Back in elementary school, the female classmates in Fang Long’s grade had generally gone through their first period by fifth or sixth grade, but during that stretch of time she’d been going hungry more often than not, her nutrition unable to keep up, and even by seventh grade her period still hadn’t come. Her build was also smaller than her peers’.

During that period, Ma Yulian had lived in a fog, and there was almost no communication between mother and daughter. Fang Long was anxious, and once, taking advantage of a moment when Ma Yulian seemed slightly more lucid, she finally brought up to her mother that her period was very late in coming.

Ma Yulian didn’t take it to heart, just dug out a pack of sanitary pads and gave them to her, saying that any normal girl would get it eventually.

Fang Long took that opened pack of sanitary pads, her mouth opening and closing like a mute person, unable to get a single word out.

She felt she wasn’t a normal girl.

When it came to matters between men and women, she’d seen far too much from her parents that a child her age shouldn’t have seen. Her mind had been dragged forward, yet her body seemed locked shut — she wouldn’t allow herself to grow up.

Half a year later, as she packed to move to her aunt’s house, that still-unused pack of sanitary pads got stuffed along with everything else into the woven bag used for the move.

The summer before eighth grade, one night while half-asleep, Fang Long woke up from stomach pain.

Her nightgown and the bamboo mat were both stained with blood, a bloody mess. For a moment Fang Long couldn’t process it, and pure instinct made her scream out loud.

Someone quickly came knocking on her door, asking what happened. Fang Long knew it was Zhou Ya outside, but how could she possibly say this out loud to him?

Like a wild cat whose tail had been stepped on, she shouted at the door, “Go away,” “Don’t worry about it.”

Afterward it went quiet outside for a while, and then it was her aunt knocking on the door, gently asking what was wrong.

Before opening the door, Fang Long confirmed through the door with her aunt that Zhou Ya and her uncle weren’t out there, before she was willing to open the door a crack.

—Actually she hadn’t locked the door, but her aunt’s family would never push open her door without knocking first; they always knocked each time.

Fang Long told her aunt it was her first period, that she hadn’t expected it to come this heavily. Once her aunt understood, she only asked if she had sanitary pads.

Fang Long found the pack her mother had given her, and suddenly, touched at the most vulnerable place in her memories, tears came pouring out.

Her aunt held her hand and said she was such a silly child.

How to use a panty liner — her mother had never taught her, but her aunt did.

Fang Long went to the bathroom, and when she returned to the room, the bamboo mat had already been taken away, replaced with new sheets.

Her aunt also brought her a hot water bottle and a cup of brown sugar water, telling her to drink a few sips to warm her stomach before sleeping.

That night Fang Long slept soundly.

The next morning when she woke, the weather was lovely, and her freshly washed nightgown hung on the balcony, bathed in bright sunlight.

…

This time, she didn’t wait for the knock — Fang Long opened the door herself and leaned half her body into the hallway.

The inn wasn’t big, the hallway wasn’t long, she could see all the way to the other end at a glance. The staircase was in the middle, her room at the far end.

That person was walking fast, his steady footsteps drawing closer and closer.

“Over here!” she called out softly.

Zhou Ya took the stairs two or three at a time, and the higher he climbed the more frustrated he got — what kind of run-down inn didn’t even have an elevator?

He carried Luo Xin’s suitcase, which wasn’t light — how were these two young girls supposed to lug luggage up to the fifth floor? And carry it back down again in the morning?

He walked up to Fang Long with a dark expression, about to ask why on earth she’d booked such a rundown place, but the moment he saw her wet eyes, all the harsh words died in his throat.

He lowered his head, his voice helpless: “Silly girl, why are you crying again?”

Fang Long’s nose stung, and the tears she’d just managed to stop welled up again.

She opened her arms and hugged the travel-worn man in front of her.

The smell on him was clearly not pleasant, but Fang Long didn’t care.

She only felt how warm he was, like a great furnace burning, able to melt her with its heat.

Zhou Ya froze for a moment, then quickly hugged her back, pressing his lips to the top of her head in a kiss.

Her body temperature was noticeably higher than usual; he asked patiently: “Do you have a fever?”

“Mm…” Fang Long sobbed softly, “and then you also have to go downstairs and buy me something…”

“Buy what? Medicine?”

“…Sanitary pads, I got my period…”

Fang Long’s period should have come next week; it had come early now, and she wasn’t prepared.

Zhou Ya walked into the room and glanced around, and immediately understood what had happened to Fang Long.

He set the luggage bag aside first, went into the bathroom to wash his hands and face, then came back to check Fang Long’s temperature.

“Not too high. How are you feeling now? Any better?” Zhou Ya pressed his forehead to hers. “Any other symptoms?”

“I feel much better than this morning, my nose is a bit stuffy, and a few coughs…”

“Alright, I’ll go down for a bit, wait for me.”

“Okay…”

“Lock the door behind me. Wait for my knock before you open it, don’t run out.”

Fang Long stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed his stubbly chin, answering a completely different question: “How did you end up coming?”

Zhou Ya was straightforward: “Missed you, so I came.”

During the day he’d sensed something was off with Fang Long; when he asked, she wouldn’t say. Uneasy, he’d dumped the ingredients back at the stall, told the staff, and gone home to pack.

Not really “luggage” — just grabbed a couple sets of clothes, underwear, and socks and stuffed them into a bag.

Ma Huimin asked why he was suddenly leaving. He thought about it and still didn’t tell his mother directly that he was going to Guangzhou to find Fang Long.

He only said a friend was in trouble and he had to be away for two days; he’d let Ren Jianbai and A’Feng know, and told Ma Huimin to call them if anything came up.

Zhou Ya had originally wanted to drive, but worried his beat-up van might break down halfway, so in the end he chose to take the long-distance bus.

By the time he arrived in Guangzhou, it was already dark.

Fang Long had given him the name and address of the inn, and when the taxi stopped in front of an urban village signboard, Zhou Ya wondered for a moment whether the driver had taken a wrong turn — or whether this was some unlicensed cab specifically preying on out-of-towners.

…

Zhou Ya stood in front of the shelf for half a minute.

He had a knack for picking seafood ingredients; picking sanitary pads was truly not his forte.

He vaguely recalled the packaging of hygiene products that occasionally appeared in the trash can at home, tried to remember the length noted on the packaging, then picked the most expensive ones, grabbing two packs each of day-use and night-use and tossing them into the shopping basket.

He also picked out a hot water bottle, then went to the grocery section for a pack of brown sugar.

Fang Long could neither sit still nor lie down comfortably, so she just paced back and forth in the room.

With nothing else to do, she opened Zhou Ya’s bag, took out his clothes, hung each piece on a hanger, and put them in the closet.

She also brought Zhou Ya’s toothbrush and towel into the bathroom and set them properly.

His toothbrush went into the same cup as hers.

The girl in the mirror looked a mess — dull-eyed, flushed cheeks, pale lips — but the corners of her mouth curved up in a secret smile.

A smile that showed her little canine teeth.

Zhou Ya came back, one hand carrying several heavy plastic bags, the other cradling a stack of new bedsheets.

He set everything down carefully first, took out the hot water bottle and brown sugar, then handed the rest of the bag to Fang Long: “Go change your clothes.”

Fang Long remembered what he’d said last time, and pouted as she asked: “Am I supposed to wash the clothes myself?”

Zhou Ya said, annoyed: “Just leave them in the sink.”

Fang Long ran off to the bathroom, giggling.

There was water in the kettle, but it had gone cold. Zhou Ya sniffed it — sure enough, the tap water in the provincial capital had a strange odor, different from back home.

He didn’t change the water, just switched on the kettle directly.

He stripped off the dirty sheets and put on the new ones, layering two on top of each other. Just as he finished, the water had also boiled.

Zhou Ya first filled the hot water bottle halfway, checked for leaks, then filled it to eighty percent.

Fang Long washed up, changed into clean clothes, and felt much more at ease.

Drowsiness followed soon after.

She came out of the bathroom to find the bed already made, and steaming porridge waiting on the table. Her heart softened, and she wanted to hug Zhou Ya again.

Unexpectedly, Zhou Ya put out a hand to stop her: “No, no, no, not yet.”

Fang Long got annoyed right away: “What, afraid I’ll get you sick?”

Zhou Ya glared at her: “I’m filthy right now.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you dare mind?” He tilted his chin toward the bowl of porridge. “Eat some porridge first to line your stomach, take your medicine after.”

Fang Long laughed and sat down at the table, picked up the spoon and stirred the porridge, scooping up preserved egg and lean meat — there were plenty of toppings.

She said: “I can’t eat that much, I don’t have much appetite.”

“Eat as much as you can, leave the rest for me.” Zhou Ya picked up the kettle and headed to the bathroom. “And also, did a cat get your and Luo Xin’s tongues? The tap water has a smell and neither of you noticed?”

“We noticed.”

“Then why didn’t you buy bottled water to boil?”

“Too lazy.”

“Lazy enough to die, honestly…” Zhou Ya poured out the remaining water in the kettle, rinsed it, and walked back out. “This lazy — you want me to feed you too?”

“Sure.” Fang Long picked up the spoon and held it out to him. “Then feed me.”

Zhou Ya glanced sideways at her, didn’t respond, and took out the newly bought bottled water from another plastic bag, poured two bottles into the kettle, and switched it on.

Fang Long’s hand still hung in midair. Zhou Ya walked over to her, pinched the spoon handle, and took the spoon from her.

He bent down, one hand braced on the table, scooped a full spoonful of porridge, scraped the bottom of the spoon against the bowl’s rim twice, then brought it to her mouth.

“Open up.” His voice was low.

Fang Long found it hard to look away.

Whether it was his well-defined knuckles, his broad shoulders stretching his shirt taut, his lashes — short but dense — his eyes so dark no light seemed to get through, or his somewhat dry lips, none of it let her eyes wander elsewhere.

She obediently opened her mouth and took the spoon in.

After finishing the porridge, she took her medicine, and Zhou Ya told her to rest in bed.

The hot water bottle had already been placed inside the covers, warming everything through and through, like crawling into a warm cocoon.

Zhou Ya brewed a cup of brown sugar water. Fang Long, thirsty, drank a little more than half a cup before lying down to sleep, and soon her breathing evened out.

Zhou Ya turned off the overhead light, and by the faint bathroom light, finished off the porridge she’d left along with the stir-fried rice noodles that had come packaged together, cleared the table, and tied up the trash bag.

The things from the luggage bag had already been hung in the closet. Zhou Ya moved lightly, took a pair of underwear and two hangers, and went into the bathroom.

After showering, he washed Fang Long’s clothes clean, wrung them out hard, and hung them under the exhaust fan.

Once everything was done, he turned off the bathroom light.

The room’s curtains were pulled open a palm’s width, letting in the neon light from outside, spilling onto the bed by the window.

Fang Long, who he’d thought was already asleep, now had half her face buried in the covers, her eyes wide open, flashes of glittering light passing through them.

“Weren’t you asleep just now?” Zhou Ya lowered his voice, though what came out was mostly breath.

“Wanted to wait and sleep together with you.”

“How can two people sleep in this single bed?”

“We can squeeze in.” Fang Long said, already scooting to the side, lifting the blanket. “Come up.”

Zhou Ya was completely powerless against Fang Long like this. He let out a “tch” and climbed onto the bed.

The bed wasn’t big; his hair still damp, he lay on his side, half-reclined, pulling Fang Long against his front, the hot water bottle tucked between them.

Fang Long rubbed her forehead against his chest: “Did my fever go down? Feels like you’re hotter than me now.”

“Keep rubbing and you’ll sleep by yourself.” Zhou Ya swatted her waist. “Sleep now.”

Fang Long called his name softly: “Zhou Ya…”

Zhou Ya answered in a low voice: “Hm?”

“I’m so comfor—”

Fang Long had meant to say “I’m so comfortable,” but the words paused at her lips. She thought about it, and changed what she said.

“I’m so happy.”

She lifted her head, eyelids half-drooping, and asked: “What about you?”

Zhou Ya tightened his arms, drawing her even closer, letting their two hearts press even nearer together.

He curved his lips slightly and said: “Mm, me too.”