I hadn’t read many books, yet surprisingly, I developed a deep love for literature. I’m strange like that. After moving in with Miss Y, I had to look for a job in an unfamiliar place while trying to write at the same time.
That period was incredibly painful. First, because Miss Y’s own salary wasn’t very high, and adding me to the mix made things very exhausting for her. Second, I hated the thought of becoming a burden to her. But since I just couldn’t find a job, there was nothing I could do.
During those days, I desperately wished I could split myself in two—one half to go out, look for work, and be a waitress, and the other half to just write and immerse myself in my love for literature. But humans don’t have superpowers, and I wasn’t some lucky darling blessed by the heavens. From beginning to end, I only had myself. Every night, I would lie awake hating myself for being so reckless and impulsive back then.
Yet, looking at Miss Y sleeping right beside me, all regret would vanish in an instant. Whenever I was overwhelmed by negative energy, just looking at Miss Y’s photos would instantly give me the strength to stand tall again.
One evening while we were having dinner, I brought it up with Miss Y. I suggested that maybe I should just give up writing. I felt like the literary world wouldn’t care less whether I was in it or not, so it might be better to just focus entirely on job hunting—even being a waitress would be fine.
She wouldn’t hear of it. “I can support you,” she said. “If you can’t find a job in half a month, look for a month. If you can’t find one in a month, look for two months. There will always be something you’re good at that pays well.
Let’s try a little longer, okay?” Miss Y lowered her head, looking at the rice in her bowl as she spoke with a choked voice. I knew she didn’t want me to give up on my dream; she knew just how deeply I loved literature. Seeing Miss Y like that, I suddenly hated myself for being so impulsive and thoughtless. If only I had saved up more money before coming to be with her.
A few months after that conversation, a company finally sent me an offer letter. That very same night, my first novel, The Butterfly Dream, was signed by a publisher. Our luck had finally turned!
In the eighteen years I’ve been with Miss Y, we’ve bickered, we’ve fought, we’ve been happy, heartbroken, pained, and joyful. With Miss Y by my side, I feel like the future is full of promise. In a few more years, once we’ve saved up enough money, the two of us will get married. It doesn’t need to be grand or luxurious.
We’ll just invite our friends to a hotel for a meal, commission an artist to sketch a custom marriage certificate, drink a little wine, and Miss Y will walk down the aisle into marriage wearing a wedding dress. The two of us will just live out our lives, completely wrapped up in each other.
Miss Y has an off-white mesh skirt with a black corset belt at the waist. The skirt falls just to her knees. Every time she wears it, she loves to pair it with a pearl necklace. “A rare beauty resides in the north, peerless and independent.” Seeing Miss Y all dressed up, even the most cold-hearted person would be captivated by her. And as for me, I have been utterly captivated by Miss Y from the very beginning.
The soundproofing in our apartment complex isn’t great, so we can always hear someone playing the piano at night. One evening when Miss Y came home, she heard the music and asked if I knew what piece it was. I told her I wasn’t sure. Miss Y said it was Für Elise, and then added that she had actually learned a dance to this song before.
“Do you want me to teach you, Ruru?” “No, let’s eat first, or the food will get cold.” “It’s fine, this dance is super easy to learn. Come on, come on!”
Well, there was no helping it. Seeing Miss Y stretch out her hand, I placed mine in hers. And just like that, carrying ourselves to the music floating into our apartment, the two of us danced gracefully in the bedroom. I have terrible coordination and kept stepping on Miss Y’s feet, prompting her to tease me, asking if I was a clumsy little puppy. We kept dancing until our dinner went completely cold, totally oblivious to the time.
When both people in a relationship are terrible at taking photos, they usually end up loving cheek-to-cheek selfies. That’s exactly how Miss Y and I are. Our album is filled with one cheek-to-cheek photo after another. Every time I look at them, a wave of pure happiness spreads through my entire body.
Most of my clothes are styled for me by Miss Y because my own sense of fashion is absolutely dreadful. Whenever I go out wearing an outfit she picked and strangers ask me where I got it, I always get a proud, blissful look on my face and say, “My partner bought it for me, so I’m not really sure!” Hearing this, the passersby always remark, “You and your partner must have a wonderful relationship, blessings to you both.” Internally, I’d be gloating: My wife loves me so much, what can I say?
Once, I went out of town for a book signing. After it ended, I took a taxi to a local commercial street to wander around. At the end of the street, there was a little shop run by an elderly, white-haired grandmother. In front of the shop was a small stall displaying all kinds of sparkling rings, necklaces, and bracelets. I randomly picked one up to look at it; it had a pear blossom pattern. Thinking Miss Y might like it, I decided to buy it.
The grandmother at the stall told me that this pear blossom ring formed a pair with a balloon flower ring, and asked if I wanted to buy them together. I tried on the pair to check the size, and since they fit perfectly, I bought them both. The little stall didn’t have proper jewelry boxes, only a small pouch, so I figured I would just buy a box on my way back to the hotel.
That night, I video-called Miss Y and asked what she was doing. She said she was missing me. I told her I’d be back tomorrow morning. She asked if I needed her to pick me up from the airport, but I told her to stop being mushy and go to sleep. That night, I put the pair of rings on my fingers, imagining what Miss Y would look like wearing hers, and drifted off to sleep with those thoughts.
The next day, I caught an early flight back. When I got home, Miss Y was right in the middle of getting ready for work. She hadn’t finished putting herself together and looked like she hadn’t even had breakfast yet. She asked me why I was back so early, saying she thought I wouldn’t be back until noon.
I replied, “I missed you.”
“Aww, you’re the one being mushy, Ruru baby. Come here and let me kiss you, we haven’t kissed in two whole days.”
Miss Y opened her arms, waiting for me to go over and hug her. I walked over, but instead of hugging her, I dropped down on one knee. I took the rings off my hand and slid the pear blossom ring onto Miss Y’s finger.
“Dear Miss Y, will you do me the honor of being my partner for the rest of my life?”
Miss Y raised her hand to cover her mouth, laughing. “Of course, I’d love to.”
Miss Y leaned down, kissed me gently on the forehead, and pulled me back up.
“Why did you suddenly buy me a ring? Don’t we have plenty at home?” “I just felt like this one suited you perfectly, so I got it.” “It really does suit me beautifully. Thank you, our Ruru baby. Alright, alright, I have to go to work now, I’m about to be late. No more emotional stuff with you! Love you, honey! I’ll give you a huge surprise when I get back tonight.”
Whenever Miss Y feels incredibly exhausted, she doesn’t like to talk. She prefers to just lie quietly by herself in a dark place, silently shedding tears. I know she doesn’t like anyone hovering over her during those times, so I always prepare food and drink for her, waiting until she regains her energy to eat.
Sometimes it’s not until three in the morning that she finally works through her bad mood. By then, the food has gone cold, and since she doesn’t want to turn on the stove, she just washes up and goes to bed. Sensing a chilly presence drawing close, I suddenly woke up.
Miss Y asked if she had disturbed me. “No, if you’re not asleep, I can’t sleep either. Are you going to eat?” “No, it’s all cold and I don’t want to turn on the stove. I’m thinking I’ll just eat when I get to work.” “What do you want to eat morning?” “Egg custard.” “Okay, I’ll make it for you when we wake up. Go to sleep now, or you won’t have any energy for work.” “Okay. Ruru baby, will you hold me?” Miss Y looked at me with an expression that practically screamed, ‘I’m feeling down and I need your hugs and kisses to get better.’
I reached out and pulled Miss Y into my arms, letting her face rest right against my heart, slowly warming her up with my body heat. The clock ticked away as Miss Y nestled against me and slowly drifted off to sleep. Even in her dreams, she held onto me tightly. Have a good dream, wifey.
Miss Y is quite the drama queen; she can put on an act anytime, anywhere. One evening, we were having soup. Just after I poured it out, Miss Y got greedy and stole a sip. Right after drinking it, she suddenly slammed her hand on the table and demanded to know what I had put in the soup, clutching her chest and asking why it hurt so badly.
I played along: “I put poisonous mushrooms in it to murder you and inherit our tens of billions in assets.” “What toxic mushrooms… I can’t go on…”
With that, Miss Y gave a dramatic cry and collapsed onto the floor with a thud. I didn’t bother reacting to her and just ate my dinner at the table, setting aside a bowl of soup to let it cool down. Miss Y was still lying on the floor. I gave her a gentle kick and told her the soup was cool now, and that it wouldn’t taste good if she waited any longer. Miss Y immediately did a nip-up, bounded off the floor, and sat at the table smiling from ear to ear as she sipped the soup, exclaiming how delicious it was. Ah, just another day with my drama queen wife.
After spending so much time with Miss Y, I feel like my whole disposition has become much more easygoing and gentle. Back in middle school, the way I spoke to people was rather aloof, and the things I said often sounded like I was trying to provoke them, so I didn’t have many friends. After meeting Miss Y, I started learning from the way she spoke. Miss Y speaks so softly and gently, so I began speaking softly and gently too.
Miss Y has very stable emotions, so I began to become patient and resilient. Being with Miss Y really makes me feel like life is incredibly beautiful and peaceful.
When I write about the stories between Miss Y and me, people sometimes criticize it, saying, “Why do the character traits keep shifting back and forth? One second Miss Y is the crybaby, and the next second you’re the one crying.” To that, I want to say: because of love, we have lived together for seventeen years and known each other for eighteen. This has caused our personalities to grow closer and closer to one another. Miss Y is another me, and I am another Miss Y. The two of us have blended together to become a complete whole.
Miss Y has a beanie. Once, she put it on to go out and throw away the trash. I called out to her, telling her that the hat wasn’t adjusted right and that I’d fix it for her. Suspecting nothing, Miss Y lowered her head to let me adjust it. I grabbed the bottom of the beanie and yanked it straight down, completely covering her head.
“Hahaha!” “Zhang Ru, you are so dead!”
Because of the sudden movement, static electricity built up, and Miss Y’s hair ended up completely messed up. Seeing sparks of fury in her eyes, I leaned down, kissed her, and softly apologized. Miss Y has a good temper, so she didn’t pick a fight with me and went out to throw away the trash. I thought that was the end of the story.
A few days later, we went out shopping. We happened to pass by a clothing store, and Miss Y told me to go try something on. She picked out a hoodie with drawstrings for me. Trusting her completely, I went into the changing room and put it on.
“How does it look?” “Not bad, not bad. Ruru, come a little closer so I can get a better look.”
I stepped closer to her, and Miss Y suddenly yanked the drawstrings tight, completely trapping my head inside the hood so I couldn’t see a thing. Only then did I realize that the beanie incident hadn’t been forgotten at all. I quickly apologized, admitting I was truly wrong, and begged Miss Y to let me go. After sweet-talking and coaxing her for a good while, Miss Y finally let go. Seeing my bird’s nest hair, she laughed ruthlessly. Hahaha.
The sales assistant was watching us, and Miss Y, feeling embarrassed under their gaze, stopped messing around. I asked the assistant how much the hoodie was, and we bought it. After leaving the shop, Miss Y took the initiative to hold my hand and asked if I was angry. I said no, since I was the one who pranked her first anyway. Miss Y said she wasn’t actually angry anymore either, but seeing the drawstrings just made her hands itch to mess with me. Ah, what a pair of playful goofballs we are.
One night we couldn’t fall asleep, so Miss Y and I were scrolling through our phones together. As we scrolled, we stumbled upon a livestream selling yogurt. The two of us impulsively placed an order for a whole tub. We thought it would be a lot, and when it arrived, it really was a massive amount. We took a taste and found it incredibly delicious, so each of us poured a bowl and drank it. We planned to save the rest for breakfast. However, in the middle of the night, the two of us got hungry again. Being too lazy to turn on the stove, we went to the kitchen, fetched the yogurt, and started drinking it. As we drank, we suddenly saw the bottom of the tub. We looked at each other blankly.
“What are we eating tomorrow?” “I don’t know. Wontons?” “Sure. I’m still so hungry, is there anything else to eat?” “Nothing left. Want to order takeout?” “No way, what if I get fat from eating this late?” “But aren’t you hungry?” “Forget it, let’s just sleep.” “Okay.”
After polishing off a whole tub of yogurt, the two of us rolled back into bed to sleep. Yet at three in the morning, because we had drunk too much cold yogurt, both of our stomachs started aching fiercely. The pain didn’t ease up until seven in the morning. Looking at each other, we both vowed never to buy yogurt again. Cut to three days later, and two more delivery boxes of yogurt arrived.
Miss Y’s company department had a dinner gathering. She sent the message at four in the afternoon, but I didn’t see it until seven. The house felt cold and empty, and since eating alone didn’t feel very interesting, I didn’t cook and just whipped up some instant food instead. At nine-thirty in the evening, Miss Y messaged me saying she wouldn’t be home until eleven and told me to just go to sleep early. I couldn’t sleep, so I went to cook some hangover soup for her and then stayed in the study typing away on my novel.
At midnight, I heard the sound of the key turning in the door. I went out to find a completely tipsy Miss Y. I asked her how much she had drunk, and she mumbled that her department wanted to adapt a novel into an anime, but the other company wouldn’t agree. They kept locked in negotiations over drinks, and it wasn’t until the logistics department joined the fray that the other side finally relented. Miss Y kept muttering nonsense, a total drunkard.
Seeing how out of it she was, I helped her over to the sofa, fed her a little hangover soup, and then carried her to bed. Looking at her fast asleep, still wearing her makeup and clothes, I knew that if I let her sleep like this, she would definitely throw a fit at me tomorrow. I fetched a basin of water and placed it by the bedside to remove her makeup and change her clothes. I counted my blessings that Miss Y wasn’t wearing colored contact lenses today, because I really wouldn’t have been able to help her with those.
Once everything was taken care of, I looked at the peacefully sleeping Miss Y, kissed her forehead and her lips, and thought: Have a sweet dream, Miss Y. Thank you for all the hard work you put into our little home. Please get some good rest.
Winter is the perfect time for eating pomelos, so we bought a lot of them. Miss Y hates peeling pomelos but loves eating them; I love peeling them but don’t care much for eating them. Often when the two of us wake up early, one prepares breakfast while the other prepares the post-meal fruit. I sit at the dining table peeling the pomelo while Miss Y makes noodles. By the time she finishes making the sauce and cooking the noodles, I’ve finished peeling the pomelo and cleared everything up.
After finishing breakfast, it’s time for Miss Y to head out for work. She blows me a sweet, fragrant kiss. I catch her flying kiss and press it against my chest, feeling the deep warmth of her love for me. I spent the morning typing away, and around noon, I received a photo from my darling Miss Y showing she had finished her lunch. She shared a picture of a pomelo piece that she had shaped into a butterfly, asking me if it looked pretty.
I replied, “How come the prettiest person didn’t make it into the frame?”
Miss Y was coaxed into a bright smile by my words, saying she would reward me with a huge hug when she got home. I sent her a cat-anticipating emoji, and Miss Y replied with a head-patting emoji. Ah, what an adorable pair of lovers we are.