Director Fu was well aware that securing a house wouldn’t be easy. The Fang family’s houses were already occupied by others, and these people, having finally settled in, would hardly move out voluntarily. Times had changed—when Fang Muyang’s maternal grandmother passed away, she had left him two residences with over a hundred rooms, which his mother had generously donated away. Now, trying to get even one room proved to be incredibly difficult.

Fang Muyang, however, didn’t see it as a major issue. “If they won’t give me a house, I’ll just sleep in the Housing Bureau’s office. It’s empty at night anyway.”

When the braised beef arrived at their table, Fei Ni’s first reaction was, “We didn’t order this.”

The server pointed to Fang Muyang’s table across the room. “It’s from him, for you.”

Ye Feng looked in the direction the server indicated, then turned back to Fei Ni. “Isn’t that your classmate?”

Ye Feng had only met Fang Muyang once, but his distinctive appearance made him instantly recognizable.

Fei Ni thought Fang Muyang was beyond help, trying to act generous despite being poor. She told the server, “I don’t want this. Take it back to their table.”

“You’ll have to tell him that yourself. We only handle serving.”

When the cream-baked fish arrived, Fei Ni couldn’t help asking, “How many dishes did he order?”

“Two ice cream desserts will be served after the main course.”

“Please don’t bring the ice cream, no matter what.”

The server reluctantly went to Fang Muyang to relay Fei Ni’s message.

Fang Muyang replied, “Listen to her, cancel it. Please tell her not to worry about me—I can still afford these two dishes for now.”

The server, though confused about their interaction, passed Fang Muyang’s message to Fei Ni.

Fei Ni glanced at Fang Muyang, who smiled at her. She glared back before lowering her head to eat her fish.

Ye Feng sensed something amiss and asked Fei Ni, “He’s not pursuing you, is he?”

“No, I just helped him with something small before.”

“What kind of help?”

“Nothing worth mentioning.”

Fang Muyang paid for both tables. The money Fei Ni had once arranged by denomination for him now held no such order. He pulled out a handful of cash without counting and handed it to the server, quickly calculating in his head before pulling back a two-fen note into his pocket. While the server was still counting, Fang Muyang’s “thank you” had already slipped out, and he was gone from the table before the server confirmed the payment.

Director Fu had been prepared to pay but was surprised by Fang Muyang’s preemptive move.

“How could we let you pay?”

“When I run out of money, I’ll come to your house for meals.”

His comment reminded Director Fu of Fang Muyang’s parents. They had always been generous, but they had earned the right to be generous. Fang Muyang, in truth, didn’t have that privilege.

Only when settling the bill did Fei Ni learn that Fang Muyang had already paid, though she had intended to cover even the dishes he ordered?

Leaving the restaurant, Ye Feng asked Fei Ni, “Where does your classmate work?”

“He’s a sent-down youth.”

Ye Feng relaxed at this—a sent-down youth posed no threat to him.

“We should invite him out sometime, treat him to a meal together.”

“No need for that. There’s no point in meeting.”

Ye Feng walked Fei Ni to her building but unusually didn’t go up. Going up would mean explaining why she had brought back the gifts intended for his parents.

Instead of going home, Fei Ni took the pastry box and tea, cycling to the hospital where Fang Muyang stayed. She couldn’t take these items home—it would reveal everything that had happened at the Ye family’s house. Having eaten his meal, giving him the pastries seemed like a fair exchange.

Fang Muyang’s hospital room was empty. An anatomical chart hung above his bed, which hadn’t been there during her previous visits. On the bedside table lay a stack of drawings—copies of the comic book she had given him, rendered with remarkable accuracy. Anyone unfamiliar would think he was the original artist. At the bottom were sketches of the young nurse; she had heard about his nurse drawings before but seeing them firsthand stirred different emotions. These sketches differed stylistically from the comic copies—Fei Ni noticed more passion in how he drew the nurse. She quickly recognized the craftiness in Fang Muyang’s eyes; he must have spent considerable time observing the nurse.

A neatly folded shirt lay on his bed. Upon closer inspection, one could see that the first button differed slightly from the others—a replacement for one that had fallen off, sewn with delicate stitching that certainly wasn’t Fang Muyang’s work. The room was relatively clean, though roughly—the pillowcase was inside out, unnoticed. Fei Ni was certain it would soon be fixed, though not by Fang Muyang. After she left, he quickly found someone else to care for him.

He was quite clever indeed.

In her absence, his life had become much richer. His decision to stay instead of returning to the countryside wasn’t about following her advice—he simply couldn’t bear to leave such a comfortable situation.

The only thing he hadn’t lied about was the flowers on the windowsill, which he had maintained beautifully.

She stopped her inspection and placed the pastry box on the bedside table, leaving a note underneath stating it was a gift from her and her boyfriend.

Instead of heading home from the hospital, Fei Ni took the tea canister to her self-designated sister-in-law’s house. Her elder brother was still sent down to the countryside, and Lin Mei had returned to the city but continued to wait for him—something Fei Ni found admirable. Because it was precious, it needed to be cherished. Sister Mei was using her sewing machine to make pillowcases; in a family of six squeezed into two small rooms, she could only find brief moments of peace when everyone else was out.

As soon as Fei Ni arrived at the Lin household, Lin Mei showed her the pillowcase she was making. “What do you think? You like this pattern, right?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it. Aren’t you getting married soon? I’ll take care of all your pillowcases, pillow covers, tablecloths, and sofa covers.” Lin Mei went to the cabinet to show Fei Ni the sofa covers. “By the way, didn’t you visit Ye Feng’s family today? How did it go?”

Fei Ni could tell that Lin Mei was happy about her upcoming marriage. Her marriage might help bring Fei Ting back to the city. Not wanting to spoil Lin Mei’s good mood, she simply said it went fine.

“I must say, Ye Feng is quite a catch. With your marriage, you won’t need to pull strings—you’ll even have television tickets. You know, Manager Wang from our store tried everything to get a twelve-inch television, begged everyone he knew, and still only managed to get a nine-inch one. But even a nine-inch TV makes people envious.”

With only one day off per week, Sunday passed quickly, and it was back to the factory on Monday.

During Monday’s lunch at the factory cafeteria, the factory broadcaster Wang Xiaoman suddenly approached Fei Ni. Wang Xiaoman was the wife of Section Chief Xu from the Propaganda Section. When the broadcaster position had been up for competition, Fei Ni lost to Wang Xiaoman, partly because the broadcaster was meant to represent the workers’ spirit—Fei Ni’s image and voice were considered too delicate to embody the power of the working class. Fei Ni couldn’t understand how Wang Xiaoman suddenly acquired this “power” after marrying Section Chief Xu.

Because Ye Feng had waited for Fei Ni at the factory gate several times, many people knew about her boyfriend who worked at the Radio Industry Bureau.

Someone from the Radio Industry Bureau could naturally obtain television tickets.

After brief pleasantries, Wang Xiaoman got straight to the point. She wanted a fourteen-inch television but lacked a ticket, hoping Fei Ni’s boyfriend could help.

Wang Xiaoman wore a floral dress with three-quarter sleeves, perfectly displaying her ladies’ watch, and held out a crystal hairpin to Fei Ni.

Fei Ni pushed the hairpin back, unwilling to accept favors without merit.

Wang Xiaoman had a backup plan, asking Fei Ni if she’d be interested in joining the Propaganda Section—they had a vacancy from someone’s recent transfer.

Fei Ni immediately understood Wang Xiaoman’s intent: exchanging the position for a television ticket.

She certainly wanted the position, but she couldn’t make promises on Ye Feng’s behalf. Yesterday, Ye Feng’s mother had implied she wasn’t good enough; if she immediately asked Ye Feng for favors, wouldn’t that just prove her point?

Seeing Fei Ni’s hesitation, Wang Xiaoman smiled and told her to think it over.

Wang Xiaoman wasn’t the only one seeking tickets from Fei Ni—there was also Sister Liu from her workshop.

Sister Liu’s request was more modest; she only wanted a record player.

She made her request in the bathhouse, while hot water poured down on Fei Ni. Sister Liu volunteered to scrub her back, and before Fei Ni could refuse, she had already started, commenting on how youth brought such fine, fair skin—she had been the same in her younger days, but not anymore.

Fei Ni said “that’s enough” several times before Sister Liu finally stopped.

Sister Liu’s request was gentle—she said there was no rush for the ticket, any time would do, and if it wasn’t convenient, that was fine too. She understood her boyfriend’s difficulty, with so many people asking for favors. Her request wasn’t as forceful as her washcloth, which had left Fei Ni’s back red. Sister Liu thought to herself that rough skin had its advantages—at least it wouldn’t turn red so easily from a simple scrub. After marriage, who would dare touch such delicate skin?

While washing, Sister Liu praised Fei Ni’s taste in men.

Fei Ni dried her hair until it was nearly completely dry before leaving the bathhouse, where Ye Feng was waiting outside.

Today’s sunset was unusually beautiful, and Fei Ni’s face still held the flush from the bathhouse water, the color not quite faded.

As usual, they went to a restaurant near the factory.

Ye Feng brought up his mother first: “Someone gave me tickets to ‘The Yellow River.’ Let’s go with my mother this Sunday.”

“You two go ahead, I have something else to do.” Fei Ni could understand the filial relationship between Ye Feng and his mother, but she had no desire to participate.

“Are you still upset about yesterday?”

“No.”

“You should spend more time with my mother. She’s a good person—once she gets to know you, she’ll like you. You should have shown your skills yesterday; my mother likes girls who can play the piano.”

“I don’t need them to like me, I just need them to respect me.”

“My mother was inconsiderate that day, but she won’t be like that anymore. She’s the elder, so it’s hard for her to apologize directly—try to understand. After we’re married, you’ll all be living under the same roof. I hope you can get along well.”