Lately, Miss Y had been working a lot of overtime, only making it home around 11:00 PM every night. By the time she finished eating and washing up, it would be midnight, and she would collapse onto the bed completely drained. I laid out her clothes and picked out her outfit for the next day. Seeing how listless she looked, I looked up some massage videos online and started rubbing her shoulders and neck.
Just as Miss Y was about to drift off to sleep, she mumbled, “I’ve almost saved up enough money.”
“Huh? Saved up for what?”
Miss Y didn’t answer and fell asleep. I tucked her in, wrapped my arms around her, and went to sleep too.
The next morning, Miss Y got up early for work. Right before heading out the door, she said, “Today is the absolute last day of overtime. Tonight, I want to eat tomato, radish, and beef stew with rice to properly nourish my body.” I flashed Miss Y an “OK” sign, and she headed out.
In the afternoon, Miss Y sent me another message saying she wanted army stew (budae jjigae) and rice cakes. I asked her what she actually wanted to eat, and she replied that she wanted it all. “Then remember to buy some digestive tablets on your way back,” I told her. Miss Y sent an emoji of a little black cat blowing a kiss. I rifled through the fridge and realized we were short on ingredients, so I went out to shop.
On the way, I ran into a street vendor selling grilled sausages and bought two for Miss Y, figuring she’d probably want those too. When I got home, I put down the groceries and checked the time; there was still an hour before Miss Y got back, so I stayed in the kitchen to prepare dinner.
At 6:30 PM sharp, Miss Y arrived home. Hearing the sound of the door opening, I turned off the stove and went to the entryway to greet her. “Welcome home, baby.” Miss Y put down her keys and leaned her whole weight against me.
“Overtime is so annoying.”
“Next time the boss makes us work late, let’s smash the computer right into his face.”
“No way, they’ll deduct my salary.”
“Then we’ll draw a circle and place a hex on him.”
“Deal.”
“Smells so good! What’s for dinner?”
“Didn’t you say you wanted tomato, radish, and beef rice and army stew? We’re having both tonight. I also bought you grilled sausages. Go change your clothes, there’s hot water in your cup. Rest for a bit, and we can eat in a minute.”
“Okay. Thank you for your hard work, Ruru.”
“You’re the one who worked the hardest.”
I kissed Miss Y on the forehead, patted her shoulder to send her off to change, and went into the kitchen to reheat the sausages in a pan. By the time Miss Y finished freshening up, dinner was ready to be served. Miss Y devoured her food at the dining table while I held my water cup and watched her. Halfway through the meal, she stopped and spoke up.
“The boss paid a ton of overtime for this recent stretch. Didn’t you say before that you wanted to travel to France? I’ve saved up enough money. Let’s go to Paris.”
I looked into Miss Y’s eyes and knew she wasn’t just saying it on a whim—she really had saved up enough money for the trip.
“You worked so hard recently just to save up for Paris?”
“Yeah. I want to go abroad to see the world with you. I’ve never been to Paris before.”
Some people remember your casual remarks and make them happen, while others don’t care even if you say it ten thousand times. Love is magical like that. The person who loves you will naturally cherish you, pay attention to everything about you, and remember your every word.
Miss Y and I have a net height difference of only two centimeters. To the naked eye, you can’t really tell the difference between us, and it’s completely unnoticeable when we wear shoes outside. From afar, the two of us look like a copy-paste job.
I never cared about the height issue until one night before bed, when Miss Y kept doing stretching exercises. I asked her why she was suddenly doing that, and she looked at me and said, “I want to grow taller.”
“Why the sudden urge to grow taller? Your height is already pretty good.”
“Because being taller makes clothes look better on you!”
“Alright, I support you. Good luck.”
After sticking with it for two days, Miss Y bought a ruler to measure her height at home. To her dismay, she found she had actually shrunk by one centimeter compared to her original height. She measured two or three times, but it consistently showed she was one centimeter shorter. Miss Y was so furious that she angrily ate three bowls of rice that night—to hell with growing taller.
Tucked under the covers just chatting, Miss Y asked me why my name was Ruyu. Was it taken from the idiom ruhua siyu (as beautiful as flowers and jade)? I replied, “As the saying goes, ‘Within books, one finds a house of gold; within books, one finds a face as beautiful as jade’ (yuyan ruyu).” Miss Y remarked, “Wow, so cultured.”
“Actually, you’re just illiterate,” I teased her. Annoyed, Miss Y gave me a punch, turned her back to me, and went to sleep, declaring she would never speak to me again. I quickly pulled her close to coax her, hugging her tightly, and said with a grin that I was the illiterate one. Only then did I get her to turn back around and sleep facing me, hehe.
Sometimes, waking up at twelve noon with a beautiful wife beside you, getting a notification on your phone that your submission has been approved, a bright sunny day outside the window, two or three sparrows chirping in the trees, and the sound of children running and talking in the neighborhood—at moments like these, satisfaction with life reaches its absolute peak.
There was a shop by the street selling small ornaments and trinkets that all looked exceptionally delicate. I bought a bottle of red nail polish with an apple-shaped cap. In the evening, after having dinner with Miss Y, we were watching TV on the sofa when I took out the nail polish I’d bought during the day to paint her nails.
Miss Y took excellent care of her hands—they were as white as jade with slender, long fingers. If it weren’t for her habit of biting her nails, her hands would probably be even more beautiful. After finishing one hand, I gently blew on her nails, waiting for the polish to dry.
Miss Y withdrew her hand from mine, blew on the polish herself, and looked up at me with a light smile. There is a beautiful lady, elegant and graceful. Meeting her by chance fulfills all my desires.
Miss Y looked quite carefree on the outside, but she also had a delicate heart. She treated everything related to me with absolute seriousness, spoke to me in a gentle tone, and would never lose her temper with me even if she was furious.
When others told me how a certain thing “should” be done to be right, Miss Y would firmly tell me, “Whatever you want to do is the right way.” When facing dilemmas, Miss Y would take my hand and make the right decision for me.
When people badmouthed and slandered me behind my back, Miss Y would always stand unswervingly behind me, comforting me, hugging me, and telling me that everything would pass. Being with such a gentle and considerate Miss Y, I could see her unwavering love for me, and happiness was always within arm’s reach when I was by her side.
Back in high school, I bought a particularly long red scarf that could wrap around the both of us. With our heads leaned together, we would stroll along the street, thick snow crunching beneath our feet, with my beloved partner by my side and the warm temperature of my lover in my pocket. The scarf smelled like strawberry cream cake, and my lover was like the warm winter sun, blowing away the cold wind and leaving behind only the traces of love.
Recently, Miss Y had fallen in love with savory porridge. A street stall sold it for three yuan a bowl with unlimited refills. Miss Y liked to eat two meat buns while drinking her savory porridge, but there were no bun vendors near the porridge stall.
So, the two of us got up early every day—Miss Y would go buy the porridge, and I would go buy the meat buns. We’d set a spot at a stall to meet up, so we could eat buns and drink savory porridge together. Just like that, the two of us woke up early for a whole week straight to eat breakfast. We were dead tired, but the food was just too delicious—we were just two gluttons.
A fried potato stall popped up downstairs from Miss Y’s company. The vendors were an elderly couple in their eighties; one was responsible for collecting money and keeping track, while the other fried the potatoes.
Every time Miss Y got off work, she would buy four portions of fried potatoes to bring home—two portions for her and two for me. The two of us would stuff ourselves with potatoes, so we’d only eat a little bit for dinner and save the rest for a midnight snack.
For about a month, our evenings were spent like that, and both of us successfully gained three pounds. Later, looking at each other, we realized gaining weight wouldn’t do, so we increased our exercise routine while still buying the four portions of fried potatoes as usual. Looking back now, it really is a funny memory.
Miss Y had a bird necklace with a very long chain, so the bird pendant hung down near her chest. Whenever Miss Y wore this necklace, I would always reach out, hook the chain, and pull her into my arms to kiss her.
Miss Y wouldn’t get annoyed when hooked; she would obediently yield to my pull, lean close, and let me kiss her. When kissing, I could smell a subtle, elegant scent of gardenia on her. I looked everywhere for the same perfume later but could never find it. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve spent so much time with Miss Y that I naturally became imbued with her gardenia perfume scent. Time makes people alike, and love makes people soft.
I was lounging on the bed looking at my phone. At home, I didn’t care much about what I wore, opting for whatever was cool and comfortable. When Miss Y finished her shower and came back to the bedroom, what she saw was the large devil wing tattoo across my back. She slowly approached, her fingertips lightly tracing my tattoo. I’m ticklish, so even the slightest touch makes me uncomfortable.
Miss Y’s light tracing felt more like flirting; my body tingled, and my heart fluttered even more. But because my back was turned to her, I couldn’t see her expression, and she had me pinned to the bed so I couldn’t move or stop her.
Miss Y traced from my shoulders down to my tailbone. Having just showered, she still carried a bit of moisture that trickled onto my back. Unable to take it, I called out her name, telling her to let me go. Miss Y didn’t let go; instead, she slowly lowered her head. I felt her hair brush across my skin as her breath drew closer.
My body began to tremble. Miss Y leaned down and kissed my back right on the tattoo, kissing all the way from my shoulder to the lower end. It was so incredibly ticklish that, catching Miss Y off guard the moment she relaxed, I suddenly flipped around. Now, the tables were turned, Miss Y.
Miss Y’s family sent over a lot of red dates. The two of us couldn’t finish them just by steeping them in water, so after some discussion, we decided to make red date mantou (steamed buns). We finished them off in just a few days.
At night, Miss Y soaked the dates and removed the pits, while I mixed and kneaded the dough. The two of us busied ourselves until midnight before a batch was finally steamed. Since it was homemade, I also added some walnuts.
Eating mantou alone can be dry, so I rummaged through the fridge, found some vegetables and pork belly, and whipped up a few dishes. The two of us kept eating until two in the morning. After finishing, Miss Y asked me whether staying up late to eat red date mantou was actually nourishing our qi and blood or draining it.
I couldn’t give an answer either, so I scratched my head and said, “Let’s sleep first and talk about it when we wake up.” “Alright.” The two of us went to bed beautifully after eating. Fortunately, Miss Y didn’t have to work the next day, otherwise she would have been late. We slept all the way until three in the afternoon.
Looking at the time, I thought back to last night’s question and said, “Sleeping this long, our qi and blood should be fully replenished.” Nestled in the blankets, I don’t know if Miss Y heard me or not; she only mumbled that she wanted to eat more mantou.
During a night walk, the streetlights cast down and made our shadows look exceptionally beautiful, so I told Miss Y not to move while I took a photo. Miss Y stood obediently in place waiting for me to take the picture
Afterward, she came close to look at the photo and praised me, saying the shadow couple photo looked amazing and told me to send it to her so she could post it on her Moments. It was the first time Miss Y had praised my photography skills. Later, I printed that photo out, found a luxurious frame to mount it in, and hung it on the wall.