During Shang Zhitao’s first year of high school, the class held a New Year’s party where the arts committee organized everyone to perform. That year, the rule was that everyone had to participate in a performance, even if you just played the role of a tree.

There were many artistically talented students in the class, and the singing and dancing performances were quickly filled up. The homeroom teacher said they shouldn’t all just sing and dance, as it would make the class appear lacking in diverse talents. So some male students stayed up overnight learning magic tricks, while Shang Zhitao and He Yun looked at each other, suddenly at a loss for ideas.

They volunteered to play trees or hold signs for other performances, but the classroom was too small—there was simply no space for a tree to stand during the singing and dancing performances.

Finally, Shang Zhitao said to the arts committee member, “How about I perform calligraphy? He Yun can grind the ink.”

“Great! After you’re finished, we can frame it and hang it at the back of the classroom. That would be very meaningful.”

The classmates Shang Zhitao encountered during this time were all quite fun. There were some troublemakers in the class, but they were all nice to Shang Zhitao. Probably because Shang Zhitao always sincerely wished others well.

Shang Zhitao and He Yun did perform calligraphy and ink grinding. They had a small table in the classroom and began their performance halfway through the party. The host introduced: “Next, Shang Zhitao and He Yun will perform calligraphy simultaneously, while other performances continue, with the final calligraphy to be displayed at the end.”

Every class was holding their New Year’s party. The scent of ink from Shang Zhitao’s class caught the attention of the school leaders as soon as they entered. They smiled and said, “Even calligraphy can be a performance. Very nice.”

And so it passed.

Shang Zhitao and He Yun breathed a sigh of relief. School ended early that day, and as the two packed up their writing materials and left the classroom, they saw some senior male students who, upon noticing Shang Zhitao, asked each other, “Is this the student who performed calligraphy?”

Indeed it was.

Two days later, someone in the hallway slipped Shang Zhitao a love letter. She asked, “Who is this for?”

“I don’t know!” The boy left with a red face. Shang Zhitao didn’t know who it was for—certainly not for herself—so she thought she would ask the boy to clarify the next time they met. But she forgot what he looked like, so the matter was forgotten. She was quite oblivious.

Shang Zhitao had always thought that during her student days, only Xin Zhaozhou had liked her, because his affection was so obvious. The first time he saw Shang Zhitao, he told his classmates, “From now on, whenever we have lectures in the auditorium, help me secure the seat next to Shang Zhitao.”

“Also, help me stand behind her in the cafeteria line.”

“Reserve the seat across from her in the library for me.”

“Wherever you see her, let me know immediately.”

The scale was too grand. At first, female classmates told Shang Zhitao, “That class heartthrob Xin Zhaozhou likes you.”

“Why would he like me?” Shang Zhitao wouldn’t believe it. She just thought it was a bit coincidental that Xin Zhaozhou sat across from her in the library and stood behind her in the cafeteria line. After a week or two, during lectures, the female students would leave a seat on one side of her, and that seat would soon be occupied by Xin Zhaozhou.

She was bewildered when she saw Xin Zhaozhou standing in front of her, his face red, saying, “Shang Zhitao, I like you.”

In the winter of Nanjing, he carried fresh flowers in his coat to give to her.

So he did like me.

She truly was an insensitive person—only when someone truly favored her could she feel it. Now she could feel that Luan Nian loved her because his favoritism toward her was too obvious.

Shang Zhitao opened her eyes when it was already bright outside.

It seemed like she hadn’t slept this well for a long time. Drawing back the curtains, she saw the sky was dim and gloomy. Even from inside the window, she could feel the dampness outside. It was going to rain.

Luan Nian had his arm over his eyes. “Shang Zhitao! Close the curtains!”

“No!”

Luan Nian jumped out of bed, yanked the curtains closed, picked her up, and threw her back on the bed. “Close your eyes! Sleep!”

He locked her in his arms, his tone not particularly pleasant: “Hurry up!”

“Okay.”

Shang Zhitao closed her eyes. She did want to go back to sleep. Her arm wrapped around Luan Nian’s waist, her legs finding a position between his, and she fell asleep again. Her best two days of sleep each week were when Luan Nian was by her side. This domineering perfectionist wouldn’t allow her to wake up early. Whenever he was around, they had to sleep until the sun was high in the sky.

This time they slept until afternoon.

When they opened their eyes, it was raining outside—a torrential downpour.

“The weather forecast says it will rain for two or three days. Monday morning’s flight will be delayed.”

Monday is an all-day meeting. I can attend remotely. Let’s leave on Tuesday.”

Everyone had developed habits and abilities for remote work collaboration over the past two years. Lu Mi once said to Shang Zhitao, “I wish you could teleport your husband—my stubborn mule, the head of Lingmei China—back to Beijing every Sunday on time.”

“Why?”

“Because when he’s not in the office, our days are even harder.”

Luan Nian faced fewer distractions when working remotely, so his mind worked even better. He would go through the work of one department after another, and after he finished, there would be a guaranteed pile of to-dos. When he was in the office, meeting with various people, there were fewer to-dos, so everyone’s days were a bit easier.

The two of them lay in bed watching the rain outside. Luan Nian played his “Lazy” playlist, and neither spoke. Shang Zhitao’s finger traced Luan Nian’s chin; the stubble growing on his face tickled her heart a little.

Shang Zhitao’s phone rang. She casually picked it up and looked—surprisingly, it was from Xin Zhaozhou: “How have you been lately? I heard you got married.”

Shang Zhitao glanced at Luan Nian, then tossed the phone aside. She didn’t want to reply to Xin Zhaozhou’s message in front of Luan Nian because Luan Nian was a “jealous guy.”

Luan Nian wasn’t a perfect lover; his flaws were as numerous as his virtues. Possessiveness was his biggest flaw, and Shang Zhitao certainly knew it. Just the name “Xin Zhaozhou” was enough to make him angry.

“Not answering?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not answering the message?” Luan Nian asked her. Without even trying to look, he knew she was feeling guilty.

“…It’s nothing urgent.”

“Xin Zhaozhou?”

“?”

Shang Zhitao had opened her phone when he saw it. This man was sneaky.

“He’s asking how you’ve been! Not answering?” Luan Nian gave her a sidelong glance, very much with the attitude of “I want to see what you’re up to.”

“I’ll answer.” Shang Zhitao picked up her phone and replied to Xin Zhaozhou: “Yes, I’m married now. Things are going pretty well.”

“That’s it?” Luan Nian was unsatisfied. This “going pretty well” obviously wasn’t specific enough. He hoped Shang Zhitao would be more detailed. For instance, saying things like “my husband is particularly handsome” or “he treats me especially well”—that kind of “pretty well” would have a more concrete shape.

Speaking of husband, Shang Zhitao never called him “husband.”

As if the word “husband” was too strange.

“Should I be more detailed? It would look like I’m showing off. That’s not necessary, is it?” Shang Zhitao tossed her phone to the side again. “I’m hungry.”

“Then go make some food.”

“I don’t cook well.”

“I’m six years older than you, and I’ll probably die before you. If you can’t cook, will you starve when I’m gone?”

“…”

Shang Zhitao clicked her tongue, wrapped herself in clothes, and jumped out of bed. After a simple wash-up, she entered the kitchen. The house had everything, but once in the kitchen, she didn’t know where to start with all those ingredients. Luan Nian stood there watching her fumble around until she finally gave up, turned around with a pitiful look, and sought his help.

“Call me husband.”

“?”

“Call me husband, and I’ll cook for you.”

Luan Nian wanted to hear what it would feel like for Shang Zhitao to call him husband. Was he supposed to get married once and never even hear someone call him husband? Would that make the marriage pointless? Had he married a brother?

Shang Zhitao hesitated for a long time, then awkwardly called out: “Husband.”

Luan Nian’s mouth drooped. It did feel strange. “Don’t call me that anymore.”

He pushed Shang Zhitao out of the kitchen. Shang Zhitao had recently been enjoying gnawing on bones, like a dog. Last night at midnight, Luan Nian had prepared a pot of lamb spine in the pressure cooker. Now he turned on the heat and asked Shang Zhitao to wash vegetables. Then he put on a raincoat, put one on Luke, and took him downstairs to urinate. Luke was getting old and wasn’t as rambunctious as before. Plus, the grass was slippery, and he stumbled. Luan Nian laughed in the rain, teasing him: “Not so capable anymore, huh?”

Luke probably understood and barked at Luan Nian once.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Everyone gets old.” He deliberately said things Luke didn’t like to hear.

The rain was heavy, and both man and dog were soaked. Luan Nian hung the raincoat by the door, pulled Luke over to dry his fur, then blow-dried him, afraid he might get sick. People say old dogs shouldn’t get sick—each illness ages them more—so the whole family treated Luke like a treasure. Even when Dr. Liang occasionally saw him, he would treat him like something to be cherished, and even give him a proper physical examination.

Luan Nian teased Dr. Liang: “You didn’t study veterinary medicine.”

“The principles of medicine are interconnected, don’t you understand?” After examining Luke, Dr. Liang said, “Our Luke is great, he’s in good health. He can live to be a long-lived dog.”

After all that fuss, the lamb spine was ready, and the two sat at the dining table, prepared to eat. Shang Zhitao suggested having a drink, but Luan Nian refused: “I don’t drink.”

Luan Nian had quit smoking and drinking because Dr. Liang once casually told him: When you get older, if you still plan to have a child, it’s better to quit smoking and drinking. He didn’t smoke much, just three or four cigarettes a day, sometimes none at all, but he drank a lot. Since Dr. Liang said that, he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol.

“I think we can have a little, husband.” Shang Zhitao deliberately teased him. Seeing goosebumps rise on Luan Nian’s neck, she laughed out loud. “You try calling me ‘wife’ and see!”

“Wife.”

Shang Zhitao considered it carefully. It was fine.

“Have a drink?” Shang Zhitao wanted just a small sip. Luan Nian handed her some soda water: “You’re not allowed to drink either.”

“Didn’t you used to say there’s nothing forbidden?” Shang Zhitao protested.

“Try drinking and see what happens?” Luan Nian couldn’t be bothered to argue with her and just stared at her.

Shang Zhitao obediently took a sip of soda water, then put on disposable gloves to gnaw on the lamb spine. She loved gnawing on bones, so Luan Nian had prepared a pot of lamb spine and lamb leg bones. She felt very content.

“So Xin Zhaozhou just wanted to catch up?” Luan Nian asked her. This man was too petty. An hour had passed, and he still remembered this.

“No.”

“?”

“He transferred me 5,000 yuan as a wedding gift. I didn’t accept it.”

Luan Nian looked at her. Shang Zhitao knew where to draw the line.

“Why did he transfer you money?” Luan Nian asked again.

“…Because when he got married, I… gave him a gift.” So many years had passed, and they wouldn’t meet now anyway. It was just a gift. After all, they still had classmate connections.

“Accept it.”

“What?”

“The gift money he transferred to you. Accept it.”

“And then?”

“I’ve been eyeing a hat. You can buy it for me.”

“…”

Shang Zhitao still couldn’t gauge Luan Nian’s reactions. She thought he would be jealous, but it turned out he just didn’t want to lose money. So she picked up her phone, clicked to accept the payment, and thanked Xin Zhaozhou.

“Transfer the money to me.”

Luan Nian wanted to try the feeling of spending Shang Zhitao’s ex-boyfriend’s money. He clicked to receive the payment and ordered that hat in two colors. Not bad.

After completing these actions, he said to Shang Zhitao: “It’s just an ex-boyfriend, no need to avoid mentioning him to me. I have ex-girlfriends too, and you know something about them. But I think I’m a bit better than you because I don’t keep in touch with my ex-girlfriends.”

Luan Nian finished speaking and raised his eyebrows at Shang Zhitao, waiting for her response.

Shang Zhitao wouldn’t respond. She was determined to irritate Luan Nian. She just focused on gnawing her bones, eating very happily.

If she didn’t respond, she would be the one to suffer.

In the afternoon when she was reading, Luan Nian scooped her up from the chair and placed her on the cold table in one motion.

Her skin touched the cold surface, and her body trembled.

“I’m cold.”

“You’ll be warm soon.” Luan Nian wrapped her in his arms, his forehead against hers, and asked, “Do you feel my favoritism towards you now?”

Shang Zhitao tilted her head up and bit his lip, which meant yes.

“There will be more favoritism in the future.”

“You just have to endure it.”

Luan Nian thought to himself, whatever Xin Zhaozhou old or new, they all had to step aside. This woman is by my side. I’ll take good care of her myself, and everyone else can just scatter.

If they could have a child, that would be even better.