Fei Ni didn’t see stars while lying in bed, nor did she feel like opening the window to look for them. Somehow, undoing buttons always seemed quicker than fastening them. Her usually clumsy fingers became surprisingly nimble at this task.

Before long, she had removed her watch – the last accessory she wore.

“Could you help me with something?”

Fei Ni made a sound of agreement, assuming it was the same request as yesterday.

She reached to turn off the light, but Fang Muyang caught her fingers. “I want to see more clearly.”

Perhaps worried she hadn’t understood, Fang Muyang repeated himself: “Let me look at you properly.” He spoke so directly that it stripped away any underlying implications.

Fei Ni pulled at the blanket. “Haven’t you seen enough in those drawings?”

“What drawings?”

“The sketchbook in the box.” The one filled with unclothed figures.

Fei Ni had misunderstood. That sketchbook was something he’d found in his family’s study bookshelf when he was in elementary school. After discovering it, he’d tried to blackmail his father, threatening to expose his “true nature” at a family meeting unless he got new soccer shoes. His father had immediately lost his composure, scolding: “You fool! You’re learning art – figure drawing is fundamental. How can you paint portraits without understanding human anatomy?” He’d moved to discipline his unruly son, but Fang Muyang had escaped quickly. The sketchbook became his after that, justified by the need to “study the basics.”

He hadn’t studied it then, letting it gather dust under his bed. It wasn’t until he went to the countryside that he truly understood the importance of mastering fundamentals. By then, the sketchbook was already with Fei Ni.

Fang Muyang shared this story with her, treating it as a joke.

Unexpectedly, Fei Ni focused on a different detail: “Did your father hit you often?”

“Not really.” Most times, his father had wanted to but couldn’t catch him. While being disciplined was normal for Fang Muyang, he knew it wasn’t common. His siblings had never been struck once. This wasn’t favoritism – it would have been heartless to punish such well-behaved children as his brothers and sisters.

Fei Ni connected the sketchbook incident with the times Fang Muyang had borrowed money from her before.

“Was this why your father sent you to boarding school?”

“Maybe. Were you paying attention to me even back then?”

“Who was paying attention to you?” Fei Ni thought he must have forgotten about borrowing money from her after all this time.

Fang Muyang tugged at the corner of her blanket. “Didn’t you already agree?”

“I didn’t know you meant this.”

“What did you think I meant?”

“You should go look at your drawings instead.”

Fang Muyang declined her suggestion: “Compared to art, I prefer real people.”

The double meaning hung in the air.

He continued: “Even if this room were filled with original masterpieces instead of copies, they wouldn’t compare to having you beside me. If someday I’m dying…”

“What are you saying?”

“Can’t you handle the truth? Should I lie instead?”

“I don’t want to hear either.”

“I’ll just look, nothing more.” Fang Muyang pulled at her blanket again, and this time she didn’t resist.

They lay facing each other on their sides.

There was no physical contact, only the flow of gazes. And that was one-sided.

Fei Ni didn’t look at Fang Muyang – the light was too bright, causing her to close her eyes. She didn’t know how he was looking at her – as an artist at his model, a husband at his wife, or perhaps…

These thoughts made her nerves dance beneath her skin, one pulse, then another… She tried to imagine how she appeared in his eyes but stopped herself, finding even the thought too embarrassing. Even with closed eyes, she could feel his gaze warming her skin.

The heating wasn’t quite enough – some cold-sensitive households had even lit additional stoves in their rooms. Fei Ni couldn’t tell if she felt hot or cold.

“Is that enough?” She reached for the blanket again. Her long, thin arms had been crossed, covering what she least wanted him to see. As she grabbed for the blanket, she inadvertently exposed a small area, though she didn’t notice, focused only on covering herself completely. Fang Muyang’s eyes stayed fixed on the tip of her nose, his breathing tense. Her face had been less than ten centimeters from his, but now it was nearly twenty.

Fang Muyang held her hand. “Just a little longer.”

“I’m getting cold. I want to cover up.” She didn’t want to be examined under such bright light – this favor had gone on long enough.

“You’re too tense. There’s no need – I’m just looking, nothing more.”

His words only made her more tense.

“Should I turn off the light?”

Fei Ni agreed readily, her eyes still closed.

“Open your eyes and see.”

The main light was still on, but he’d switched to the desk lamp. The reduced brightness transformed her earlier embarrassment into something different.

“I want to see you in different lighting.” Fang Muyang held the blanket corner. “Just for a moment.”

He described to her how she looked different under the two types of light.

He kept his promise – only looking, nothing more. Fei Ni’s cheeks were flushed, like fog on glass, with her small nose framed by the redness as she breathed quickly and nervously.

Fang Muyang playfully pressed her nose, catching her off guard and causing her mouth to open. They naturally fell into a kiss, and this time Fei Ni didn’t hesitate, as if she’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. However, her nervousness made her teeth stick together, bumping his lips several times, and when she tried to return the kiss, she hit her lips because her eyes were closed. She laughed sheepishly and opened her eyes. Though misty, they remained clear and bright – black was black, white was white. She used these clear eyes to align her nose tip with his, her mouth with his, and once aligned, closed them again.

As her eyes closed, Fei Ni gently extended her tongue. Their toothpaste was lemon-flavored – Fang Muyang’s choice – and they shared the same tube. Now they shared that lemon taste as Fei Ni reached out with her long, thin arms to embrace his neck, her fingers trembling from inexperience.

Fang Muyang wrapped her in the blanket, his palms seeking out her bones. He said he wanted to find every one of them, to know her better than anyone else. He pressed firmly as if trying to leave his mark on her bones through flesh and skin.

Fei Ni breathed nervously during his pauses, forgetting to point out that not all bones could be felt.

She kissed him eagerly, partly to avoid answering his questions about which bones he was touching.

It was their first time being so close to another person, and both wished they could merge into one. Even this closeness didn’t feel enough – they wanted to be even closer.

When he touched a certain spot, Fei Ni opened her eyes. Her expression conflicted with her gaze – if someone were to paint her face exactly as it was then, they would notice this discord.

Her eyes spoke of refusal, but even the beads of sweat on her nose contradicted this denial.

Fang Muyang noticed this contradiction and said, “Don’t worry this time.”

Fei Ni didn’t ask where the paper bag’s contents came from, only asking, “Will this work?”

“Try it.”

Fei Ni’s hands trembled as she tried. Fang Muyang discovered for the first time that even eyelashes could tremble – her long lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. Her movements were as earnest as her personality, but her fingers were ten times clumsier than usual. Her nose grew damp with perspiration from the awkward, urgent movements. She breathed nervously through slightly parted lips while Fang Muyang’s waiting hands left her skin tender. She persevered through the discomfort, finally looking up at him to signal she was ready.

Her eyes remained clear and bright.

Fang Muyang’s patience finally ran out.

At this moment, Fei Ni suddenly remembered something. “Should we hang up the blanket?”

“We won’t make any noise. Not every couple does.”

Fei Ni believed him.

Things weren’t as simple as Fei Ni had imagined. Her whole body was damp with sweat from the pain, her fingers gripping Fang Muyang’s equally sweaty skin. She tried to keep her teeth clenched, but he insisted on kissing her, making some sounds inevitable.

She wasn’t afraid of pain, but the pauses terrified her. Continuous pain she could handle, knowing it would end, but this was unbearable. Words escaped through her clenched teeth: “Faster, don’t worry about hurting me.”

As a child, she had said similar words to nurses. Born fragile, she frequently needed injections and IVs. Her veins were hard to find, and inexperienced nurses often needed several attempts. She’d learned that fear and excessive caution only led to more failures and greater pain.

Her words had their intended effect, and through the uninterrupted pain, they finally became one.

Their intimacy deepened, faces pressed closer, neither sure who kissed whom first, but their lips met nonetheless.

Fei Ni discovered that even if she remained quiet, other sounds emerged. She couldn’t make Fang Muyang quieter. Fortunately, the kissing had a numbing effect, dulling her hearing until the sounds seemed less pronounced.

After experiencing unprecedented intimacy, their relationship advanced to a new level. They maintained their position afterward as Fang Muyang brushed the damp hair from her forehead. “Did I hurt you? Next time won’t hurt.”

Misunderstanding his words as an apology, Fei Ni said, “The real pain didn’t last long, and it’s better now.”

“Did you think it was too quick?”

“No.” Fei Ni didn’t understand his question – surely faster was better.

Unable to sleep, she asked Fang Muyang to look at the sketchbook again, choosing innocuous drawings.

They huddled together, sharing the book.

Though they viewed the art differently, they appreciated the same pieces. Fei Ni lost herself in details, spending ages studying even a simple chair, imagining owning one like it.

“I’ll make you one just like it someday,” Fang Muyang said.

“No rush, whenever you can.” After a pause, she asked, “When do you think we’ll see real paintings?”

“Someday we will.”

After looking a while longer, Fang Muyang asked, “Want to try again?”

Fei Ni nodded, setting aside the sketchbook.

This time they were both a little more skilled.

Given their previous experience, Fei Ni expected it to be quicker. But Fang Muyang wasn’t as hurried as before, suddenly showing patience. He asked her, “How did it feel the first time?”

Fei Ni remained silent, as the sensation hadn’t been particularly pleasant. Still, she was relieved they’d finally done what most couples do on their wedding night.

After his persistent questioning, she finally admitted, “I didn’t feel much.”

“This time will be longer. You’ll have time to experience it.”

The principle that “with full granaries comes propriety” seemed applicable here. The first time, Fang Muyang had been like a starving man finally given food, consuming it hastily without savoring the taste or considering others. Now, though not fully satisfied, he’d eaten enough to know more would come. He could take his time, not only savoring the experience but sharing it.

And Fei Ni was the one he wanted to share with.

Fang Muyang’s newfound courtesy was almost unbearable for Fei Ni. With each gradual advance, he asked about her sensations, and when she wouldn’t respond, he made her experience it again.

Her initial responses of “it doesn’t hurt” eventually transformed into playful accusations of “scoundrel” and “shameless,” which Fang Muyang accepted as encouragement. Perhaps feeling his previous performance didn’t warrant such descriptions, he redoubled his efforts.

By the time he truly earned her words, Fei Ni could no longer speak them, clenching her teeth against other sounds.

But Fang Muyang hadn’t forgotten his courtesy, and when she wouldn’t speak, he made her experience it again.

Helpless, she could only silence him with kisses.

Fei Ni tried desperately to stay quiet, her fingernails digging into Fang Muyang’s back. But he wasn’t as discrete, seemingly unaware of how to move more quietly. Her silence only made the other sounds more noticeable.

These were sounds she didn’t want others to hear – she could barely stand hearing them herself.

But she could only let him continue. Now she lacked the strength not only to hang the blanket but even to plug her ears with cotton.

Soon after the sounds ceased, she fell asleep.

She woke shortly after, unsure if from hunger or his kisses.

It was still dark, far from breakfast time.

Fei Ni noticed her fingerprints on Fang Muyang’s neck and brushed his hair to cover them.

He helped fix her hair in return.

They gazed at each other until Fei Ni couldn’t help but smile, making him want to kiss her again.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “I want food.”

“I’m hungry too.”

Fei Ni knew they meant different kinds of hunger. “I’m really hungry!”

“Are you saying I’m not?” Though he teased, he quickly dressed, helped wash her hands, and brought her the cookie tin.

Fei Ni sat in bed wrapped in clothes, clutching the tin and eating cookies while Fang Muyang watched. Seeing her eat urgently, he poured her water, alternating between feeding her cookies and water.

“Why aren’t you eating?” she asked.

“I’m not very hungry.”

Fei Ni didn’t believe him – he should be hungrier than her. She suspected he said this because the tin was nearly empty.

She ate one cookie and gave him the next until they were gone.

He made her a large cup of milk powder, but with the cookies in her stomach, she only managed two sips. She asked him to finish it. He doubted her fullness, massaging her stomach to check, still unconvinced after a while.

Fearing he’d find her ticklish spots, she grabbed his hands. “Silly, unless I’m about to burst, you won’t be able to tell.”

It was still early, and Fang Muyang asked if she wanted to try again.

“Don’t you ever stop?” she asked.

But she agreed – after all, it was still early.

Fang Muyang had bought three, using them all in one night. This time lasted longer than before, perhaps because they didn’t know when the next time would be.