On the Saturday before moving day, as usual, Fang Muyang wanted to fulfill his husbandly duties to Fei Ni.
“Not tonight, we have to wake up early tomorrow,” she protested, then added another excuse, “It’s our last night here, let’s not disturb the neighbors.” Tonight’s impression on the neighbors would surely be more memorable than usual—moving out tomorrow, yet still making noise until midnight. This impression might last for a year or even longer.
Moreover, Fang Muyang had lent her many books, bringing new ones as soon as she finished reading. When she found good ones, she shared them with him too. Tonight, she just wanted to read a bit longer.
“We’ll be quiet, won’t say a word. How would that disturb anyone? If anything, they’re the ones disturbing us.”
“Look at how long they take compared to you.”
Fang Muyang playfully stroked her nose, smiling, “How long do I take? Does it feel long to you? I find our precious moments too short—I thought you felt the same way.”
Fei Ni lowered her head to hide her blushing face, swatting away his hand. “Keep your distance. I want to read.”
Usually, Fang Muyang would never agree to this, especially on a Saturday.
But today he said, “Alright, I’ll keep my distance and let you read, but you’ll need to help me with something.”
“What is it?”
Fang Muyang leaned close to her ear and whispered something.
Fei Ni kept her head down.
“Will you help me?” he asked.
His gaze was serious, his voice sincere, and his motivation seemed genuine.
Besides, he said she could cover the essential parts with his dress shirt. After a long silence, Fei Ni nodded. She knew this was a required course for art students, and they were properly married—if he asked someone else, it would be inappropriate.
After Fei Ni agreed, Fang Muyang went to close the windows and draw the curtains. He moved slowly, keeping his back to her while drawing the curtains, giving her time to undress. He heard the soft rustle of clothes against the skin, and only when the sound completely ceased did he turn around. Fei Ni lay on the floor mat with just a dress shirt covering her; she’d even removed her wristwatch. She held a book high above her face, hiding behind it.
Fang Muyang didn’t rush to start drawing. He lit some mosquito incense, turned off the ceiling light, and switched on the desk lamp.
The room instantly dimmed, and Fei Ni’s exposed skin appeared extraordinarily white in the lamplight, gradually taking on a pink tinge—whether from the lamp’s glow or something else wasn’t clear.
Fang Muyang studied her in the lamplight, presumably considering where to begin his sketch. Fei Ni’s eyes remained fixed on the text, turning pages much slower than usual. She didn’t look at Fang Muyang but knew he was watching her. She couldn’t help pulling the shirt up a bit higher, but it was only so long—protecting one area meant exposing another. Her legs pressed together more tightly, and she tingled from head to toe, hoping this would end quickly so she could focus on reading. Right now, the words on the page were just symbols, refusing to form coherent sentences.
Fang Muyang still didn’t start drawing, instead pouring himself a glass of water. He drank while watching her, explaining, “My throat’s suddenly quite dry. Would you like some water?”
“No, thanks.”
Fei Ni’s eyes secretly strayed from the text to see his throat bobbing.
“Start drawing already.”
“I need to observe first. Turn on your side, face towards me.”
Fei Ni did as told, fingers clutching the shirt as if it might slide off otherwise.
Fang Muyang leaned forward in his chair, studying her more carefully.
Fei Ni held the shirt with one hand and the book with the other, resisting the urge to twist her legs together.
Yet Fang Muyang showed no hurry, moving closer to ask, “What are you reading? Tell me about it.”
“If you don’t start drawing soon, I’m going to bed.”
Fang Muyang began sharpening his pencil, very slowly.
Fei Ni grew irritated. “Why didn’t you prepare your pencils beforehand?”
Fang Muyang readily admitted his mistake, “Next time I draw you, I’ll sharpen the pencils in advance.”
Time crawled by for Fei Ni. The night was stifling. It was hot, yet the fan remained off. With the windows closed and curtains drawn, the stuffiness increased.
Tiny beads of sweat formed on her nose and forehead. Her body grew damp, sticky, and uncomfortable. Even her fingers pressing against the shirt became moist, leaving an unclear handprint on the fabric.
Fei Ni read disconnected sentences but turned pages rapidly, the sound of flipping pages the loudest noise in the room.
She grew increasingly restless. The challenge wasn’t maintaining the pose but rather not thinking about how Fang Muyang was drawing her. She couldn’t help asking, “Are you finished?”
Fang Muyang didn’t answer.
After a while, his eyes moved from the paper to Fei Ni. “Want to see?”
Fei Ni was curious but embarrassed, though curiosity won out. “Get me the blanket from the bed.”
She took the thin blanket from Fang Muyang’s hands and quickly wrapped herself in it. Standing up, Fei Ni had covered herself completely, forgetting even to put on shoes as she walked barefoot to the fan. She switched it on, letting the breeze blow away her sweat and heat.
Only after cooling down did she look at Fang Muyang’s drawing.
She doubted her eyes and then suspected Fang Muyang of trickery.
“Did you just draw this?”
There was no Fei Ni in the drawing, not even a human figure—just raindrops splashing into a dried-up stream, creating ripples on the surface.
“Do you like it?”
Both embarrassed and annoyed, Fei Ni kicked his leg with her bare foot. “You were just teasing me again.”
She had maintained that pose for so long, her sweat nearly soaking through the shirt, all for this drawing.
Fang Muyang smiled, “How dare I tease you? Without your inspiration, I couldn’t have captured this rain properly. It never felt right before.”
If Fang Muyang had simply drawn Fei Ni realistically, she might not have blushed so much, as she’d been mentally prepared for that. But he’d only drawn rain, which didn’t extinguish the fire in her heart but made it burn stronger, spreading from her ears to the corners of her mouth.
“Why didn’t you just say what you wanted to draw?”
Fang Muyang smiled at her, “That would have missed the point.”
Fei Ni returned to the fan for more cooling air, but Fang Muyang followed, squeezing her shoulders.
“Don’t get so close, it’s hot!”
Acting as if he hadn’t heard, he kissed her reddened ear, “I love this shrimp-pink color.”
He turned her face to kiss her mouth, his hands moving skillfully to familiar places. Fei Ni initially resisted but eventually yielded.
The electric fan whirred as Fei Ni stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around Fang Muyang’s neck, the blanket falling to the floor.
Heat be damned!
Their sweat mingled until they couldn’t tell whose was whose.
As the drawing foretold, it did rain in the early hours. The rain grew heavier, continuously beating against the windows. Fei Ni hoped it would rain harder to mask the sounds from their room.
Because of the move, Fei Ni woke earlier than any previous Sunday. She put on a fresh shirt and last year’s skirt, which fully covered the bruises on her knees.
Despite staying up half the night, Fang Muyang was energetic in the morning.
He pulled open a drawer, took out some medicine, and said to Fei Ni, “Did the floor chafe your knees last night? Sit down, let me put some medicine on them.”
“No need,” Fei Ni’s voice was so soft only Fang Muyang could hear.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Fang Muyang sat her down and applied the medicine to her knees.
The bed, wardrobe, desk, sewing machine, and piano would go to the Fang family home, while items not immediately needed would be stored at the landlord’s, who had agreed to clear half a storage room for them.
The movers arrived early, and next door, Director Xu, seeing them finally moving out, showed unusual enthusiasm, asking if they needed help.
When Fei Ni politely declined, Director Xu smiled, “No need to be so formal.”
Wang Xiaoman, leaning against her doorway, saw Director Xu’s smiling face and called out in barely contained displeasure, “Old Xu, come here, I need to talk to you.”
Once Director Xu entered, Wang Xiaoman twisted his ear, “Your smile makes me sick. Are you sad to see Fei Ni leave?”
“Miss them? I can’t wait for them to go! If they didn’t move, I would have!”
Whether Fei Ni stayed or left didn’t matter, but her husband had to go. If they hadn’t decided to move, Director Xu would have requested a room transfer—he’d had enough.
Wang Xiaoman released his ear with a sneer, “Then why were you hovering around?”
“It’s called politeness! Ever heard of it?”
Out of politeness, Wang Xiaoman came out to bid farewell to Fei Ni.
“Why the sudden decision to move?”
“We plan to live with our parents.”
“Won’t it be crowded?” Wang Xiaoman automatically assumed Fei Ni meant her parents.
“It’ll be fine.”
“Do come back to visit sometimes. I haven’t had enough of being your neighbor yet—I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”
Fei Ni knew it was just courtesy and simply smiled.
Wang Xiaoman wasn’t entirely being courteous. She had no particular attachment to Fei Ni, but her departure brought no joy either. Fei Ni had been a decent neighbor, and her replacement might not be better. Moreover, their timing was terrible. Last week at her aunt’s house, Wang Xiaoman had found her cousin reading a serial comic in the newspaper drawn by Fang Muyang.
She couldn’t help boasting, “That’s drawn by my neighbor.” Just because of this comment, her cousin suddenly became interested in her, pestering her with questions about Fang Muyang, from his age to his appearance, and finally announcing she’d visit this Sunday afternoon to see her neighbor. Wang Xiaoman hadn’t refused at the time.
With Fei Ni and her husband moving out in the morning, who would her cousin see in the afternoon? She might even think Wang Xiaoman had been lying, though really, what was there to brag about? It wasn’t like living next door to the factory director.