Fei Ni was not Fang Muyang—if she wanted to watch a movie, she had to buy a ticket. She often spent five cents on a movie ticket to see how people in the Soviet Union, Hungary, and various parts of China lived. Aside from books, movies were her only window to the world.
Her second sister and brother-in-law were childhood sweethearts. Their families lived close by, and the two often played together. By the time her sister entered middle school, their bond had only grown stronger. When her future brother-in-law invited her sister to the movies, Fei Ni, afraid her sister might be led astray, insisted on tagging along. While others watched the film, Fei Ni kept her eyes fixed on her sister. In the pitch-dark theater, her bright eyes caught the moment the boy beside her sister reached out and covered her hand. Fei Ni immediately stretched out her own hand to shoo his away. During that period, she watched her future brother-in-law like a hawk. The more he tried to win her over with ice pops and candies, the more convinced she became that he had ill intentions toward her sister.
But there were times when she got lost in the movie, forgetting even her sister. After leaving the theater, all she could remember was the guitar in the film. She, too, wanted a guitar like the protagonist’s.
Knowing she couldn’t afford a new one, she headed straight to the secondhand store, where the cheapest guitar cost fifteen yuan. Fifteen yuan—if she saved five cents a day, it would take three hundred days to save up.
After that, during lunch every day, Fei Ni would set her sights on Fang Muyang. He no longer boarded at school and only ate one meal there. She thought that if he ate poorly, she might have a chance to earn some money. But every time she looked at him, he was either sharing a can of fish with others or eating pastries made by French, Cantonese, or Suzhou chefs. He probably found northern pastries like pea cakes too coarse and never touched them. Fang Muyang noticed her staring and asked if she wanted some. Fei Ni shook her head, took a bite of her cornbread, washed it down with vegetable porridge, and sank into gloom.
Just when Fei Ni thought she wouldn’t earn any money from Fang Muyang, he approached her again, offering to pay her to weave a bracelet—exactly like the one on her wrist, but no, the color couldn’t be the same; he wanted it in blue.
The bracelet on Fei Ni’s wrist was woven from white plastic threads, with three silver bells attached. She had made one for her sister too.
“What do you want it for?” Although Fei Ni wanted to earn Fang Muyang’s money, she still advised that a boy probably shouldn’t wear something like this—it would look a bit odd.
“It’s for a girl, about our age.”
“Alright, how much are you planning to pay me?”
Fang Muyang named a sum. Fei Ni hadn’t expected him to be so generous and promptly agreed.
After a moment’s thought, she added, “How about I weave it in two colors? White and blue twisted together. It’ll look better than the one I’m wearing.”
Fei Ni bought blue and white plastic threads and wove the bracelet whenever she had time, finishing it quickly. The two colors intertwined, and it did indeed look nicer than her previous one.
This time, Fang Muyang didn’t delay payment—he handed over the money as soon as he received the bracelet. Fei Ni took the cash and calculated how much more she needed for the used guitar.
“Why don’t you give her a pair? I can weave another one for you.”
Fang Muyang rejected Fei Ni’s suggestion: “A pair would be too tacky.”
“Then how about giving one to your mother?”
“That sort of thing isn’t suitable for her.”"Alright." Fei Ni concluded that she could no longer strike a deal with Fang Muyang, but still added, "If you want one this winter, I can still knit it for you."
A few days later, Fang Muyang invited all his classmates to his grandmother's house. As one of his classmates, Fei Ni couldn't find an excuse to refuse and followed the group.
Fang Muyang's grandmother was a very warm-hearted woman. She had specially ordered two large fruit cream cakes from a French bakery for her grandson's classmates. Each cake was served on an exquisite white porcelain saucer, with forks so polished they reflected one's image. Fei Ni didn't realize those forks were silverware; her attention was solely on the cake. The cream melted in her mouth, yet she couldn't bear to let it dissolve too quickly, closing her lips to savor the flavor. She sat on a velvet chair, gathered with her classmates around a long table adorned with a large, intricately colored yet harmonious vase. The cut flowers inside weren't from any market but picked from the family garden. Fei Ni's plastic sandals rested on a handwoven rug, while above her hung a massive crystal chandelier. A floor-standing record player played a children's choir from some foreign country, entirely different from the songs Fei Ni sang in her choir.
Grandmother was very generous to her grandson's classmates. To help them beat the heat, she specially had ice cream delivered. Fei Ni happened to be overlooked, but she didn't mention it, thinking it improper to ask for food at someone else's home.
She truly acted as if she were indifferent to the ice cream. At home, she not only had to suppress her cravings but also control her envy. Because her family spoiled her, whatever she liked to eat was given to her first. Gradually, she developed a habit: no matter how much she wanted something, she would never glance at it more than necessary.
While others ate ice cream, Fei Ni turned her gaze to admire the scenery outside the window.
After the ice cream, everyone moved on to other activities. The living room was spacious—one girl played the piano while others gathered around her, singing along. The girl at the piano was Ling Yi, wearing a white dress and a blue-and-white plastic braided bracelet adorned with three silver bells.
As for the boys, there wasn't a single one in the living room. Fei Ni sat alone on a chair, dutifully playing her role as a guest. She was very principled; when no one was looking, she slipped the plastic bracelet off her wrist and tucked it into her dress pocket.
That day, she wore her hair in two braids tied together with a thin silk ribbon, white to match her blouse. Her seat was angled toward the window, and the breeze drifted in. Sitting upright in her chair, she read a Russian instruction manual that had been left on a side table.
Someone tapped her shoulder. "Come with me for a moment."
Recognizing Fang Muyang's voice, she hesitated briefly before following him to a room.
It was a study, with bookshelves reaching the ceiling and a ladder for accessing them. Two velvet sofas stood inside. Fang Muyang gestured for Fei Ni to sit on one of them. Puzzled, she wondered why he had called her there, but before she could ask, Fang Muyang picked up a glass bottle, opened it with a bottle opener, and handed her the grape juice.
"Grape juice. Chilled."
Fei Ni looked at Fang Muyang with confusion, unsure why he had invited her alone to drink grape juice.Fang Muyang misunderstood her. "You girls are so particular, needing a separate glass just to drink soda."
He walked over to a cabinet, bent down to open the door, pulled out a glass, and handed it to Fei Ni.
Fang Muyang had already hopped onto the table. Seeing Fei Ni still hadn't taken a drink, he sighed helplessly, "You're not going to ask for a straw too, are you?"
Fei Ni shook her head. She poured the grape juice into the glass, lowered her head, and took a sip.
Fang Muyang sat on the table, studying Fei Ni. "Why aren't you singing with the others?"
"I don't like singing, and I'm not good at it either."
"But I remember you were in the choir."
"I was just there to make up the numbers. Others were afraid their voices would be drowned out, but I was terrified mine would be heard." Fei Ni had no interest or talent for singing and dancing, but because of her looks, she was always picked to fill spots in cultural performances. While others might see it as an honor, for her, it was torture. She had considered quitting, but her advisor, Teacher Wang, accused her of giving up when things got tough and criticized her harshly. Fei Ni even had to write a self-criticism over it.
"Then what do you like? Don't tell me you enjoy reading instruction manuals."
"Compared to singing, reading manuals is practically a pleasure." Though she didn't understand them very well either.
Fang Muyang brought out a box to show her. Inside was a small rectangular case and a pile of tiny parts. He told Fei Ni this was the world's smallest radio, and the manual she had been reading was for this very radio.
"I wanted to see how it was put together, so I took it apart. But I ran into trouble when I tried to reassemble it. Could you translate the manual you were reading into Chinese for me?"
Fei Ni had only been skimming it casually—there were many words she didn't recognize, let alone translate.
"How much would you charge to translate this manual?"
As if Fei Ni's reluctance was due to lack of payment. She didn't bother correcting his misunderstanding; she was happy to earn the money.
She named a price, and Fang Muyang didn't haggle.
"If you don't want to go out, you can listen to some music here." There was also a record player in the study. Fang Muyang casually put on a Mozart record and pulled open the cabinet below filled with discs. He told Fei Ni to change it if she wanted to listen to something else. He brought a small electric fan over to the desk, turned it on, then opened a drawer and placed a tin of biscuits beside her for a snack.
"Could you get me a dictionary? There are some words in the manual I don't know." It wasn't just some—she didn't know most of them, but she could look them up.
Fang Muyang was familiar with the books on the shelf and spotted the dictionary right away. On the sandalwood desk sat a three-tiered stationery box. He pulled out the second drawer, took out a case, and inside lay a Parker pen. He filled it with ink and handed it to Fei Ni, then gave her some paper.
Someone outside called Fang Muyang to play ball. He closed the door, leaving Fei Ni alone in the room to translate.
Fei Ni sat in a leather chair, bent over translating the radio manual. Whenever she encountered an unfamiliar word, she looked it up in the dictionary. There were many she didn't know, but fortunately, she was quick at consulting the dictionary. Her mind was entirely focused on finishing the translation as soon as possible—she didn't even have time to take in the study, didn't open the biscuit tin, and didn't notice when Fang Muyang came back in.Only when the lights came on did Fei Ni turn her gaze to the window. Outside, the sun had long since set, and if she didn’t leave soon, it would be completely dark.
Fang Muyang opened the biscuit tin—the biscuits inside were untouched.
“Don’t you like this kind of sandwich biscuit?”
It wasn’t that she disliked them; she had simply forgotten about them. Besides, she was already being paid for her services, so it wouldn’t be right to eat his biscuits as well.
Fang Muyang picked one up and handed it to her. “Try it. It’s not that bad.”
“Thank you.” Fei Ni took it and tossed it into her mouth. Before she could even chew, she stood up to pack her things. She capped her pen and said goodbye to Fang Muyang. “I have to go home. I haven’t finished translating yet—is it alright if I give it to you tomorrow? But I’ll need to take the dictionary with me. I’ll finish it as quickly as possible.” She had a dictionary of her own, but it wasn’t as comprehensive as this one.
“Dinner will be ready soon. You can eat, and then the driver will take you home.”
“Thank you, but I really need to go now. Otherwise, my parents will worry.”
“Then call home.”
“We don’t have a telephone.” Fei Ni wasn’t embarrassed by this—most families in the city didn’t have telephones. She was just surprised that Fang Muyang had assumed her family did.
Before she left, Fang Muyang’s grandmother gave Fei Ni a loaf of bread, saying it was Fang Muyang’s favorite. Though it wasn’t as good as when it was freshly baked, it would still make a nice breakfast if warmed up in the oven the next morning.
Fei Ni instinctively replied, “Thank you, but we don’t have an oven. Please keep it for yourself.”
She noticed a flicker of embarrassment on the grandmother’s face, but it lasted only a moment before she resumed her usual composure. “I’ll have someone give you an oven to take home.”
Fei Ni realized that her frankness about lacking material things had been misinterpreted as a subtle way of asking for more. She accepted the bread and said it would taste just as good warmed up in a pan—there was no need for an oven.
In the end, Fei Ni couldn’t refuse the kindness of the grandmother and grandson. Eager to get home, she got into the car usually reserved for Fang Muyang’s grandmother. The driver seemed slightly surprised when they arrived at her building, but Fei Ni paid no attention to his expression. She thanked him and hurried inside.
She had returned just in time—any later, and her whole family would have been out searching for her.
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