Love Story in the 1970s

Fei Ni didn't see any stars from the bed, but she didn't want to specifically open the window to look either.

For some reason, unbuttoning was always faster than buttoning. Her originally clumsy fingers immediately became deft when unbuttoning.

Soon, even the watch strap on her wrist was removed—the last accessory on her body.

"Can you do me a favor?"

Fei Ni hummed in agreement, thinking it was the same kind of request as yesterday.

She reached out to turn off the light, but Fang Muyang grasped her fingers. "I want to see more clearly."

Whether he was afraid Fei Ni didn't understand or for some other reason, Fang Muyang repeated his meaning: "Let me take a good look at you." He spoke very directly, and because of that directness, there wasn't the slightest hint of that kind of implication.

Fei Ni tugged at the blanket. "Haven't you seen enough of those paintings?"

"What paintings?"

"The sketchbook in the box." Full of people without a stitch of clothing.

Fei Ni had misunderstood him. That sketchbook was something he'd found as a elementary school student by climbing up to the top cabinet in his family's study. After flipping through a few pages, he thought he had gotten dirt on his father and threatened him face-to-face, demanding that his dad immediately buy him a pair of hockey skates. Otherwise, he would expose his hypocritical nature at the family meeting... Upon hearing his rebellious son's threat, the old man instantly lost his composure and cursed right then: "You wretched creature! And you call yourself learning art? Figure drawing is the foundation of painting! Without understanding the human form, how can you even paint portraits?" He then tried to hit this good-for-nothing scoundrel, but Fang Muyang escaped quickly, avoiding the beating. The sketchbook thus became his, with the reasoning that since figure drawing was fundamental to art, he should study it too.

He didn't actually study it back then—the sketchbook collected dust under his bed for a long time. It wasn't until he was sent down to the countryside that he realized the importance of building a solid foundation. By then, however, the sketchbook was already with Fei Ni.

Fang Muyang told this story to Fei Ni in a joking manner.

Unexpectedly, Fei Ni's focus completely missed the point: "Did your father often hit you?"

"Not that often." Most of the time, he wanted to hit him but couldn't catch him. Even though getting beaten was commonplace for Fang Muyang as a child, he knew that hitting children wasn't universal. Without even looking at other families, his own older siblings had never been hit once. This wasn't due to favoritism—if his father were to hit well-behaved children like his brother and sister, it would simply be inhuman.

Fei Ni connected the sketchbook theft incident with the time Fang Muyang had borrowed money from her before.

"Was that why your father sent you to boarding school?"

"Seems like it. Were you paying attention to me that early on?"

"Who was paying attention to you?" Fei Ni thought, after all this time, he'd probably forgotten about borrowing money from her.

Fang Muyang tugged at Fei Ni's blanket. "Didn't you already agree?"

"I didn't know it was this."

"Then what did you think it was?"

"You should go look at the paintings instead."

Fang Muyang rejected Fei Ni's suggestion: "Compared to art, I prefer living people."

A double entendre.

He added: "Even if all the reproductions in those paintings turned into genuine masterpieces and filled this entire room, it still wouldn't compare to now, with you beside me. If someday I were about to die..."

"What kind of nonsense are you saying?"

"Can't you handle the truth? Should I tell lies instead?"

"I don't want to hear either truth or lies."

"I'll just look, I won't do anything." Fang Muyang tugged at Fei Ni's blanket again, and this time she didn't resist.The two lay facing each other on their sides.

There was no physical contact, only a flow of gazes—though it was one-sided.

Fei Ni wasn’t looking at Fang Muyang. The light was too intense, and she instinctively closed her eyes. She didn’t know what kind of gaze Fang Muyang was directing at her—whether it was that of a painter observing his model, a husband looking at his wife, or perhaps something else…

Just the thought of it made the nerves beneath her skin twitch again—once, twice… She imagined how she must appear in Fang Muyang’s eyes at that moment, but she only allowed herself to begin the thought, not dwell on it further. Even the mere idea was enough to make her feel embarrassed. With her eyes closed, she could still feel his gaze burning against her skin.

The heating wasn’t warm enough; some households, fearing the cold, had even lit additional stoves indoors. At that moment, Fei Ni couldn’t tell whether she felt hot or cold.

“Is this enough?” she asked, tugging at the corner of the quilt. Her slender arms, which had been crossed over the part of her body she least wanted him to see, accidentally revealed a glimpse as she reached for the quilt. Unaware of the slip, she focused only on covering herself completely. Fang Muyang’s eyes remained fixed on the tip of Fei Ni’s nose, his breathing tense. Her face, which had been less than ten centimeters from his, was now nearly twenty centimeters away.

Fang Muyang grasped her hand. “Just a little longer.”

“I’m a bit cold. I want to cover up with the quilt.” She didn’t want to be scrutinized under such harsh lighting, and she felt she had already helped him long enough.

“You’re too tense. There’s no need for that. I won’t do anything—just look.”

His words only made her stiffen further.

“Should I turn off the light then?”

Fei Ni agreed, still with her eyes closed, relieved at the suggestion.

“Open your eyes and look.”

The light was still on, but it was now a softer lamp, and the intensity of the brightness had diminished. The earlier sense of shame transformed into something else entirely.

“I want to see you in different lighting,” Fang Muyang said, pressing down on the quilt’s edge. “Just for a moment.”

He began describing the differences in her appearance under the two types of light.

True to his word, he only looked and did nothing more. Fei Ni’s cheeks were flushed, as if a mist had formed on glass. Her nose, small like the rest of her face, was nestled between the two patches of red on her cheeks, breathing rapidly and nervously.

Fang Muyang playfully pressed the tip of her nose, and she instinctively parted her lips. Their kiss felt natural, as if Fei Ni had been waiting for this moment all along. Yet, in her nervousness, her upper and lower teeth clattered together, bumping against Fang Muyang’s lips several times. When she returned the kiss, her eyes closed, she accidentally bumped her own lips as well. She smiled sheepishly and opened her eyes again. Even through the haze, her eyes were strikingly clear—black and white distinct. With those bright eyes, she aligned the tip of her nose with his and her lips with his, and once aligned, she closed her eyes again.As their lips met, Fei Ni gently offered a warm tip of her tongue. Their toothpaste was lemon-flavored, bought by Fang Muyang, and they shared the same tube when brushing their teeth. Now they exchanged the taste of lemon in their mouths. Fei Ni wrapped her slender arms around Fang Muyang’s neck, her fingers trembling slightly from inexperience.

Fang Muyang wrapped Fei Ni in the blanket, his hands searching for her bones. He said he wanted to feel every single bone, to know her better than anyone else. His touch was firm, as if trying to leave an imprint on her bones through her flesh.

Fei Ni nervously caught her breath during his pauses, forgetting to point out that not all bones could be felt.

She kissed him eagerly, so she wouldn’t have to answer which bone he was touching.

It was the first time in their lives they had been so intimate with another person, wishing they could merge into one. Even this closeness felt insufficient—they yearned to be even closer.

When he touched a certain spot, Fei Ni opened her eyes. Her gaze and the expression on her face were completely at odds. If her face at that moment were faithfully reproduced in a painting, the dissonance would be evident.

Her eyes conveyed refusal, but even the beads of sweat on her nose seemed to oppose that refusal.

Fang Muyang noticed the incongruity and said, "No need to worry this time."

Fei Ni didn’t ask where the item in the paper bag came from, only saying, "Is this okay?"

"Try it."

Fei Ni’s hands trembled as she tried. For the first time, Fang Muyang noticed that even a person’s eyelashes could tremble. Her long lashes cast a shadow over her face. Her movements were as earnest as her character, yet her fingers seemed ten times clumsier than usual. Frustrated by her ineptitude and growing anxious, a layer of sweat formed on her nose. She parted her lips slightly, breathing nervously. As Fang Muyang waited, his grip on her skin grew painful. Fei Ni endured the discomfort and continued, finally lifting her head to glance at him, signaling that it was done.

Her eyes remained starkly black and white.

Fang Muyang’s patience finally ran out at that moment.

Suddenly, Fei Ni remembered something. "Should we hang the blanket?"

"We won’t make any noise. Not every couple does."

Fei Ni believed him.

It wasn’t as easy as Fei Ni had anticipated. The pain drenched her body in sweat, her fingers digging tightly into Fang Muyang’s skin, which was also slick with sweat. At first, she gritted her teeth, but Fang Muyang insisted on parting them, and the sounds inevitably escaped.

She wasn’t afraid of pain, but she dreaded sudden pauses. Constant pain, she knew, would eventually end, but she couldn’t bear the way things were now. Through clenched teeth, she said to Fang Muyang, "Hurry up, don’t worry about hurting me."

When she was very young, she had said similar words to nurses. Born with a weak constitution, she frequently went to the hospital for injections and IVs. Her veins were hard to find, and inexperienced nurses often needed multiple attempts to succeed. She had learned that the more one feared pain and hesitated, the more likely they were to fail, and the more it would hurt.

Her words had an effect. Amid the relentless, unbroken pain, they finally became one.Their intimacy deepened further, their faces pressed closer together. It was unclear whose lips met whose first, but soon they were kissing.

Fei Ni discovered that even if she remained silent, other sounds would emerge. She couldn't get Fang Muyang to quiet down. Fortunately, kissing had a numbing effect—her hearing became dulled, and gradually those sounds didn't seem so loud anymore.

Having experienced unprecedented closeness, their relationship reached a new level. Afterward, they maintained their previous position, with Fang Muyang using his fingers to smooth Fei Ni's damp hair stuck to her forehead. "Did I hurt you earlier? It won't hurt next time."

Misunderstanding Fang Muyang's meaning, Fei Ni thought he was apologizing and said, "The actual pain didn't last long. It stopped hurting after it was over."

"Did you think it was too fast?"

"No." Fei Ni didn't understand why Fang Muyang would ask this—fast was surely better than slow.

Unable to sleep, Fei Ni asked Fang Muyang to bring the art book. The paintings they looked at were suitable for all ages.

They squeezed together, viewing the same art book.

Their perspectives on the paintings differed greatly, yet what Fang Muyang found good, Fei Ni also appreciated. Fei Ni became absorbed in details—she would study a single chair in a painting for a long time, eventually wishing she could own one herself.

Fang Muyang said, "I'll make you an identical one someday."

"No rush, anytime is fine." After a while, she asked, "When do you think we'll get to see the real paintings?"

"One day we will."

After viewing a while longer, Fang Muyang asked Fei Ni, "Shall we go again?"

Fei Ni hummed in agreement and set the art book aside.

This time, both were slightly more skilled than before.

Based on her previous experience, Fei Ni expected this round to be quicker. But Fang Muyang wasn't as hurried as last time—he had suddenly become very patient. He asked Fei Ni, "What did you feel during the first time?"

Fei Ni remained silent because the experience hadn't been particularly good. The comforting thought was that they had finally done what other couples typically did on their wedding night.

Under Fang Muyang's repeated questioning, Fei Ni finally said, "Actually, I didn't feel much."

"This time will last longer, so you'll have time to experience it properly."

The saying "When the granaries are full, people learn etiquette" seemed applicable here. The first time, Fang Muyang had been like someone starving for too long—finally getting food, he simply ate his fill hastily, swallowing without tasting, hardly considering his companion. Now, though not completely satisfied, he had eaten some and knew more food awaited him. No longer desperate, he could not only savor properly but also share the experience.

Fei Ni was the person he wanted to share it with.

Fang Muyang had now become excessively polite—so courteous that Fei Ni could hardly stand it. As he gradually progressed inward, with every slight advance he would ask about Fei Ni's feelings. If she didn't answer, he would make her relive the sensation.

Initially, Fei Ni's comments mainly consisted of "not painful," but eventually evolved into "rogue" and "shameless"—evaluations Fang Muyang accepted without objection. Perhaps feeling his previous performance didn't deserve such comments, Fang Muyang redoubled his efforts.

By the time he finally lived up to her descriptions, Fei Ni could no longer curse—she clenched her teeth tightly, preventing any other sounds from escaping.But Fang Muyang hadn’t forgotten his manners. Since Fei Ni wouldn’t say it, he made her experience it all over again.

Fei Ni had no choice but to cover his mouth, stopping him from speaking further.

She tried her best not to make a sound, her fingernails digging into Fang Muyang’s back. But Fang Muyang wasn’t exactly cooperative—he had no idea what it meant to be gentler. Because of her silence, the sounds he made seemed even louder.

She didn’t want anyone else to hear those sounds, and even hearing them herself made her feel embarrassed.

Yet she could only let him have his way. At this point, she didn’t even have the strength to hang up a quilt, let alone stuff cotton into her ears.

Not long after the sounds subsided, she fell asleep.

She woke again shortly after, unsure whether it was from hunger or from the person beside her kissing her awake.

It was still dark, far from breakfast time.

Fei Ni noticed her own fingernail marks behind Fang Muyang’s ear. She brushed his hair over them to cover the marks.

Fang Muyang, in turn, reached to tidy her hair.

They simply gazed at each other until Fei Ni couldn’t hold back a laugh. Finding her adorable, Fang Muyang leaned in to kiss her again.

Fei Ni said, “I’m hungry. I want something to eat.”

“I’m hungry too.”

Fei Ni knew their kinds of “hunger” weren’t the same. She insisted urgently, “I’m really hungry.”

“Do you think I’m pretending?” Fang Muyang teased her with his words, but in action, he quickly put on his clothes, fetched water to wipe Fei Ni’s hands, and brought the biscuit tin to her side so she could eat.

Wrapped in her clothes, Fei Ni sat on the bed, holding the biscuit tin and feeding herself. Seeing her eat so hastily, Fang Muyang poured her a glass of water. For every bite of biscuit she took, he offered her a sip of water.

Fei Ni asked, “Why aren’t you eating?”

“I’m not very hungry.”

Fei Ni didn’t believe him. He should have been hungrier than she was—he was probably only saying that because the biscuit tin was nearly empty.

She ate one piece herself, then handed another to Fang Muyang. Soon, the biscuits were gone.

Fang Muyang made her a large cup of milk powder. Fei Ni had a small appetite, and with the biscuits already in her stomach, she only took a couple of sips before she didn’t want any more. She urged Fang Muyang to finish the rest. He didn’t believe she was full, so he rubbed her stomach to check, kneading for a while and still unconvinced.

Fei Ni, afraid he might tickle her sensitive spots, grabbed his hand. “Silly, unless I’m completely stuffed, you won’t be able to tell.”

Since it was still early, Fang Muyang asked Fei Ni if she wanted to go again.

Fei Ni said, “Don’t you ever stop?”

Yet she agreed anyway, because it really was still early.

Fang Muyang had bought three, and they had used them all in one night. This time, he lasted even longer than before, because who knew when the next time would be.