Fang Long planned to stay in Guangzhou two more days, partly because she wasn’t feeling well, and partly because she didn’t want to sit through a long bus ride on the second day of her period.

She called her aunt to check in, not mentioning she was sick, only saying she wanted to spend a couple more days with her friend. Ma Huimin didn’t object, and even asked if she had enough money to spend.

The day after Zhou Ya arrived, at noon, Fang Long moved out of the small inn in the urban village. Though she still had a slight low fever, she felt much better.

Zhou Ya had rebooked a hotel — this time a proper, legitimate hotel, even a five-star one.

Fang Long felt a bit of a pinch — one night at this hotel cost five or six times more than the small inn, and two nights combined cost more than her monthly salary.

But expensive had its reasons — the new hotel’s comfort level was far beyond the small inn’s, by no small margin.

Fang Long slept through most of the afternoon again, and when she got up in the evening, her fever had gone down.

She comfortably took a hot shower, only regretting that she couldn’t use the bathtub in the room.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to, in the bathtub—”

The last few words, Fang Long said right next to Zhou Ya’s ear.

The back of Zhou Ya’s neck instantly went numb; he bared his teeth in warning: “Feeling better and already getting restless, huh?”

Heaven only knew how hard it was to endure, being able to touch, to see, but not to taste.

That evening, Zhou Ya took her to an old-established restaurant for “night tea.” Her appetite roaring back the moment she recovered, Fang Long ate three shrimp dumplings, two servings of chicken feet, a plate of cha siu rice noodle rolls, and half a pot of savory bone congee.

On their last day in the provincial capital, Fang Long finally went shopping according to plan — a gold shop for a longevity peach, a pastry shop for souvenirs, then to “Liuxing Qianxian” to put together a new outfit for Zhou Ya.

In the bustling underground mall, with no one who knew them around, they could openly hold hands, fingers interlaced, and steal a kiss whenever their eyes met.

Here, they were nothing more than the most ordinary couple in love.

On the bus back, Fang Long came across a web news article saying that Guangzhou’s Asian Games at year’s end would hold its opening and closing ceremonies at the still-under-construction Haixinsha Plaza.

There was also, already completed but not yet open to the public, China’s tallest tower.

Fang Long felt another pang of regret added to this trip; Zhou Ya squeezed her fingertip and said: “What’s there to regret? Come again next year and you’ll get to see it.”

Fang Long leaned against his shoulder: “Let’s bring Auntie along next time?”

Zhou Ya chuckled lightly, agreeing: “Sure.”

Back in Anzhen, Fang Long went home first while Zhou Ya went straight to the shop, planning to return home after closing up.

Ma Huimin still didn’t seem to have noticed the change between the two of them.

Days passed one after another, and in the blink of an eye it was March.

Ma Yulian’s death anniversary fell on the third of March, and Zhou Ya had prepared the offerings and joss paper in advance.

This year he’d put more effort in — the lion-head goose used for the offering had been braised by his own hands the day before.

The back row of the delivery van had been removed, so the only seat available for a passenger was the front passenger seat.

As always, Fang Long let Ma Huimin take the front passenger seat, while she brought a small stool to sit behind the driver’s seat — her “designated spot.”

“Yong’an” cemetery was on the outskirts of town; getting there required driving a short stretch of national highway.

The road surface was potholed and dusty. Zhou Ya drove especially slowly, trying his best to avoid the low spots on the road, so Fang Long in the back wouldn’t get jolted around uncomfortably.

He mentioned, in passing, that he was planning to buy a new car. Ma Huimin had no objection, but Fang Long muttered quietly: “But you’ve been spending a lot lately, maybe wait a bit longer before buying?”

Within this past half month, Zhou Ya had added a small TV to the new house’s master bedroom, “sponsored” her trip to Guangzhou, and bought her a new phone while there — every one of these cost quite a bit.

Fang Long nagged him about spending so freely, and he was actually rather proud of it, saying money was meant to be spent — otherwise what was the point of working oneself to the bone night after night.

Zhou Ya glanced at her sideways through the rearview mirror, and only then did Fang Long realize that sentence did sound somewhat suggestive.

Like a wife scolding her husband for spending recklessly.

Ma Huimin only smiled faintly: “You young people have your own ideas, spend what needs spending.”

Zhou Ya and Fang Long exchanged a look through the rearview mirror.

They’d already agreed beforehand that after finishing the grave-sweeping, once home, they’d talk to Ma Huimin about the two of them.

The sky was overcast today, and the cemetery had few visitors. Zhou Ya walked ahead with large strides, one hand carrying the offerings, the other carrying an iron bucket along with paper ingots and candles.

Fang Long supported Ma Huimin, walking slowly behind. Since the path went uphill, Ma Huimin had to rest after a few steps; Fang Long wasn’t in a hurry either, accompanying her, walking and pausing.

By the time they reached the grave, Zhou Ya had already wiped down the headstone once and was crouched down, using a nail to scrape out the engraved characters on the stone.

Fang Long brought over the small stool from the van, set it aside for Ma Huimin to sit and rest first, then walked over and crouched beside Zhou Ya, asking: “Should I scrape?”

“It’s fine, almost done. Go find the paint and the brushes.”

“Okay.”

Fang Long dug out red and green paint tins and two brushes from the red plastic bag.

The lid of the paint tin was pressed on too tight; she struggled with it for a while but couldn’t get it open — her nails were too short.

Zhou Ya glanced over: “Give it here.”

Fang Long handed it to him: “It’s on too tight.”

The words had barely left her mouth when Zhou Ya had already opened the lid, effortlessly.

“Wow, here’s another one.” Fang Long grinned and handed him the other tin.

Seeing her in good spirits, Zhou Ya smiled along too, opening this one as well.

Ma Huimin watched their backs, close together, lost in thought.

Fresh paint filled the carved characters, the three sacrificial meats and fresh fruits laid out neatly, incense smoke drifting, red candles dripping like tears.

This year, Fang Long knelt before the headstone a bit longer than usual, closing her eyes and raising the incense, saying many things to her mother in her heart.

Zhou Ya stood behind her, watching quietly.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew, making the candle flames flicker, and only then did Fang Long rise to her feet.

Zhou Ya stepped forward, and without a word, simply handed her a tissue.

Fang Long pressed her lips together in a smile, took the tissue, turned around, and dabbed at her damp eyes.

Having composed herself, Fang Long asked Ma Huimin: “Auntie, next we burn the joss paper, right?”

“Right, but Long Long…” Ma Huimin looked at the photo on the headstone, of her sister who would never age again, her voice distant, “Auntie needs to trouble you to step away for a bit, is that alright?”

Fang Long froze, glancing sideways at Zhou Ya, who looked equally confused.

But there was some understanding between mother and son; an answer quickly began to surface, however vaguely, in Zhou Ya’s mind.

He handed the car key to Fang Long, saying in a low voice: “Go get two bottles of water from the car, we’ll need them after burning the paper.”

Fang Long felt a bit nervous, blinking rapidly several times.

Zhou Ya nodded, signaling for her to be at ease.

Fang Long pressed her lips together and took the key.

Once the girl had walked some distance away, Zhou Ya turned around, lowered his head, and asked: “Mom, you have something to say to me?”

Ma Huimin’s gaze pulled back from the headstone, and she looked up, emotions complicated in her eyes.

“Zhou Ya, kneel down for your aunt.”