *Good thing she hasn’t lost her baby teeth yet.*

As he pulled his tongue back, Yage leaned down.

Her eyes closed. Then opened.

Her delicate lashes trembled.

Their lips met—and the world froze.

*It really is gum…*

*Why does it taste so sweet? This isn’t logical…* Yage’s thoughts scattered.

The little fool didn’t realize: the sweetness wasn’t from the gum at all.