Fang Muyang wrote a brief letter to Nurse Xu, thanking her for her meticulous care back then while also asking her to clarify two points: First, he had always worked diligently in the countryside—either laboring or thinking about how to labor better—with no time for a girlfriend. Second, the reason he gave up his spot was that he wanted to attend the Art Academy, not other institutions. Enclosed with the letter was a box of chocolates, this time specifically for Nurse Xu alone to enjoy as a token of his and Fei Ni’s wedding sweets.
Since Nurse Xu had made the mistake, it was only right for her to clarify it.
Regarding Nurse Xu bringing up old matters again, Fang Muyang saw it as a good person doing a bad deed. If he were to write another clarification letter to the newspaper, it would seem like a public shaming of her—unnecessary and making a mountain out of a molehill. He only hoped the matter would pass quickly, leaving as few traces as possible.
Fei Ni had always wanted to attend university, yet he had given the spot to someone else. Though he didn’t consider it a big deal, it had always been a hurdle in Fei Ni’s heart. No matter how he explained it, it ultimately came down to him giving what Fei Ni wanted most to another woman. He couldn’t even say that even if he wanted to give the spot to Fei Ni, she would have had to be at the same educated youth point as him. Fortunately, Fei Ni had been admitted to university, so this matter could finally be overlooked. But someone had to go and reawaken Fei Ni’s memories, portraying him as giving up the spot out of blind infatuation. The idea of such a man being tenderly cared for by Fei Ni might move others, but he only felt it made Fei Ni lose face.
When Fang Muyang saw Fei Ni, he was still thinking about how to explain things to her. Unexpectedly, Fei Ni didn’t mention it at all. She only asked about the progress of his entry in the art exhibition. Fang Muyang told her he had only passed the preliminary selection and hadn’t heard anything since. Based on the judging timeline, he was surely eliminated. He hadn’t planned to participate in the first place, so making the preliminary round didn’t feel like a big deal to him, but Fei Ni took it very seriously.
Fei Ni tried to find reasons for his elimination, suspecting the issue might lie in his theme. Although he painted working people, he depicted them during rest. At a time when everyone was enthusiastically engaged in construction, it was far too early to relax and enjoy the fruits of labor. Moreover, his painting was too leisurely, out of step with current aesthetic tastes. That he made it past the preliminary round was already a recognition of his painting skills. Fei Ni realized that Fang Muyang’s paintings bore little imprint of the times.
Mimicking others’ tone, she said, “Working people are clearly laboring most of the time. Why must you insist on painting them during their breaks?” In her heart, she felt indignant on his behalf. If they criticized his theme, his painting could just as well be interpreted as encouraging labor—only after working hard could one truly enjoy the pleasure of rest.
Fang Muyang immediately self-criticized: “I’m too backward, only thinking about rest. Tonight, please help me make up for my labor lessons so I can make progress too.”
“Let’s eat first before the lesson. What would you like? My treat.” Fei Ni noticed that Fang Muyang had actually lost weight. Although the savings were in his hands, she had left him a portion—enough for him to eat out several times a week.The two arrived at the restaurant, and Fei Ni let Fang Muyang order. He ordered more dishes than she had expected. These days, Fang Muyang mostly ate at the cafeteria, where meat dishes were rare and would be snatched up the moment classes ended. The frenzy made it seem as though painting was purely physical labor—impossible to continue without proper sustenance. Occasionally, when Fang Muyang dined out alone, he ordered sparingly. Now that he wasn’t working or drawing sequential pictures, his time was divided between attending classes and painting what he loved, leaving no room for earning money. Though they had savings, those were reserved for buying Fei Ni an apartment. Dining out together was better—they could order more dishes without feeling extravagant.
Fei Ni didn’t stop him from being so indulgent. Fang Muyang had indeed grown thin, as if he hadn’t had a decent meal lately. What she didn’t know was that before marriage, though Fang Muyang had always enjoyed life, limited funds meant he only occasionally ate out or went fishing to grill his own catch. Most of the time, his way of savoring life was through painting. It was only after marriage that he began insisting on eating well every day.
Before coming, Fang Muyang had thought Fei Ni would be upset—doubly so, both over his failure to advance and the newspaper incident. Yet, Fei Ni hadn’t mentioned a word about either.
Initially, Fei Ni hadn’t paid much attention to the newspaper article. Once she and Fang Muyang were both admitted to university, who he had given his spot to and how no longer mattered. Ling Yi’s explanation was an unexpected bonus.
She comforted Fang Muyang, “Making it past the preliminary round is still good. Not advancing isn’t because your work is poor. If I were a judge, I’d award you first prize.”
Fang Muyang, far from modest, took her words and ran with them, “What’s my reward going to be?”
“The reward is you playing the violin for me. It must have been terribly lonely without an audience all these days, right?”
It truly had been lonely—the bed felt far too large.
Because they hadn’t seen each other in so long, Fei Ni was especially gentle with Fang Muyang today—until she saw in the studio that he had used their household saucers for mixing paint, and not just one.
In the cabinet, Fei Ni found the only remaining saucer. After just two weeks away, all their tableware had turned into palettes. Fang Muyang was working on a large painting, half the size of a wall. He’d been painting at home after returning from school and had temporarily used the saucers in a pinch. He’d planned to dine out tonight so Fei Ni wouldn’t see the state of their dishes, intending to buy a couple replacements tomorrow. Today, he had only made a point of cleaning the bathtub—he himself took cold showers daily and hadn’t used it, but with Fei Ni back, he naturally wanted her to have a proper bath.
Fei Ni was both annoyed and amused, “Are you planning to eat paint from now on?” She had only been gone two weeks, yet the house was filled with the aura of Fang Muyang’s solitary living. The bedsheet had been replaced with a new one, similar to the old, but Fei Ni could still tell the difference.
“Where’s our old bedsheet?”
“We have a new one, why keep the old?”
“The old one isn’t worn out; we could alternate.”
“We’ll deal with that when it’s time to switch.” The old one had been washed threadbare by Fang Muyang and had shrunk. He took cold showers every night before bed, but one exception was when, after finishing a painting, he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open and collapsed directly onto the bed. The next morning, he woke to the smell of turpentine and paint mingled on the sheet. No amount of washing could remove it, and he had continued using it for a few days before Fei Ni’s return, only replacing it with a new one yesterday.Fei Ni realized that after she left, this house no longer felt like a home—it was merely a dwelling.
"I want to see it right now."
Fang Muyang had never particularly cared about such things before. If the bedsheet got dirty, he would simply wash it; leftover paint stains didn't matter, and as long as it smelled of laundry detergent, he was satisfied. But Fei Ni seemed to care quite a bit.
Fang Muyang didn't want Fei Ni to see the bedsheet he had ruined.
"Don't look at the bedsheet, look at me first." Fang Muyang rubbed his nose against Fei Ni's cheek. "It's been two weeks since we last saw each other. Don't you want to see me?"
"Aren't you someone who knows how to enjoy life?" How could he have lost weight when he had the money to eat out?
Fang Muyang cut her off, "Didn't you say you were going to give me a lesson on labor?"
Fei Ni spent the entire night teaching him that lesson. The first half of the night was voluntary, but the latter half was beyond her control.
The next day, Fang Muyang received a letter from the art exhibition committee. The vice-chairman had overruled objections and demanded a re-evaluation of his painting, ultimately landing him a spot on the winners' list.
Fei Ni's lesson had been for nothing.
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