Our electric kettle at home broke, and I wanted to buy a new one online. After scrolling through pages for ages, I just couldn’t make up my mind. I decided to wait for Miss Y to come home and ask her what style would be best
. Miss Y thought for a moment and suggested, “Why don’t we get a health-pot (multi-functional glass kettle) instead?” Come to think of it, a health-pot could boil water and brew tea, so I placed the order. A few days later, the package arrived.
After using it at home for a few days to brew strong tea and boil water, Miss Y found it so practical that she took it to her office and told me to buy another one for the house. Why am I suddenly recording this? Because Miss Y constantly brings things from home to her office! Whenever she finds something useful, off to the office it goes.
She’s making her office look like her second home.
The trees in the neighborhood are budding again, bursting with new flower buds. On Saturday at noon, Miss Y and I made six sandwiches. Once they were ready, Miss Y took me and the sandwiches down to the little pavilion in the courtyard to have lunch.
She leaned against the pavilion railing, looking up at the lush, dense trees. Every now and then, a gentle breeze would blow down petals, which fell squarely into Miss Y’s hair.
She nibbled on her sandwich while taking in the view, and when inspiration struck, she even wanted to compose poetry. She was watching the scenery, and I was watching her. In my heart, no matter how beautiful the scenery is, it can never compare to the woman in my eyes.
I look rather fierce, but I actually have a very good temper and don’t get angry easily. However, if someone asks me the same question over and over again a dozen times, I won’t be able to answer politely anymore.
Miss Y, on the other hand, looks very gentle, and even if someone asks her the same thing a dozen times, she will still answer with immense patience. I’ve never understood how someone can still not get it after asking a dozen times—it’s truly baffling, so you can’t blame me for losing my temper.
Though our levels of patience are different, neither of us ever curses or uses bad words. In conclusion, we are still a very gentle little couple.
There was a period when I was absolutely obsessed with eating mangosteens, but I hated the hassle of peeling them. So, I would act cute and coax Miss Y into peeling them for me. Miss Y totally falls for my aegyo; every time I act cute, whatever principles or boundaries she has are thrown right out the window. I still remember when Miss Y and I first moved in together.
To show off my “protector” vibe, I would always step in and finish whatever Miss Y was trying to do before she could. Miss Y would just look at me, smile, and say nothing. Later, during a late-night chat, Miss Y told me that I just needed to be myself. Slowly, I started acting cute and spoiled around her, began to rely on her, and was gradually pampered by her into the tearful, playful child I am today.
Miss Y’s company gave her a foot-soaking bucket as a gift, so the two of us started soaking our feet every night before bed. At first, we were very fancy about it, buying milk, rose petals, and scented candles. Later, we realized nothing beats plain hot water.
Miss Y is sensitive to heat, so when we started soaking, she would first rest her feet on top of mine before sliding them all the way to the bottom. Sometimes, I would purposely add hot water while she was soaking and step on her feet so she couldn’t move. She would wrinkle her nose, look at me, and call me a baddie.
After starting work, my desire to get a tattoo had gradually faded. But by chance, I scrolled past a video of a hand tattoo, and my dormant heart started racing again. While chatting with Miss Y, I mentioned that I wanted to get a snake skeleton pattern on the back of my hand. Miss Y glanced at me casually and didn’t say a word. At that moment, she was probably wondering why a woman hitting 30 would still go through a rebellious phase.
Miss Y didn’t agree, nor did she refuse; she just said she’d think about it. The next morning, the moment I opened my eyes, Miss Y said to me, “Let’s go, let’s get that tattoo.”
When Miss Y spaces out, her eyes always stare blankly in one direction without even blinking, giving off a bit of a “silly kid” vibe. Just totally blank. It takes calling her twice for her to snap out of it, and even then, she looks utterly dazed when she asks, “What’s wrong?” It makes her look even more like a silly kid.
Lately, Miss Y has fallen hard for gaming. She plays at work, plays in the afternoon, plays while eating, plays after brushing her teeth, plays while showering and washing her hair, and stays up late at night to play.
Out of 24 hours a day, she manages to spend 23 of them in-game. I advised her not to play so much, but she wouldn’t listen. Left with no choice, I had to resort to drastic measures and turned on a parental control/minor protection mode on her account.
She got so mad that she took my phone to download and play it. Defeated, I had to just let her play. After a while, probably because she got utterly destroyed in the game, Miss Y barely touched her phone for three days straight, except to reply to work messages.
She clung to me every day, asking if I loved her. Seeing her so well-behaved, I marveled at how she had suddenly changed. Later, I logged into her account and discovered she had spent her entire month’s salary on in-game top-ups—and still didn’t get the item she wanted! She was just utterly defeated and rage-quit. Sigh, as expected, there is no such thing as Miss Y suddenly turning into a saint.
I wasn’t angry that she spent a month’s salary; I was upset that gaming had disrupted her real life. I don’t agree with pouring too much money into games, but since it was already spent, there was nothing to be done.
I just wanted to have a proper chat with Miss Y and advise her to think it through next time, otherwise how would we manage our household life? Miss Y also knew she had crossed a line, so she listened to my lecture very seriously. Ah, the Miss Y who makes me love her and exasperates me all at once.
We had traveled to Hangzhou together before. We took photos at West Lake and tried West Lake Vinegar Fish. How should I put it… I didn’t really like it, but Miss Y found it delicious.
That day, she ate my portion too, and even packed two more portions back to the hotel. I ended up ordering takeout at the hotel. At the time, I thought to myself that I would never go to Hangzhou again. Yet, over the long years that followed, I went to Hangzhou with Miss Y again, and we went to eat West Lake Vinegar Fish once more.
This time, Miss Y grew to dislike it—she felt nauseous just smelling it—while I fell in love with the taste instead. All I can say is, time is a truly strange thing.
Back in high school, there was a period when Miss Y didn’t want to do her homework. She planned to put all the homework she needed to write into my backpack every day on the way home from school, text me my assignments at night, and have me return the completed homework to her the next day.
The plan failed on the very first day because my handwriting was too ugly. The teacher caught on immediately that someone else had written it, and the two of us were “blessed” with having to write two self-reflection essays.
Our reflections were hung on the small blackboard in the hallway for a whole week. Miss Y found it too embarrassing to have them displayed there, so she planned to steal them back after class. Consequently, she was caught by the Dean of Students and had to write another reflection.
I thought it was quite monumental, so when they were finally taken down later, I preserved them. They are still in our home today, placed right in the center of the living room cabinet.
While away on a business trip to discuss a collaboration with a publisher, I was messaging Miss Y from my hotel room at night. Miss Y sent an emoji of a cat with a mustache, captioned with “I miss you, so cute.”
I asked her, “Is the kitty missing me, or are you missing me?” Miss Y went silent, playing dumb. I video-called her and saw her sitting alone in the bedroom hugging a pillow. I asked her what she had for dinner and if the company was busy
. Miss Y didn’t say anything, just stared at me with her big eyes. She tilted her head and said, “I miss you.” Oh my god, so cute, so cute, so cute! I have a massive lover’s lens for Miss Y; no matter what she does, I feel she is just adorable. Having such a cute woman as my partner gives me an inexplicable sense of pride.
Lately, my stomach hasn’t been well. It feels bloated and I’ve had no appetite. For some reason, Miss Y lost her appetite right along with me.
The two of us lost two pounds in three days. Three days later, my stomach felt much better and was no longer bloated.
As my appetite returned, Miss Y’s appetite came back too. That day, the two of us devoured six steamed buns, cooked four dishes, had two bowls of soup, and topped it off with a whole watermelon after dinner.
Both of us were stuffed to the brim. Lying in the bedroom chatting about life, Miss Y asked me which came first, the chicken or the egg. What a boring question. I thought about it for a moment, and just as I was about to answer, I turned around and saw that Miss Y was already asleep.
Watching her fall asleep made me drowsy too, and slowly, I drifted off into dreamland. Sweet dreams!
It took forever to finally cure Miss Y of her bad habit of biting her nails, only for her to fall in love with biting the dead skin around them. She would bite her fingers until they bled and then move on to another finger.
Coming home to see Miss Y’s bloody fingers, I almost couldn’t catch my breath. I immediately went out and bought three pounds of bitter gourd, juiced it, and smeared it all over Miss Y’s fingers.
It was so bitter that Miss Y grimaced and contorted her face. I thought this would make her quit biting her fingers, but by the third day, the bitter gourd juice ran out and she went right back to it. I couldn’t bear to look. Someone please take this problem child away from our house.
Regarding this nail-biting and finger-biting issue, I actually thought Miss Y had some sort of psychological condition and specially took her to the psychiatry department. The doctor said Miss Y was as strong as an ox, which finally made me believe she simply just likes biting things.
Fine, she’s not sick, she just loves to bite. I prepared a pound of beef jerky for her, thinking that if she had snacks to chew on, she wouldn’t bite her fingers or nails. But I underestimated Miss Y’s hyena-like bite force—she demolished it all in a single day. I’m honestly afraid that if her teeth start itching one day, she might just bite me.
After showering, Miss Y returned to the bedroom and saw me lying on the bed looking at my phone. She purposely let the bath towel slip off her shoulders, exposing half of her fragrant shoulders, and beckoned me with her finger. I watched her performance. Slowly, she approached me, getting closer to my face, closer to my lips. Right at the moment we were about to kiss, she suddenly pulled back.
“Have you showered yet? And you think you can kiss me?”
Seeing Miss Y’s smug expression… well, how should I put it? I felt that backing down in a situation like this was absolutely out of the question. And so… lights out, happy times!
The moment Miss Y got home one evening, she excitedly told me she wanted to become a mukbang streamer. I asked her where this sudden idea came from, and Miss Y said she wanted to start a side hustle to make some extra pocket money.
I supported her. I accompanied her to buy a ton of props used by mukbangers, bought special plates, and even learned how to cook delicious meals. On her first day streaming, Miss Y munched and crunched away for ages, only to realize she forgot to hit the “Go Live” button.
She only noticed after she was completely full! There was nothing to do but wait until the next day to try again. On the second day, she hit the live button and started eating seriously, but the entire time she just kept her head down eating, and the video didn’t turn out well. On the third day, everything went smoothly.
That night, she was excitedly editing the video when halfway through, Miss Y’s stomach suddenly acted up, and she threw up all the food she had eaten for the mukbang. We went to the hospital to see a doctor, who said she had simply overeaten.
Sigh, before the mukbang channel could even officially launch, we had already spent quite a bit of money. Miss Y lay on the hospital bed looking at me, asking if she just wasn’t cut out for short videos. I had been very supportive of her doing short videos, but after three attempts resulting in three disasters, maybe it’s just not meant for us.
After some thought, I told Miss Y, “Anyway, doing mukbangs was just to earn some pocket money. We shouldn’t wreck your health before you’ve even earned a dime.”
Miss Y thought about what I said, and just like that, her mukbang career ended before it even began.
Daily life needs a little pleasant surprise. While out, I saw a pair of earrings that suited Miss Y perfectly. When I checked the price, it was very reasonable, so I bought them on the spot to give Miss Y a little everyday surprise. That evening, while waiting for her to come home, I prepared the surprise and dinner. The moment Miss Y walked through the door, she saw a table full of her favorite dishes with a gift box sitting right next to them. Miss Y walked over and asked me what holiday it was today.
“Can’t I give you a gift even if it’s not a holiday?”
“Smooth talker.”
Miss Y opened the gift box and found a pair of butterfly earrings. Miss Y rarely praises my taste, but she did this time. I stepped close to her, removed her original earrings, and helped her put on the new ones. I gently blew on them, making the earrings sway, and my heart swayed right along with them.
Staying by Miss Y’s side makes life feel incredibly safe and warm. How should I describe this peace and warmth? It’s like being bathed in the aura of the Virgin Mary, as warm as a lover’s embrace. It makes me want to waste all my time on things related to love. Being with her just fills me with an appetite for life. It’s so hard to describe this feeling; I always feel like my writing can’t do justice to what I experience. It’s like a bowl of perfectly seasoned congee—drinking it warms your stomach, and filling your belly with it brings a profound sense of peace.