When we were buying cotton coats for the winter, Miss Y asked me what brand I liked and if there was any specific brand I wanted to buy. I was washing dishes in the kitchen at the time and didn’t hear her very clearly; I only caught the words “buying cotton coats.” After thinking for a moment, I shouted out, “I want a cotton coat with a hood! A really big hood, so that when I put it on, my silhouette doesn’t look like a marinated egg!”
“What on earth are you talking about? I asked about the brand, not the style,” Miss Y said, walking into the kitchen while looking at her phone.
“As for the brand, I’ll just wear whatever you wear. The style should match yours too,” I replied, wiping the water droplets off my hands and stepping closer to her.
“Fine, let’s buy a coat from the Marinated Egg brand,” Miss Y teased me with a laugh.
I pretended to be bashful, gave her a playful swat, and then leaned into her, acting all fragile and clinging to her embrace. I wouldn’t get up until Miss Y coaxed me and gave me a kiss.
While practicing my culinary skills at home, I remembered that Miss Y had been craving marinated chicken feet a few days ago. So, I went online to find a tutorial to learn how to make them. After watching videos for a good while, I felt like I had mastered it and began my experiment.
I ordered two pounds of chicken feet online, and when they arrived, I realized that the chicken feet bought for home cooking were much bigger than the ones you get at restaurants. First, I prepared the odor-removing trio—ginger, scallions, and cooking wine. Then, I prepared the marinating sauce and seasoning sauce.
After prepping the chicken feet, I blanched them to remove any gamey taste, caramelized the sugar for color, simmered them in the marinade, and finally let them soak for a bit. While waiting for Miss Y to come home, I actually snuck three of them. Homemade food is just so fragrant and exceptionally delicious.
When Miss Y came home, what greeted her were the marinated chicken feet she had been craving and a bag of warm steamed buns. I didn’t cook any other dishes; the two pounds of chicken feet and the bag of buns were more than enough to fill us up, so there was no need to prepare any extra dinner.
The two of us polished off the entire two pounds of chicken feet and the bag of buns without leaving a single bite.
Afterward, she lay on the sofa digesting her food while I washed the dishes, simultaneously brainstorming what kind of marinated dish to make tomorrow. From outside the kitchen, I could hear my wife praising my cooking, and a surge of chef’s pride naturally welled up inside me.
As it got close to the time Miss Y clocks off work, she sent me a message saying she was craving spinach noodles, followed by a frowning emoji. The moment I saw the message, I knew she had a bad day.
So, I went online again and ordered some sweets and snacks for her. When Miss Y got home and saw the steaming bowl of noodles on the dining table, along with various snacks and exquisite little cakes, she couldn’t hold it in and burst into tears. She rested her chin on my shoulder, her tears soaking into my clothes, but I didn’t care at all. I poured all my heart into comforting her, asking her what was wrong.
She wouldn’t say a word and just kept weeping. I soothed her, gently patting her back over and over again. She cried for who knows how long until the noodles had gone completely soggy. Miss Y stopped crying, but she still didn’t say what had happened. Since she didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t have to.
I only needed to soothe her emotions when she felt wronged. Keeping her well-fed, warm, and in a good mood was already enough. If she didn’t want to say it, she must have her reasons. Having been together for so many years, we know each other inside out.
I once bought a double hanging chair, thinking of putting it on the balcony so that Miss Y and I could sit together and watch the sun on our days off. After decisively placing the order, the days waiting for it to arrive were agonizing; I looked forward to it every single day.
But when it actually arrived, I found there was a discrepancy with what I had envisioned. My idea was that on holidays, while others went traveling, Miss Y and I could stay at home, sitting on the hanging chair nestled closely together.
The entire space would be filled with each other’s scent and presence, where I could embrace and kiss the one I love—a piece of furniture that would truly elevate our sense of happiness. In reality, once it was delivered, it turned out to be way too massive to fit on the balcony at all. Returning it didn’t include free shipping, so after discussing it with Miss Y, we decided to keep it and put it in the living room.
Although it was a bit different from what I had imagined, it could still elevate our happiness; it’s just that the two of us couldn’t soak up the sun very well. Other than that, it was almost exactly as envisioned.
This hanging chair has been in our home for about three or four years now, and many of our moments of leaning on each other were spent sitting right there. It’s very blissful, so it wasn’t a waste of money after all.
Miss Y bought a bunch of fridge magnets online—some shaped like snowmen, some like bags, and all sorts of others shaped like delicious foods. She covered the entire refrigerator with them. I asked her why she bought so many food-shaped magnets.
She said, “Buying food fridge magnets can help you make a decision when you don’t know what to eat. For example, if I don’t know what to eat tonight, I can just come over to the fridge, take one look at these magnets, and get an idea. And don’t you think looking at these magnets gives you a great appetite? I feel like I could eat three bowls of noodles tonight.”
“Three bowls of noodles? Why don’t you just stuff yourself to death? So, what are we eating tonight?”
“Let me check the fridge magnets… how about we go out for luosifen (river snail rice noodles)?”
“Sure, let’s go out to eat then. Do you need to put on makeup? How about I take you to that luosifen shop in the West District? Their iced douhua (tofu pudding) is really delicious.”
“Yay, yay! Luosifen, here I come!”
Watching Miss Y start skipping with joy just because she heard about good food—she really has the mindset of a child. I glanced back at the fridge, which was entirely smothered in magnets. Sigh, thank you for your hard work, Brother Fridge.
A while ago, a bunch of aunts started gathering downstairs to do square dancing, and Miss Y’s interest was piqued. Every night after dinner, she would go join them. After dancing for a while and getting to know them, the aunts’ fondness for Miss Y skyrocketed; they practically wanted to become sworn sisters with her on the spot.
One aunt even invited Miss Y to her house for dinner and fussed over her love life, asking how she was nearly 30 and still not married. Miss Y doesn’t easily reveal to outsiders that she is a lesbian, so she could only laugh it off and brush it aside.
That evening after Miss Y came home, the aunt even sent her a text with a photo of a young man, asking what she thought of him because he was her nephew. Miss Y was drinking water at that exact moment, and seeing the message caused her to spit the water right out. I walked over to check on her because she was choking, only to discover the message from the aunt. I burst into uncontrollable laughter on the spot.
I teased Miss Y, saying, “Look at you, about to get a partner.” Miss Y’s face instantly went dark, and she said seriously, “I only have one partner, and that’s you.” Seeing how solemn she was, I couldn’t keep laughing, so I walked over to her side to clean up the water she had spat out.
Holding her phone, Miss Y seriously replied to the aunt, saying that she already had a partner, but due to special circumstances, she couldn’t talk about it. The aunt acted like she completely understood, and secretly made a voice call to ask Miss Y if her partner was a police officer or in the military. Miss Y was too lazy to argue, so she just nodded along and said yes. After finishing the chat with the square-dancing aunt, Miss Y lay on the bed looking utterly exhausted. Seeing her drained expression, I purposely leaned in to ask her if she was about to get a boyfriend.
Looking at my beaming smile, Miss Y coldly spat out a single word to me: “Scram.” Tsk, tsk, tsk, Miss Y really can’t take a joke.
A loud boom echoed outside the window as lightning tore a hole through the clouds, and rain poured down from within. Outside, thunder roared and lightning flashed, while inside, Miss Y and I found a good movie/variety show to watch.
Suddenly, with a sharp snap, the world plunged into pitch darkness. Miss Y let out a sudden scream of fright, which instantly made me wrap my arms around her to comfort her, telling her it was just a power outage. I turned on my phone flashlight to soothe her uneasiness in the dark world. Miss Y huddled into my embrace, and I used my body heat to slowly warm up her body, which had gone ice-cold from the sudden blackout.
Thanks to my warmth, she went from freezing to warm again. Seeing that she had calmed down but was still lying in my arms, I held her while checking our neighborhood group chat to ask what was going on with the power. The property management said that the thunder and rain had caused a short circuit, and it might take three hours to fix.
Without electricity, we couldn’t watch TV, and we didn’t want to look at our phones either. I stared blankly for a bit, noticed the shadows cast on the wall by the flashlight, and thought of something fun.
I tapped the dazed Miss Y and told her to look at the white wall. Using my fingers, I cast the shadow of a peacock onto the wall for her. Miss Y’s interest was piqued as well, and she used her hands to shape a little puppy shadow.
The two of us played with shadows childishly like that until the power finally came back on.
This is how a day out together is spent: waking up in the morning to prepare breakfast, calling the bed-hogging Miss Y to come eat, and after breakfast, I start washing the dishes and clearing the table while Miss Y goes to wash her face, brush her teeth, and do her makeup, while also coordinating an outfit for me. At 10:00 AM sharp, the two of us set off by car. Our destination this time was a picnic in the suburbs.
After making sure we had prepared the delicious food and other things we might need, we set out!
On the way, I drove while Miss Y sat in the passenger seat, chattering away about fun things. I would chime in every now and then to prove I was listening. Because we were heading to the suburbs, there were very few cars on the road, but I didn’t drive fast either. Miss Y watched me drive and praised me, saying I looked so handsome driving. Being complimented by her, I could barely hide the grin on my face, but I just gave a casual response:
“It’s alright.” In reality, I was absolutely thrilled inside. Miss Y also knows that my personality is rather men-sao (secretly passionate/showy but outwardly reserved), so she just gently poked fun at me, saying, “You closet show-off,” before turning her head to look at the scenery.
At 11:30 AM sharp, we arrived at our picnic spot.
We spread out the picnic blanket and brought out the food. Miss Y went to take photos of the scenery while I began setting up the picnic area. By the time she finished taking photos, I had finished setting up as well.
The two of us started lunch at 12:00 PM. I had prepared sandwiches and juice, and since Miss Y said she wanted to eat spicy chicken feet, I had also marinated a few pounds at home to bring along, plus some fried meat and egg tarts. The two of us took a selfie together and then dug in. Miss Y took a huge bite out of a sandwich, her eyes lighting up with stars. She gave me a big thumbs-up as she chewed, praising how delicious it was. The two of us ate and chatted, gradually filling our bellies.
After eating, we cleaned up the leftover trash and went for a walk with Miss Y, admiring the beautiful suburban views. I climbed a high mountain with her, and at the summit, the two of us shouted at the top of our lungs, letting out all the pressure and frustrations from work. After shouting, we took another photo together.
Miss Y stood on the high ground while I stood beside her, my eyes fixed on her, while her eyes looked into the camera. It truly mirrored that saying: She creates a scene, and while watching her create a scene, I smile.
At 4:00 PM, the two of us packed up our things and got ready to head home. On the drive back, Miss Y drove while I rested in the passenger seat. During a red light interval, Miss Y naturally held my hand, brought it to her lips, and kissed it.
While I verbally teased her for being cheesy, my hand didn’t move an inch. Collapsing onto the bed after getting home and reflecting on the day’s experiences, it felt like a day filled with the vibrant flavor of truly being alive.
After returning home, Miss Y went to cook while I went back to the study to finish my daily tasks. By the time I completed the assignments given by my editor for the day, Miss Y had finished making a meal.
Although it didn’t look the best and the taste wasn’t actually that great, in order not to dampen her enthusiasm, I still forced myself to swallow it down and praised her, saying her cooking was truly delicious. After eating, the two of us cleaned up together, then went to wash up, and finally lay in bed, letting out a sigh of contentment. Ah! What a beautiful life.
Miss Y habitually carries a pack of tissues whenever she goes out, and I picked up this habit from her. Every time before stepping out the door, both of us check whether tissues have been put in our bags.
Sometimes, feeling like we didn’t bring enough, we’ll open a brand new pack to bring along. The two of us can pull out four packs of tissues when we go out. Later, while doing chores and organizing our bags, we discovered that all the household tissues had been put into our bags. No wonder it felt like we were going through household paper exceptionally fast.
Regarding the matter of terms of endearment, both of us mutually love to call each other “wife” (laopo). In daily life, Miss Y calls me Ru-ru, and I just call her Miss Y. Occasionally, when fooling around, I will call her “husband” (laogong) and praise her, saying, “Hubby, you’re so amazing~” It always leaves Miss Y walking on air, which is incredibly entertaining.