Fei Ni insisted that Fang Muyang try the college entrance exam first.

“If I pass, should I attend or not?”

“But I haven’t seen any news about graduate school admissions in the papers.”

“It’s just a matter of time. They can’t restore undergraduate admissions without restoring graduate education.”

“But are you sure you’re eligible to apply for the graduate exam?” Fei Ni hadn’t found any related information in the papers. The graduate exam was different from the college entrance exam, and Fang Muyang hadn’t even finished high school.

Fang Muyang reached out to tweak her ear. “Are you looking down on me for not having gone to high school?”

“That’s not what I meant…”

Fang Muyang didn’t give Fei Ni a chance to explain, continuing: “You do look down on me, but you’ve never said so to protect my pride. I understand—compared to you, I know nothing…”

The accusation was so serious that Fei Ni forgot what kind of person Fang Muyang was, instinctively protesting, “How could I look down on you?”

“It would be normal if you did. If it weren’t for the college entrance exam, I wouldn’t have realized there was such a gap between us. Problems you understand at a glance take me five readings to grasp…” It wasn’t quite that dramatic—his patience wouldn’t even last five readings. Fang Muyang wasn’t skilled at acting, and after speaking, he went to make milk powder for Fei Ni.

Fang Muyang showed her his back, making it seem as if he was deeply hurt.

Just as he was about to turn around and smile at her, asking her to drink the milk, Fei Ni hugged him tightly from behind.

“I’ve never looked down on you, not even when you were in the hospital.” When Fang Muyang was unconscious, he had been Fei Ni’s hope—she waited for him to wake up, thinking she might then be selected as an outstanding worker and go to university. After he woke up, she hoped he would recover his memory; if he did, she might still have that chance. Even when his memory remained lost, she didn’t find him annoying. But she had no right to pity him either.

Though her situation was better than his, one wrong choice could send her in an even worse direction… A man who served only as emotional comfort without practical value was a luxury, more extravagant than a piano—something ordinary people couldn’t afford. One needed bright prospects, a spacious house, and sufficient money even to consider it, none of which she had. Without these things, she had to give up—not even worth considering, just an automatic no.

“I know.” He was just teasing her a little.

Fei Ni doubted he understood.

“I loved your paintings even before you drew comics.” She had liked them before he became known for his comic book fees. She hoped more people would see his talent. Even if she hadn’t married him, she would have wanted him to have a good future, because he deserved it. Her admiration had nothing to do with whether he was her husband.

“How long ago?”

“Do you remember that snowman picture you drew? You must have forgotten—we were still in primary school.” She had built that snowman at school with other children, responsible for the face and neck. She’d even used scraps of cloth from home to make a bow tie for it. Fang Muyang probably didn’t know, but she thought he’d drawn it beautifully. The likeness was secondary—no one else had noticed she’d built a contemplative snowman, thinking it just looked dull, but he had seen it and captured it on paper. A camera couldn’t have done that—it would only have captured a blank-looking snowman. She didn’t know how he had seen it, which made him seem even more clever to her. She had wanted to take the drawing home to show her family the snowman she’d built at school, but they weren’t close enough for her to ask.

“You liked my… paintings that early?”

“Yes.” Back then, she had liked his paintings but not necessarily him as a person. Because she liked his paintings, even when she suspected Fang Muyang had put flies in her desk to tease her, she hadn’t reported him to the teacher, though her good opinion of him had decreased considerably.

With her face pressed against Fang Muyang’s back, Fei Ni didn’t tell him that back then she had doubted the saying “the art reflects the artist.” She had felt Fang Muyang the person fell slightly short of his paintings. If she hadn’t seen him drawing with her own eyes, she might have suspected someone else had drawn them for him.

“When I saw your begonia painting, I was so happy for you—that despite your hardships, you hadn’t given up painting.” When he’d come from the hospital to her house, Ye Feng had been sitting upstairs while Fang Muyang showed her his begonia painting downstairs. He had improved—she had truly admired him then, for not abandoning his passion despite his difficult circumstances. She knew that wasn’t easy. Fang Muyang would never know how much she had both pitied and felt relieved for him then—it didn’t matter that he’d lost his memory, as long as he could still paint, he had a future… These feelings of pity and relief had nothing to do with romantic feelings.

She had admired him then and hoped for better things for him, but would absolutely not have married him, because he was a man without practical value, and had an ex-girlfriend—though she later learned this ex-girlfriend was just her imagination.

Compared to Fang Muyang, Ye Feng was more suitable for marriage. She had long known there was no such thing as having it all—gains come with losses, but losses also come with gains. But Ye Feng, despite being older and more experienced than her, hadn’t understood this principle. He had wanted both the comfort his parents provided and a wife who didn’t meet their requirements.

Fei Ni knew that eventually, for his comfort, Ye Feng would gradually try to change her, and if he couldn’t, he would turn his anger on her, inventing and discovering various flaws to prove he had been blind not to listen to his parents. He would have been better off marrying someone his parents approved of from the start. Breaking up with Ye Feng had been for her own sake, but objectively, it had been better for his happiness too.

Ye Feng himself hadn’t appreciated her good intentions and had written a letter to shame her.

Ye Feng’s letter hadn’t hurt her feelings, but it had wounded her pride, so much so that when the Fang family’s situation improved, she would remember that letter. She didn’t look down on herself; she just felt she lacked an opportunity. During that time, she had been very sensitive—if Fang Muyang had shown even the slightest hint of superiority, even unintentionally, she would have noticed it. But he never did, not once.

She wasn’t sure she could have done the same in his position.