It took less than three months from Mu Jing’s first meeting with Qu Hua to their marriage. During this time, they met fewer than ten times, with a month’s gap between their fifth and sixth meetings.
Each meeting was initiated by Qu Hua. During their fifth meeting, Qu Hua brought up Mu Jing’s family background. Mu Jing was only briefly surprised that Qu Hua had investigated her circumstances, quickly accepting it. He asked if she had severed ties with her parents. Mu Jing should have truthfully said yes, but for some reason that day, she told Qu Hua no.
This lie brought her no benefit, yet she told it anyway. She countered Qu Hua: “My father’s surname is Fang, my mother’s is Mu—how could I sever ties with them? My parents made mistakes, but they never wronged me. Did my brother’s severing ties with our parents prevent him from getting injured while saving someone?”
Qu Hua calmly watched Mu Jing, waiting for her to compose herself.
Mu Jing finally realized her impropriety—they had only met a few times, not enough to warrant such a conversation. She forced a smile, “I was just joking earlier. I hope you’ll forget it immediately.”
“You’re right, the movie was indeed quite good.” Qu Hua immediately caught Mu Jing’s meaning, indicating he had already forgotten what she’d said.
Despite their awkward conversation, Qu Hua insisted on walking Mu Jing back to her school dormitory. Standing downstairs, watching Qu Hua’s retreating figure, Mu Jing knew they would never meet again. Over the years, she’d had suitors, including some who inquired about her marital status after just one meeting, but these talented young men would shy away upon learning of her background. They might reluctantly marry a wife who couldn’t help their advancement, but one who might hinder their future was unacceptable. Qu Hua would be no different.
Her intense reaction earlier had been completely unnecessary.
Afterward, Qu Hua didn’t contact Mu Jing again, which didn’t surprise her.
What did surprise her was Qu Hua’s return to her school. A surgical doctor at the hospital surely wouldn’t be this free, spending his precious rest time on her. Qu Hua didn’t explain his month-long silence—they both understood, so no explanation was necessary. Mu Jing showed no displeasure; most people with any temper would think, “Who do you think you are, contacting or not contacting as you please?” But Mu Jing accepted it all. As if they had never lost contact, they went to another movie.
She had seen too many unsuitable men; compared to them, Qu Hua was already quite good—at least he still contacted her after weighing the pros and cons. His good background was tempting to her, and she liked the antiseptic smell on him; she liked clean men.
She told Qu Hua, “I’ve never contacted my parents all these years. What I said last time was out of anger—too many people have questioned me about my background, and I was tired of it.” This was a gesture of goodwill toward Qu Hua, taking responsibility for their previous unpleasant parting.
After the movie ended, Qu Hua suddenly asked, “Do you like Renoir’s paintings?”
That art album had contained Renoir’s work—he had indeed looked through her album, leaving that faint antiseptic smell.
Mu Jing feigned surprise as if hearing the name for the first time. “Who’s that? Does he paint?”
Qu Hua said half-mockingly, “Yes, a local painter.” Was it necessary? Lying about such a small matter.
Mu Jing’s partial honesty only emerged when she lost emotional control; now she had her emotions well in check.
“Oh, I don’t know much about painters.” As if Renoir were still alive and living nearby. Mu Jing caught the sarcasm in Qu Hua’s voice—they both knew who Renoir was, yet both pretended ignorance.
“If you won’t be honest with me about such small things, why do you still come to movies with me?”
A rhetorical question—because she saw him as a potential marriage prospect. As for why she considered him a potential husband, Mu Jing believed Qu Hua knew part of the reason.
Mu Jing countered, “How am I not being honest with you?” She asked calmly, and receiving no answer, added understanding, “Do you really like that painter? You can tell me about him if you’d like. Sometimes I think someone who can handle a scalpel must also be good at painting.”
Qu Hua didn’t tell her about it; instead, he invited her to watch ballet.
Their conversations always remained superficial, never touching on substance.
They watched ballet once more, after which Qu Hua told Mu Jing, “You don’t seem curious about anything.” Sometimes he felt her interaction with him was very purposeful, yet she never showed any curiosity about his family and hadn’t even asked.
“What do you mean?”
Everything—not just his family.
“Let’s get married.”
Mu Jing finally showed curiosity: “Why?”
Qu Hua answered honestly, “My grandmother hopes to see me married before she passes away.”
“Why me?” Although Mu Jing’s interactions with Qu Hua were marriage-oriented, this was still completely unexpected. Qu Hua had contacted her again for marriage, but even if he wanted to marry immediately, others would be willing. Since he had already chosen to stop contact because of her family background, why choose her as a marriage partner? Because he fell in love with her? At this thought, Mu Jing smiled slightly, a smile tinged with mockery.
“Why not you?”
“Would your parents agree?” Mu Jing had previously thought marriage with Qu Hua possible, but after hearing about his family situation, she lost hope—she seemed mismatched with his family in every way.
“A man my age who can’t make his own decisions has lived in vain. Oh, before asking for your consent, I should tell you about my situation.”
Qu Hua had long since investigated Mu Jing’s career and family situation, while Mu Jing’s knowledge of his circumstances remained at the level of speculation.
Though they had no matchmaker, Qu Hua turned it into a formal marriage arrangement. He started with his profession and then introduced his parents to Mu Jing.
She had always thought Qu Hua’s parents worked in the hospital; he showed no martial spirit, the only connection to his family background being when he dislocated that man’s joint on the train.
Next came meeting the parents. Although Mu Jing knew Qu Hua came from a good background, she was still surprised when she first saw his house. Qu Hua had been reserved in discussing his family situation. There were sentries outside the compound, and it was a walk to his house. Qu Hua finally stopped before a two-story building enclosed by its yard, where flowers bloomed beautifully. Mu Jing had seen and lived in better houses before, but these two kinds of “better” were different—her family’s former “better” had only brought trouble.
Whatever Qu Hua had told his parents, they were very polite to her, showing no dissatisfaction.
Before Mu Jing met his parents, Qu Hua had told them about her family, including her brother who was injured while saving someone. His mother was hesitant—while unsatisfied with Mu Jing’s family situation, her son was thirty and should be married. Since his previous girlfriend’s death, he hadn’t dated anyone else, and she wanted Qu Hua to marry soon. Moreover, it was his grandmother’s wish; the old lady was bedridden with serious illness and most wanted to see her grandson married. Finally, the filial old Qu made the decision, saying children are children, parents are parents—there are plenty of cases where heroic fathers have cowardly sons. When he said this, his wife glared at him, but he pretended not to notice, adding that there were also plenty of cases of cowardly fathers with heroic sons, like Mu Jing’s brother.
In their family, old Qu had always been the decision-maker. Once he spoke, Qu Hua and Mu Jing’s marriage was essentially settled.
Upon first meeting Mu Jing, Qu Hua’s parents immediately understood why their son would suddenly decide to marry this girl after being single for so long.
Mu Jing’s profile was seventy percent similar to Qu Hua’s former girlfriend, though their temperaments were completely different—one dynamic, one static.
Mu Jing and Qu Hua’s wedding was held in the hospital cafeteria, as it was close to his grandmother.
The wedding was attended by Qu’s family and friends; none of her relatives were present. Her parents were undergoing reform through labor, her brother was in the hospital, and her older brother’s whereabouts were unknown. Over the years, first people had distanced themselves from her, then she gradually distanced herself from people. She had no close friends to confide in and hadn’t planned to invite anyone to her wedding. Though everything was simple, having no one from the bride’s side was still inappropriate, so her mother-in-law took the initiative to invite her department head and several colleagues, to make up one table.
Qu Hua’s grandmother was wheeled into the cafeteria to witness her grandson’s wedding. The wedding mixed old and new customs; facing grandmother meant following the old ways. The grandmother held Mu Jing’s hand and said, “Yan Yan looks beautiful today,” then gave her a red envelope. Everyone at the wedding watched Mu Jing, waiting for her reaction. Mu Jing didn’t clarify that she wasn’t Yan Yan, just said “Thank you, Grandmother” and accepted the red envelope with a smile. No one corrected the mistake with the seriously ill old lady, and the ceremony continued.
Qu Hua had said she resembled someone—presumably this Yan Yan.
On their wedding night, Qu Hua stayed at the hospital with his grandmother, while Mu Jing lay alone in their marriage bed. The bed was large, without any antiseptic smell. The bridal chamber was on the second floor, originally Qu Hua’s room. Qu Hua was the second son; his older brother was away long-term, leaving him living alone with his parents in this two-story building.
Mu Jing thought back to her meeting with Qu Hua two months ago, how kind he had been to her at first sight, probably because she resembled this Yan Yan. Qu Hua chose to marry to fulfill his grandmother’s dying wish; choosing to marry her—one word, “resemblance,” was enough.
Lying in bed, Mu Jing thought, thank you, Yan Yan—she temporarily didn’t have to worry about her background. This was the only good thing about this marriage.
The next morning, Mu Jing woke to an empty bed. Opening the curtains before dawn, she put on clothes and wrote a family letter, only to realize she had nowhere to send it.
She got up to arrange her clothes. The room’s wardrobe held Qu Hua’s clothes sparsely hung. She initially thought to consolidate Qu Hua’s clothes to one side, making space for hers, but after consideration, left his clothes where they were. Her clothes remained in her suitcase.
Breakfast was with her in-laws.
Although Qu Hua’s mother wasn’t entirely satisfied with her daughter-in-law, she felt bad that her son hadn’t spent his wedding night with his bride, and was very polite to Mu Jing.