Ye Meng hadn’t reached thirty yet, but she was already experiencing a thirty-year-old crisis. Although Li Jinyu was two years younger than her, men don’t show their age as much. Plus, with that handsome face of his that looked striking no matter how he groomed himself, he appeared like a clean, slender young man in his early twenties.

Once the topic of age was brought up, Ye Meng couldn’t help but follow the common sentiment.

The next morning, she deliberately woke up early and, breaking her routine, started applying makeup in the bathroom. The elderly lady had raised rough-and-tumble boys who only needed a quick splash of water in the morning without wasting much time. Seeing that Ye Meng hadn’t come out for a long time, the elderly lady curiously peeked through the door crack. She saw Ye Meng meticulously applying makeup stroke by stroke, like a master craftsman, making her eyebrows and eyes look particularly exquisite.

“You look so beautiful, like an eighteen-year-old girl. You married early, Li Jinyu got lucky,” the elderly lady said.

The elderly lady was even better at comforting Ye Meng than Li Jinyu was, saying all the things she wanted to hear. Ye Meng was amused and turned around, leaning against the sink, pitifully complaining to her: “Li Jinyu complained last night that I’m too old.”

The elderly lady was about to slap her thigh in anger, but before she could speak, someone knocked on the bathroom door twice in warning.

Li Jinyu had just woken up and passed by the door with a sleepy, lazy demeanor. Without stopping, he went straight to pour himself some water. Along with the clear sound of water being poured, he calmly reminded her with meaningful intent: “Don’t make false accusations. Consider the context of what I said. Do you want me to explain what I meant in front of Grandma?”

Ye Meng was curling her bangs: “Shut up.”

Li Jinyu leaned against the dining table drinking water and asked with a smile: “What’s for breakfast?”

Suddenly remembering something, Ye Meng came out of the bathroom with her curled bangs, searching around like a headless fly.

“What are you looking for?” Li Jinyu asked, putting down his water cup.

“Where’s the bag of stuff we bought at the supermarket yesterday?”

“Behind me,” Li Jinyu said, leaning against the dining table. He was tall and blocked it completely. He pulled the bag out from behind him and said, “I didn’t have time to put things away.”

Ye Meng picked out the toasted bread she bought and stuffed it into the chef’s arms. “I want to eat sandwiches.”

“You didn’t say that yesterday,” Li Jinyu said, juggling the bread in his hand. “We don’t have any mayonnaise at home.”

“I bought jam, mixed fruit flavor. It tastes good with a layer spread on it. My mom used to make this for me. I want to eat it.”

The chef looked at her for a while, successfully gaining control of Ye Meng’s stomach: “Beg me.”

Seeing his smugness, Ye Meng turned her head impassively the next second. She smiled at the elderly lady by the bathroom door and coyly pleaded: “Grandma, Li Jinyu—”

Li Jinyu covered her mouth and dragged her along with the bread into the kitchen, giving her no chance to complain. Ye Meng struggled like a fish caught alive from water: “Hey, I haven’t finished my makeup!” Li Jinyu firmly pinned her hands on the counter without argument: “Stop resisting.”

Then he removed the hair curler from her bangs, tossed it on the counter, and repeated last night’s question: “Tell me, how should I behave?”

Ye Meng hadn’t expected him to be so persistent.

She said slowly: “I haven’t thought about it yet.”

Li Jinyu released her and bent down to open the bread package, saying in a muffled voice: “Fine, you’re deliberately keeping me in suspense.”

“No, I’m not. I wouldn’t string anyone along, especially not you.”

“You’re keeping me on the hook,” Li Jinyu turned around to toast bread for her. “We don’t have a toaster, shall I pan-fry it for you?”

“Yes.” This time Ye Meng voluntarily squeezed into the gap between him and the counter, hugged him, tilted her head up to kiss him on the lips appeasingly, then buried her head in his chest and held him for a long time, listening to his steady, strong heartbeat, like a murmuring wooden fish comforting her restless heartbeat.

Time seemed to slow down. She felt as if she could see the flowers outside the window gradually changing color, all things growing in an orderly manner, and even unknown seeds sprouting tender shoots in the corner that grow once in a thousand years. This man seemed to stand amid worldly life yet somehow beyond the mundane world.

How could he be so quiet? How could he be so healing?

“Li Jinyu, you are a treasure.” Ye Meng tightened her arms as if having found a priceless gem.

…

In the afternoon, someone in the alley was making caramelized chestnuts with clanging sounds, the ladle making percussive noises like a symphony. A sweet, moist fragrance permeated the air, somewhat like someone baking bread.

The two were in the room with the window open, one reading and one playing with his electronic keyboard with interest. Ye Meng, afraid of disturbing him, wanted to suggest going out to watch some TV. Li Jinyu wouldn’t let her leave.

Unexpectedly, the fragrance grew stronger, and Ye Meng craved: “Honey, I want some caramelized chestnuts.”

Li Jinyu, who was reading an administrative essay, looked up at her briefly and closed his book: “Should I go buy some for you now?”

Ye Meng thought for a moment, not wanting to disturb his reading, and held back: “No, no, you keep reading. I’ll go watch some TV, it’s too fragrant in here.”

Li Jinyu stood up, closed the window, and sprayed some sports cologne from the table, instantly covering the thick sweet smell that had been in the air.

Ye Meng understood. Li Jinyu simply didn’t want her to leave. She teased him: “Baby, you’re so clingy.”

“Not as clingy as you,” he retorted.

“Really? Then I’m leaving now,” she threatened.

He glared at her.

Ye Meng couldn’t help laughing. She went over to cup his face and gently pecked his lips: “You’re so adorable.” How could he be so endearing?

One standing and one sitting, Ye Meng stood behind his chair while Li Jinyu leaned back in it, his head tilted up. They kissed each other’s lips tenderly in overlapping positions. The mountain breeze was clear, and the spring light from outside seemed to fall in, creating a romantic, fragrant atmosphere.

After quite a passionate kissing session, Ye Meng straightened up and saw a handwritten music sheet pressed on the table. Without lyrics, Ye Meng couldn’t understand it. She thought it was his original composition, so well hidden.

“It’s not an original,” Li Jinyu glanced up at her casually. “Can’t you understand it?”

Ye Meng gave him a sidelong glance. “Are you deliberately mocking me? Haven’t you heard how I sing?”

Li Jinyu was reminded by her, suddenly remembering the song “The Youth Said.” He smiled, lowered his head, and sighed: “I should have recorded it then.”

“Why? To mock me in the future?”

“To let you see for yourself what you were like when you were pursuing me, compared to how you are now that you’ve caught me.”

Ye Meng heard a hint of grievance in his words and bent down to pinch his face: “Am I not good to you? Why so resentful?”

Li Jinyu maintained the same position as when they were kissing, head tilted back, obediently letting her pinch his face. His hand meaningfully brushed her forehead lightly. “We’ve been married for almost a month, how many nights have you slept with me?”

“There’s plenty of time, why are you in such a hurry?”

He straightened up: “The average life expectancy for Chinese women is 79 years. Although I’m two years younger than you, the average life expectancy for Chinese men is only 74 years. Calculating, we only have about forty years left together. Do you think that’s a long time?”

“Isn’t forty years long?”

“How many years would you consider not long?”

“Ten years, I guess. Ten years is one cycle.”

He glanced at her, his gaze returning to his book, thoughtfully yet coldly nodding as he said: “Fine, then let’s meet again in thirty years.”

Ye Meng didn’t hear him as her attention had been drawn to the sentence at the bottom of the sheet. She silently read it once. It was the same line she had posted on her moments.

“This is Troye Sivan’s sheet music? Is it ‘For Him’?”

—You don’t have to say I love you to say I love you

Ye Meng waved the sheet in front of him, as if having caught him red-handed, and asked with a smile: “Did you learn this for me?”

Li Jinyu snatched it back and said coldly: “Come back in thirty years, the shop is closed.”

Ye Meng smiled and bent down to kiss him.

“You’re adorable.”

Li Jinyu pulled her down onto his lap. Unexpectedly, he bit her in return, skillfully entangling her tongue.

Ye Meng was repeatedly caught off guard by his teasing, failing to counter his move, and softly questioned:

“You, you, you, have you been watching something inappropriate?”

“Mm-hmm.”

…

Dusk fell, the pitch-black night quietly enveloped everything, and the sparkling clear river stretched like a silver ribbon, winding and long, with no end in sight. Like a road of no return, it rippled and extended to an unknown distance.

In the small courtyard, a few sparse and urgent dog barks sounded. There was a visitor at home.

An unexpected visitor.

Ye Meng was sleeping at the time. The two had been inseparable all afternoon, not leaving the room. Later, Ye Meng simply sat down to keep him company while he read. Li Jinyu leaned in his chair, reading while casually playing with Ye Meng’s hand.

Ye Meng let him hold her hand, her head resting on the table admiring her husband’s scholarly demeanor. Her appreciation hadn’t waned; it seemed she could pass time this way. As evening approached, Ye Meng finally couldn’t hold on anymore. Her eyelids began to tremble with fatigue, and finally slowly sealed shut, falling into deep sleep.

Li Jinyu didn’t wake her up. He switched to reading about administrative capabilities and continued. Their hands had never let go.