Fang Muyang was momentarily at a loss for how to ask, never having imagined Fei Ni’s colleagues could entertain such speculations.
Fei Ni, too, couldn’t fathom how her colleagues’ imaginations could run so wild. She could only offer a simple explanation: “One of my female colleagues at the factory was beaten by her husband and stopped going to the bathhouse afterward. They suspect my recent absence from the bathhouse is for the same reason.”
Fei Ni omitted the fact that the man who had done the beating was currently lying in a hospital bed.
“Didn’t you tell them you’ve been bathing at home?”
“I did. But since they weren’t sure if I was telling the truth, they’re coming to check on me tomorrow.”
Fang Muyang couldn’t help asking, “Do I look like someone who would hit his wife? I’m so afraid of you.”
“You’re afraid of me? If you’d listened to me last time, none of this would have happened.”
“Which time?”
Fei Ni thought he was feigning ignorance and ignored him.
Fang Muyang looked Fei Ni up and down, his gaze eventually settling on her shirt. “How would I dare hit you? If anyone’s doing the hitting, it’s you.”
He took Fei Ni’s wrist and pressed it against his chest. “Do you remember how you scratched me? The marks still haven’t faded.” Fei Ni was forced to feel the traces she had left on Fang Muyang’s chest and elsewhere. Then he guided her hand upward. “Where do you want to hit? I won’t fight back.”
“I knew you couldn’t bear to.” Fang Muyang covered his mouth with Fei Ni’s hand. His lips were burning hot, making her hand feel warm too.
Fei Ni raised her other hand to swat him, but he caught it before she could.
“Don’t force yourself. I know you care about me.”
Fei Ni denied it. “Who cares about you?”
“If you didn’t care, why would you specially fry rice for me?” He promised her, “There won’t be any marks today.”
“You said that last time too.”
“This time, I mean it.”
In the middle of the night, Fang Muyang boasted to Fei Ni, “See? Nothing, right?” To prove it, he trailed his fingers slowly over the places where marks were likely to appear, asking at each spot, “Isn’t that right?”
“Why are you so annoying?” Fei Ni had no choice but to cover his mouth.
In the past, to muffle her own sounds, Fei Ni would cling tightly to Fang Muyang—a side effect being the scratches left on his body. But that night, she left no marks on him.
She only gripped the bedsheet tightly.
Early the next morning, as sunlight streamed in, Fang Muyang shared his new discovery with Fei Ni: “I’ve realized that bedsheets are more full of stories than anything else in the bedroom. Sometimes, a single crease tells a tale. Maybe I should paint the bedsheet.”
A neatly made bedsheet has its own stories, but one with strands of hair, fingerprints, and various wrinkles can spark endless imagination.
Fei Ni ignored him and hurriedly stripped the old bedsheet from the bed, replacing it with a fresh one.
Fang Muyang reached for the sheet in her hands. “I’ll wash it.” They washed their own clothes and bedsheets, not troubling Aunt Yang. Fang Muyang usually handled the sheets and thin blankets, and even when Fei Ni washed them, she would ask him to wring them dry. He wasn’t the best at laundry, but he made up for it with strength, able to wring clothes and sheets until they were nearly dry.
“You’ve been working overtime a lot lately. I’ll wash it today.” Fei Ni was afraid he might draw some new inspiration from the bedsheet and use it to tease her."I have to do the laundry today. If your colleagues see you washing bedsheets, they might think you're living in dire straits every day."
"Is it really that exaggerated?"
"Is there any rumor more exaggerated than me hitting you?"
Fang Muyang placed both hands on Fei Ni's shoulders. "Bring out the clothes you need washed too. When your colleagues from work come over, I'll go to the bathroom to wash your clothes. That way you can indirectly help clear my name."
When Sister Liu arrived with the union members, Fei Ni was organizing manuscripts in the bedroom while Fang Muyang was receiving a lecture from the old man in the study.
Old Fang had accidentally heard yesterday that his rebellious son and daughter-in-law had some conflict over his manuscript, and ultimately determined the problem lay with his rebellious son. How could he possibly advise his daughter-in-law not to rush to read his manuscript? His daughter-in-law was thirsting for knowledge—such things shouldn't be discouraged.
He could only counsel his own son, telling him not to prevent his wife from studying.
Fang Muyang had been painting in his temporary studio when, summoned by his father, he entered the old man's study carrying the scent of turpentine on his hands. Old Fang was showing his rebellious son his latest acquisition—an album of Qing dynasty paintings of beautiful women—when he noticed the smell and looked at his hands, demanding he wear gloves before turning the pages.
Instead of directly asking if Fang Muyang and Fei Ni had conflicts, Old Fang cited his own example with his late wife, describing how he had always supported her studies and work, hoping Fang Muyang would likewise support Fei Ni's studies.
Fang Muyang knew Fei Ni well—even if they did have conflicts, she wouldn't go complaining to the old man.
"Where did you hear that I don't support Fei Ni's studies?"
Maintaining his dignity as an elder, Old Fang couldn't admit he'd accidentally overheard in the dining room yesterday, saying only, "If the criticism fits, correct it; if not, take it as a warning."
"You've misunderstood me," Fang Muyang seized the opportunity to say. "I fully support Fei Ni's studies—wasn't I the one who recommended her to organize your manuscript? I'm not unsupportive of her. On the contrary, seeing her study gives me a sense of urgency to learn too."
"That's very good indeed."
"Could you lend me this album to study?"
To Old Fang's surprise, this conversation went unusually smoothly, aside from temporarily losing one item from his collection.
"When are my brother and sister coming?" Although Old Fang had a telephone at home, he mainly communicated with his children through the most primitive method. He had written a letter to his eldest son and second daughter, hoping they could return home for a reunion during the upcoming Mid-Autumn Festival. Along with the letter, he had mailed a sum of money—more than enough to cover round-trip travel expenses. The letter stated that if they truly couldn't come due to commitments, he would travel to visit them on behalf of their late mother, younger brother, and sister-in-law. Old Fang had already received replies: his eldest son couldn't come due to work, but his eldest daughter-in-law would soon visit with his grandson, and his second daughter would also come before the Mid-Autumn Festival.
Old Fang explained the situation to his youngest son, and Fang Muyang asked, "Where do you plan to accommodate my sister-in-law and my sister?"
"The study has a ready-made bed, and we can add another bed to the room you're currently using as a studio."Fang Muyang said, "Staying here temporarily is barely acceptable, but if my sister is going to live here long-term, she should have a proper bedroom. She’s been away for so many years—it’s time she was transferred back." It was only a few days ago, when Fang Muyang ran into Mu Jing’s ex-boyfriend on the street, that he learned his sister had long since broken up with the man she had started dating in college. The ex-boyfriend had already been transferred back, while Mu Jing had been living alone all these years. She had never mentioned any of this to him.
"Your mother and I share the same thought. If your sister is transferred back, I’ll move the study to the living room and turn that room into a bedroom for her."
"There’s no need for such trouble. Fei Ni and I can move out."
"Why move out? There’s plenty of space for all of you here."
Sister Liu hadn’t expected Feng Lin to come along as well. Feng Lin had worked in the workshop for a while before being transferred to the labor union. Yuan Hongxiang had added Fei Ni to the list of people to be visited for condolences, but Feng Lin initially disagreed. She argued that Fei Ni, whether in terms of seniority or contributions, didn’t qualify for such a visit. If they visited Fei Ni, wouldn’t they have to visit everyone with the same seniority? If they didn’t, others might question the union’s standards, which would hinder their work in the future. Hongxiang was taken aback by this sharp rebuttal and momentarily didn’t know how to respond. Unaware of the longstanding friction between Fei Ni and Feng Lin, she mentioned her suspicion that Fei Ni was a victim of domestic violence. Only then did Feng Lin drop her objections and submit Fei Ni’s name. Feng Lin paid more attention to Fei Ni than others in the factory did. She knew Fei Ni’s husband drew sequential pictures and currently worked at a restaurant. She had also heard that whenever Fei Ni’s husband’s sequential pictures were published, Fei Ni would buy stacks of them to give away, as if afraid people wouldn’t know what her husband did—how utterly vulgar. That she had tried so hard to please her husband only to end up beaten made Feng Lin’s first thought: "The pitiable have their own hateful aspects."
Sister Liu suspected Feng Lin was there to gloat and regretted suggesting the union visit Fei Ni. If she had known, she would have come alone first to assess the situation.
Before even entering the building, Feng Lin asked, "Does Fei Ni really live here? She wasn’t lying, was she?"
Sister Liu replied impatiently, "Fei Ni isn’t foolish. Why would she tell such an easily exposed lie? Let’s go see for ourselves."
Aunt Yang answered the door. Judging by her age, Sister Liu guessed she was Fei Ni’s mother-in-law.
"Does Fei Ni live here?"
After receiving confirmation, Sister Liu added, "You must be Fei Ni’s mother-in-law."
Aunt Yang quickly denied it and went on to explain further, also informing them where Fei Ni’s actual mother-in-law had gone. "Teacher Mu went to school early this morning."
As soon as Sister Liu stepped inside, she knew Fei Ni hadn’t lied. It wasn’t surprising that the apartment had a bathroom with hot water for showers. It was the first time she had seen someone living in such a large apartment.
Aunt Yang invited the guests to sit and went to inform Old Fang and Fei Ni that they had visitors. Old Fang had previously instructed Aunt Yang to notify him immediately if anyone from Fei Ni’s workplace came.
Sister Liu glanced at Feng Lin, as if to say, "Was it really necessary to doubt her earlier?"
When Aunt Yang knocked, Old Fang had just finished refusing his son. Without giving his son a chance to state his position, he went out to greet the guests.To meet Sister Liu today, Fei Ni deliberately wore a round-collared blouse with a modest neckline. The weather had turned cooler these past two days, making high-necked sweaters quite common, and some cold-sensitive individuals had even added outer layers.
Fei Ni was quite surprised to see Feng Lin as well—their last encounter had been the previous year. However, she had never forgotten Feng Lin’s criticisms and corrections; aside from Feng Lin, no one had ever pointed out so many of her flaws. At first, Fei Ni had tried to explain herself to Feng Lin, but eventually, she gave up entirely. It was her first time realizing how destructive a mix of ignorance and arrogance could be. Since Feng Lin had been transferred from the workshop to the labor union, Fei Ni hadn’t seen her and hadn’t expected to run into her here. She wasn’t sure whether this encounter was a coincidence or something else.
After a brief moment of surprise, Feng Lin quickly felt it was only natural. The fact that Fei Ni had dared to confront her directly and even replaced her as the conductor suddenly made sense. She had previously wondered why Fei Ni had the nerve to shirk responsibilities and how she managed to outperform her as a conductor with last-minute efforts—it turned out she came from a family with some background. Feng Lin smiled at Fei Ni as if there had never been any discord between them.
Sister Liu handed Fei Ni a package of mooncakes, a gift from the factory, tied with hemp rope and containing four flaky pastries. In addition, Sister Liu had brought her own homemade braised pork head.
Once the guests were seated, Fang Muyang emerged from the bathroom, having washed his hands several times with soap, removing about eighty percent of the turpentine smell from his painting session.
Although she had earlier mistaken someone for Fei Ni’s mother-in-law, Feng Lin immediately recognized Fang Muyang as Fei Ni’s husband upon seeing him—because the factory gossip had mentioned he was good-looking.
Indeed, he was quite handsome and tall.
Among the visitors, Fang Muyang only recognized Sister Liu. He greeted her and nodded with a smile to the others.
Feng Lin proactively said, “I’ve read every one of your sequential pictures, including the serialized ones in the newspaper. I really like your drawing style.” She wasn’t lying. If Fei Ni hadn’t constantly promoted her husband’s works at the factory, which had irritated Feng Lin, she wouldn’t have paid attention to what he drew. She had always examined them with a critical eye but found no obvious flaws in the artwork—only defects in the text. However, the byline on the cover told her the text had nothing to do with Fang Muyang. Fei Ni would probably never know that, because of her promotion, Feng Lin had become a reader of Fang Muyang’s works, eagerly following each new release.
Fang Muyang, unaware of the past friction between Fei Ni and Feng Lin, simply regarded her as a friendly colleague of Fei Ni’s. He thought to himself, “Which of my sequential pictures gave you the impression that I’m the type to beat my wife?”
Auntie Yang mused that this father and son were quite interesting. Although they didn’t have many visitors, most were notable figures, yet Old Fang and Xiao Fang treated them quite casually. Now, meeting a workshop team leader, they were being so formal. Fruits and pastries were naturally provided, and two types of tea were prepared.
Old Fang, as the elder of the household, took on the main role in conversation.
Led by Sister Liu, Fei Ni’s colleagues from the factory mainly emphasized how hardworking and diligent Fei Ni was at her job.Old Fang nodded in agreement, as if this was entirely within his expectations. Only after the speaker finished did he politely thank the factory for nurturing Fei Ni. Though courteous, his tone didn’t resemble that of a family member being consoled, but rather a leader inspecting work and listening to reports—offering a "not bad, but room for improvement" kind of feedback. This manner of speaking and vocabulary suited Old Fang’s demeanor perfectly, not seeming abrupt at all, to the point where the person across from him felt like asking, "Do you have any further instructions?"
Sister Liu and her union colleagues exchanged glances. Except for Sister Liu, everyone else seemed to have forgotten their original purpose, as if they had come not to offer condolences but to report work.
Though Sister Liu’s suspicion had dropped from a six to a one, it hadn’t completely vanished. She felt it necessary to remind Xiao Fang to treat Fei Ni well.
Without others chiming in, Sister Liu’s words came off as somewhat abrupt, but she had to say it: "Xiao Fang, I believe your achievements today are inseparable from Fei Ni."
Although Fang Muyang didn’t consider himself particularly accomplished, since the emphasis was on the latter part of the sentence, he readily agreed.
"Xiao Fang, your hands are so skillful—you can paint, you can make furniture." Sister Liu glanced at the piano in the living room and added, "And you can play the piano. You must take good care of your hands. If you don’t, and you can’t paint or play the piano anymore, it won’t just be your loss—it’ll be a loss for all of us." The unspoken implication was: Don’t you dare use those hands to hit anyone. The consequences would be severe—if you hit someone, you can forget about painting ever again.
Fang Muyang had to admire Sister Liu’s knack for indirect hints, but he clarified slightly: "I’m not much of a piano player. The piano belongs to Fei Ni."
Old Fang, however, latched onto other information—he hadn’t expected his wayward son to know how to make furniture. His daughter-in-law’s workplace organization was truly thorough, having figured out his son so well. He realized he knew less about his own son than his daughter-in-law’s colleagues did.
Fang Muyang used his skillful hands to silently peel an apple for Fei Ni. His movements were practiced, as if he did this often, and he naturally handed it to her once finished.
Fei Ni didn’t take it. Whether Fang Muyang genuinely misunderstood or pretended to, he specifically stated, "There’s no smell of turpentine on my hands anymore. I scrubbed them several times before washing your clothes earlier."
To prevent Fang Muyang from saying more, Fei Ni took the apple.
Old Fang was also surprised to learn that his daughter-in-law’s clothes were now washed by his wayward son. He remembered that when she first arrived, she did her own laundry. He supposed she had been busy organizing her manuscripts lately, and his son had taken the initiative to handle the household chores.
He set the fruit knife beside the fruit plate, refilled Sister Liu’s tea, excused himself, and went back to washing Fei Ni’s clothes.
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