novelraw Chapter 775: City Stroll
Chapter 775: City Stroll
The rain in Paris, like a prolonged whisper, finally ceased after days of continuous downpour.
Long-awaited sunlight tore through the cloud layer, casting a thin layer of golden light upon the city.
Pushing open the heavy apartment door, the afternoon breeze rushed to meet them.
Fresh, damp, carrying the scent of awakening earth, mingled with the warm aroma of butter croissants from the bakery on the corner and the faint, elusive smell of water from the distant Seine.
This was the scent of Paris.
Lazy, aged, yet inexplicably sophisticated.
Tang Song carried a single-shoulder leather bag filled with miscellaneous items and seasonal trinkets.
Su Yu wore a pair of sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, concealing those signature eyes of hers.
Their fingers were interlocked, their heels tapping lightly on the gravel path leading to the Place du Trocadéro.
This place was hailed as "Paris's balcony."Standing at the edge of the square, the view was unobstructed, allowing the massive steel tower across the Seine to be fully embraced by the eye.
On the afternoon of Christmas Eve, tourists swarmed like a woven fabric.
Faces of different skin tones converged here.
Children running and chasing balloons, young lovers kissing in the wind, an elderly person sitting alone on a bench scattering pigeon feed.
Amidst the bustle, a sense of holiday relaxation permeated, even the dust in the air seemed to dance lightly.
Stepping into it felt like walking into a Woody Allen film.
Every step could lead to an encounter with the light and shadow from Monet's brushstrokes, or a sigh from Hemingway's words.
Unconsciously, the two arrived at a corner of the square.
A street performer wearing a beret pulled open the bellows of his accordion.
The melody of "La Vie En Rose" flowed out.
Melodious, graceful, carrying the inherent melancholy and romance of France.
Su Yu stopped walking, tilting her head to listen attentively.
The melody seemed to seep into her very bones.
She released Tang Song's hand and, standing before him, began to sway gently to the rhythm.
It wasn't a performance, just a natural overflow of emotion.
Spinning, glancing back, hair flying.
Even though the eyes behind the sunglasses were unclear, that top-tier poise and charm etched into her genes instantly illuminated the surrounding gray-blue street scene.
Amidst this bustling crowd, she was like a walking spotlight.
And standing opposite her, Tang Song, with his upright posture and deep gaze, was enveloped in a narrative sense akin to the warm autumn sun.
The two of them stood there, like a movie poster that had suddenly come to life.
The originally hurried passersby around them gradually stopped.
Looks of awe, curiosity, and admiration surged towards them like a tide.
Some even raised their cameras.
Sensitive as Su Yu was, she immediately detected the subtle restlessness in the air.
She grasped Tang Song's hand again, playfully sticking out her tongue.
"Sorry, I think I was being too flashy... Let's run, quick, before we get caught on camera!"
She pulled him along, laughing like a child who'd done something mischievous, weaving through the startled flock of pigeons, and running down the long stone steps.
Tang Song let her lead him, watching the actress's hair tips flutter in the wind.
A bright smile rippled in the depths of his eyes.
....
Crossing the Pont d'Iéna, the Eiffel Tower crashed into their view without reservation.
Up close, countless rivets and steel beams interlocked, forcefully welding the ruggedness of the industrial age with French elegance, creating a strange and shocking tension.
It struck straight to the heart.
They didn't queue to ascend the tower.
Su Yu said that looking up at it from below was far more romantic than standing at the top.
"Because if you stand on top, you can't see it anymore."
The platform at the base of the tower had been transformed into a Christmas-themed ice rink.
Sounds of laughter and the scrape of ice blades intertwined.
After admiring the tower's majesty, the two strolled slowly along the banks of the Seine.
The Seine in winter possessed the most charm.
The water was a tranquil dark green, flowing slowly, reflecting the gray-blue sloping roofs of the Haussmann-style buildings on both banks.
Occasionally, a tourist boat would pass, slicing through the water's delicate silk-like ripples.
The sycamore trees along the bank had already shed all their leaves.
Yet, at this moment, it didn't feel desolate.
Christmas lights wound around every branch like vines, dyeing the entire riverbank into a flowing forest of light.
With her pleasant voice, Su Yu softly narrated about Paris:
"The Left Bank is the dream of poets and philosophers, the Right Bank is the reflection of bankers and shop windows... And we, we are in the gaps between them..."
When her emotions ran high, she would casually hum a few lines of classic French songs.
Pleasant to the ear, beautiful, more romantic than all of France.
They walked for who knows how long, the noise gradually drawing nearer.
They stumbled upon a Christmas market.
Rows of white wooden huts adorned with pine branches and colorful balls were arranged in an orderly yet varied fashion.
The air was filled with the cinnamon scent of mulled wine, the caramelized sweetness of roasted chestnuts, and the rich aroma of melted cheese.
Like every ordinary couple abroad, they wandered amidst the bustling crowd.
Su Yu pulled him along, stopping at stalls selling handmade candles, glass globes, and gingerbread men.
Picking things up and putting them down, her eyes sparkling with fragmented yet satisfied light.
Freshly recovered from her serious illness, a sudden craving hit her, and she pestered Tang Song to buy her a freshly made churro.
The golden, crispy long stick, dipped in warm chocolate sauce.
The moment the sweetness melted on her tongue, her heart trembled lightly along with it.
At some point.
A Santa Claus wearing a red robe and sporting a big white beard walked over from the crowd, laughing heartily.
He stopped directly in front of Tang Song, pulled a reindeer doll pendant from his bag, and handed it to Tang Song.
He offered his blessing in heavily accented French:
"Monsieur, que l'amour soit toujours avec vous. (Sir, may the God of Love always favor you and your beautiful companion.)"
Tang Song smiled and accepted it, saying "Merci (Thank you)."
This was probably the luck bonus brought by the [Outfit - Autumn Encounter], quietly taking effect.
He turned around and pinned that red doll onto the collar of Su Yu's burgundy sweater.
A red doll, paired with a red sweater.
It looked particularly festive, yet also exuded a fairytale-like cuteness.
It neutralized the aloof aura around her.
Su Yu lowered her head to look at the silly little thing on her chest, then raised her head to look at Tang Song.
The eyes behind the sunglasses curved into crescents.
Up close, countless rivets and steel beams interlocked, forcefully welding the ruggedness of the industrial age with French elegance, creating a strange and breathtaking tension.
....
Exiting the market, they walked along the Seine for another ten-plus minutes.
They arrived at the famous Avenue des Champs-Élysées.
By now, it was the final moments of dusk's curtain call.
On Christmas Eve, the Champs-Élysées was a cascading river of light.
Four hundred sycamore trees adorned with LED light strings stretched into a 2.2-kilometer-long corridor of flowing light.
Cartier, LV, Dior....
The shop windows of the luxury stores lining both sides of the avenue were decorated with the most exquisite Christmas displays, like dreamy crystal boxes one after another.
Strolling among them.
Every time Tang Song turned his head, he could see Su Yu also looking at him.
The light spots falling from the trees passed through her sunglasses and fell into her eyes.
Clear, moving, and full of deep affection.
As if in her eyes, the handbags, jewelry, and haute couture gowns in the shop windows were not worth one ten-thousandth of the person beside her.
Tang Song's heart stirred slightly. He suddenly stopped walking, pulled out his phone, and waved it. "Darling, let me take some photos of you."
Su Yu was taken aback for a moment, then her face blossomed into a smile as she gave him a cool "OK" hand gesture.
Immediately after, the aura of a top superstar quietly unfolded in full force.
This world-famous commercial avenue became her exclusive runway.
But this time, the audience seemed to be only one person.
"Click—"
In the lens, it was a slow-motion narrative of light and shadow.
She didn't strike any deliberate poses, just walked casually down this avenue of flowing light.
Sometimes stopping in front of Dior's shop window, looking through the glass, locking eyes with the gorgeously dressed mannequin inside.
The glass reflected her burgundy figure.
Reality and illusion overlapped here, desire and restraint frozen in an instant.
— Lazy.
She walked to the middle of the crosswalk at the intersection.
The traffic behind her stretched into red light trails, the crowd blurred into an out-of-focus background.
Only she, with her hands in her jeans pockets, slightly turned her body to look back, exuding the calmness of one who had seen all the splendor.
— Sophisticated.
"The Left Bank is the dream of poets and philosophers, the Right Bank is the reflection of bankers and shop windows... And we, we are in the gaps between them..."
Amidst the scattered gaps of shadow, she took off her sunglasses and looked at him with a half-smiling expression.
Red lips slightly parted, eyes sparkling, a hundred charms blossoming.
— Sexy.
...
The clamor of the Avenue des Champs-Élysées seemed to still.
She didn't need to assume any deliberate poses, just stood, walked, glanced back casually.
Tang Song pressed the shutter; every frame was like a classic moment captured from a film.
She didn't even need too many expressions.
Just the angle of her neck, the droop of her fingertips, the sway of her clothes...
Conveyed all the emotions.
Su Yu wasn't just being photographed by him.
It was more like she was having a quiet conversation with him through the lens.
Using light, shadow, posture, and aura to tell him about her years of waiting, blooming, and undiminished longing.
Like every ordinary couple abroad, they wandered amidst the bustling crowd.
On this 2.2-kilometer-long corridor of flowing light.
Tang Song's phone barely stopped.
As if trying to make up for all the time missed over these five years, for all the scenery he hadn't been part of.
Frame by frame, recover it all.
...
At the end of the Avenue des Champs-Élysées stood the majestic Arc de Triomphe.
By now, the sun had completely sunk below the horizon, the sky dim.
Paris entered its most enchanting "L'heure bleue" (Blue Hour).
They stood at the end of the Champs-Élysées.
Behind them flowed car lights, trailing long light trails.
Before them was that arch that had witnessed countless glories and histories.
The tide of people shuttled back and forth in the cold wind.
Travelers laughing and taking group photos, figures wrapped tightly in coats hurrying past, Christmas lights quietly twinkling in the night.
Su Yu, still not having had her fill, took two steps forward, about to turn and say something to Tang Song.
But she found the space beside her empty.
She stopped walking and looked back.
Tang Song stood about two steps away from her, not having followed.
He was looking down at his phone in his hand, the screen's light illuminating his focused brows and eyes.
"What's wrong?" Su Yu was somewhat puzzled, turning to walk towards him. "Is there a work message?"
Tang Song shook his head, not answering.
Still staring at the screen.
Su Yu walked back to his side, leaning slightly to look.
There were no messages on the screen, only a prominent digital clock:
16:59:58
16:59:59
The numbers changed gently.
17:00
Right at that second.
Tang Song turned off the screen and put away his phone.
He raised his head and looked at the actress who was right before his eyes.
The light in his eyes was brighter, gentler than the lights of the Arc de Triomphe behind him.
"Happy Birthday, Su Yu—!"
His voice was somewhat loud, even carrying a hint of youthful spirit rarely seen in him.
It pierced through the cold wind of the Champs-Élysées, overwhelming the surrounding noisy traffic and the clamor of the crowd, clearly drilling into her ears.
Vibrating her eardrums.
Su Yu was stunned for a moment, then suddenly understood.
Paris time, December 24th, 17:00.
Plus the 7-hour time difference.
Corresponded exactly to Imperial Capital time, December 25th, 00:00.
If they were back home, the new day had already arrived.
Her birthday had already begun.
On a street in a foreign land, at the very first second of her hometown's time, he gave her the world's earliest birthday wish.
This was the first time since 2018 that he had appeared during her birthday.
Even if it was just this simple change of digits, it completely breached Su Yu's psychological defenses.
She raised her head, looking at this Tang Song whose eyes were filled only with her.
Her eye sockets instantly reddened completely.
She bit her lip hard, trying to hold back, but couldn't control the tears at all. They rolled down like broken strings of pearls, wetting her exquisite makeup, streaking down her cheeks.
Tang Song took out a thick booklet from his single-shoulder bag.
Handed it to her.
"This is the birthday gift I prepared for you. I hope you'll like it."
Su Yu took it and gently opened it.
Familiar handwriting came into view.
It was Tang Song's writing.
The shop windows of the luxury stores lining both sides of the avenue were decorated with the most exquisite Christmas displays, like one enchanting crystal box after another.
That was the first song he wrote for her, with the complete lyrics written above.
Su Yu's fingers trembled slightly as she continued flipping.
Second page: "Wind Rises."
Third page: "Monologue."
Ninety-eighth page: "Dust in Harmony with Light."
These were all her songs, from her debut until now.
Every song, every word, even every breath, every pause, had been quietly and earnestly recorded by him on paper.
Clear, moving, and full of deep affection.
Flipping to the last page.
At the end, there was a newly added line of handwriting, the ink still fresh:
All the starlight in the world is you.
Happy Birthday, my movie star.
Tang Song.