Old Fang found it extremely discourteous that his in-law had not yet come to meet him, deciding they were unworthy of being his relatives by marriage. Though dissatisfied with his in-laws, he did like his son-in-law. His standards for choosing a son-in-law were considerably higher than for choosing a daughter-in-law. For a daughter-in-law, character was most important—the ability to support his son through difficulties. Both his daughters-in-law far exceeded his standards. Of course, if they hadn’t met his standards, there would have been nothing he could do; his sons wouldn’t have listened to him anyway.
Choosing a son-in-law was different. He had a complete set of standards, like the Tang Dynasty’s official selection process. The first requirement was a tall stature and proper appearance—the unsightly weren’t even considered. His daughter was better than his sons in this regard, actually taking her old father’s words to heart.
His son-in-law had visited him once while on a business trip, and his bearing was quite good—not at all petty. Though he spoke little, perhaps very little, every word was appropriate, fully expressing respect for his father-in-law. He had specially written a piece of calligraphy for his daughter and son-in-law, featuring a seven-character regulated verse he had composed. In his youth, he had written modern poetry, but in his old age, he had become traditional. The poem expressed his best wishes for the couple. His son-in-law had accepted it, saying he would have it mounted and hung in their bedroom. This respect was something neither of his sons had shown him—the poems he had written for his rebellious sons were still sitting in his study. He had heard from his daughter’s letters that her husband’s professional abilities were also very good; overall, he barely met his standards for a son-in-law.
Qu Hua’s visit was brief, and Fang Muyang happened to be sketching in the countryside, missing his brother-in-law. Fei Ni, who came to deliver organized manuscripts to Old Fang, happened to meet her second sister’s husband.
Fei Ni was very busy now—besides attending classes studying, and organizing Old Fang’s manuscripts, she also had translation work. After delivering the manuscripts and greeting her second brother-in-law, she left to attend to her affairs.
When Fang Muyang returned from the countryside, Fei Ni treated him to a restaurant meal.
Now that Fei Ni was in school, she had a salary, and her translation work provided additional income. Meanwhile, Fang Muyang had stopped drawing comics. The paintings he wanted to create not only couldn’t be converted to money but the more he painted, the more money he spent. Awards brought him honor but no money. Fei Ni was puzzled—all their savings were with her, and though she gave Fang Muyang a decent monthly allowance, it shouldn’t have been enough for him to constantly buy her gifts and treat her to meals.
She later learned that Fang Muyang had taken up a new job—fixing broken watches to resell. She told him to stop, saying they had savings and she had her salary; they didn’t need him to earn money yet. When they truly couldn’t make ends meet, he could make a living fixing watches then. Fang Muyang insisted that fixing watches had nothing to do with earning money—it was purely to train his observational skills for better painting. To prove his point, he showed Fei Ni the small components. He wasn’t deceiving her; as he continued fixing watches, he truly came to think this way. Finding joy in small things wasn’t difficult for him.
Fei Ni was now nearly as generous as Fang Muyang. While studying, she earned enough not only for expenses but also to save a little. Fang Muyang ate her food without guilt, occasionally boasting that his wife earned money while studying, not only providing his living expenses but also covering his painting supplies. He seemed to consider it a great honor, something to be proud of, that his wife gave him money to spend. People were still quite simple then, lacking the backward notion that artists should be supported by others. Even female classmates who had harbored feelings for him despite knowing he was married recognized his exploitative nature. The Fang Muyang-Fei Ni household was practically a miniature capitalist society, full of exploitation, with the exploiter being quite pleased with himself.
Traditional men who heard this looked down on Fang Muyang while feeling sorry for Fei Ni, wondering how such a good girl had married a man who lived off women—historically, male artists had never been reliable. Sometimes when Fei Ni heard such talk, she wanted to clarify things for Fang Muyang, but since he didn’t care himself, she figured people could think what they wanted. It helped ward off some admirers—a man who spent his wife’s money, no matter how handsome or talented, ultimately lacked some appeal.
After dinner, they watched two internal screenings of films. On their way home, most household lights had gone out, leaving just the two of them. Fei Ni sat on the back of Fang Muyang’s bicycle, reporting on the stars above.
At home, they lay on the studio’s carpet, watching stars through the skylight while listening to music, occasionally exchanging glances. Fei Ni mentioned her brother-in-law’s solo visit to the family. When Fang Muyang asked what the second sister’s husband looked like, Fei Ni said she hadn’t seen clearly. So Fang Muyang began drawing for her—first the eyes, but Fei Ni shook her head, saying the eye sockets should be deeper; then the nose, but after pondering, Fei Ni said it should be more prominent; then the mouth, but Fei Ni pointed at the paper saying the lips weren’t as thick as drawn, and the face wasn’t as square as depicted.
Looking at her husband’s sketch, Fei Ni said, “Second brother-in-law looks much better than your drawing. He matches well with his second sister.”
Fang Muyang asked, “Didn’t you say you couldn’t see clearly?”
Fei Ni looked at the drawing of her brother-in-law and smiled, “I have a general impression. The second sister would be angry if she saw your drawing of her beloved like this.”
Fang Muyang teased her intentionally: “Didn’t you say a man’s appearance wasn’t important? My sister surely isn’t as superficial as you in this regard.”
“I meant men outside of marriage prospects. As long as I’m not marrying them, anyone’s appearance, male or female, is none of my business.”
“But I remember you described your classmates’ faces very accurately. You must have observed them quite a bit.”
Recently, Fang Muyang took up a new drawing project—having Fei Ni describe her male classmates’ appearances for him to draw. She had praised several as very accurate. Through her descriptions, Fang Muyang learned which male classmates had left strong impressions on her. He discovered that the ones Fei Ni paid more attention to didn’t particularly conform to conventional aesthetics, while those who might be considered conventionally attractive were vague in her memory.
“Seeing them often naturally leads to remembering. You’ve got nerve bringing this up,” Fei Ni snorted. “I’m not like you, staring at people at the ice rink. People might think you’re a pervert.”
“What pervert stares at men?” Especially a man in his forties—it was just that his skating technique was excellent, and Fang Muyang happened to want to capture static images with a sense of movement, so he had deliberately studied his movements for a long time, trying to find moments he could freeze in a drawing.
“That was in front of me.” When she wasn’t around, he had drawn quite a few young nurses. To show she wasn’t jealous, Fei Ni added, “Of course, I support your work, and looking at women is perfectly normal. You can’t draw portraits without observing people. You didn’t take up painting just to have a legitimate reason to observe girls, did you?”
“I started painting long before I met you.” For a child who hadn’t even started elementary school, slingshots were far more attractive than girls. He only developed an appreciation for observing girls long after meeting Fei Ni, by which time he had been painting for many years.
Before Fang Muyang could draw a new portrait of his brother-in-law, Fei Ni ordered him to play the violin for her.
Even by the time they visited his second sister’s home, Fang Muyang still hadn’t captured his brother-in-law’s exact appearance.
Because his in-laws had delayed visiting him, Old Fang couldn’t help feeling that his daughter wasn’t receiving proper respect there. He had always hoped to have his daughter nearby, and this strengthened his conviction. Since he was also satisfied with his son-in-law, he began considering not only finding his daughter a new work unit but including his son-in-law in his plans as well. He was quite capable in this regard and quickly found a receiving unit for his son-in-law, just waiting for his word.
His wife neither supported nor opposed his ideas.
His rebellious son was planning a summer vacation trip with his daughter-in-law to visit his sister, asking if he had any gifts to send. Old Fang decided to bring them personally—since his in-laws wouldn’t come to pay their respects, he would have to condescend to go himself and arrange to transfer his daughter and son-in-law’s work relationships while he was at it. Teacher Mu wanted to visit her daughter too.
Old Fang said, “You shouldn’t go.” If his wife went too, it would seem too formal. They hadn’t come to pay their respects, yet his whole family would go to their home completely—as if they were eager to be relatives with the Qu family.
Once his daughter and son-in-law transferred back, there would be no need to maintain contact with these relatives.
But Fang Muyang said, “We should all go—not because we value their family, but because we value my sister.”
Old Fang felt his rebellious son had a point.
Old Fang decided to let his wife take a plane to visit their daughter. Though the airfare was no small sum given his savings and salary, he could afford it. Since his wife had resumed work, she showed no interest in material enjoyment, and he could hardly find opportunities to spend money on her. Though flying wasn’t exactly a luxury, it showed his consideration. For himself, he felt the money for a plane ticket would be better spent on calligraphy and paintings. His wife needed someone to accompany her, and his daughter-in-law was naturally the best choice. Of course, he would pay for her ticket too—even without the family relationship, didn’t his daughter-in-law’s help with organizing his manuscripts deserve at least an airline ticket?
As for his son, he would naturally take the train with him. This would be a good opportunity for father-son bonding. Though they had many chances to be together normally, this would be their first extended time together, allowing him to educate his rebellious son.
Fei Ni naturally disagreed—if her father-in-law bought two tickets, they should be for the elderly couple. What sense would it make for her to sit with her mother-in-law? A plane ticket was too extravagant for her, and besides, she wanted to be with Fang Muyang. Fang Muyang also thought his old father was being inconsiderate—this was supposed to be his and Fei Ni’s trip, yet now they were being rearranged by gender. He didn’t understand why his father so greatly overestimated his appeal.
However, thinking that Fei Ni had never flown before and should have experienced it and that he and Fei Ni would have plenty of opportunities to be together in the future, he accepted on her behalf. Fang Muyang and his father boarded the train first. To demonstrate his frugality, Old Fang took hard seats with his rebellious son. Fang Muyang occasionally looked out the window at the scenery, sketching it on paper while his old father educated him.
In the end, Fang Muyang found the train conductor and paid for a sleeper ticket for his old father, while keeping his hard seat for himself.
Old Fang was deeply moved—his rebellious son had truly become both filial and frugal.