Fei Ni couldn’t sleep that night and got up again to open the suitcase. Inside were records and art albums – all things she had no use for.

In Fei Ni’s last year of primary school, classes across the country began to stop. The Fang family wasn’t spared either. Fei Ni had heard vague accounts of what happened to Fang’s family – his parents were under investigation, their wages frozen, and their house reassigned to others. Fang Muyang lived alone in a small house, sometimes eating well, and sometimes going hungry. Fei Ni’s brother and sister had taken free trains to other cities to “link up” with others, and she wanted to go too, but her parents, worried about her safety, made her stay home. During the day, while her parents worked at the factory, she was left alone at home.

Fei Ni stayed in, making paper boxes. She started with fancy pastry boxes – only good pastries warranted such boxes; ordinary ones just needed paper wrapping and string. Sometimes, she’d go to the waste collection station. The library had suddenly become very limited in its offerings, so the waste station became Fei Ni’s new “library.” Those “decadent works” from the old society and “poisonous weeds” of foreign capitalism were all sold to the waste stations, priced even lower than waste paper. But finding books she wanted to read at the waste station wasn’t easy; she had to pretend to be uninterested in her targets, sometimes buying five jin of waste paper just to find one book she wanted to read.

Since classes stopped, she hadn’t seen Fang Muyang. Unexpectedly, she met him at the waste collection station. Boys that age could grow noticeably taller in just a month. Fei Ni noticed Fang Muyang had grown taller, lean, and wiry. Though his family had lost everything, he still had his bicycle. She didn’t know how he’d managed to keep it during the violent struggles, but he had, and there he stood, complete and intact, carelessly displaying the wound at the corner of his mouth as he smiled at Fei Ni. His smile made her somewhat afraid – she feared he might ask to borrow money, knowing that this time, not only would he not pay back double, but he might not repay anything at all.

Fei Ni asked Fang Muyang why he’d come to the waste station. He said his window was broken and he wanted to buy waste paper to patch it. He asked the station workers if they had any old paintings or art albums that he could use – at least they’d look better than plain paper on the windows.

Fei Ni grew increasingly desperate searching for books at the waste station. She guessed Fang Muyang wouldn’t simply comply – even though his family had lost everything, with all their books, he must have kept some. She quietly told Fang Muyang she could help him deal with some unused old books, implying that her family, being proper working-class, wouldn’t have their home searched. Her intellectual life was so impoverished that she decided to take the risk. She had prepared for two possibilities: if Fang Muyang reported her, she’d claim she was deliberately drawing out suspicious elements and didn’t want the books; if Fang Muyang was willing to share some of his treasures, she could give him all her paper box money so he could have a proper meal – he wasn’t eating enough.

Fang Muyang didn’t report her. Before dawn the next day, he met her at her building as agreed and gave her a suitcase. Fei Ni tried to give him all her savings – two yuan, fifty-two fen – but Fang Muyang wouldn’t take any of it. He just asked her to keep the suitcase safe and never give it to anyone else. Fei Ni forced the money into his hands.

She received the suitcase before dawn but didn’t dare open it until her parents had left for work. Fei Ni felt she’d wasted her money. The suitcase contained nothing she wanted – just records and art albums. She couldn’t play the records publicly, and as for the art albums… one even contained nude figures. Though Fei Ni knew this was art, it didn’t prevent her from feeling embarrassed.

She’d kept this suitcase locked, waiting for him to claim it, but she hadn’t expected it to be this long.

The rain continued until late at night, but by morning it was bright and clear.

Breakfast was congee with steamed buns and a small dish of pickled green beans. There was leftover soy-braised meat from yesterday. Mother Fei split open a bun, put in two slices of meat, and handed it to Fei Ni, telling her not to just drink congee.

After Fei Ni left, Old Fei brought up yesterday’s events again: “Young Fang came all this way to our home yesterday and brought so many things for our daughter. We didn’t even invite him to stay for a meal before letting him leave. I feel bad about it.”

“How could we keep him? Wouldn’t Ye Feng get the wrong idea? Young Fang is so awkward, not knowing what he should or shouldn’t say. Our daughter took care of him at the hospital for so many days – those who know would say she’s righteous, but those who don’t might think there’s something between her and young Fang.”

“What could there be? They were just primary school classmates, just kids. Can’t our Third Daughter do good deeds?”

“There was nothing before, but who knows if feelings developed while she was caring for him? Look at young Fang – he’s forgotten his parents and only knows our child now. He knows where we live – what if he comes every day? How could we turn him away directly? What man wouldn’t get suspicious if word got out? Our daughter wouldn’t be able to marry anyone else. The watermelon Fei Ni bought yesterday hasn’t been eaten yet – take it to Young Fang and buy some peaches too. Keep two items from what he brought to show our appreciation, but return the milk powder and malted milk to him. And tell him not to come anymore – say it’s our daughter’s wish.”

“How can I say such things?”

“For your daughter’s sake, you must say it even if you can’t! Young Fang seems sensible enough – if you explain it clearly, he won’t come again.”

Old Fei went to the hospital with the milk powder, malted milk, and watermelon, but returned with everything. He also brought back their umbrella, a radio, and special headphones for it.

His wife scolded him: “Where did you get money for a radio?”

“Young Fang gave it to me and said he sold his camera to buy it. I refused, but he insisted I bring it back for Fei Ni. He also made me take back everything I brought.”

“What kind of business is this? He gives it and you just accept?”

“He said if I didn’t take it, he’d bring it to our house himself. If I accepted, he promised not to come to our home again.”

Mother Fei sighed, “Oh, you! Living so long and still understanding nothing! If our daughter listens to the radio he gave her every day, how can this matter end there?”

“Then what should we do?”

“Just say you bought the radio.”

“How is that appropriate?”

“We can’t worry about that now. After Fei Ni is married, we can send young Fang a gift. For now, we shouldn’t associate with him.”

When Fei Ni returned, she saw the umbrella she’d given to Fang Muyang and couldn’t help asking, “Did Fang Muyang come to our house?”

Mother Fei kicked Old Fei, who smiled and said, “I went to visit him at the hospital and brought the umbrella back. He’s doing quite well there, almost like a normal person. When I went, he was drawing – sketching the hospital nurses. I must say, they looked just like the real people. He gets along well with the nurses there.”

“Is that so?” Fei Ni felt somewhat disappointed – drawing comic books might earn him a job, but what good would come from drawing nurses? It would only gradually ruin the good reputation he’d earned.

“Indeed, there’s even a nurse mending his clothes. Young Fang’s a hero for saving someone, and he’s good-looking – it’s no surprise some nurses like him. He might even find a wife at the hospital.”

“Which nurse is mending his clothes?”

Old Fei hadn’t expected this question and hesitated before saying, “I’m not sure who, but his shirt seam had come undone, and a nurse who came in said she’d take it home to mend it for him.” Old Fei omitted something – Fang Muyang had refused, saying he could sew it himself.

Fei Ni didn’t respond. She noticed the radio lying on the chest of drawers and asked, “Dad, did you buy a radio?”

“Yes.” The response was brief. “I saw many families have one, so I thought we should get one too.”

Old Fei’s lie wasn’t very natural. Mother Fei, worried he’d give himself away, turned to Fei Ni and said, “That checkered fabric your sister gave you – why don’t you make yourself a blouse? I see many young girls wearing checkered shirts now. Is that from the movies?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you and Ye Feng going to the movies again this Sunday?”

Fei Ni didn’t answer, continuing to question her father, “Dad, where did you buy this radio?”

“At the nearest commission store to our home. I wanted to buy a new one, but we didn’t have the ration coupons.”

Ye Feng came to return the umbrella a day later, bringing a symphony concert ticket, and inviting Fei Ni to hear “Shajiabang” on Sunday.

Fei Ni had heard it before but accepted the ticket anyway. Whether she liked symphony music wasn’t important; what mattered was that she thought Ye Feng was nice and worth continuing to see.

Friday was especially hot. Fei Ni was sweating throughout her work shift and headed straight for the women’s bathhouse after work, fortunately finding the queue wasn’t too long.

The bathhouse had two rows of showerheads, fifteen in each row, with no partitions between them – everyone could see each other.

There was no privacy in the bathhouse.

In the bathhouse, Fei Ni learned that Old Zhao had been transferred to the boiler room for improper relations; Big Liu had been demoted for organizing dance parties at home; Pan Lili’s husband was capable and had recently acquired a nine-inch black-and-white television…

As a listener, Fei Ni never participated in such topics. She always faced the wall, quickly dressed after washing, and left the steamy room without lingering.

Someone said, “Why does Little Fei always turn her back to us?”

Another worker explained to her: “She’ll be different after marriage. What’s there to be shy about? We’re all women, none of us have anything the others don’t. Before marriage, girls just can’t get over this shyness. Whoever marries our Fei Ni will be lucky – look at that delicate skin…”

Fei Ni’s face was flushed from the hot water. She hurried to finish washing and get dressed. Water droplets from her hair fell onto her collarbone as she reached behind to fasten her buttons. Sister Liu, her group leader, came over to talk: “Pan Lili from Workshop Three keeps saying you stuff your bra. That woman – it’s bad enough she’s lost herself, but she has to think everyone’s like her. What proper girl would stuff her bra? Most want to be less noticeable. I told her, ‘Fei Ni would be even bigger if she didn’t wear a bra to hold things in.’ I’ve showered with her many times, I would know.”

Every word from Sister Liu was so friendly, so warm and steamy, but Fei Ni couldn’t bring herself to thank her for the clarification. She kept her face neutral while focusing on her buttons. Because she could only manage simple washing at home, she often bathed at the factory bathhouse, but after so many times, she still hadn’t learned to handle this boundaryless intimacy.

With her hair barely half-dry, Fei Ni rushed out of the bathhouse to avoid Sister Liu.

As soon as she left the factory gate, she saw Fang Muyang.