“Clothes, pants – the inexpensive kind.”

Miao Jing pondered for two seconds, then went back to the room and changed into a soft, loose colorful sweater, jeans, canvas shoes, and a black and white Wayuu woven bag.

Meeting Chen Yi’s gaze, she saw him lift his eyelids to stare at her steadily, his tongue pressing against his cheek, seemingly admitting defeat as he sighed and hunched his tall frame to stand up: “I’ll drive you to the office!”

He borrowed Pierre the French landlord’s Harley motorcycle – this retired old man was a high school teacher and a fan of Gabriel García Márquez. After moving to Bogotá, he became a passionate outdoor enthusiast. Chen Yi had helped him adjust the motorcycle’s brakes, successfully earning Pierre’s trust.

Colombia was also a motorcycle country. The highland morning breeze was slightly chilly as they weaved through crowded traffic. Miao Jing sat on the back, arms around his waist. When the motorcycle stopped at an intersection, his large hand covered her cold fingertips as Chen Yi asked if she was cold.

“I’m not cold.”

“If you’re cold, hold on tighter.” He guided her hands inside his clothes, against his warm, firm abs. “I’ll block the wind for you.”

Nearby, Latin girls pressed their voluptuous bodies tightly against their boyfriends’ backs, intimately chatting and kissing, their laughter particularly crisp and free. Miao Jing rested her chin on Chen Yi’s shoulder, unconsciously holding him tighter. Chen Yi turned his head, his fingers rubbing her cool face as she pressed her lips together and smiled at him.

After dropping her off at the company building, Chen Yi watched her walk into the tower.

“I’ll pick you up after work. Want to eat out or cook at home tonight?”

“Whatever you prefer, you decide.”

“How about instant noodles at home then?”

“Sure.”

From childhood till now, this girl had always been easy to please.

“Come here.” He propped his long leg on the ground, holding her helmet, his lips curving into a slight smile. “Come closer.”

Miao Jing took two steps forward, and he gripped her chin, seeking her red lips for a kiss: “Work well and don’t wander around. Leave the office with your colleagues, and call me if anything happens.”

Their intertwined breaths parted after a moment. Miao Jing quickly glanced around, telling him to be careful on the road and stay safe.

The life of a house husband was generally leisurely. Chen Yi first went to the Paloquemao market to buy groceries. This was considered Bogotá’s internet-famous market, with endless stalls displaying colorful fruits and vegetables, including Asian vegetable stands where mushrooms, tofu, water spinach, and bean sprouts could all be found. The flower section had an ocean of blooms and bright blue larkspur for just two yuan RMB per stem.

Passing by the bakery, he bought a blueberry pie to thank Pierre for lending the motorcycle. The French old man was meticulous about details but generous and enthusiastic. Chen Yi chatted with him daily, finding that basic Spanish wasn’t too difficult to learn, though grammar and speaking speed could be challenging. The two men would sit in the garden reading newspapers and drinking coffee, rambling from Bogotá’s weekend hiking and motorcycle parades to Chinese cities and global influence. They could stumble through conversations for half a morning, and Chen Yi’s casual Spanish improved rapidly, gradually becoming capable of handling daily conversations.

With household chores still unfinished, he couldn’t sit long. Chen Yi went upstairs to organize housework and iron clothes, turning on the TV to listen to local news. After hanging clothes on the rooftop, he sat on the edge, contentedly lighting a cigarette, watching the white sheets sway gently in the wind.

Someone called “Chen” from below in an odd tone, bicycle bells ringing – it was Ramirez’s eldest son, Gino, only seventeen this year. He walked dogs during the day and worked as a restaurant waiter at night. Today he came to take Chen Yi around the old town, mainly the Santafe area, Bogotá’s liveliest nightlife district, packed with bars, hotels, and backpackers.

Gino took Chen Yi to a somewhat famous pool hall.

In China, Chen Yi played snooker and Chinese eight-ball, while Colombia focused on pool and carom billiards, with particularly intense gameplay. Chen Yi wanted to try South American pool techniques.

Local pool playing was quite casual, with poor table conditions and aggressive shots focused mainly on potting balls. The young people at the pool hall had never seen a Chinese person there before – tall and lackadaisical, dressed flashily yet cheaply, very unlike typical Chinese characteristics. Then they watched his shots, very orthodox snooker style.

Chen Yi only brought 100,000 pesos, openly placed beside the pool table, 10,000 pesos per game. Everyone thought this money would be easy to win, but after staying at the pool hall until 3 PM, the 100,000 pesos hadn’t been lost. With the last bit of money, Chen Yi bought everyone drinks, and that’s how he made a group of pool friends.

In the evening, Chen Yi took the bus to pick up Miao Jing from work. They had agreed to eat instant noodles at home, but upon opening the door, they could smell aromas wafting from the kitchen. The pot held a seafood medley stewing with onions, tofu, tomatoes, and mushrooms, while the oven contained Caribbean lobster with herbs and basil flavoring. Chen Yi whistled while cooking two packets of instant noodles, serving them piping hot to Miao Jing.

Her beautiful eyes sparkled as she looked at him, both surprised and amused.

“Try it and see how it tastes?” Chen Yi casually picked out lobster meat for her. “Made it following an easy recipe.”

The taste wasn’t perfect but exceeded expectations. They enjoyed the meal thoroughly. After dinner, they opened a bottle of wine, brought out small cakes, and curled up on the sofa to watch a movie.

Life was simple, time flew by, and weekends were relaxed and free. On weekends, Bogotá’s main roads would be closed to vehicles, allowing citizens to cycle, run, or exercise. The city’s atmosphere relaxed, and the two would go out for strolls. Street corn covered in cream and sprinkled with salt before being charcoal-grilled had a special sweet and salty taste. They’d sit in cafes having coffee with French bread, easily passing the morning hours.

Pigeons at Bolívar Plaza would swarm and overwhelm people, children playing and cheerleading performances erupting in laughter. Bogotá had many renowned museums to pass the time in. Chen Yi took Miao Jing wandering through the old town, walking to local markets where they could find interesting trinkets, like handicrafts from various ethnic groups or hard-to-find Latin American singer records, earrings and necklaces woven by Venezuelan refugees, and uniquely styled clothing and footwear.

Lunch was usually local snacks at the market – blood sausage with rice, pink roasted potatoes, fried ants and insects, and cold shrimp sour soup. After eating, they’d climb Monserrate mountain, naturally saving dinner for the mountain-top restaurant to eat delicious Peruvian cuisine. They’d choose window seats; the restaurant dimly lit, the band playing accordion and singing softly, surrounding diners whispering, the table laden with appetizing seafood rice stew and spicy barbecue, lamb chops with pasta, and Peruvian beer.

Looking down at Bogotá from the mountain, the night sea of lights was boundless, revealing Bogotá as a metropolis of ten million people. The terrace wind was cool, whether, from altitude sickness or corn liquor, there was always a thin, empty feeling. Next to them, foreign couples were already passionately kissing. Chen Yi wrapped Miao Jing’s slender body in his coat, meticulously kissing her ear rim and cheek edge. Caught in the intense atmosphere, she felt his stubbled chin brush against her sensitive neck and ears, her fingers trembling white and curled, the brilliant lights before her eyes closed into a spinning dizziness.

There was still entertainment at night, and they could blend well into the local atmosphere while avoiding dangerous elements. The old town’s night market was still crowded until 2 AM, full of Latin American girls with pretty features, curvy hips, and slim waists, wearing tight jeans or super short skirts, free and somewhat dangerously alluring. They went to bars for drinks, where people had never seen Asian faces, with “hola” sounds rising and falling, frequently having people come over for photos or drinks. Miao Jing ordered a mojito at the bar, and the bartender directly gave her a 1L barrel of cocktail, drinking until her cheeks were flushed and her gaze dreamy.

Everyone in the bar was dancing Colombian salsa, movements hot and ambiguous, passion splashing. Miao Jing watched and blushed, held by Chen Yi swaying to the music, retreating to a deserted corner to exchange a lingering deep kiss, excitement and intoxication rising from their hearts, both unable to contain themselves.

It was especially wild days, even more crazy than that summer when they were eighteen. Adult men and women had shed their innocence, moving toward maturity and directness. The ignited passion moved from strange streets to home, leaving traces on the dining table, bathtub, and bedroom. Miao Jing cried until her eyes were swollen, still unable to resist his ravaging. Chen Yi sealed her sobs with kisses; she bit his arms and shoulders fiercely, further provoking his violent tendencies.

The next day upon waking, Miao Jing’s entire body felt crushed, too exhausted to lift even a finger. A large bouquet of colorful roses with morning dew sat at the bedside. Meeting a pair of lazy yet satisfied eyes, Chen Yi grinned at her – coffee and breakfast were already prepared, and he attentively provided feeding service.

She gazed languidly at the bed canopy… thinking Chen Yi needed a job to divert his energy.

But she didn’t dare say it out loud.

Chen Yi went to the pool hall weekly to play with others, losing less and less money, but even when winning he wouldn’t take the money, saying it was just for practicing and making friends, sharing a beer – in Bogotá, he had no money, background, or resources; peace was precious, and he needed friends from all walks of life.

Gino followed Chen Yi, practically becoming his little fanboy, talking about the past in the Golden Triangle – you know the Myanmar Golden Triangle? That’s a place as exciting as Colombia. Ever handled guns? Of course – Bogotá’s streets were full of security guards with short assault rifles, plus Córdoba rifles, the Golden Triangle had those too, rifles and various replicas, he used to have a gun for self-defense.

After nearly half a year in Bogotá, Chen Yi was familiar with the environment, had mastered the language, and understood weapons, with confidence in his physique and looks. Ramirez made connections and helped Chen Yi find a job as a security guard in the wealthy district, at a high-end apartment complex near their home, standing guard and patrolling while armed.

Chen Yi was very interested in this job.

“Afternoon shift, 10 AM to 3 PM, with work lunch provided, monthly salary 800,000 pesos.”

Miao Jing thought for five seconds, asking if it was safe. The wealthy district had cameras everywhere, complete security equipment, plus police patrols – there had been very few violent incidents in recent years. Finally, she decided to let him be; rather than being a house husband every day, getting a part-time job to socialize would be good. As for the 800,000 peso salary, converted to RMB it was just over 1,000 yuan, counting as his own pocket money, with the monthly household allowance remaining unchanged.

He wore the security company’s uniform, suddenly looking proper – combat boots, camouflage pants, black polo shirt, coupled with his crew cut and deep-set eyes, giving off a kind of tough, steady coolness. Miao Jing secretly took a photo, caught by Chen Yi, who smiled roguishly: “Like it?”

How could she not like it?

Remember when they were young, they hardly had any photos, just a few ID photos. Back then they didn’t understand about commemorating and treasuring moments, not even having a single photo together.

Later, Chen Yi would send Miao Jing photos while she was at work – he and Gino playing frisbee with dogs in the park, strange fruits, and vegetables from the market, magnificent rainbows after afternoon storms, humble work lunches with colleagues.

Of course, there were also photos of them together – him casually draping his arm over her shoulder at tourist spots, their backs while playing badminton with friends, making faces while cooking in the kitchen, sweet sleeping faces in peaceful mornings, and kisses nuzzling in candlelight shadows.

Since she liked them, they’d keep them all, to slowly look through when they got old.

The security job only lasted three months. Chen Yi made several good friends among his colleagues but ultimately stopped due to female apartment residents frequently asking him upstairs to clear drains and eliminate insects, enthusiastically inviting him to parties.

Chen Yi couldn’t handle it and simply resigned, returning to being a carefree house husband.

Miao Jing faced similar situations – Brazilian boys in the office always enthusiastically giving cheek kisses and hugs, language school classmates frequently inviting her on vacations, ambiguous phone calls at midnight saying they missed her sweet voice and gentle smile, causing sleepless nights, asking if she wanted to come to the bar for a drink.

This was the passionate, fiery Latin America!

Just about to fall asleep… one phone call made Chen Yi’s face dark and his eyes terrifying. That night, Miao Jing was tormented body and soul, not getting up until nearly noon the next day. She found her voice hoarse and muffled, her head heavy and feet light, like being in a drowsy cold.

Chen Yi and Pierre were watering flowers and chatting in the garden below, looking up to see Miao Jing in a white morning robe, delicately leaning against the terrace drinking coffee. He raised the water hose high and aimed at her, spraying Miao Jing with fine water droplets. The two men laughed heartily below, mocking her as a lazy girl.

Miao Jing rarely lost her composure, coldly and huffily turning to go inside.

Chen Yi thundered upstairs to accompany her, thoughtfully preparing seafood porridge and fresh-squeezed juice, his warm palms massaging her sore muscles, kissing and sucking the kiss marks on her neck.

“Tired? Want to take a bath first? Shall I run the water for you?”

Her whole body was weak as she held her coffee cup with a cold face: “Have you considered finding another job?”

“Staying at home all day isn’t ideal, having a job would make everyone more relaxed. Maybe I could help look for a position suitable for you…”

The tall figure pressed against her stiffened slightly. Chen Yi heavily rested his chin on her shoulder, his tone lazy: “Why? Want me to be the breadwinner?”