“You don’t want me to go simply because you’re afraid I’ll say something wrong in front of your colleagues. Do you just want me to pretend I have a TV voucher? I could even pretend to have a car if you needed me to.” Fang Muyang pointed to his bicycle’s back seat. “Come on, get on. Taking another ride would just waste money.”

Fang Muyang had exposed what Fei Ni was reluctant to say and expressed his willingness to cooperate. Though Fei Ni had initially felt the matter was unseemly, Fang Muyang’s frankness made her feel more at ease.

Fei Ni hopped onto the bicycle’s back seat, and Fang Muyang added, “I can pretend to have a TV voucher, no problem, but where do you plan to get one?”

“As long as you’re willing to spend money, you can always get one.”

On her first day of marriage, Fei Ni arrived at work earlier than usual. Sister Liu from her work group was just as early. Sister Liu had too many children at home and could only find peace at work.

Fei Ni had just gotten off Fang Muyang’s bicycle when she ran into Sister Liu.

Sister Liu greeted them first: “Little Fei, is this your husband?”

Fei Ni couldn’t say no, of course. She introduced Sister Liu to Fang Muyang: “This is Sister Liu from my work group. She takes good care of me.”

Fang Muyang followed Fei Ni’s lead in addressing her as Sister Liu and thanked her for looking after Fei Ni.

Sister Liu hurriedly said it was only natural, “After all, who wouldn’t want to take care of such a dear girl like Little Fei?”

In Sister Liu’s aesthetic judgment, Fang Muyang wasn’t particularly handsome—his face wasn’t properly square, being somewhat pointed—but he had a good figure, long legs that suggested a quick stride, and good spirit. Standing together with Fei Ni, they made a well-matched pair.

After appraising Fang Muyang, Sister Liu entered the factory with Fei Ni. Before work hours began, Sister Liu took out a sweater she was knitting and asked Fei Ni how to make a flower pattern. Having nothing else to do, Fei Ni took it and helped her knit.

Sister Liu was very grateful.

Having married yesterday, Fei Ni had now joined the ranks of married women at work, which meant she was eligible for the factory’s birth control supply distribution.

There was a queue for the contraceptives. She didn’t want to go, but Sister Liu insisted on dragging her along, saying these things were good for women. Fei Ni and Sister Liu stood in the middle of the line. A young woman in front, probably newly married, asked the distributor if she could have two extra. The distributor wore an amused expression: “How many do you want? Aren’t four per month enough? These can be reused, you know.” Laughter rippled through the crowd, and the young woman could only laugh along to hide her embarrassment. Only Fei Ni kept her mouth shut. When it was her turn, the distributor deliberately asked, “Are four enough?” Fei Ni said they were. Usually, even when unhappy at the factory, she could mask her emotions in public, but this time her impatience showed clearly as she walked away immediately after receiving her share. She had thought about giving hers to the young woman from earlier but decided against it. If others found out, who knew what gossip would spread?

Sister Liu, having received her share, caught up with Fei Ni and asked why she hadn’t waited.

Fei Ni apologetically said she had forgotten.

“Old Wang’s something, wielding authority over something so trivial, getting all high and mighty over distributing condoms.” Sister Liu’s voice was both secretive and matter-of-fact as she pressed two of her small plastic bags into Fei Ni’s hands. “Here, take two of mine.”

“Keep them for yourself.” Fei Ni had been indifferent while receiving the items, but now her whole body felt a degree warmer. She tried to return them, but Sister Liu pushed them back.

Sister Liu remained gracious: “At my age, how could I use so many? You’re newly married, it’s different. I’ve been through it all, no need to be embarrassed.”

Fei Ni could only accept them; arguing over such things in public would be too mortifying if someone saw them.

“Let me tell you, these are good things. If I’d had access to these back then, I wouldn’t have had so many children. I believe young people pursuing progress shouldn’t have children too early, don’t you agree, Little Fei…”

Fei Ni made a vague sound of agreement.

“So you must be careful, use them every time.”

Sister Liu had the kind of face that suggested she could never have any improper conduct. She looked so proper that even when speaking at length about such matters, others would only attribute it to excessive enthusiasm.

Fei Ni changed the subject, complimenting Sister Liu’s shoes.

Sister Liu, pleased that Fei Ni had good taste, even told her which counter she’d bought them from, encouraging her to get a pair too.

Sister Liu also showed considerable understanding by not asking why Fei Ni, who had been close to someone from the Radio Industrial Bureau recently, had married someone else instead, nor did she ask if Fei Ni could help her get a record player voucher.

At lunch in the cafeteria, Fei Ni encountered Wang Xiaoman again, who brought up the TV voucher matter, appearing quite anxious while hinting that many people were interested in the publicity department position.

Fei Ni smiled and said, “You don’t know how easily persuaded my husband is—so many people ask him for help. I’ll tell him when I get home that the next voucher must be yours.”

She didn’t even blush saying this. Only after Wang Xiaoman left, as she ate alone, did that inner fire begin to burn.

At the training class, Fang Muyang saw many familiar faces—former traditional Chinese painters now drawing comic books in traditional style, New Year’s picture artists drawing comics in that style… Fei Ni was right; nowadays, anyone who could draw was either in a propaganda team or drawing comics.

At lunch in the cafeteria, Fang Muyang suggested to those behind him in line that they each get one dish and share a table. It was their first-day meeting, and his sudden proposal was abrupt, but before anyone could agree, he ordered the most expensive dish on the menu—pork ribs—and the others realized he wasn’t trying to take advantage. Four people ordered five dishes; one person ordered a vegetable dish, felt it was too plain, and ordered another.

Within half a meal, they had become familiar. Someone asked Fang Muyang about his relationship with Teacher Shen, who had lectured that morning and had specifically called on Fang Muyang, seeming to particularly appreciate him.

Fang Muyang said they knew each other from before but hadn’t met for many years.

Fang Muyang’s father had been a cultural official with a considerable reputation and influence, and their home had never lacked visitors. Though he had no theoretical innovations, his critiques carried weight, and anyone who earned his praise would lead the trends of the time. His father had a typical scholar’s temperament—what he liked was perfect in every way, and what he disliked he wouldn’t even deign to look at.

When Teacher Shen visited his father, he was no longer young but was still called “Young Shen” due to his lack of achievements. Despite considerable talent, his long-unrecognized abilities had stripped him of a talented scholar’s confidence, making him excessively humble. His father had interpreted this humility as a lack of backbone, declaring that not only did the person lack backbone, but his paintings did too.

Still being “Young Shen,” Teacher Shen had arrived early but hadn’t even finished his tea before being dismissed. At the time, Fang Muyang didn’t understand the concept of backbone, but from his few years of learning art, he thought the techniques were good. He had invited Teacher Shen to his room for bayberry soda and asked him some questions.

Later, when his father fell from grace, Young Shen advised him to distance himself from his father, but he said it was impossible. As for whether Teacher Shen had played a part in his father’s downfall, honestly, Fang Muyang didn’t care much—so many people had pushed his father down that knowing one more made no difference. What mattered was that his father stayed alive and well.

Seeing Teacher Shen here wasn’t surprising to Fang Muyang; in his recent comic book reading, many significant works were by him.

Fang Muyang briefly mentioned his history with Teacher Shen, then sat eating his steamed bun.

Among the four, only Fang Muyang was married.

The others asked him how married life felt.

Fang Muyang smiled and said that when alone, you could read a book, but two people couldn’t always share one book. He and his wife needed a television to watch together, but he didn’t know how to get a TV voucher.

He had only meant to ask if anyone knew how to obtain a TV voucher, not to request one. Unexpectedly, one person’s father was a leader in the television production line at the Radio Factory and offered to help.