HomeLove Story in the 1970sThe Pragmatist’s Love - Chapter 90

The Pragmatist’s Love – Chapter 90

Fang Muyang was momentarily speechless, unable to fathom how Fei Ni’s colleagues could arrive at such a conclusion.

Fei Ni also couldn’t understand her colleagues’ rich imagination, and could only explain simply, “A female coworker at our factory stopped going to the bathhouse after her husband beat her, so they suspect that’s why I’ve recently stopped going to the bathhouse too.”

Fei Ni omitted the fact that the abusive husband was currently lying in the hospital.

“Didn’t you tell them you’re bathing at home now?”

“I did, but because they’re unsure if I’m telling the truth, they’re coming tomorrow to check on me.”

Fang Muyang couldn’t help but ask, “Do I look like someone who would beat his wife? I’m so afraid of you.”

“You’re afraid of me? If you had listened to me before, none of this would have happened.”

“When?”

Fei Ni treated it as if he was playing dumb and ignored him.

Fang Muyang looked Fei Ni up and down, his gaze finally settling on her blouse. “How would I dare beat you? If anyone’s doing the beating, it’s you beating me.”

Fang Muyang took Fei Ni’s wrist and placed her hand on his chest. “Remember how you scratched me? The marks haven’t faded yet.” He forced her to feel the marks she’d left on his chest and other places, then guided her hand upward. “Where do you want to hit? I promise I won’t fight back.”

“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.” Fang Muyang placed Fei Ni’s hand over his mouth. His lips were hot, making her hand feel hot too.

Fei Ni raised her other hand to swat at Fang Muyang but he caught it before she could.

“Don’t force yourself. I know you care about me.”

Fei Ni denied it: “Who cares about you?”

“If you don’t care about me, why did you specially make fried rice for me?” He promised Fei Ni, “Today there won’t be any marks.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“This time I mean it.”

In the middle of the night, Fang Muyang showed off to Fei Ni: “See? No marks at all?” To prove it to Fei Ni, his fingers traced over the places that usually showed marks, asking at each spot, “Nothing here, right?”

“Why are you so annoying?” Fei Ni had to silence him with a kiss.

Previously, to control her voice, Fei Ni would hold tightly onto Fang Muyang, which resulted in scratch marks on his body, but this night she left no marks on him.

She just gripped the bedsheet tightly.

Early in the morning, as sunlight streamed in, Fang Muyang shared his discovery with Fei Ni: “I’ve realized that bedsheets have more stories to tell than anything else in the bedroom. Sometimes a single wrinkle tells a story—perhaps I should paint bedsheets.”

A clean bedsheet had its own story, but one with hair, fingerprints, and various wrinkles could spark endless imagination.

Fei Ni ignored him and hurriedly stripped the old sheets, replacing them with new ones.

Fang Muyang reached for the sheets in her hands. “I’ll wash them.” They washed their clothes and bedding, not troubling Auntie Yang. Fang Muyang usually washed the sheets and thin blankets more often, and when Fei Ni washed them, she’d have him wring them out. He wasn’t particularly good at washing, but he was strong enough to wring things very dry.

“You’ve been working overtime so much lately, let me wash them today.” Fei Ni worried he’d find more inspiration from the sheets to tease her with.

“I must wash them today. If your colleagues see you washing sheets, they might think you’re living in dire circumstances.”

“How could it be that dramatic?”

“Is there anything more dramatic than them thinking I beat you?”

Fang Muyang put his hands on Fei Ni’s shoulders. “Bring out any clothes you need to be washed too. When your colleagues come, I’ll be in the bathroom washing clothes—that should help clear things up indirectly.”

When Sister Liu arrived with the union people, Fei Ni was organizing manuscripts in the bedroom, while Fang Muyang was in the study receiving a lecture from his father.

Old Fang had accidentally overheard yesterday’s conflict between his wayward son and daughter-in-law over his manuscripts and ultimately determined the problem lay with his son. How could he possibly advise his daughter-in-law not to rush through his manuscripts? His daughter-in-law’s thirst for knowledge wasn’t something that should be discouraged.

He could only advise his son not to prevent his daughter-in-law from learning.

Fang Muyang had been painting in his temporary studio when he heard his father’s summons and entered the old man’s study smelling of turpentine. Old Fang showed his wayward son his newest collection, a Qing Dynasty album of lady paintings, but seeing his hands and smelling the turpentine, insisted he wear gloves before handling it.

Old Fang didn’t directly ask about any conflict between Fang Muyang and Fei Ni, instead using himself and his wife as an example, describing how he had supported his wife’s studies and work in the past, hoping Fang Muyang would similarly support Fei Ni’s learning.

Fang Muyang knew Fei Ni well—even if they had conflicts, she would never complain to the old man.

“Where did you hear that I don’t support Fei Ni’s studies?”

Out of elder dignity, Old Fang couldn’t admit he’d overheard them in the dining room yesterday, so he just said, “If true, correct it; if false, keep up the good work.”

“You’ve misunderstood me.” Fang Muyang took the opportunity to say, “I’m very supportive of Fei Ni’s studies. Wasn’t I the one who introduced her to helping you organize your manuscripts? I’m not unsupportive; on the contrary, seeing her study has given me an urgent desire to learn myself.”

“That’s very good.”

“Could you lend me this album to study from?”

To Old Fang’s surprise, the conversation went unusually smoothly, except for the temporary loss of one collection piece.

“When are my brother and sister coming?” Although Old Fang had a telephone at home, he still primarily communicated with his children most traditionally. He had written a letter to his eldest son and second daughter, hoping they would return home for the Mid-Autumn Festival, and included enough money for their travel expenses with some to spare. In the letter, he mentioned that if they truly couldn’t come, he would represent their mother, brother, and sister-in-law by visiting them instead. Old Fang had received replies: his eldest son couldn’t come due to work, but his daughter-in-law would soon bring his grandson to visit, and his second daughter would come before the Mid-Autumn Festival.

Old Fang explained the situation to his younger son, and Fang Muyang asked, “Where are you planning to have my sister-in-law and sister stay?”

“There’s a ready bed in the study, and we can add another bed in the room you’re using as a studio.”

Fang Muyang said, “That might work for a few days, but if my sister stays long-term, she should have a proper bedroom. She’s been away for so many years, it’s time for her to transfer back.” Fang Muyang had only recently learned that his sister had long ago broken up with her college boyfriend after running into him on the street. The ex-boyfriend had already transferred back, while Mu Jing had been alone all these years—something she’d never mentioned to him.

“Your mother and I have been thinking the same. If your sister transfers back, I’ll move the study to the living room and give that room to your sister as a bedroom.”

“No need to go to all that trouble, Fei Ni and I can move out.”

“Why move out? The house is big enough for everyone.”

Sister Liu hadn’t expected Feng Lin to come along. After her training period in the workshop, Feng Lin transferred to the union. When Yuan Hongxiang added Fei Ni to the visitation list, Feng Lin initially objected, arguing that neither Fei Ni’s years of service nor her contributions qualified her for a visit. She pointed out that if they visited Fei Ni, they would need to visit everyone with similar tenure, and if they didn’t, others might question the union’s standards, which would be detrimental to future work. Hongxiang, caught off guard by this fierce criticism, was momentarily at a loss.

Unaware of the previous friction between Fei Ni and Feng Lin, she mentioned the domestic violence suspicions, which finally led Feng Lin to stop objecting and submit Fei Ni’s name. Feng Lin paid more attention to Fei Ni than others at the factory, knowing that Fei Ni’s husband drew comic strips and currently worked at a restaurant. She’d heard that whenever her husband published a comic, Fei Ni would buy multiple copies to give away, desperate for everyone to know what her husband did—how vulgar could one get? Now that she’d been beaten despite all this fawning over her husband, Feng Lin’s first thought was that the pitiful must have something hateful about them.

Sister Liu suspected Feng Lin had come to gloat and regretted suggesting the union visit. She wished she had come alone first to assess the situation.

Before even entering the building, Feng Lin asked, “Does Fei Ni live here? She’s not lying, is she?”

Sister Liu responded irritably, “Fei Ni isn’t stupid—why would she tell such an easily exposed lie? We’ll see when we get there, won’t we?”

Auntie Yang opened the door, and Sister Liu, judging by her age, assumed she was Fei Ni’s mother-in-law.

“Does Fei Ni live here?”

After receiving confirmation, Sister Liu said, “You must be Fei Ni’s mother-in-law?”

Auntie Yang quickly denied this, then provided a further explanation, including the whereabouts of Fei Ni’s actual mother-in-law: “Teacher Mu went to school early this morning.”

As soon as Sister Liu entered, she knew Fei Ni hadn’t lied—it wasn’t surprising that this house had a bathroom with hot water. It was her first time seeing anyone live in such a large apartment.

Auntie Yang invited the guests to sit and went to inform Old Fang and Fei Ni about the visitors. Old Fang had instructed Auntie Yang earlier to notify him immediately if anyone came from Fei Ni’s workplace.

Sister Liu glanced at Feng Lin as if to say, “Was there any point in doubting her?”

When Auntie Yang knocked, Old Fang had just finished refusing his son’s suggestion and left to greet the guests without giving his son a chance to state his position.

Fei Ni had deliberately worn a round-necked blouse with a lower neckline to meet Sister Liu today. The weather had turned cooler these past two days, making high-necked shirts quite normal—some people who felt the cold had even added jackets.

Fei Ni was quite surprised to see Feng Lin; their last meeting had been a year ago, but she hadn’t forgotten Feng Lin’s criticisms. No one else had found so many faults with her. At first, Fei Ni had tried to explain things to Feng Lin, but eventually gave up, learning for the first time how destructive ignorance mixed with pride could be. Since Feng Lin’s transfer from the workshop to the union, she hadn’t seen her and wondered if this encounter was coincidental.

After a brief surprise, Feng Lin quickly decided this made perfect sense. Fei Ni’s boldness in confronting her and ability to replace her as conductor suddenly had an explanation. She had wondered why Fei Ni dared to quit and how last-minute preparation had resulted in better conducting than hers—it turns out there was some backing at home. She smiled at Fei Ni as if they’d never had any conflicts.

Sister Liu handed Fei Ni the factory’s gift of mooncakes, tied with hemp rope, containing four sugar-dusted mooncakes. She had also brought some head cheese from her own home.

As the guests settled, Fang Muyang emerged from the bathroom, his hands freshly scrubbed with soap several times to remove most of the turpentine smell from his painting.

Though she had mistaken Fei Ni’s mother-in-law earlier, Feng Lin immediately recognized Fang Muyang as Fei Ni’s husband, having heard rumors about his good looks.

Indeed, he was handsome and quite tall.

Among the visitors, Fang Muyang only knew Sister Liu. He greeted her and nodded with a smile to the others.

Feng Lin volunteered, “I’ve read all your comic strips, including the serialized ones in the newspaper. I like your drawing style.” She wasn’t lying. If Fei Ni hadn’t constantly promoted her husband’s work at the factory, irritating Feng Lin, she wouldn’t have paid attention to his art. She had read them with a critical eye but found no obvious flaws in the drawings, only in the text, which the cover credits showed wasn’t his work. Fei Ni might never know that her promotion had turned Feng Lin into an avid reader of Fang Muyang’s work, following every issue.

Fang Muyang, unaware of the tension between Fei Ni and Feng Lin, treated her as just another friendly colleague. He wondered which of his comics had given her the impression he was someone who would beat his wife.

Auntie Yang found father and son interesting—though they rarely had visitors, when they did, they were usually notable people, yet both Old Fang and Young Fang treated them casually. Now, for a workshop group leader, they were being so formal. Not only fruits and snacks but two types of tea had been prepared.

As the elder of the house, Old Fang took on the main conversation duties.

Led by Sister Liu, the factory representatives emphasized how hardworking and conscientious Fei Ni was at work.

Old Fang listened and nodded in agreement, as if this was entirely expected, waiting until they finished before politely thanking the factory for nurturing Fei Ni. Though courteous, his tone wasn’t that of a visited worker’s family member, but rather like a leader hearing work reports, responding that it was satisfactory but there was room for improvement. This manner of speaking matched Old Fang’s style perfectly, not seeming out of place at all, leaving those sitting opposite him wondering if he had any further instructions.

Sister Liu and her union colleagues exchanged glances. Except for Sister Liu, they had all forgotten their original purpose, as if they had come simply to report work—no, to pay a visit.

Though Sister Liu’s suspicions had dropped from six-tenths to one-tenths, they hadn’t completely disappeared. She felt it necessary to remind Young Fang to treat Fei Ni well.

Without others’ support, Sister Liu’s words seemed somewhat abrupt, but she had to say it: “Little Fang, I believe your current success is inseparable from Fei Ni.”

Though Fang Muyang didn’t consider himself particularly successful, he focused on the last part and agreed straightforwardly.

“Little Fang, you’re so talented with your hands—drawing, making furniture,” Sister Liu glanced at the piano in the living room and added, “and playing the piano. You must take good care of your hands. If you don’t cherish them and can’t draw or play piano anymore, it’s not just your loss but everyone’s loss.” Sister Liu’s unspoken message was clear: don’t use those hands to hit people—the consequences would be severe, and you wouldn’t be able to draw anymore.

Fang Muyang had to admire Sister Liu’s indirect approach but made a small clarification: “I don’t play piano—it’s Fei Ni’s.”

Old Fang caught other information, surprised to learn his wayward son could make furniture. His daughter-in-law’s workplace was truly thorough in their organization, knowing his son better than he did.

Fang Muyang silently used his skilled hands to peel an apple, his movements practiced and natural, as if he did this routinely, then handed it to Fei Ni.

When Fei Ni didn’t take it, Fang Muyang, either genuinely or deliberately misunderstanding, specifically stated, “The turpentine smell is gone from my hands—I scrubbed them several times before washing your clothes.”

To prevent Fang Muyang from continuing, Fei Ni accepted the apple.

Old Fang was also surprised to learn that his wayward son now washed his daughter-in-law’s clothes, remembering that when she first arrived, she had done her laundry. He supposed it was because she was busy organizing his manuscripts that his son had taken on the household chores.

He placed the fruit knife beside the fruit plate, refilled Sister Liu’s tea, excused himself, and continued washing Fei Ni’s clothes.

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