Chapter Fifty-Five: The Christmas Gift

Jiang Muwen was still hunched over her desk, staring at the problem in front of her, not yet fully recovered from her daze, when Wen Yichen’s languid voice drifted into her ear, tinged with a trace of laziness: “What’s wrong? Don’t know how to solve it?”

The words had barely left his mouth when Jiang Muwen jolted in fright.

The girl before him looked just like a guilty thief, caught red-handed. “I—I should know how… Just give me a minute. I’ll figure it out soon.”

Wen Yichen had explained this type of problem to her before. Unfortunately, she was never very good at applying what she’d learned to new situations. Afraid that Wen Yichen would be annoyed if she admitted as much, she could only give this feeble answer.

The next moment, Wen Yichen gave a soft, helpless chuckle. Yet within that helplessness, there was an unusual hint of gentleness.

“I remember—before I went to sleep, you were looking at this same problem.”

“…”

She could hardly keep up the act any longer. Jiang Muwen glanced at Wen Yichen, a sheepish smile on her face. “You have a remarkable memory.”

Wen Yichen propped his chin with one hand, idly spinning a pen with the other. “Compared to an idiot, yes, my memory is much better.”

“…”

After so many tutoring sessions with Wen Yichen and his sharp tongue, Jiang Muwen’s heart was as still as water. Yet, in all this time, she had rarely managed a successful retort.

Resigned, she obediently slid her exercise book over to Wen Yichen. “I don’t know how to do it.”

Wen Yichen gazed at the problem, spinning the pen in his hand with practiced ease, entirely unmoved.

“Wen Yichen…”

“Beg me,” Wen Yichen said languidly, a playful smile curving his lips.

He didn’t know what had come over him—he suddenly enjoyed teasing this little girl in front of him.

Jiang Muwen looked at Wen Yichen—something was off. He wasn’t acting normally today. Wait, not today—right now, ever since he’d woken up from his nap.

Could it be… he’d slept himself silly?

“I… beg you.” After a long pause, Jiang Muwen finally squeezed out the words, mortified.

With a final spin, the pen came to rest in Wen Yichen’s grasp. “One last time—listen carefully, and be grateful for it.”

…

Time flew by. In the blink of an eye, it was Christmas Eve.

As night fell and the city’s lights began to glow, a warmth unique to Christmas filled the air.

Christmas Eve happened to fall on a Friday. As soon as Jiang Muwen arrived home, she received a message from Wen Yichen: “Busy tonight, no tutoring. Get some rest—may your brain cells survive Christmas Eve in peace.”

…

Jiang Muwen stared at her phone, unsure how to reply.

In his eyes, every time she studied was a massacre—a massacre not of people, but of her poor brain cells.

Wen Yichen’s words were laced with meaning. To put it bluntly: “Busy tonight, no tutoring. Have a good rest. You’re an idiot.”

After a while, Jiang Muwen finally replied: “Hope you have a peaceful Christmas Eve too.”

For someone as sharp-tongued as Wen Yichen to have survived and thrived this long—it was nothing short of a miracle.

Obediently following his advice, Jiang Muwen rested at home all evening, not even unzipping her schoolbag.

The next morning, Wen Yichen sent another message: “When I got home last night, I saw a giant stocking at your door.”

Still groggy, Jiang Muwen read the message, then jolted fully awake.

A giant stocking? A Christmas present?

But she quickly dismissed the idea—she was seventeen now, not a child. The story about Santa sneaking gifts into stockings hung by the bed was just for kids. Besides, she wasn’t foolish enough to leave a stocking at the door, waiting for Santa to fill it.

Suspicious, she tapped a reply: “I didn’t leave a stocking at my door!”

Wen Yichen: “…”

Jiang Muwen: “How big was it?”

Wen Yichen: “Pretty big.”

She thought for a moment, then typed: “You didn’t get drunk last night and leave your sock at my door by mistake, did you?”

She had barely sent the message before recalling it in a panic.

Wen Yichen: “I saw that.”

Jiang Muwen: “…Was there really a stocking?”

Wen Yichen: “Believe it or not.”

After that, Wen Yichen sent no more messages.

Skeptical, Jiang Muwen climbed out of bed, shuffled to the door in her slippers, and opened it.

Sure enough, lying on the ground was a giant stocking.

Red as a flame, topped with an exquisite bow, it rested quietly at the threshold, as if waiting for its little owner to claim it.

Could Santa Claus really have delivered a gift to her overnight?

But soon, Jiang Muwen dismissed the thought.

Yet, after a moment’s hesitation, doubt crept in—was there really no Santa Claus? Then what was this gift doing here?

Could it be… Santa accidentally dropped it while making his rounds?

Probably not…

Or maybe… Wen Yichen?

Turning this over in her mind, she bent to pick up the Christmas stocking.

Whoever left it, she’d see what was inside first—no sense letting a present go to waste.

She untied the bow and slipped her hand into the stocking.

Something hard met her touch—a box, not particularly thick. It didn’t feel like a toy.

With the gift box in hand, she shut the door and made her way to her room.

Heart pounding with expectation and excitement, Jiang Muwen drew the box from the stocking.

The box was square, wrapped in a festive blend of red and green—quintessentially Christmassy.

What could it be?

With ritual solemnity, she placed her hands on the lid and lifted it.

The next instant, the present was revealed in all its glory—and at the sight of her Christmas gift, Jiang Muwen’s mouth twitched involuntarily.

She stood there, frozen, as if struck by lightning.

Inside the box lay… a set of exercise books???

She took them out one by one—every subject, not a single one missing.

When she’d emptied the box, she found a card at the bottom. Opening it, she saw neat handwriting—though it didn’t look like Wen Yichen’s:

“Merry Christmas! I’ve heard you love studying, so here’s wishing you even more joy in learning. From: Your Santa Claus.”