Fang Muyang went straight from the airport to his parents’ home. Before leaving, he had asked Fei Ni to move in with his parents so they could look after each other, and she wouldn’t have to worry about meals on ordinary days. He was still wearing the T-shirt he had doodled on when he arrived home. Old Fang saw his daughter-in-law’s name on the back of the shirt but pretended not to notice. He wasn’t one for making a fuss, though he felt a twinge of envy for his rebellious son’s youth—such antics were fitting for a young man, but if he did them himself, it would seem undignified and damage his reputation. Old Fang had grown quieter and more aloof in front of his son lately. Society needed him too much; if his wayward son didn’t want to listen, he’d save his words for other young people—after all, he had no shortage of listeners. He only spoke to those willing to hear him out. Of course, if his son had an epiphany and sought his guidance, he’d be more than happy to oblige. After all, they were family.
Fang Muyang updated his parents on his second sister’s news and mentioned that her husband would soon be heading to California as well, putting their minds at ease. Then he dug through his bag for the gifts he’d brought them and asked where Fei Ni was. Old Fang stared at the pirated English edition of his own work from decades ago, feeling both indignant and touched. His son still held him in high regard. Before he could express his thanks, his son had already stepped out.
Fei Ni hadn’t held out much hope for Fang Muyang selling his paintings abroad; she just prayed he’d return safe and sound. She somewhat regretted not converting their savings into U.S. dollars for him to take along. They could manage tightening their belts at home, but lacking funds in America could make returning a real problem. Even though she knew he could survive anywhere, she still feared he might not make it back.
Fei Ni hadn’t known in advance about Fang Muyang’s return; she’d simply felt he ought to be back by now. The poetry recital in the school’s small auditorium was packed, and Fei Ni was among the calmest attendees—so calm she seemed almost detached. While others were immersed in the verses, she alone seemed to step back, pondering what made the poetry moving. And when would Fang Muyang return? He’d left her Martin’s contact information. If he didn’t come back before the semester started…
The recital ended, but the crowd lingered. Few on campus were more popular than poets these days, yet someone had stolen the poet’s thunder—because of what he wore. To many in the auditorium, “Fei Ni” was not an unfamiliar name. After the event dispersed, Fang Muyang entered the hall and carved a path through the gazes fixed on him.
Facing Fang Muyang, Fei Ni couldn’t see the writing on his back, only his face.
Although Fang Muyang had recently subsisted on near-expired food at the art gallery, he’d been well taken care of at Martin’s place. Plus, he’d improved his meals as soon as he had money, so he looked no different.
Fei Ni, however, had grown a bit thinner.
Prolonged eye contact in a crowd felt somewhat awkward, and by the time Fei Ni realized it, it was too late. As soon as she became aware, she promptly walked out of the auditorium, with Fang Muyang following behind.
Outside, Fang Muyang walked side by side with Fei Ni. She still hadn’t glanced at his back and instead complimented the design on the front, saying it was quite interesting. Fang Muyang replied, “I’ll paint one for you too.”As the new semester approached, the campus was already bustling with people. Fei Ni and Fang Muyang walking together drew quite a bit of attention. Although Fei Ni was somewhat well-known at school, she wasn’t so famous that people could recognize her just from her back. The words on Fang Muyang’s back helped—passersby first noticed the writing on his back, then noticed Fei Ni, thinking, "Hmm, that silhouette does look a bit like Fei Ni.""
Fei Ni was unaware of the frequent glances directed her way, as she was intently listening to Fang Muyang’s account of his recent travels. Fang Muyang mentioned that he had been able to visit the art gallery almost every day to view and sketch paintings. He brought up the art books they had looked at together before and said he had seen many original works this time, promising to take Fei Ni to see them next year. Fei Ni agreed, though she couldn’t help thinking about the cost of travel and airfare. She asked Fang Muyang how the food had been, and he replied that it was decent, but eating with Fei Ni was still more enjoyable.
Fei Ni immediately decided to treat Fang Muyang to a meal at a restaurant, but then reconsidered, thinking it would be better to eat at home first—after all, Fang Muyang was someone else’s son too.
It wasn’t until Fei Ni sat on the back of the bicycle that she noticed the words on Fang Muyang’s back.
Finally, she understood why people had been staring at them. At first, she had naively assumed it was because of the painting on the front of Fang Muyang’s clothes—and that was part of it, but surely another reason was her name. In public, she had been walking beside Fang Muyang, with her name written on his back…
She could hardly bear to think about it, her face instantly flushing red.
“How could you wear something like this outside?”
This remark revealed Fei Ni’s true feelings—the painting itself wasn’t the issue, but it shouldn’t be seen by others.
“Is there something shameful about it?” Fang Muyang thought both the painting and the words were perfectly presentable.
“Why didn’t you write your own name?”
“That would be silly.”
“As if this isn’t silly enough already.”
She also asked Fang Muyang how he had known she was here and whether he had visited his parents wearing these clothes first.
Fang Muyang said his parents had praised his outfit.
“You’re just lying to me.”
Fei Ni wrapped her arms around Fang Muyang from the back seat, covering the words on his back. No one could see the writing on Fang Muyang’s back—only Fei Ni, clinging to him.
Considering Fei Ni’s sensitivity, Fang Muyang only mentioned that someone had bought the rights to use the painting on the front of his clothes.
Fei Ni insisted on seeing Fang Muyang’s contract, believing such matters should be documented.
Fang Muyang knew Fei Ni’s level of English—if she saw it, the truth would be exposed.
Fang Muyang kissed Fei Ni’s cheek, and for a moment, she forgot about the contract. They moved back into their own home.
The money Fang Muyang had earned was exchanged for RMB. Fei Ni initially planned to deposit it directly in the bank, but Fang Muyang suggested taking it out to count and take a photo as a keepsake. Fei Ni had never seen so much money before. Fang Muyang had also brought back many records from his trip abroad. With music playing from the record player, Fei Ni counted the money to the soundtrack.
Fei Ni counted the money quickly, her gaze carrying a subtle tenderness as she looked at the cash—a detail Fang Muyang noticed. He pinched her cheek and said, “Such a little money-grubber, even looking at money with such affection.” As if the money were her lover.
Fei Ni didn’t explain. She didn’t say that while counting the money, she was thinking about their future home and the travels they would take together.She looked at Fang Muyang with a smile and continued counting the money. Fang Muyang, standing beside her, sketched Fei Ni as she counted. He said to Fei Ni, "How about we hang this painting in the living room once it's finished?"
"Not a good idea," she replied. Anyone who came in would see her counting money under the lamp.
"But I think it's wonderful—it captures your happiest side."
"Who said counting money makes me the happiest?"
"Then what does?"
Fang Muyang leaned in to kiss Fei Ni. She still held the money in her hand, trying to keep it organized to avoid a mess. But Fang Muyang was the best at disrupting her; the money scattered on the floor and wouldn't be picked up until the next morning.
The painting of Fei Ni counting money never made it to the living room wall, but it became Fang Muyang's favorite material for teasing her. He told Fei Ni, "You look at money with more affection than you look at me."
"That's just your imagination."
Fang Muyang demanded that Fei Ni gaze at him with even more tenderness than she did at money. Hearing this request, Fei Ni looked at him as if he were a silly child. At first, she couldn't help but laugh, but soon her laughter faded into bashfulness, and she found it hard to meet his eyes.
Naturally, not all the money they counted was saved in the bank. They used it to buy a house and a washing machine. Before Fang Muyang could bring it up, Fei Ni mentioned it first.
They used the newly bought washing machine to do laundry. After the first load was finished, Fei Ni looked at the clothes drying in the sunlight and smiled at Fang Muyang. "Your hands really aren't suited for washing clothes. The washing machine is much better than you."
Fang Muyang didn't ask Fei Ni what his hands were suited for. Instead, he pinched her cheek and recalled the time when Fei Ni had taught him how to wash clothes in the hospital.
OpenNovel