With no need to worry about sudden intrusions, Fei Ni’s heart relaxed, and her resistance weakened.

Her head spun, and her feet felt like they were walking on clouds—weightless yet without the ability to float. Only Fang Muyang’s support kept her from falling as they moved together toward the bed rail. When her head touched the rail, she temporarily regained her senses. While his lips were on her chin, she closed her mouth and pushed against him.

She wanted to say “I need to sleep” but feared he might take advantage, so she remained silent. Fang Muyang didn’t force her, ignoring her pushing hands while resting his own hands lightly on her shoulders, continuing what he was doing.

As Fei Ni remained silent, Fang Muyang murmured against her chin, “Didn’t you want to come back? Why so quiet now?”

Still no response.

“Are you too happy to speak?”

Fei Ni denied it internally, knowing he was teasing her, but still kept quiet.

“Let me speak for you then—you like what I’m doing.” He rubbed her earlobe, and kissed her lips repeatedly, as if he couldn’t get enough.

In his words, this was something Fei Ni thoroughly enjoyed.

She wanted to contradict him but feared falling into his trap. With limited strength to push him away, she could only deny him this small victory.

“You must be tired of standing. Let’s rest on the bed.”

Hearing the word “bed,” Fei Ni finally broke her silence: “Who wants to—”

As soon as she spoke, she gave Fang Muyang his opportunity, and the rest of her words were lost.

The quilt she’d made with ginger and gardenia was soft, cushioning her head as she fell back. Her slippers dropped to the floor, and without shoes, her kicks lost their force. Fang Muyang simply let her kick.

The silk quilt cover wrinkled beneath her, and the light remained on, forgotten.

If not for her unfastened buttons, Fei Ni might have remained in her daze. Coming to her senses, she hurriedly covered her blouse with her hands—how had things progressed so far? She wasn’t prepared at all. He was too skilled with her, and she was too weak, easily losing herself to his advances.

Fei Ni blamed her mental weakness on physical frailty—there were always a few days each month when she felt particularly weak, like today.

Her whole body felt hot, though her mind had cooled slightly. Finding a moment to speak, she whispered, “I’m having my period. Please stop.”

She immediately regretted her words—they implied that without this issue, anything would be acceptable. Besides, she’d been too vague, unsure if he’d understand her meaning.

Yet he understood immediately. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

How could she have known this would happen?

“When did it start?”

“It’s none of your business.” Today was the first day, and from experience, tomorrow would be worse. She suddenly felt angry at how quickly he’d understood—how could a man grasp this so readily? They’d attended the same school, and such things weren’t taught there. Though such knowledge didn’t require teaching—one girlfriend would be enough to understand everything.

Fang Muyang repeated her words: “None of my business?”

It was very much his business. Fang Muyang released Fei Ni, wiped the sweat from her nose, rebuttoned her blouse, and smoothed her disheveled hair. “Rest here. I’ll get you some water.”

While Fang Muyang fetched water, Fei Ni tried to smooth the wrinkled silk quilt—the fabric was so delicate, creasing at the slightest touch.

“Leave it. Use some hot water first.”

“No need.” Fei Ni didn’t need hot water on the first day; it was the second day that would be difficult.

Fang Muyang placed the water cup in her hands. “Do you have a hot water bottle?”

Fei Ni wasn’t touched, responding coldly that it wasn’t necessary. He knew too much—combined with his practiced movements earlier, she couldn’t help but question his romantic history.

Fang Muyang attributed Fei Ni’s mood to her physical condition, seeing nothing wrong. When he still lived with his parents, his mother had a few particularly irritable days each month. His father, bearing his wife’s temper but unable to vent at outsiders, and with his elder brother and second sister being such good children, would focus his frustration on Fang Muyang. What might have been simple criticism would turn into a beating when his father was angry. With experience, Fang Muyang learned to disappear before his father could reach for his belt.

After keeping Fei Ni awake, now Fang Muyang urged her to rest.

After drinking the water he’d brought, Fei Ni felt even hotter but feared catching a cold, so she stayed under the covers, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. She couldn’t even let herself remember what had just happened—even the memories felt burning hot.

Hearing her turn over, Fang Muyang asked, “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No.”

“Tell me if you’re not feeling well.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. Just go to sleep.”

Fang Muyang didn’t believe her, sitting up to check her forehead through the curtain. The flashlight showed her face was merely flushed, with sweat from heat rather than weakness.

Convinced she was truly fine, he kissed her forehead. Fei Ni quickly closed the curtain. “Stop bothering me, I want to sleep.”

But sleep wouldn’t come. She wanted to ask Fang Muyang how many girlfriends he’d had but feared being accused of jealousy. Even if she asked, he might not tell the truth. Fei Ni didn’t think she was jealous—she just wanted to understand Fang Muyang’s past.

She closed her eyes, but all she could see was what had just happened. Opening them, she stared at the dark ceiling, trying to think of nothing. When her eyes grew tired, she closed them again and finally fell asleep.

The next morning, she remained cold toward Fang Muyang. Even his soft-boiled egg in her noodles seemed proof of his complicated romantic history.

Fang Muyang seemed to take her coldness in stride.

Fei Ni felt somewhat embarrassed—she’d known before marrying him that his romantic history wasn’t pure. Getting angry about it now seemed pointless. Yet she couldn’t help caring, unable to control her feelings.

Fei Ni’s experience proved right—the day was indeed difficult.

After work, she got food from the cafeteria. At home, she placed the food box on the table and went straight to bed, removing only her outer jacket.

When Fang Muyang returned, Fei Ni was still in bed.

Hearing the door open, she said, “Eat by yourself. Just leave me some congee.”

Fang Muyang lifted the curtain to check on her—her face showed an unhealthy pallor.

“Should we go to the hospital?”

“No need. It’s always like this. I’ve taken medicine.” She closed the curtain. “Let me rest for a while.”

After a while, Fang Muyang lifted the curtain again. “Drink some milk powder first to warm your stomach.”

“Milk powder?” Fei Ni knew they didn’t have any.

“I bought it today.”

Fei Ni sat up, taking the cup with both hands and spooning some into her mouth.

“Where did you get the money?”

“I received the other half of my manuscript fee.”

Later, Fang Muyang brought her a filled hot water bottle to hold, along with a package of red dates.

“Where did you buy these?”

Fang Muyang had received his manuscript payment and exchanged it for foreign exchange certificates. Through a teacher at his workplace, he’d bought some necessities at the Friendship Store, where items could be purchased with certificates instead of ration tickets. He’d bought himself trousers and for Fei Ni, a pair of shoes, two pairs of cashmere socks, and a short coat. He’d planned to buy a coat for himself but couldn’t find a suitable one, so he bought one for her instead, keeping some money aside to look for a used one at the consignment store.

Sitting on the bed, unaware of all his purchases, Fei Ni sipped the milk powder and advised him: “If you have any certificates left, don’t buy anything else—get yourself some more clothes first. Autumn’s here, and winter’s coming. Your current clothes aren’t enough for winter.”

Fang Muyang agreed readily, telling Fei Ni he’d already bought trousers and would get a coat tomorrow.

“Why did you buy red dates?” She looked at them with mixed anger and amusement, uncertain whether his understanding was genuine or affected, but finding it irritating either way.