The neighborhood committee had issued a notice that, to guard against aftershocks following the earthquake, everyone must remain outdoors.
"Your undershirt is soaked through," Fei Ni said, pulling one of her father's old shirts from the bundle she had brought down and handing it to Fang Muyang. "Wear this for now."
Fang Muyang was quick to comply. Before Fei Ni could even lower her gaze, he had stripped off his undershirt right in front of her, wordlessly shoved it into her hands, and swiftly changed into his father-in-law's old shirt.
The rain continued to drizzle steadily. Not only did Fang Muyang need to attend his training class, but Fei Ni also had to go to work.
"Your foot is injured. You should wait until tomorrow to go."
Fei Ni insisted that her foot was fine. Since she had been allocated housing by the factory, she felt it was her duty to be on the front lines when needed. To avoid getting her wound wet—something that could easily happen from splashes while sitting on the back of a bicycle—she decided to take the bus to work.
Fang Muyang saw her off at the bus stop. Before boarding, she told him, "Don't go back to the Guesthouse today. Even if you do, stay outside. There are ready-made earthquake shelters here—you should stay here tonight." She thought it would be better if they stayed together, so they could look out for each other.
Fang Muyang pinched her left cheek and readily agreed.
"Your hands."
Fang Muyang grinned at her. "I just washed my hands with rainwater. These are extraordinary times—you'll have to make do. Once this is all over, I'll scrub my hands three times with soap."
"That's not what I meant." It seemed as if her dissatisfaction stemmed from his hands not being clean enough—as if it would be perfectly acceptable if they were properly washed.
"No need to explain. I know now that you don't mind me." Fang Muyang pinched her right cheek again, rubbing it gently with his thumb.
Just as Fei Ni was about to scold him, his hand was already back in his pocket. "Get on the bus—it's here."
She shot him a glare, closed her umbrella, and stepped onto the bus. Fang Muyang waved with a smile, bidding her farewell. The bus wasn't crowded today, and Fei Ni found a seat. Through the window, she watched as Fang Muyang grew smaller and smaller in her view. Her eyes remained fixed outside—the streets were filled with people, one small shelter after another, though most weren't as well-built as the one Fang Muyang had made. Some were merely plastic sheets propped up by a few wooden sticks.
A moment later, she spotted Fang Muyang again through the window. He saw her too. Wearing a raincoat, he rode his bicycle with one hand while waving to her with the other. Perhaps noticing her displeasure through the window, he quickly returned both hands to the handlebars.
After the earthquake, there were aftershocks. The factory workshop experienced another strong tremor. To ensure the safety of the workers, the management decided to end the shift early. The canteen was open, offering steamed buns for purchase on a limited basis. By the time it was Fei Ni's turn, the ration had been reduced from ten buns to five.
As soon as she left the factory, Fei Ni took the bus to the pastry shop. Firstly, to check on her future sister-in-law, Sister Mei, who lived on the first floor and should be safe, but Fei Ni wouldn't feel at ease without confirming it herself. Secondly, to buy some biscuits—they were ideal for storage, just in case.
The pastry shop had relocated to a tent, with a sign hanging outside. Crosses were constantly being marked next to sold-out items: biscuits sold out, fruit bread sold out, sponge cakes sold out, oil cakes sold out...The remaining items were getting more expensive and harder to store, but no one showed any intention of leaving. After queuing for so long, not buying anything felt like a loss, so they continued waiting.
When it was Fei Ni's turn, only a few types of pastries remained. Just as she was about to speak, Sister Mei whispered to her, "I already bought the biscuits for you in advance. Come get them after everyone else leaves." She held up five fingers, indicating she had bought five jin.
By then, the rain had stopped. After a while, when the queue outside the tent had dispersed, Sister Mei came out and handed Fei Ni an oil paper package. "This is the maximum quota for us staff. I can't help you buy more."
"This is already very good."
"I don't think the earthquake will end anytime soon. Why don't you make a long-distance call to your brother and ask him to come back after the quakes here stop?"
"You know my brother. With you and my parents here, he'll definitely return as soon as he finishes his procedures. Besides, the post office is already overcrowded with people making long-distance calls and sending telegrams."
Sister Mei sighed. "I've always longed for him to come back, but now that he's really returning, this happens."
"It'll be fine once it's over." Fei Ni said this to Sister Mei, but also to herself.
When Fei Ni returned, some people had already started cooking. Someone had brought down their home gas tank, buried it in the soil, and was boiling rice porridge.
Seeing others cooking, Old Fei felt inspired to do the same. He stood up and walked outside the earthquake shelter. "I'll go get our cooking utensils from home and borrow the first-floor stove to make a meal."
Fei Ni stepped outside to check the sky. The rain had stopped, and there seemed to be no immediate signs of aftershocks, but she still felt uneasy. "Let's wait until tomorrow to cook. We can make do for today."
By the time Fang Muyang returned, Fei Ni had already finished eating. She had thoughtfully saved two steamed buns for him.
Fang Muyang had changed back into his previous clothes, suggesting he had returned to the Guesthouse. He carried a bag across his chest, with a duffel bag on the rear rack of his bicycle and a large watermelon in the front basket.
He announced to the people in the earthquake shelter, "There's someone selling watermelons at the intersection for eighteen cents each. If you go late, you won't get any." Then he added, "The watermelon seller will be back tomorrow, so no need to buy extra."
Hearing this, many people rushed to buy watermelons.
Fang Muyang split the watermelon in half with one hand—one larger half and one smaller half. He gave the larger half to his parents-in-law to share and handed the smaller half to Fei Ni. Then he pulled out a lunch box from his duffel bag, took out two spoons, and stuck one into Fei Ni's watermelon. "Eat up. You need to replenish your fluids."
Fei Ma said, "We can't finish this much. Let's borrow a knife to cut it. Xiao Fang, have some too."
"My stomach isn't feeling well today. I can't eat watermelon."
Fei Ni couldn't help asking, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing serious. I'm just more suited to eating steamed buns right now." As he spoke, Fang Muyang took a big bite of a bun. "Who bought these buns? They're so well-chosen!"
Old Fei provided the answer: "Fei Ni bought them from the canteen."
Fei Ni cut off his praise for the buns. "Just eat properly. Be careful not to choke." Then she whispered to him, "Don't worry. If it's not enough, there are still biscuits."
"It's enough. The buns you bought are different—they really keep you full."
"Stop joking around and eat quickly."Fei Ni ate from the leftmost part of the watermelon, leaving more than half for Fang Muyang. Seeing how Fang Muyang devoured the steamed buns, she knew he had a hearty appetite and couldn’t possibly refuse watermelon. He clearly enjoyed it but had only bought one, probably because he thought watermelons were limited—if he bought more, others might not get any that day.
Fei Ni handed the remaining watermelon to Fang Muyang, and he didn’t hesitate to take it.
Just as Fei Ni was about to grab a tissue to wipe the spoon she had used, Fang Muyang snatched it away.
He told her that during these extraordinary times, they needed to conserve paper.
In the afternoon, Fang Muyang didn’t have to attend the training class, so he helped others set up makeshift shelters. Some had built theirs too flimsily, and they collapsed in the heavy rain.
As dinnertime approached, Fang Muyang moved the Fei family’s cooking utensils from upstairs down to the first floor and borrowed a stove. He deliberately chose a spot near the exit so they could escape quickly if needed. He told Fei Ni he wanted to show off his skills by cooking her tomato noodles. That day, he had managed to buy five jin of dried noodles at the grain store, and on his way back, he came across someone selling tomatoes.
“Fei Ni, do you know how to make authentic tomato noodles?”
“How?”
“Load them with tomatoes.”
Once the noodles were ready, Fang Muyang scooped a portion into a bowl and offered Fei Ni the first bite.
“How is it?”
“Pretty good.” Though not as amazing as he had boasted, the taste was honestly not bad.
Fang Muyang was most skilled at cooking dried noodles and various hodgepodge stews. Back when he first worked as a cook at the educated youth point, his focus wasn’t on flavor but on harmonizing the colors of the ingredients—yet, surprisingly, it turned out quite edible.
“Then have some more.”
That night, over twenty people crowded into one earthquake shelter. Fei Ni found the air too stuffy and stepped outside alone, with Fang Muyang following her.
“Just put up with it for tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll build you a smaller one so you won’t have to squeeze in with everyone else.”
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