On Saturday, payday arrived. For every twenty yuan, workers received an industrial coupon, and Fei Ni got two of them.

While having lunch in the cafeteria, Sister Liu handed Fei Ni a letter. “I saw your letter when I was collecting mine, so I brought it along.”

“Thank you.” The sender’s name read Ye Feng. Fei Ni barely glanced at it before stuffing it into her pocket and returning to her meal.

“No need to be so polite. Move over a bit and make some room for me.” Before Fei Ni could even make space, Sister Liu had already squeezed herself in, carving out her territory.

Sister Liu’s husband worked at the slaughterhouse, which gave her considerable status in the workshop. Even the workshop director’s son had to request her help to get extra pork trotters and offal for his wedding. Sister Liu always had meat dishes in her meals, and now she pushed her braised pork toward Fei Ni, encouraging her to taste her cooking.

The braised pork, like Sister Liu herself, was generous, with oil still glistening on the meat.

“I’ve heard all those rumors about you. Those women, just like picking on young ones like you who don’t fight back. Next time they talk about you, especially Wang Xia, you should confront her. Ask her why every Sunday she sends her kids away and buys soft-shelled turtles to make soup for her man, staying indoors all day. Let her feel some shame. And that other one… We shouldn’t tolerate their behavior.”

Seeing Fei Ni’s silence, Sister Liu pushed her lunchbox closer. “You’re too skinny. Eat more meat. I just made some sausages but forgot to bring them. The cafeteria’s selling wontons for dinner tonight. Come early to queue up.” After finishing one topic, she moved right on to the next. “I want to knit myself a four-leaf pattern sweater. I’ll come to your place tomorrow, teach me how to knit it.”

The aroma of Sister Liu’s braised pork attracted other workshop workers, and soon their table was crowded.

One female worker whispered about her discovery: “During payday, I saw that new college graduate Feng Lin from our workshop got two and a half industrial coupons. Her salary must be over fifty yuan. I’ve worked here for years and never made fifty yuan a month.”

Sister Liu responded, “We should look at things dialectically, not just from one angle. You didn’t go to college, but haven’t you earned several years’ worth of wages while they were studying?”

“The money I earned in those years, they can make back in one year. Sister Liu, you earn sixty yuan a month, you don’t understand our hardships.”

Sister Liu encouraged everyone to take a developmental perspective: “You think I started earning this much right away? I started as an apprentice too, making just over twenty yuan a month at first. Everyone gradually…” She swallowed the word “endures” and replaced it with “works hard.”

When discussing work, Sister Liu always spoke scientifically, mindful of her influence.

“I wanted to go to college, but nobody recommended me. I think that college graduate isn’t even as good as me. The workshop asked little Fei to help that graduate with the bulletin board, but Fei ended up doing all the work while she just stood there giving orders. Right, Fei? It makes me angry just watching. Only little Fei has the patience for it.”

“These days, college students don’t even attend classes. They’re always either in meetings or doing agricultural or industrial work. Some have worse education than middle school students. Little Fei has no choice. What can she do with her gentle temperament? That girl’s father is a leader in the Labor Bureau, calling our factory director ‘uncle’ this and that. Haven’t you seen how eager our director is around her?” The voice grew quieter, “A forty-something-year-old man grinning at a girl in her twenties, I feel embarrassed for him.”

Fei Ni finished her meal quickly and left the table of animated voices, taking her lunchbox with her.

She opened Ye Feng’s letter in a quiet spot.

Inside was a wedding invitation for next Sunday, accompanied by a thank-you note. Before expressing gratitude, he first apologized for his previous rudeness toward Fei Ni’s husband and for forgetting that all people are equal—if he could respect a scavenger, he should also respect Fei Ni’s husband. After the apology came thanks: thanking Fei Ni for helping him understand that people of different educational and social backgrounds cannot live together, thanking her for marrying someone else early, and giving him the chance to choose again. His fiancée was a university graduate working at the Foreign Affairs Service School, getting along well with his parents…

Throughout the entire letter, Ye Feng tells her that he had found someone far superior to her in education and career, implying that she had been the one reaching above her station.

Fei Ni’s fingers clenched tighter. She felt Ye Feng’s actions were completely unnecessary—if she had found someone superior to her ex in every way, she probably wouldn’t even remember his name.

“Fei Ni!” From quite a distance, Fei Ni heard someone calling her.

It was Feng Lin, the one mentioned at the lunch table. She was about Fei Ni’s age, wearing a sage green cardigan over her blouse and silver wool trousers, hands in her pockets. Since the director had assigned Fei Ni to help Feng Lin with the bulletin board, Feng Lin treated Fei Ni like her subordinate.

“Fei Ni, didn’t I tell you to come work on the bulletin board right after lunch? What are you doing here?”

Fei Ni replied word by word: “My job is making hats. This is my break time. During this time, I do what I want.”

“You’re also a workshop employee. Don’t you have any responsibility for the workshop evaluation?”

“I’ve already finished my part of the bulletin board.”

“But your work needs so many corrections. Even a middle school student wouldn’t make such obvious mistakes.”

Anger flared in Fei Ni’s heart. She wanted to see just how terrible her work was.

Feng Lin pointed at the character “XX Brand Cashmere Hat Fu Yi Mian Shi” on the board and said: “Why did you write ‘fu’ instead of just ‘cashmere hat’? Please don’t make such elementary mistakes in the future.”

Fei Ni explained as calmly as possible: “‘Fu Yi Mian Shi’ means ‘just launched.'” As she explained, she demonstrated the correct pronunciation—it was “fu yi” not “pu yi.”

Feng Lin’s face fell, her eyebrows twisting upward in anger: “Then just write ‘just launched.’ The bulletin board is for everyone to read. Why use two characters when one would do? Using ‘just’ is both concise and easy to understand.”

Fei Ni thought this was the most sensible thing Feng Lin had ever said, so she replied: “You have a point. Let’s change it to ‘just’ then.” Compared to her other opinions, this one was almost valuable. After all, the bulletin board needed to be understood by everyone, and Feng Lin was part of that “everyone.”

“What do you mean I ‘have a point’? Look at everything you’ve written—I have to correct every single line. You’re such a disappointment. It’s one thing to lack ability, but you need to have the right attitude. I told you to come right after lunch, what were you doing? If I weren’t worried about you losing face, I would have asked someone else to help me long ago.”

Fei Ni grabbed the blackboard eraser and started erasing her writing, saying as she worked: “Don’t bother correcting it, just write it all over again.”

“You…”

After erasing her writing, Fei Ni brushed the chalk dust from her hands. “Don’t worry about me losing face, quickly find someone else to help you.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell Director Wang?”

“Please go tell him right now.” Fei Ni left without another word. The bulletin board work came with a five-yuan monthly allowance, but she didn’t want it anymore.

“You’re just a workshop worker, what are you so proud of?”

Fei Ni stopped in her tracks at these words, turned around, and stared at Feng Lin, delivering her words one by one: “If you have the courage, go repeat that in the broadcasting room. Let everyone hear it.”

Feng Lin realized her mistake—if Fei Ni made a big deal of this, accusing her of looking down on the working class, she would be in trouble.

Fei Ni gave Feng Lin a contemptuous look and turned toward the workshop.

It had been an unlucky day for Fei Ni, with her only fortune being that she managed to buy wontons at the cafeteria. Regarding the money she tried to return to Fang Muyang, which he refused to accept, Fei Ni bought two steamed buns for him, considering he might not have money for food.

Fei Ni had intended to eat first, but she had no appetite. She sat in the chair Fang Muyang had made, reading a book she’d found at the waste collection station—an English book about currency.

By eight-thirty, Fang Muyang still hadn’t returned.

This was the first time he’d come home so late since they started living together. At first, she thought he might be eating at the cafeteria because of their argument, but surely a meal wouldn’t take this long. Perhaps he was having dinner at someone else’s home and was still chatting there—that was entirely possible. Still, she couldn’t help worrying, so she took a flashlight and went downstairs to wait for him. She started by checking her watch every few minutes, which soon became every few dozen seconds. She wanted to go look for him at the training center but feared they might miss each other if he came back, so she could only wait.

She wondered if her luck could be this bad—being mocked to her face was one thing, but surely nothing had happened to Fang Muyang.

When Fang Muyang used to make chairs downstairs, she would often come down with her flashlight to watch him. Later, when he took it upon himself to make a sofa, she stopped watching. Now, she wished he were just down there working on that sofa she disliked so much.

Fang Muyang thought the shark fin soup before him, while not particularly tasty, was generous in portion and quality—most importantly, it wasn’t coming out of his pocket. Teacher Yuan from the training center had approached him about drawing comic book drafts, offering to split the fee but insisting the work be published under Yuan’s name. Teacher Yuan was famous in the comic book industry and received too many commissions to handle alone, necessitating help from others. Half of Yuan’s fee for one book far exceeded what Fang Muyang would earn for an entire book of his own. Since Fang Muyang’s previous comics hadn’t been published yet, effectively leaving him without any published works, Yuan considered offering half the fee quite generous.

Instead of giving a direct answer, Fang Muyang expressed a desire to try the shark fin soup at the city’s Foreign Affairs Restaurant. Entry required a passport, and payment required foreign exchange certificates—neither of which Fang Muyang possessed.

After Yuan paid the bill, Fang Muyang took out his lunchbox and, under Yuan’s watchful eye, packed away the untouched fruit platter from the table.

After packing the fruit, Fang Muyang mentioned his disappointment at not trying the abalone and asked if Yuan might use his foreign exchange certificates to buy him a can of abalone from the nearby shop.

The respected Teacher Yuan, barely concealing his irritation, bought Fang Muyang the canned abalone. Fang Muyang said he’d think about the comic book offer and give his answer on Monday.

Ignoring Yuan’s obvious displeasure, he mounted his bicycle.

From a distance, Fei Ni’s flashlight beam caught him. At first, Fang Muyang shielded his eyes, but then he looked directly into the light.

He confirmed that Fei Ni was waiting for him—Fei Ni was waiting for him.

He smiled at the person holding the flashlight, and a hint of a smile flickered in her eyes too, but just as he caught it, she deliberately tilted the light away, making her face blur into shadows.

Fei Ni had been standing outside for over half an hour, her hands as cold as the flashlight.

“How long have you been waiting?”

“Not long.”

After confirming that Fang Muyang had returned unharmed, she asked, “Have you eaten?” If not, there were still wontons and porridge.

“Yes.”

Fei Ni made a neutral sound of acknowledgment. So Fang Muyang hadn’t met with any trouble—he had simply gone his own way and eaten by himself. This made her wait seem unnecessary.

“Have you eaten?”

Fei Ni made another noncommittal sound.

She quickened her pace, no longer speaking to him, and Fang Muyang’s pursuit only made her walk faster.

She tried to unlock the door, but the usually cooperative lock gave her trouble this time.

Fang Muyang grabbed her hand. “Why are your hands so cold?”

Fei Ni yanked her hand away, and this time the lock opened. She rushed to the sewing machine, intending to move the lunchbox sitting there to a less noticeable spot, but Fang Muyang snatched it first.

Opening the lunchbox, he found it half-full of neatly arranged wontons, with two steamed buns beside them.

On the sewing machine sat a thermos containing porridge Fei Ni had brought from the cafeteria, still warm.

“You’ve been waiting all this time for me to come home and eat?”

“I just went downstairs to look around, I wasn’t waiting,” Fei Ni turned away, avoiding his gaze. “As for the food, I just didn’t have an appetite today.”

Fang Muyang reached to pinch her cheek, but she dodged—though when his hand brushed her skin, it felt cold. “How long were you waiting outside?”

“I told you, not long.” Fei Ni reached for the lunchbox in his hands. “Give it to me.”

Fang Muyang refused to let go. “I love wontons. I didn’t get to eat any earlier, so I’ll have some now.”

“Let me warm your hands.”

“No need.”

But Fang Muyang ignored her protests, taking her left hand between his palms and rubbing it methodically. Fei Ni grew annoyed and moved to step on his foot, but whether out of concern for his shoes or his feet, she ultimately held back.

“Why are you like this?”

“This is how I am. It’s not like you’re just finding out now.”

After rubbing her hands warm, he moved to her face, which was no longer cold but rather slightly feverish.

“Could you move your hand?”

“If you think my hands are dirty, I’ll wash your face for you later.”

Fang Muyang kept his hand on Fei Ni’s face, looking directly into her eyes. “Why are your eyes red? It’s my fault for not calling ahead.” He had noticed her red-rimmed eyes the moment he walked in.

“It’s not because of you.” She wasn’t sure if it was because of him or not. There had been many unpleasant little incidents today, but while she felt angry, she wasn’t particularly sad.

“Then what is it? Who bullied you?”

“Nobody bullied me.” Ye Feng and Feng Lin’s words had indeed upset her, but only because they stirred up her anxieties about the future. She didn’t care much about them.

Because of them, she felt that marrying Fang Muyang was good—at her previous home, she would have had to hide her emotions.

“Really no one?”

“Yes, someone did.”

“Who?”

“You.”

“Me? How did I bully you?”

Fei Ni bit her lip. “You know.”

“Then whatever I did to bully you, please bully me back the same way.”

Fang Muyang’s eyes locked onto Fei Ni’s, his fingers wandering around her lips. “I mean it—however I bullied you, please do the same to me.”

Fei Ni tried hard to push away Fang Muyang’s hand from her face, but her little finger got caught in his. His other finger traced her mouth’s corner, and when she angrily tried to bite it, the finger reached her lips, but she lost her earlier courage. She wanted his finger to leave, but he insisted she keep it there, suggesting fairness and demanded she bully him properly too.

Seeing her unwillingness to reciprocate his teasing, Fang Muyang showed mock disappointment, asking without self-awareness, “Why are your eyes avoiding mine?”

When she ignored him, he said, “If you don’t want to see me, you can just close your eyes.”

Even as Fang Muyang tilted his head and gently brushed her upper lip, Fei Ni’s eyes remained open.