Fang Muyang wrote a brief note to Nurse Xu. Besides expressing gratitude for her attentive care back then, he asked her to clarify two points: First, he had been diligently working in the countryside, either laboring or contemplating how to work better, leaving no time for romance.
Second, he gave up his university spot because he wanted to attend the Fine Arts Academy, not any other institution. Along with the letter, he included a box of chocolates—wedding sweets meant solely for Nurse Xu to enjoy from him and Fei Ni.
Since Nurse Xu had written the mistake, it was naturally her responsibility to correct it.
Regarding Nurse Xu’s revival of old matters, Fang Muyang considered it a good person’s misguided deed. Writing another clarification letter for the newspaper would be like subjecting her to public execution—neither necessary nor proportionate. He just wanted this matter to pass quickly, leaving as few traces as possible.
Fei Ni had always wanted to attend university, yet he had given his spot to someone else. Though he didn’t consider it a big deal, it remained a barrier in Fei Ni’s heart. No matter how he explained it, the fact remained that he had given what Fei Ni wanted most to another woman. He couldn’t even argue that he would have given the spot to Fei Ni if they had been at the same youth station.
Fortunately, Fei Ni had gotten into university, and this issue could finally be ignored—yet someone had to awaken Fei Ni’s memories and paint him as having given up his spot out of devoted love. For a man like that to receive Fei Ni’s loving care might move others, but to him, it only diminished Fei Ni’s dignity.
When Fang Muyang met Fei Ni, he was still thinking about how to explain things to her, but surprisingly, she didn’t mention it at all. She only asked about the progress of his art exhibition selection. Fang Muyang told her he had only passed the preliminary round and hadn’t heard anything since—given the evaluation timeline, he must have been eliminated. He hadn’t planned to participate anyway and didn’t consider the preliminary selection a big deal, but Fei Ni took it seriously.
Fei Ni analyzed the reasons for his rejection. The problem might have been in his artistic concept—though he painted the working people, he depicted them at rest. Now, when everyone was enthusiastically engaged in construction, it wasn’t yet time to relax and enjoy the fruits of labor. Moreover, his paintings were too leisurely, not matching current aesthetic tastes. Making it through the preliminary round was already an acknowledgment of his technique. Fei Ni realized that Fang Muyang’s paintings lacked any temporal markers.
Imitating others’ tone, she said, “The working people spend most of their time laboring, why do you insist on painting them during their rest?” In her heart, she felt it was unfair to Fang Muyang. If they complained about his concept, his paintings could just as well be interpreted as encouraging labor—only after working could one truly enjoy the pleasure of rest.
Fang Muyang immediately self-criticized: “I’m too backward, only thinking about rest. Tonight, please help me make up some lessons about labor, help me progress a bit.”
“Before the makeup lesson, let’s eat first. What would you like? My treat.” Fei Ni noticed that Fang Muyang had lost weight. Though their savings were in his hands, she had left him some money—enough for him to eat at restaurants several times a week.
At the restaurant, Fei Ni let Fang Muyang order. He ordered more than she expected. These days, Fang Muyang mostly ate at the school cafeteria, where meat dishes were rare and quickly snatched up after class, as if painting was purely physical labor that couldn’t be done without eating. When Fang Muyang dined alone at restaurants, he ordered very conservatively. Now that he wasn’t working or drawing comics anymore, his time was spent either in class or painting what he liked, leaving no time to earn money. Though they had savings, that were meant for buying Fei Ni a house. It was better to eat out together—they could order more dishes without feeling extravagant.
She didn’t stop his extravagance. Fang Muyang indeed looked like he hadn’t eaten well recently. Fei Ni didn’t know that before marriage, although Fang Muyang enjoyed life, his limited finances meant he only occasionally ate out or grilled fish he caught himself. Most of the time, his way of enjoying life was through painting. It was only after marriage that he insisted on eating well every day.
Before coming, Fang Muyang had expected Fei Ni to be unhappy—doubly unhappy, both about his rejection and the newspaper article. But Fei Ni hadn’t mentioned it either.
Initially, Fei Ni hadn’t taken the newspaper article seriously. When she and Fang Muyang both got into university, who he had given his spot to and how became irrelevant. Ling Yi’s explanation was an unexpected pleasure.
She comforted Fang Muyang: “Passing the preliminary round is quite good. The rejection wasn’t because your painting was poor—if I were a judge, I’d give you first prize.”
Fang Muyang didn’t act modest this time, instead following her lead: “What reward do you have in mind?”
“I’ll reward you by letting you play the violin for me. Haven’t you been very lonely without an audience these many days?”
Indeed lonely—the bed felt too big.
Having not seen each other for so long, Fei Ni was especially gentle with Fang Muyang today, until she saw him using their dining plates for mixing colors in the studio, and not just one.
Fei Ni found the only remaining plate in the cupboard. In her two weeks away, all their dinnerware had become palettes. Fang Muyang was working on a large painting, half a wall in size. After returning from school, he painted at home, using plates as an emergency solution. He had planned to eat out tonight so Fei Ni wouldn’t see the dinnerware, intending to buy replacements tomorrow. He had only specially cleaned the bathtub—he took cold showers daily and hadn’t used it, but naturally wanted Fei Ni to have a good bath when she returned.
Fei Ni was both angry and amused. “Are you planning to eat paint from now on?” She’d only been gone two weeks, yet the house was filled with Fang Muyang’s bachelor atmosphere. The bedsheets were new, similar to the old ones, but Fei Ni noticed the difference.
“Where are our old sheets?”
“We have new ones, why keep the old?”
“The old ones weren’t worn out, we could alternate them.”
“We’ll discuss that when it’s time to change them.” The old ones had been ruined in washing and had shrunk. Fang Muyang usually took a cold shower before bed every night, but that day was an exception—he had fallen straight into bed after painting, too tired to keep his eyes open. The next morning, he smelled turpentine and paint on the sheets. No amount of washing helped, and he had used them himself for several days before Fei Ni’s return, only buying and changing to new ones yesterday.
Fei Ni discovered that after she left, this home had become very unhomelike—just a dwelling place.
“I want to see them now.”
Fang Muyang hadn’t cared much about such things before. When sheets got dirty, washing was enough; remaining paint stains didn’t matter as long as they smelled of detergent. But Fei Ni seemed to care quite a bit.
Fang Muyang didn’t want Fei Ni to see the sheets he had ruined.
“Never mind the sheets, look at me instead.” Fang Muyang nuzzled her face with his nose. “We haven’t seen each other for two weeks—don’t you want to look at me?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be good at enjoying life?” How had he lost weight when he had money for restaurants?
Fang Muyang cut off her words, “Didn’t you say you’d give me makeup lessons about labor?”
Fei Ni gave Fang Muyang lessons all night—the first half voluntarily, the latter half not so much by choice.
The next day, Fang Muyang received a letter from the art exhibition committee. The vice-chairman had insisted on reevaluating his painting against others’ objections, and finally, he made it onto the award list.
Fei Ni’s lessons had been in vain.