Fang Muyang went straight to his parents’ home from the airport. Before leaving, he had asked Fei Ni to move in with his parents—they could look after each other, and she wouldn’t have to worry about meals. He arrived still wearing his self-decorated T-shirt. Old Fang saw his daughter-in-law’s name on the back but acted as if he hadn’t noticed. He wasn’t one for making a fuss, though he somewhat envied his rebellious son’s youth—such things suited his son but would seem undignified for him and damage his reputation. Old Fang had grown more silent and proud around his son now; society needed him so much that if his rebellious son didn’t want to listen, he saved his words for other young people—he had no shortage of listeners. He only spoke to those who wanted to hear. Of course, if his son sought his guidance, he would gladly give it—they were family, after all.
Fang Muyang reported news of Second Sister to his parents, mentioning that his brother-in-law would also visit California soon, which relieved the elderly couple. He then pulled out gifts for his parents and asked about Fei Ni’s whereabouts. Old Fang looked at the English pirated version of his work from decades ago, feeling both angry and touched—his son still took his father seriously. Before he could express thanks, his son had already left.
Fei Ni hadn’t held much hope for Fang Muyang selling paintings abroad, only wishing for his safe return. She somewhat regretted not converting their savings to dollars for him. They could manage with tight finances at home, but being stranded in America without money would be problematic. Though she knew he could survive anywhere, she still feared he might not return.
Fang Muyang returned without Fei Ni knowing beforehand, though she had felt it was time. The school’s small auditorium was packed for the poetry recital, with Fei Ni being among the calmest attendees, almost lacking enthusiasm. While others were immersed in the poetry, she alone stepped back to analyze what made it moving. And she wondered when Fang Muyang would return—he had left Martin’s contact information, but if he didn’t return before school started…
After the recital, people lingered. Though few were more popular than poets at school these days, someone stole the spotlight because of his clothing—for many in the auditorium, “Fei Ni” wasn’t an unfamiliar name. As people dispersed, Fang Muyang entered the hall, making his way through the watching crowd.
Fei Ni faced Fang Muyang, unable to see the characters on his back, focusing only on his face.
Though Fang Muyang had survived on discounted food at museums, he had been well-fed at Martin’s home, and once he had money, he immediately improved his diet, so he looked unchanged.
Fei Ni, however, had grown thinner.
Their prolonged gaze in the crowd became somewhat embarrassing, though Fei Ni realized this too late. By then, she was already walking out of the auditorium, with Fang Muyang following.
Outside, they walked side by side. Fei Ni hadn’t seen his back yet and complimented the front design. Fang Muyang offered to make one for her.
With school starting soon, many students were on campus. Fei Ni and Fang Muyang drew attention walking together. Though Fei Ni was somewhat famous at school, people wouldn’t normally recognize her by her silhouette. The characters on Fang Muyang’s back helped—people first noticed the writing, then looked at Fei Ni, thinking yes, that silhouette did resemble her.
Fei Ni hadn’t noticed the frequent glances, absorbed in listening to Fang Muyang’s travel report. He mentioned visiting museums almost daily, seeing originals of paintings they had only seen in books before, promising to take her next year. Fei Ni agreed, though conscious of ticket and travel costs. She asked about his meals, and he said they were fine but more enjoyable with her.
Fei Ni immediately decided to treat him to a restaurant, then thought better of it—they should go home first, as he was someone’s son after all.
Only after sitting on the bicycle’s back seat did Fei Ni notice the characters on Fang Muyang’s back.
She finally understood why people had been staring—she had initially thought it was just the front design, which was partly true, but certainly part of it was her name. In public, walking beside Fang Muyang with her name on his back…
She could barely process it, her face instantly reddening.
“How could you wear something like this in public?”
Her words revealed her true thoughts—drawing it wasn’t the problem, but letting others see it was.
“Is there something shameful about it?” Fang Muyang wondered whether it was the art or the characters that she found embarrassing—he thought both were perfectly fine.
“Why didn’t you write your name?”
“That would be silly.”
“As if this isn’t silly already.”
She asked how he knew where to find her, hoping he hadn’t worn that shirt to see his parents first.
Fang Muyang claimed his parents had praised his shirt.
“You’re just teasing me.”
Fei Ni hugged him from behind on the bicycle, covering the characters. No one could see the writing anymore, only Fei Ni behind Fang Muyang.
Considering Fei Ni’s sensitivity, Fang Muyang only mentioned that someone had bought the rights to his front designs.
Fei Ni insisted on seeing the contract, believing such things should have documentation.
Knowing Fei Ni’s English level, Fang Muyang knew showing it would expose everything.
He kissed her cheek, and she momentarily forgot about the contract. They moved back to their own home.
Fang Muyang’s earnings were converted to renminbi, and while Fei Ni wanted to deposit it directly in the bank, he suggested counting it first and taking a photo as a memento. Fei Ni had never seen so much money. Fang Muyang had also brought back many records, and Fei Ni counted money to the music.
She counted quickly, looking at the money with subtle tenderness that Fang Muyang noticed. He pinched her cheek, “Such a little money-lover, looking at cash so lovingly.” As if the money were her lover.
Fei Ni didn’t explain that while counting, she was thinking of their future home and travels.
She just smiled at him and continued counting. Fang Muyang drew her counting money, suggesting, “How about we hang this drawing in the living room?”
“No way.” People would see her counting money under the lamp.
“But I think it’s nice, capturing your happiest moment.”
“Who says I’m happiest counting money?”
“What else then?”
Fang Muyang went to kiss her while she still held the money, trying to keep it organized. He was her greatest distraction—the money scattered on the floor, needing to wait until morning to be collected.
The drawing of Fei Ni counting money never hung in the living room but became Fang Muyang’s favorite way to tease her: “You look at money more lovingly than you look at me.”
“That’s your imagination.”
When Fang Muyang asked her to look at him more lovingly than she looked at money, she gazed at him as if he were a childish kid, initially unable to hold back her laughter, then becoming too shy to look at him.
Naturally, not all the money went to the bank—they bought a house and a washing machine. Fei Ni mentioned it before Fang Muyang could.
They used their new washing machine at home, and after the first wash, Fei Ni looked at the clothes drying in the sunlight and smiled at Fang Muyang: “Your hands aren’t suited for washing clothes—the machine is much better than you.”
Fang Muyang didn’t ask what his hands were suited for; he just pinched her cheek, remembering when Fei Ni had taught him to wash clothes in the hospital.