Fang Muyang said he had never attended school dances, but Fei Ni didn’t quite believe him.
She smiled and said, “It wouldn’t matter even if you did go often.”
“True, it wouldn’t matter, but I haven’t gone, and I can’t lie to you about it.”
Fei Ni then asked whether their first figure drawing class would use male or female models.
Fang Muyang said it would probably be female models. Being married, he wasn’t as concerned about the model’s gender as unmarried students might be—models were just models.
“Why not male models?” Fei Ni asked, driven by genuine curiosity rather than jealousy.
“We’ll have those later,” Fang Muyang smiled. “I hope for male models—then I could apply for the job and use the money to treat you to dinner.”
Fei Ni quietly chided him for being silly.
“Fine, if you don’t like others looking at me, I’ll only let you look.”
“Who wants to look at you?”
“You don’t?”
As they danced together, others saw them as a well-matched couple, whispering intimately to each other in voices only they could hear. Fang Muyang asked if Fei Ni would let him practice before the official figure drawing classes began—as a married man, he couldn’t appear more hesitant than the unmarried students. Fei Ni was surprised he would ask such a thing in public, even if others couldn’t hear. She became distracted and stepped on Fang Muyang’s foot.
Fang Muyang attributed it to her inexperience with dancing and continued teaching her patiently while quietly teasing her. With her heart in disarray from Fang Muyang’s words, Fei Ni kept missing beats and stepping on his feet, but he showed no sign of pain and continued their quiet conversation. Some oblivious people, though aware that Fei Ni was taken, still eagerly offered to teach her to dance, reasoning that given her intelligence, failure to teach her would reflect poorly on the instructor.
Fei Ni was reluctant, but Fang Muyang graciously released her hand, allowing her to dance with others. Her new partner was a graduate student from her department who had been gaining attention lately. In front of everyone, Fang Muyang pinched Fei Ni’s cheek gently, yet it still made her blush. He tactfully found a seat and watched as Fei Ni danced with others, noting how she chatted and moved gracefully. He sketched her dancing, though in his drawing she appeared alone. Occasionally, their eyes met, if only for a moment.
After finishing his sketch, while Fei Ni was still dancing with her partner, Fang Muyang stepped forward and took her hand, making himself her partner again. He handed his camera to the senior student who had been dancing with Fei Ni, asking him to take several photos of them. Ignoring the other man’s expression, he only smiled at Fei Ni. She protested, saying the senior student should dance with others instead of taking their photos, but he accepted the camera anyway. This time, they just held each other and danced, looking at each other without speaking, exchanging fewer words than Fei Ni had with others. Their faces were close—a perfect distance for kissing—but the setting wasn’t appropriate as others kept glancing their way. Fang Muyang spoke to her in a voice only she could hear, and Fei Ni lowered her head with a smile, her eyes falling on his shoes.
They left before the dance ended. Fang Muyang retrieved his camera from the senior student with thanks. On their bicycle ride home, Fei Ni sat on the back, arms around his waist, and scolded him: “People come here to dance. Why trouble him to take our photos?”
“I worried he might not know we’re married.”
“How could anyone not know?”
“Dance more with others, and you’ll realize I suit you best.”
“Is that why you dance often with others? To compare?”
Fang Muyang immediately sensed the danger in her words. “I’ve never been to a school dance.”
“Then how do you dance so well?”
“It’s not difficult, and did you think I’d come here unprepared to embarrass you?” He brought up his request from the dance again.
Fei Ni remained silent.
Fang Muyang shamelessly proposed a solution: “If you feel it’s unfair, you can draw me first, until you’re satisfied.”
Fei Ni laughed at him. “Compared to that, I’m more interested in what we’re eating tonight.” They had both been busy before the dance and hadn’t eaten dinner.
They sat around the alcohol stove eating noodles. Fei Ni picked up a slice of luncheon meat for Fang Muyang, telling him to eat more. She had visited the Art Academy’s cafeteria several times and found it quite poor. She discussed buying a house with him. After her niece was born, her sister-in-law managed to get assigned a similar apartment to Fei Ni’s. Her sister-in-law and in-laws continued living in their two-bedroom apartment, while the people living in Fei Ni’s house moved to her sister-in-law’s assigned apartment, leaving Fei Ni’s place empty. Fei Ni knew she wouldn’t return to work at the hat factory after graduation, so there was no point in keeping the factory apartment. It made more sense to return it and properly buy their own house. With the growing population and limited private housing available, prices would likely keep rising. Better to buy now than continue paying rent. In their own house, Fang Muyang could make whatever changes he wanted without worrying about restoring walls after painting them. Fei Ni shared her thoughts with Fang Muyang, and he agreed.
He had always supported Fei Ni buying a house, with the deed in her name. As a family, it didn’t matter whose name was on it.
Fei Ni lay on the studio’s carpet, her head resting on Fang Muyang’s arm, watching stars through the skylight. She pinched his arm, feeling almost unreally happy with university life and their own house. But Fang Muyang seemed immune to pain. When she asked if it hurt, he said no. She turned and bit his cheek, laughing, “Does that hurt?”
“No.”
“Then bite me.”
Fang Muyang, afraid of hurting her, but very gently at first.
Fei Ni told him to bite harder, saying it felt fake otherwise.
But this time, he deliberately disobeyed, keeping each bite gentle, making Fei Ni roll around on the carpet, ticklish.
The tickling sensation felt real enough—Fei Ni covered her mouth and told Fang Muyang to stay away. But that was impossible for him.
After their playful moment, Fei Ni asked, “Weren’t you going to draw? Do it now.”
Fang Muyang doubted his ears. “Really?”
“Just kidding!”
During the drawing session, Fei Ni kept her face hidden behind a book. She was reading, and couldn’t help but admire the female models the Art Academy would hire—being observed so openly seemed impossibly difficult. At least she had the book as a shield.
She lowered the book below her eyes to peek at Fang Muyang, finding him even more serious now than while dancing, as if he were something sacred.
When he finally finished, Fei Ni wrapped herself in the blanket to look. Though she had been fighting sleep, she was now wide awake. In the drawing, half her face was hidden behind the book, revealing only her eyes—shy yet cunning. Muyang took her hand and kissed it, but Fei Ni turned away. “I’m too tired, I need to sleep.”
“But I don’t want to sleep yet.”
“That’s your problem.”
Fang Muyang pulled her into his arms. “If you won’t take care of me, who will?”
They had decided to buy a house, but before purchasing, Fang Muyang proposed a new idea. He suggested buying a place closer to Fei Ni’s school for her convenience, assuming she would likely work at the school later. He didn’t mind the commute either way. But Fei Ni had grown attached to their old house and disagreed, considering the money already spent on renovations. Besides, while it was far from her, it was close to Fang Muyang—not entirely impractical. Since Fei Ni managed their money, she had the final say in buying the house. Fang Muyang’s suggestion was overruled.
Of course, they could keep both houses—the old one and buy a new one—but they couldn’t afford it. Fang Muyang didn’t mention this option.
During another summer break, Fang Muyang discovered a nice house for sale near Fei Ni’s school, perfect in every way. But they couldn’t afford it. Coincidentally, someone Fang Muyang had met while working as a waiter at the Foreign Affairs hotel liked his oil painting technique applied to Chinese paintings. Fang Muyang had given him a painting then, and now it bore fruit—the man offered to pay for his plane ticket to bring some paintings to New York, where his wife owned a gallery.
Fang Muyang knew this American trip had little to do with art; it was mainly business. To sell paintings, he’d have to follow their rules. Most so-called individuality was just packaged uniformity—that circle had its mainstream, and going against it meant not selling. Even with a gallery contract, selling his paintings wasn’t guaranteed, let alone at high prices. He wasn’t particularly concerned about money—the free plane ticket was enough, plus he could visit his sister and uncle whom he’d only seen in photos for years. If possible, he hoped his uncle could return to visit his grandmother’s grave. If he did make money, he could help buy the courtyard house for Fei Ni.
Fei Ni didn’t know her husband lacked grand ambitions, that he had no desire for overseas fame and only wanted to earn money for her courtyard. She took it very seriously, planning to convert their remaining savings to dollars for his expenses abroad. Fang Muyang firmly stopped her—the amount wouldn’t be much in dollars anyway, easy for him to spend but hard for her to earn. He said he would exchange the money himself.
Fei Ni went to the airport to see him off. Before leaving, Fang Muyang handed her an envelope containing the money she had wanted him to exchange. He told her that since he was being cordially invited, they would surely treat him well—there was no reason for him to spend money. He didn’t believe this himself.
Yet he said it so convincingly as if it were true.