Fei Ni didn’t respond to Fang Muyang’s words, instead asking him to light the alcohol stove while she went to cook the noodles. They took turns making breakfast, and today was her turn.
When the noodles were ready, she took out two pieces of puff pastry from the cookie jar, placed them on a plate next to Fang Muyang, then closed the jar and lowered her head to eat her noodles.
Fang Muyang broke the pastry in half, offering one piece to Fei Ni, but she declined. “You eat it yourself. I don’t like these, and look how thin you are.”
He did look much better now compared to when he first returned.
Fang Muyang smiled and asked her, “Did I hurt you yesterday?”
Fei Ni pretended not to hear and continued eating her noodles. In her heart, she cursed him for being so brazen to speak of such things, though truthfully, he hadn’t hurt her—no matter how thin he was, he still had muscle.
At work, Sister Liu concernedly asked why Fei Ni’s lips were slightly swollen. Fei Ni claimed she had burned them on hot food, though Sister Liu seemed only half-convinced.
Because of this small incident, when Fang Muyang tried to kiss her that evening, she refused more firmly than ever before.
Fang Muyang didn’t directly oppose her rejection. He suggested that if kissing on the lips wasn’t allowed, perhaps kissing her cheek would be acceptable. Fei Ni’s silence served as tacit agreement, and with this permission granted, he proceeded to kiss her eyes, nose, and chin. He then lingered around her lips, occasionally brushing against the corners of her mouth while speaking, sometimes breathing softly or telling small jokes. Fei Ni wanted to laugh but held back, unconsciously biting her lip. Only then would Fang Muyang gently touch her lips, and because his kisses were light, she didn’t object. Gradually, he grew bolder, and Fei Ni forgot she was supposed to resist.
Fei Ni not only became permissive of Fang Muyang’s kisses but also grew more tolerant of his wandering hands, allowing him to grow wild. However, when Fang Muyang attempted to unbutton her clothes, Fei Ni’s firmness returned. Her voice was harder than her teeth—necessarily so, as every other part of her body was betraying her resolve. Fang Muyang recognized her outer toughness and masked her inner weakness, but he didn’t force the issue, instead rebuttoning her clothes. Because he was buttoning them up, Fei Ni felt he still respected her, so she didn’t question why he was doing it so slowly or examine other inappropriate aspects. Fang Muyang’s hands made several detours across her body, but when she rose from the bed, her clothes were still properly arranged, if somewhat wrinkled. The bed sheets were equally rumpled.
Fei Ni smoothed her disheveled hair, her face flushed as she returned to her bed upstairs. She refused to share a bed with him, trusting neither him nor herself.
She wasn’t sure if she feared the act itself or the sounds it might produce. As she and Fang Muyang grew more intimate, Fei Ni became increasingly concerned about the building’s soundproofing. She discovered that not only were the walls thin, but the floors and doors barely muffled sound—conversations could be heard clearly from the hallway.
When she heard the regular sounds from next door, beyond her embarrassment, she grew curious: did all married couples make such sounds? Or were there exceptions? Wondering if she might be an exception made her face burn hot; even though no one knew her thoughts, she felt embarrassed by her imagination.
Fei Ni never shared these concerns with Fang Muyang. She didn’t think he would understand. For a man, as long as he wasn’t being degenerate, no one would mock him for making noise—they might even admire his prowess. For women, the judgment was much harsher. If word got out, it would become ammunition, something that could be used against her in any future argument.
Fortunately, Fang Muyang respected her boundaries and never tried to unbutton her clothes again. This gave Fei Ni a sense of security, allowing her to stop resisting his hands and mouth, though she still suppressed any sounds she might make.
Fang Muyang channeled his remaining energy into his artwork.
While Fei Ni slept, Fang Muyang continued copying masterpieces from his art book. The ceiling light was too bright and might disturb Fei Ni’s sleep, so he bought an old desk lamp.
At night he copied Poussin, while during the day he continued working on his comic strips.
As the weather grew colder and the hallways filled with stored winter cabbage, Fei Ni still insisted on sleeping separately from Fang Muyang, even though sharing a bed would have been warmer.
Fang Muyang gave Fei Ni an English novel, asking her to tell him about it when she finished reading. During his junior high school years, cultural courses were considered the least important part of education, and his academic performance was barely adequate, so his English was limited.
Fei Ni was delighted with the new book but only read it in bed with a flashlight. The rest of her time was spent making clothes for Fang Muyang.
After receiving her salary, Fei Ni exchanged some money for fabric coupons and bought material. All of Fang Muyang’s clothes needed to be custom-made.
Su Yu also noticed Fang Muyang’s lack of proper clothing.
The comic strip Fang Muyang was currently working on primarily depicted steel workers’ struggles on the front lines, based on an article Su Yu had published in the newspaper. Su Yu was two years older than Fang Muyang and had worked at the publishing house since graduating from university. She regularly published well-received articles in the newspaper. Both her family background and talent were sources of pride, and she displayed pride matched these assets well.
While working on this comic, although Fang Muyang had already completed one book, it hadn’t been officially published, making him essentially a complete novice. Su Yu was naturally dissatisfied with entrusting her prized work to such a newcomer. When communicating with Fang Muyang, she was dismissive, her words carrying hints of deprecation. She hoped Fang Muyang would recognize the difficulty and withdraw, leaving her work for someone more prestigious to illustrate. Having been respected all her life, she never learned the art of scheming or false courtesy—her dissatisfaction was always expressed directly.
Fang Muyang was skilled at extracting key information, completely ignoring Su Yu’s tone and emotions, only remembering her requirements.
However, since about seventy percent of her demands were unreasonable, he only retained the remaining thirty percent.
After listening, he still offered a smile, showing no sign of embarrassment. Having been tempered by his parents since childhood, he rarely felt embarrassed.
Seeing his expression, Su Yu suspected she hadn’t conveyed her dissatisfaction effectively. But given his thick skin, she figured he probably wouldn’t withdraw, so she had to accept it.
It wasn’t until she saw the first four drafts that she set aside her prejudice against Fang Muyang and decided to show him a friendlier face.