Deputy Director Yao hadn’t expected that a young, seemingly quiet girl would prove more difficult to handle than the factory’s outspoken middle-aged women. But her difficulty wasn’t the kind he had imagined. He had worried Fei Ni might cry and make a scene—it would reflect poorly on him, a middle-aged man if word got out that a young, attractive woman had been crying in his office after hours. He also feared he might soften.

But Fei Ni didn’t shed a single tear, nor did she raise her voice above her usual speaking tone.

“The bulletin board was Feng Lin’s responsibility—she was the main person in charge. If she thought my work wasn’t good enough and wanted to replace me, I chose to leave for the sake of improving the bulletin board, focusing my time on my primary duties. Wasn’t that considering the bigger picture? Please tell me, why are you withholding my bonus?”

Fei Ni and Feng Lin had different versions of events, and Deputy Director Yao instinctively believed Fei Ni’s version. In her years at the workshop, Fei Ni had never made mistakes or had conflicts with anyone. But Feng Lin’s father worked at the Labor Bureau, and he needed the Feng family’s help to find a suitable position for his niece who was returning to the city. Fei Ni was still young and naive—of all people to offend, she had to choose this one.

Deputy Director Yao’s conviction wavered, and his tone softened considerably: “Actually, Little Feng didn’t want you to leave, she just wanted to encourage you to do better. When facing difficulties, one should rise to the challenge, not avoid it. Look how well you did with the choir—next time we’ll increase your bonus.” He truly had Fei Ni’s interests at heart. She had offended Feng Lin over the bulletin board and then overshadowed her in the choir. Better to let Feng Lin vent her frustrations this time, or the troubles would never end. They could make up for the withheld bonus next time.

But Fei Ni wouldn’t accept Director Yao’s well-intentioned compromise. She began reciting the factory regulations one by one, after each asking Director Yao which rule she had violated.

Director Yao glanced at his watch; his wife was waiting for him to come home for dinner.

“If you need the money, I’ll give you mine.” Director Yao didn’t want to continue this standoff with Fei Ni. He had just received his salary and took out his envelope, removing five yuan for Fei Ni. “Will this do? Little Fei, please go home.”

“I don’t want your money. I want what I earned through my labor.” If they wouldn’t give her what she was due, they needed to provide a sufficiently reasonable explanation. Otherwise, she would go to the factory director’s office tomorrow for answers.

Pushed into a corner by Fei Ni, Deputy Director Yao said he would think about it more. Fei Ni replied that he could think about it right here—she would wait. If he wanted to think about it at home, she would follow him there.

Though her voice remained quiet, her tone was resolute. Director Yao believed that if he didn’t give Fei Ni her bonus, she would indeed follow him home.

He had been impatient at first, but when he looked up at Fei Ni, he noticed her head was slightly tilted back. What he had initially taken for defiance, he now realized was her attempt to keep tears from falling.

Tears represented weakness, but she couldn’t show weakness while seeking justice. Though others’ experiences suggested that showing weakness made it easier to get the bonus back, Fei Ni wanted more than just the money.

Director Yao suddenly realized that for Fei Ni, this wasn’t just about money—it was about dignity. Even if they had withheld just one cent of her bonus, she would have come to demand it, forcing him to give her what she had earned.

Her dignity wouldn’t allow him to compromise.

Understanding this, Director Yao decided to give Fei Ni her rightful bonus, honoring her stubborn self-respect.

As a veteran of the workshop, he had a duty to support those who worked diligently. He had forgotten this lately due to family matters, but Fei Ni had reminded him.

He wrote Fei Ni a note promising her bonus would be paid.

The black characters on white paper would serve to remind him as well.

Fei Ni’s tears finally fell when she saw Fang Muyang, who stood holding an umbrella that blended with the night, covered in white snowflakes.

Upon seeing Fei Ni, he moved the umbrella over her head.

Fei Ni wiped her eyes, “Why did you come?”

“If you’d been one minute later, I would have gone in to find you.”

Fang Muyang noticed her tears.

“Who bullied you?”

“I’m just moved that you came to meet me.”

Fang Muyang put his arm around her shoulders, “Why be so formal between us? Why were you so late today?”

“Some factory business. Our workshop won first prize, and I got a towel and soap.”

“That’s impressive. Can I use the soap?”

“If you listen to what I say, I’ll think about it.”

Fang Muyang pushed his bicycle as they walked home. Fei Ni wrapped her long scarf around her entire head.

Fang Muyang’s shoes left prints in the white snow, and Fei Ni, holding the umbrella, occasionally stepped in his footprints, as if comparing their foot sizes. As she walked this way, keeping the umbrella over Fang Muyang’s head, snowflakes fell on her, but she didn’t mind.

Fang Muyang reached out to hold her shoulder, “Don’t just focus on keeping me dry.”

Fei Ni laughed: “I’m not like you. I have a scarf for my hair, and I have more than one set of clothes.”

After parking the bicycle, Fei Ni gave the umbrella to Fang Muyang, bent down to make a snowball, and threw it hard into the distance.

“Want to have a snowball fight?”

Fei Ni shook her head, smiling, “You only have one set of clothes. I won’t fight with you. Hold the umbrella yourself, don’t worry about me.”

Fang Muyang held the umbrella over Fei Ni, letting her throw snowballs into the distance to her heart’s content.

He knew she had suffered an injustice, but her pride wouldn’t let her speak of it.

Fang Muyang tossed aside the umbrella and made his snowball to throw. Gradually, it turned into the two of them throwing at each other. They were both covered in snow, but neither hit the other with their snowballs.

When Fei Ni tired of playing, Fang Muyang bent down to let her climb onto his back, carrying her home.

Normally, Fei Ni would have declined, but today she didn’t hesitate at all.

Fei Ni’s fingers rested on Fang Muyang’s shoulders, “What if your clothes get wet?”

“They’ll dry by the stove.”

“What if they don’t dry?”

“Then I’ll wear yours—you have several sets, don’t you?”

“Don’t be silly. If only you could fit into my clothes, I wouldn’t have to make new ones for you.”

Fei Ni reached to touch Fang Muyang’s hair, “Fool, your hair is wet too.”

“Less hair means easier washing.”

Fei Ni ran her fingers through his hair, “You’re only thorough when washing your hair. When it comes to washing clothes, you’re hopeless.”

Only when they reached their floor did Fang Muyang set Fei Ni down. They were apart for less than a minute before reuniting in their room.

Fei Ni still had her long scarf wrapped around her head; Fang Muyang helped remove it, snow falling to the floor. Fei Ni searched for snowflakes on Fang Muyang’s coat, and after he took it off, she checked his sweater for any she might have missed.

Standing on tiptoe, she used a dry towel to wipe his wet hair, then rose to kiss his mouth.

Fang Muyang’s cold fingers touched Fei Ni’s neck, sending a chill through her, but she didn’t mention it.

She knew they would both be warm soon enough.

At first, Fei Ni was the initiator, but gradually she became the passive one. Both their hands were ice-cold but quickly warmed as they intertwined. Fei Ni no longer called Fang Muyang foolish, because, at this moment, he wasn’t foolish at all. Their kisses eventually transformed into simple embraces. She had many things she wanted to tell him, but sometimes silence expressed feelings better than words. She buried her head in his chest, finally allowing herself to cry freely. If Fang Muyang noticed, she could say it was just his melting snow. She hadn’t been crying.

In those moments when she occasionally lost hope for the future, she was fortunate to have him by her side, making the present seem not so bad.

At times like these, she wouldn’t object to anything he did.

But Fang Muyang told her to change her clothes first, so they could eat together afterward.

Fang Muyang lit the alcohol stove. That morning, he had bought two fish and taken them to the cafeteria—one as a gift for the head chef, who then helped him clean and slice the other for Fei Ni’s dinner.

Fei Ni discovered a small fruit cake on the low cabinet, “Why did you buy so much food today?” She also found Fang Muyang’s newly published comic book there, guessing the cake was to celebrate its publication. She eagerly opened the comic—while drawing it, Fang Muyang had lost nearly twenty jin of weight, though not entirely due to the artwork.

“Where are they selling your comic book?”

“No need to buy any—just read the one on the table.”

“It’s not for me to read. Shouldn’t we buy some copies to give away? Your parents, your sister, your brother, and my parents, my brother and sister, plus some people at the factory—I want to give them copies too.”

Her hands now washed and dried, he touched her ear with his dry fingers, “Buying so many copies—you’re quite the spendthrift.”

“What does this have to do with being wasteful? Disaster relief is so difficult—shouldn’t everyone learn about it?” Fei Ni stood there flipping through the comic, showing no interest in eating. “If it sells well, won’t you have more opportunities in the future?”

She was happy about his promising future, though it stirred some melancholy about her own. Still, having one person with prospects was far better than neither having any.

Fang Muyang laughed inwardly—even buying a hundred copies wouldn’t affect total sales much, but he was grateful nonetheless.

“Stop looking. Have you forgotten what day it is?”

“What day?”

“Even forgotten your birthday? Isn’t today your twenty-second birthday?”

Though she had called herself twenty-two since the New Year, today was her official twenty-second birthday.

Fei Ni remembered it was indeed her solar calendar birthday, though she had always celebrated according to the lunar calendar before.

“How did you know today was my birthday?”

“It’s written on our marriage certificate, isn’t it?”

Fei Ni picked out the cooked fish slices and placed them in Fang Muyang’s bowl, “You should eat more.”

“I ate plenty at lunch in the cafeteria.”

“Then why aren’t you gaining weight?”

Fang Muyang smiled, “You just can’t tell right now.”

He told Fei Ni that hot pot fish wasn’t particularly special to him. During his time sent down to the countryside, he often caught decent-sized fish from the neighboring village’s river. He could prepare fish many ways—grilled, steamed…

He had slightly embellished these memories. While he did often catch fish, they were never very large—how big could fish from small streams be? But back then, having anything to eat was good enough; there was no time to be picky.

They sat close together eating the fish, their arms occasionally touching, neither minding the contact.

Though the heating had been turned on, the room wasn’t particularly warm—it was the steam from the pot that had warmed them both.

Fei Ni continued serving him, “I can’t eat this much. I need to save room for cake.”

Though she spoke of eating cake, she only cut a small piece for herself. Her stomach capacity was limited, and she gave the rest to Fang Muyang.

“It’s my birthday, so help me out and eat more.”

They held their cake and watched the heavy snow outside the window. Everything outside was wrapped in white. Fei Ni reached out to touch the window but quickly withdrew her finger from the cold. The weather would only get colder. She had received her salary today and still needed to exchange some coupons for cotton to make him a padded coat. This year would be tough, but once they had everything prepared, next year would be better.

“What’s your birthday wish?”

Fei Ni closed her eyes to make her wish, hoping that next year on this day, she would still be with Fang Muyang.

She thought this wish might be easier to achieve. She hoped they could progress together—if the gap between them grew too wide, they would have to rely on a sense of duty to accommodate each other, which would be rather meaningless.

What she said aloud was different: “I hope I can go to university next year.”

Then she laughed: “That hope is too remote.” Because it was so distant, she didn’t mind voicing it and breaking the spell.

“It might come true—who knows what the future holds?” Fang Muyang pinched her cheek, “This time last year, I was still unconscious in a hospital bed. How could I have imagined I’d be married to you?”

Fei Ni thought to herself, I couldn’t have imagined it either. What had she been thinking about then? Probably about how to get into university.

“What was your wish last year?”

Fei Ni smiled: “To go to university.” As she smiled, tears began to fall. “I’ve never told anyone, but it’s been my wish every year, and every year it hasn’t come true. It’s quite embarrassing. I know that university might only change things so much, but I want to see another possibility in life.” One she chose herself, rather than being pushed along by fate.

Fang Muyang didn’t have much attachment to the idea of a university. In his family, he was the only one who hadn’t attended university. In his parents’ plans for him, university was never an option—they felt the family had too many intellectuals already and wanted to start changing their class status with him.

But he could understand Fei Ni’s thoughts. He kissed her hair, “Last year you wished alone, so of course it didn’t come true. This year I’m wishing with you, so the probability is much higher.”

“Then I wish we could both go to university.”

Fang Muyang laughed: “If we both went to university, we’d lose this room.”

Fei Ni laughed inwardly at Fang Muyang for seriously discussing such an unlikely possibility.

But what she said was different: “Even if we lose the room temporarily, we’ll have one again in the future.”

Fang Muyang said he wanted to draw her portrait today and would draw one every year on this day.

While Fang Muyang drew her, Fei Ni looked through his comic book.

She decided that tomorrow she would buy several copies from the bookstore to give to friends and relatives, asking them to help promote it. She thought he drew very well.

Fang Muyang came over and whispered something in her ear.

Fei Ni’s ears immediately turned red.

She remained silent as Fang Muyang’s mouth drew closer, still asking softly, “May I?”

Fei Ni neither agreed nor refused, remaining silent as she reached to undo her first button, then her second, looking down at the mole on her collarbone.

He said the drawing couldn’t be complete without that mole.

Fei Ni agreed, noticing for the first time how red that mole was.

“One button is enough.” Fang Muyang’s finger moved to the buttons, solemnly refastening her second button, then tugging it down slightly. Compared to his fingers, Fei Ni’s buttons seemed exceptionally small. His palm was slightly rough; Fei Ni could feel it even through her blouse.

The seriousness of Fang Muyang’s expression and the movement of his fingers made Fei Ni’s blushing seem unnecessary.

He returned to his easel to draw her.

Fei Ni was well aware of the power of Fang Muyang’s gaze. Even after being together for so long, his look could still make her self-conscious. She occupied herself by continuing to read the novel.

Fang Muyang asked Fei Ni: “Where are you in the story? Can you tell me about it?”

Fei Ni picked up the hardcover book with its protective cover and read to him, slowly, trying to pronounce each word clearly for his ears.

He was her only audience, and she dared have no other. Having someone like this beside her was good, whether he understood or not—sometimes she preferred that he didn’t understand. The protagonist’s confessions were sometimes embarrassing to read aloud; though they were the character’s words, they felt like messages from her to him.

She only read these words to Fang Muyang, without translating them.

When Fang Muyang put away his easel, Fei Ni went to look at her portrait.

After one glance, she turned away, opening the window to catch snowflakes in her hand.

Fang Muyang came over and pressed her snow-covered hand to his face.

Fei Ni tried to pull her hand back, “It’s so cold!”

“It’ll be warm soon.”