Sun Jingcheng had been depressed and listless for several days in a row. In Zhou Yu’s view, however, he was frustrated and unfulfilled.

He no longer went running in the mornings. He stayed in bed until eight o’clock before getting up, then sat on the edge of the bed for five minutes, then went to collapse on the sofa for another five minutes, and finally only went to wash up when it was time to eat.

After washing up and eating, he moved from the dining chair to the piano bench and began playing piano in the morning sunlight. Previously the piano had been in a corner, but these past two days he’d moved it to the balcony doorway. If timed right, around nine o’clock there would be about ten minutes of sunlight streaming over.

He said those ten minutes of sunlight could soothe him.

Zhou Yu didn’t ask questions and let him be dramatic.

The past two days she had also been busy. The students were on winter break, but the teachers still had to study for two more days. Only yesterday afternoon had the study sessions ended and they were fully on vacation.

After breakfast this morning, she sat on the sofa reading professional books. Ke Yu, because the clinic was too noisy, rode his bicycle over to study in the study room. After studying for about ten minutes, he rode his bicycle to the library. His reason was that Sun Jingcheng’s piano music was too sad and made him feel very heavy-hearted.

Zhou Yu wasn’t disturbed though—one sat there playing, one sat there reading. These past few days he hadn’t even been enthusiastic about going to work, only slowly leaving at ten o’clock. She didn’t feel comfortable asking if the company was about to go under. Three months ago, he’d said it was about to collapse.

The piano music stopped. Sun Jingcheng spaced out for a while, then turned to look at her: “You’re not even asking what’s wrong with me.”

Zhou Yu closed her book: “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’ve discovered I’m old.”

“Did your mother give you an elixir pill when you were little that would let you live forever?”

…

Sun Jingcheng turned back around, covered the piano keys with a dust cloth, and prepared to go to work.

Zhou Yu changed her attitude and asked humbly: “When did you discover you were old?”

Sun Jingcheng turned around: “When I rescued someone and went viral.”

“Before this, how old did you think you were?”

“Twenty-eight.”

…

The two stared at each other, big eyes staring at small eyes. After a long while, Zhou Yu comforted him: “Theoretically, thirty-eight is still young adulthood. Sixty-six is when old age begins. You’re far from old.”

Sun Jingcheng didn’t speak.

“Are you under a lot of pressure lately?” Zhou Yu suggested: “You could go out and clear your head.”

Sun Jingcheng lowered his head and thought for a moment. When he looked up again, his eyes were red-rimmed. Then he rubbed his face with both hands: “Forget it.”

…

“I’ve noticed you haven’t been in a good mood these past few days. I didn’t ask because I was afraid of disturbing you. It’s not that I was ignoring you—I thought you needed space.” Zhou Yu said.

“Thank you.” Sun Jingcheng said.

“I’ve never thought you were a failure, because I don’t really understand what success is either. So far, I haven’t met anyone I consider a failure, nor anyone I consider a success. My concept of success and failure is very vague.”

“If we say Jack Ma, Wang Jianlin, Ma Huateng… these people represent success, I can also accept that universal value. But if we say the security guard at our school, the auntie selling jianbing guozi at the street corner… saying they represent failed people, I can’t agree with that.”

“In my values there are only two kinds of people—one is people, and one is people who have made contributions to humanity. I also never believed that all people are born equal. What is born equal is only life that day by day marches toward aging and death.”

“Just do what you yourself think is right. If we’re comparing personal wealth and career achievements, I never would have married you back then.” Zhou Yu said a lot.

Sun Jingcheng looked at her for a long time: “You really are like a teacher.”

Zhou Yu couldn’t be bothered with him.

Sun Jingcheng moved over from the piano bench and sat beside her: “When you teach students, you’re definitely adorable—at least more adorable than when you’re baring your fangs and claws while arguing with me.”

“You’re really being overly sentimental.” Zhou Yu was speechless. Just now she’d almost thought he was going to cry.

“Let’s call a truce and be honest with each other for a bit.” Sun Jingcheng asked her: “Did you have dreams when you were little?”

“No dreams.” Zhou Yu answered without thinking. Typical case of give him an inch and he’ll take a mile.

“When I was seven, my dream was to be a doctor.”

…

“Because if I was a doctor, lots and lots of kids would ask me for IV tubing.” Sun Jingcheng gestured. “When we were little, everyone made shuttlecocks, and the holes in IV tubing could hold chicken feathers.”

…

“When I was eight, my dream was to be a piano teacher.”

…

“That way when I played piano, lots and lots of kids would gather around me, and everyone would sing and dance happily. It didn’t matter if the singing wasn’t good, it didn’t matter if the dancing was wild. Just like when the music teacher played piano—we’d all gather around her like a bunch of demons dancing.”

Zhou Yu imagined a group of children singing and dancing, and told him: “You played piano very well before high school, but after high school you were just average.” Then she added: “My mom said you lost your spiritual connection, started becoming dull.”

“After middle school I hardly played anymore.”

“Why?”

“I just suddenly got tired of it. Didn’t want to compete anymore or take grading exams.”

“You knew me from childhood, right? I was quite impressive back then.” Sun Jingcheng seemed smug, then looked at her: “In my memory I don’t know you—you were probably too ordinary, didn’t enter my field of vision.”

…

“Yes, I heard about the Little Piano Prince like thunder piercing my ears.” Zhou Yu said: “I read in the newspaper that you represented the city in a competition and wet yourself in fear…”

“Who wet themselves in fear?!” Sun Jingcheng interrupted her. “I was holding my pee for too long. When I went on stage to receive the award, I accidentally fell and that’s when the pee came out.”

“Fell and peed?” Zhou Yu looked at him.

…

“You’re really awful.” Sun Jingcheng couldn’t be bothered with her. Finally, unable to contain his anger, he said: “Out of all my impressive achievements, you only remember me wetting my pants. Have you never wet the bed or wet your pants?”

“I’ve never peed on an awards stage.”

“Going to work, going to work, not chatting nonsense with you…” Sun Jingcheng went back to the bedroom to change clothes, then came out wearing his coat: “Two days ago I went to have my fortune told. The master said I’m a late bloomer.”

“Hmm, late-ripening fruit is the sweetest.” Zhou Yu agreed.

…

Sun Jingcheng had assumed she wouldn’t have anything nice to say and had prepared a whole basket of rebuttals… Who knew she’d change tactics, which left him with nothing to say.

“Eat the egg.” Zhou Yu peeled one for him.

Sun Jingcheng ate the egg as he went downstairs, savoring Zhou Yu’s phrase “late-ripening fruit is the sweetest”—the more he thought about it, the more he felt… was it suggestive? Besides that phrase being suggestive, he instantly felt the egg in his hand was also suggestive… Why did she give him an egg for no reason? What was she hinting at? Could it be supplementing shape with shape? From one sentence, he imagined an entire drama in his head… ultimately reaching a conclusion: I need to treat my wife better.

…

Zhou Yu gave him the egg simply because she’d cooked too many that morning and had leftovers. And she disliked eating eggs the most.

This basket of eggs at home was sent by Feng Yiqun, who also sent two free-range chickens, telling her to take them to the clinic. Feng Yiqun was very particular about human relationships and reciprocity, and had taught her these things through words and example since childhood.

Last month, Mother Sun had given Zhou Yu a bundle of iron yam, saying it was different from what’s on the market, and told her to take it to the family compound for Feng Yiqun. After receiving it, Feng Yiqun didn’t immediately reciprocate—that would seem too formal. She waited over a month before having someone buy two baskets of eggs and free-range chickens from the countryside.

The older generation was very particular about human relationships—that was their understanding of respect and regard. Even if you sent an inexpensive head of cabbage, they would feel very grateful in their hearts. The value of the gift itself wasn’t important—what mattered was the sentiment it carried and conveyed.

And what was more interesting was that this “sentiment” had to be conveyed through the younger generation to dilute its weight and not burden the other party. For example: if Mother Sun wanted to give something to Feng Yiqun, if Feng Yiqun wanted to give something back to Mother Sun, these were all completed through Zhou Yu and Sun Jingcheng in their roles as juniors. The elders themselves never appeared.

Feng Yiqun had taught her before: if you help someone, then you cannot mention it in front of others. Don’t create a psychological burden for the other person, making them feel indebted to you.

Thinking of Feng Yiqun, Zhou Yu closed her book with no heart to continue reading. Last week when she went to the family compound to help take down curtains and clean the house, Feng Yiqun had indirectly asked about her and Sun Jingcheng’s situation again. She still gave the same answer: “We’re doing fine.”

Feng Yiqun didn’t react at the time. It wasn’t until the afternoon when it was time to go back that she said to her: “Without that diamond drill, don’t take on porcelain work.”

For the mother and daughter, this phrase carried heavy weight. They both understood the meaning clearly. Feng Yiqun either didn’t say harsh words or, once she did, went straight for the vital point.

If you can’t manage your life well, it’s because you’re incompetent!

Back then, the main reason Feng Yiqun personally went to the Sun family home to propose the match was because she knew Zhou Yu was interested in Sun Jingcheng. No one knows a daughter better than her mother—she’d noticed it when Sun Jingcheng was repeating his final year of high school for the college entrance exam. Even though the two had never had any interaction.

She wasn’t surprised her daughter would like Sun Jingcheng. Being honest with herself, she also thought well of children like Sun Jingcheng, including all the subject teachers at school.

Back then she didn’t take it to heart because she felt it was impossible for the two of them. They each had more important careers. It wasn’t until after Zhou Yu graduated from university and she accidentally ran into Sun Jingcheng on the street and heard he was teaching in Guizhou as a volunteer that she made a mental note to observe.

In her heart, Feng Yiqun was not entirely satisfied with Sun Jingcheng. This type of child was fine as a son, but less so as a son-in-law. His world was too rich and colorful, and he was too popular with girls. Moreover, he was the most favored in his family, having had smooth sailing from childhood. His upbringing determined he wouldn’t be a considerate and attentive husband. Plus he was used to being wild and would be difficult to discipline.

From the first time she tentatively mentioned it to Zhou Yu, she had a pretty good idea. Although Sun Jingcheng had many unsatisfactory aspects, he was simple as a person, without scheming, not complicated in male-female relationships, and importantly, they knew his background thoroughly. There was a folk saying: see the person at three, predict old age at seven. A person’s character can be traced from childhood. Moreover, she had been his homeroom teacher for three years in middle school. And the Sun family parents had a decent reputation—a very ordinary couple who would be easy to get along with regarding mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relations.

A more important consideration: she felt her daughter’s personality was too withdrawn. Life was long and slow—if the other half had a temperament completely opposite to hers, perhaps life wouldn’t be too monotonous and difficult. Whether they could actually live together would depend entirely on personal understanding and fate.

She knew Zhou Yu’s personality was stubborn and cared about face—whether things went well or badly, she wouldn’t go out and talk about it. So before going to propose the match, she had analyzed all the pros and cons with her. If the two married smoothly, the worst result would simply be divorcing due to incompatible personalities, or divorcing due to Sun Jingcheng’s infidelity within the marriage. After listening, Zhou Yu was completely calm: “Let’s try dating first.”

Later, while dating, they got married.

Before they started dating, mother and daughter had a dispute. When Zhou Yu learned that Feng Yiqun had personally gone to propose the match, she felt she couldn’t save face and lay in bed stubbornly for a whole day. Feng Yiqun didn’t bother with her and let her be stubborn. It wasn’t until the next day when Sun Jingcheng messaged her: “I’m Sun Jingcheng. Let’s go out and eat crayfish. I know a really good place.” Only then did Zhou Yu get up, wash up, and go out for the date. Everything afterward went relatively smoothly.

Feng Yiqun personally went to propose the match, firstly because she couldn’t find a suitable matchmaker—whether the match succeeds depends heavily on the matchmaker; secondly, she felt there was nothing wrong with it. She didn’t care about the process, only the result.

After marriage, the two had a pretty good life. Sun Jingcheng was sweet-talking—always calling her “Mom” and “Grandma”—and came over frequently, always managing to freeload two meals a week. He actually seemed more filial than her own daughter. Later on, Sun Jingcheng didn’t come over as frequently. Every time she contacted Zhou Yu, she could detect subtle changes in her. She began to hint indirectly, reminding her that when two people live together, don’t put on airs. Be soft when you should be soft, use petty tactics when you should use petty tactics—managing life well is real capability.

Zhou Yu was still thinking about the diamond drill and porcelain work when she received a WeChat message from Feng Yiqun saying the bathhouse absolutely wouldn’t let Grandmother in anymore, not even with accompaniment. Zhou Yu thought for a moment and sent Sun Jingcheng a message: “Pick up Grandmother after work this evening and bring her over to bathe. The family compound doesn’t have a bathtub. The bathhouse thinks Grandmother is too old and won’t let her bathe there.”

Sun Jingcheng replied: “Okay, wife.”

…

Zhou Yu instinctively replied: “What’s wrong with you?” The instant after sending it, she quickly withdrew it.

…Not conducive to unity.

Sun Jingcheng sent her an emoji: “What unspeakable thing did you withdraw?”

Zhou Yu reminded: “Don’t forget.”

After a long while, Sun Jingcheng replied again: “Why did you give me an egg before I left this morning?”

Zhou Yu thought about it—she couldn’t say it was to avoid waste—and replied with: “To supplement you.”