Ah Heng was planning how to spend her monthly 300 euros. Should it be pork ribs twice a day, once a day, or no ribs at all?

If twice daily, no new clothes, no snacks, no coffee; if once daily, no new clothes; if none at all, no Yan Xi—he’d starve to death.

She gnashed her teeth while calculating in her notebook, throwing whatever she could grab at the dark figure behind her: “You wastrel! Having your credit cards frozen was bad enough, we were counting on selling the Ferrari. And then you even dared to wreck the Ferrari!”

Thinking back to that day when they stared at each other, Ah Heng had asked expectantly where the car was, and this fellow hesitated before saying just one sentence: “Ahem, wealth is but an external matter—the important thing is, I’m here. Ah Heng, look at me, me, your most beloved, most beloved Yan Xi.”

“Pah, who loves you the most? Stop talking nonsense, where’s the car?”

“Large waste disposal site. I crashed it flat.”

Ah Heng nearly spat blood, pinching his ear: “What use are you, what use at all!”

Yan Xi curved his eyes: “I’m good-looking.”

Ah Heng looked at Yan Xi’s haggard, even ugly appearance, her eyes turning sour, so she turned to look at the pork rib soup bubbling in the corner of the small room.

Turning back, her eyes gentle, showing neat white teeth, she lightly patted his cheek and smiled slightly: “Yes, you’re truly good-looking.”

Yan Xi’s right thigh bone was cracked, with internal fixed steel pins. He had been practicing walking, spending much effort, but his speed was still extremely slow.

When Yan Xi arrived, Da Yi and Sun Peng had prepared money. But Yan Xi had always been principled—even if he would eat soft rice, he absolutely wouldn’t eat any soft rice except what Ah Heng fed him, so he generously declined.

When Ah Heng heard about this, she wanted to strangle him even more.

She said: “I’m going to work. You can wander around in the morning, but practice walking at home in the afternoon. I’ll call the landlady at four o’clock sharp—if you dare slack off, no dinner tonight!”

Yan Xi said “Oh,” buried his head drinking pork rib soup, tears flowing, reminiscing.

Ah Heng pushed her bicycle, wearing a white coat, waving to him in the fog.

Through the window, his eyes curved as he said goodbye, exactly like many years ago when he bid farewell before going to Vienna.

Only now, Ah Heng had lost her youthful naivety, and Yan Xi had lost his former radiance.

Yet in each other’s eyes, they had never been as moving as at this moment.

Wearing gloves and holding test tubes, Ah Heng added some ground SMZC just like the countless times she had performed this procedure at school.

Edward suddenly pushed open the laboratory’s glass door, striding in and throwing a paper in front of Ah Heng, laughing coldly in disbelief: “Winnie, with this level of paper, you still hope to publish?”

Ah Heng was stunned—this was the paper she had just submitted, which could be independently published if approved by Edward.

This draft had taken about two or three months to prepare and had been electronically circulated to Mr. Li beforehand. The grammar was fine, and regarding the content, Mr. Li had only smiled and said one sentence: “The fledgling has finally left the nest, very good.”

She picked up the draft, frowning: “Edward, is something wrong?”

Edward thrust his hands into his white coat pockets, glancing at her experiment progress, suppressing his anger, saying: “Come with me to my office.”

Ah Heng didn’t like Edward’s office—it often had many women’s perfume scents, and she already had rhinitis, getting allergic every time she went. So she put the test tube in the rack, smiling as she spoke: “We can talk here.”

Edward narrowed his eyes, which were long and thin, his golden hair particularly striking in the laboratory’s shadows: “Winnie, do you have some objection to my office?”

Ah Heng smiled, still wearing her medical mask, and followed him directly to the office.

As soon as Ah Heng stepped in, the perfume scent hit her nose—this time it should be Dr. Anna Guerlain from the neighboring ENT research lab.

Damn, even the mask was useless.

She sneezed repeatedly, saying: “Speak, Edward.”

Edward folded his arms, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her. After a while, seeing her continuous sneezing, he opened the window and handed her a glass of water before speaking: “Winnie, in your paper you predicted all the steps of my current experiment, and even made the presumptuous assertion that in the end, I, along with damn you, will fail the experiment, is that right?”

Ah Heng took a sip of water to calm herself, saying: “Yes, I wrote out every step.”

Edward’s lips curved in a cold smile: “Woman, do you know how many euros our experimental group’s total investment is?”

Ah Heng shook her head, speaking slowly: “I don’t know, but this is the conclusion I’ve drawn from recent experiments. I only know that you, Edward, are wasting everyone’s time doing something that will fall into the Goldbach conjecture.”

Edward’s eyes were deep green, staring at her for a long time before spitting out a few words: “Eighty million.”

Ah Heng spoke slowly: “So, it’s not too late to withdraw now and apply for other projects.”

Edward gritted his teeth: “You’re denying the subject I’ve researched for three years, based on just a few months of experiments—don’t you find yourself ridiculous?”

Ah Heng removed the mask from her ears, smiling faintly: “If my paper’s predictions are correct, in the next step, three days later, the experiment’s adverse reactions will become apparent—let’s wait and see.”

Edward looked at her for a long time, his gaze sharp, but didn’t speak.

When Ah Heng returned home, Yan Xi was drawing in the narrow alley in front of the house, with Isu crouching beside him, his big eyes intently watching the drawing paper. The two of them, one speaking Chinese and one French, were like chickens talking to ducks, yet they got along very well.

Seeing her, Isu cheered and ran to her side, gesturing as he said: “Winnie, the thief is a magical person, he can draw Sherlock Holmes.”

Isu liked to call Yan Xi a “thief”—he thought being a thief was a very cool profession.

Yan Xi smiled, his eyelashes golden in the sunset, raising the drawing paper high—it was a vivid Sherlock Holmes wearing a trench coat and smoking a pipe.

Ah Heng pushed her bike closer, also smiling: “It looks like him.”

Then, she gently pulled Yan Xi up from the small stool, saying: “Did you eat on time today? I asked Isu’s mother to heat pork rib soup for you.”

Yan Xi nodded: “Ah Heng, you put too much pepper, too much pepper, it’s choking!”

Ah Heng frowned: “Nonsense again, I made clear soup, didn’t add anything except salt and ingredients!”

Yan Xi gently smoothed her eyebrows with his thin hand, his fingertips slightly cool, saying: “Who taught you to furrow your brows? It’s so ugly.”

Isu understood Yan Xi’s gesture, nodding seriously.

Ah Heng helplessly smiled, relaxing her brows: “You’re both so annoying, so annoying.”

She said it in both French and Chinese, and Isu and Yan Xi both laughed, their teeth white, like two children.

To save rent, Ah Heng had Yan Xi cancel his lease and live with her. Yan Xi had always had one bad habit when sleeping: he loved kicking the blanket, wrapping himself in it, twisting it—he wouldn’t rest until he had twisted himself and the blanket into a rope.

Afraid his leg would get cold, Ah Heng slept in the same bed with him at night, lying on the outside to hold down the blanket.

Yan Xi was shy and embarrassed: “I usually sleep naked.”

Ah Heng coughed: “Then from today on, learn to wear pajamas!”

Before midnight he was fairly well-behaved because he wasn’t in deep sleep.

After midnight, good heavens, it was terrible—though he was half disabled, his leg still dared to be so aggressive, pressing entirely on Ah Heng while kicking the blanket into disarray.

Ah Heng was speechless, gently helping him lower it, but within three seconds, he’d prop it up again.

After countless repetitions, Ah Heng became angry, pressing both blankets on top of Yan Xi, and then turning on the desk lamp to write her paper.

At two in the morning, Yan Xi woke up needing to urinate. He’d drunk too much milk before bed—fresh milk, without chocolate flavor, which had made Yan Xi depressed to death, but under Ah Heng’s powerful glare, he’d finished every drop.

He discovered the desk lamp was on, with Ah Heng propping her chin on her hand, head tilted, asleep.

Yan Xi rubbed his eyes, using his hand to support his left leg as he moved to the desk, giving Ah Heng a gentle push.

Ah Heng was slumped over the desk, her long hair spread out, mouth slightly open.

Yan Xi smiled—how could she sleep like this?

His leg couldn’t bear Ah Heng’s weight; carrying her was probably something only a healthy Yan Xi could do.

Yan Xi moved another stool to sit beside Ah Heng, smiling as he picked up his drawing pen.

When Ah Heng woke up, the first thing she saw was Yan Xi’s enlarged face—he was sprawled on the desk, drooling.

Poke, poke, hey, wake up.

Yan Xi tucked his head in slightly, a smile appearing at the corners of his lips, dreaming of who knows what.

Ah Heng blushed, oh my, oh my, so cute.

She turned and went out to fetch water to wash up.

The plump landlady was doing morning exercises with Isu in the courtyard. Seeing Ah Heng, her mouth first formed an “O,” and then she burst out laughing.

“Winnie, did you think of this? Well done!”

“Winnie, is that Chinese letters? So cool!”

Ah Heng was confused, saying: “What’s wrong?” She looked down at the clear water in the basin, and after three seconds her face began to turn blue. In the rippling reflection in the water, on Ah Heng’s lips was a character written by Yan Xi with thick charcoal, clear and proud.

Xi.

The Xi from Yan Xi.

He had printed his name on her lips.

Ah Heng didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, frustrated, pressing her palm in the water wanting to wash it off.

Reaching out, yet reluctant, after a while she finally raised her head, somewhat embarrassedly giving a silly laugh: “Landlady, do you know where’s the nearest place that sells masks? My medical mask at the laboratory…”

And so, a silly girl wore a mask for three whole days.

When colleagues asked what was wrong, she said: “I caught a cold, cough cough, mm, all Edward’s fault, his office’s fumes, cough cough.”

The colleagues were all very sympathetic, while Edward gritted his teeth, using her full name: “Wen Heng, how many days haven’t you washed your face, our laboratory is a sterile laboratory, get out and wash your face!”

Ah Heng thought, my man finally gave me something, how can you be so cruel? Bad person, Edward bullying Asian children, cursing you with impotence…

Yan Xi found a job at the church, helping them paint murals—it was arranged by the community administrator at Isu’s mother’s request.

The work required long periods of standing, and considering his leg, Ah Heng originally didn’t want him to go, but Isu volunteered to carefully supervise the thief and make sure he rested on time.

Yan Xi pitifully wiped his tears: “Other men support their women, oh my masculinity, Ah Heng.”

Ah Heng: “Give it up, you—has that kind of thing ever existed? When have you ever not acted coquettishly in front of me!”

Later, thinking seriously about whether all men care about this sort of thing, she agreed, instructing Isu to keep an eye on him, treating it as a way for him to get some fresh air.

After Yan Xi started painting murals, he became much happier. At two euros per hour, he could buy a honey bean cake each for Isu and Ah Heng—sickeningly sweet, but Ah Heng loved eating them.

Isu seemed quite unwilling, always puffing his little cheeks angrily: “Thief, I don’t like this, I like bananas, I like eating bananas!”

Yan Xi used his brush to paint two mustaches on the little fellow’s face, smiling as he said in his newly learned broken French: “Wages.”

If he painted well, he would get a large sum of payment at the end, taken from the money the gentlemen donated to the church.

Speaking of Yan Xi’s French, Ah Heng treated it like comedy, often laughing herself to death in bed—it was worse than when she learned the Beijing dialect, with subjects and predicates confused, and grammar inverted. For example, “I’m going to eat pork ribs” would become “Pork ribs eat, I.”

She taught him how to greet people: “How are you?”

Before bed, Yan Xi would often remove his hearing aids—he couldn’t hear outside sounds, wearing loose blue pajamas (which Ah Heng had made for him at the market, to save money), sitting cross-legged on the bed, only able to see Ah Heng’s lip movements.

“You how are?”

Ah Heng was exasperated—how could he be so stupid? She pinched Yan Xi’s face—the baby fat she had painstakingly nursed back, saying: “It’s ‘how are you?'”

“Are you how?”

“Wrong, how are you?”

“Wrong, you how are?”

“You pig!”

“Pig, you.”

Ah Heng burst into tears, using Chinese: “Go away, I don’t want you anymore, tomorrow I’ll throw you in the sorted garbage bin, foreign trash.”

“What’s foreign trash?”

“It’s useless things imported from abroad.”

“What did you say? I’m deaf, can’t hear.”

Ah Heng: “Pah, only now you say you’re deaf, usually when I say something bad about you to the landlady or watch cartoons with Isu, you can prick up your ears and glare at me.”

“Can’t hear.”

Ah Heng helplessly took his hand and placed it on her throat, enunciating each word in French: “How… are… you?”

Yan Xi’s hand was very cool, he felt that warm spot gently trembling, gulped, swallowed, and looked up at the sky, saying: “Ah Heng, I want to kiss you.”

Ah Heng bit the bedsheet, exploding: “It’s how are you how are you how are you… wait… what did you just say… you want what?”

Yan Xi’s eyes curved up, gently kissing her brow, eyes, cheeks, and corners of her mouth, finally moving to her lips, lingering tenderly, saying: “I’m very well I’m very well I’m very well, darling.”