Sometimes, when I write too many stories from my own perspective, readers get tired of it. So I asked Miss Y to write a section for me. What follows is her original text. Let’s take a look at things through Miss Y’s eyes:
When I first got to know you, you were in the top three of our class and the top thirty of our grade. You were so cocky that you could score over 600 points overall even after getting a zero on a single subject. Your name actually reached me before you did; I knew your name and your legendary status long before you ever knew me. You were the favored daughter of heaven, a true science genius in my heart, and a master at manipulating test scores. The very first time we met, I didn’t even realize it was you; I only found out later when talking about it with a friend. So when you actively approached my friend to ask for my contact information, I was so confused—why on earth would someone like you want my contact info? As we kept talking, we hit it off better and better, and I began to notice you. Sometimes you would chat with me until one or two in the morning, yet the next day you could still face the classroom in peak condition, while I would be completely dragging. I started to become curious about you: how could you have so much energy for studying? I began talking to you about some of the things that were bothering me, and every single time, you would put your whole heart into figuring out a solution for me. I think it was from that point on that I started paying a very special kind of attention to you.
Later on, before I could even figure out the reason behind that special attention—back when I still thought it was just the kind of close bond or best-friend relationship girls share—you suddenly confessed your feelings to me. My very first reaction was: Fantastic, now I don’t have to stress over whether I’m just a good friend to you. My second reaction was: Wait, can a girl actually be with another girl? And my third reaction was: Well, if it’s you, it seems like it’s totally fine. So I nodded and said yes. Seeing you burst into a joyful dance just because I accepted your confession, I suddenly felt that life spent with you in the future would be incredibly happy.
Now, my relationship with Miss Y is so good that if she sees sleep crust still stuck on my face in the morning, she’ll casually pick it off for me and then playfully smear it right back onto my face. She will openly barge in while I’m using the bathroom, high-handedly snatching the toilet paper away just to make me beg her for it.
She’ll tickle my sensitive spots while I’m brushing my teeth. Just as I’m about to drift off to sleep, Miss Y will out of nowhere blurt out, “I can see your nose hairs.”
When I have my period and my stomach hurts too much to move, Miss Y will sometimes ask if I need her to help me change my pad, to which I respond with a perfectly cool, “Get lost.” Sometimes Miss Y will be holding her phone with both hands, and if her butt cheeks itch, she’ll actually tell me to slide my hand in to scratch it for her—and if I scratch the wrong spot, she’ll scold me for not understanding exactly where it itches.
There are countless other unmentionable behaviors like this; I suppose this is just how a couple behaves after being together for nearly twenty years. Back when we first moved in together, we used to go to the next room just to change our clothes, and both of us would scramble to put on makeup and do our hair while the other was still sleeping, desperately trying to present a “natural, no-makeup look” to one another. We used to make sure we got up early to brush our teeth before sharing a kiss. How could we have imagined things would turn out like this? Now, we barely even kiss. If we want to kiss, sure, but your breath can’t smell. If your breath smells and you still try to come in for a kiss, you’re getting beaten up.
One night, the two of us got hungry and craved instant noodles.
So, wearing our pajamas, slippers, and hats, we headed out to buy some. Late at night, only convenience stores are open, so we went to check one out. Seeing that the convenience store still had delicious fried chicken cutlets and rice balls for sale, Miss Y and I bought two rice balls and a skewer of chicken cutlet each.
We had the clerk heat up the rice balls and started wolfing them down right then and there. By the time we stuffed ourselves full with the rice balls, the two of us just went straight back home. It wasn’t until we were lying in bed that we suddenly remembered we had originally gone out to buy instant noodles.
When Miss Y came home one evening, she brought me a bottle of soda—a brand I had never seen before.
It had a faint, refreshing fragrance of lychee and tasted quite good. I asked Miss Y where she bought it. She told me it was a regional drink unique to her colleague’s hometown, and that the employee had specifically brought it from home to share. Miss Y thought I might like it, so she brought it back for me. Ugh, I was so moved. Such a small thing, yet it touched me deeply.
It seems like no matter what delicious food or fun thing Miss Y encounters, she always thinks of sharing it with me first. So this is what a life of gentle, steady devotion feels like? I will truly cherish Miss Y’s goodness to me!
Early in the morning, while I was still sound asleep, Miss Y woke up full of energy. Hearing her clattering around in the living room, my sleepiness gradually faded. Then I heard the door go thud, letting me know Miss Y had gone out for a run.
I thought about getting up to cook, but the moment I closed my eyes, I drifted right back off to sleep. In my daze, a piece of music started playing, getting louder and louder: “Can’t afford the hurt, can’t afford the hurt, can’t afford the hurt, can’t afford the hurt~ You have so many beautiful women around you, yet it seems you specifically chose me…” Before Miss Y could continue singing, I bolted upright and slapped my hand right over her mouth to stop her.
“Shh, I’m awake. Alright, stop singing.”
With her mouth covered, Miss Y could only make muffled mhm-ahhh noises. Seeing that she understood my meaning, I let go. The second I released my hand, Miss Y immediately started singing again, switching to Good Luck Has Arrived. Ah, this songbird of a wife. Forget it, time to get up, wash up, and get ready for bed.
I scrolled past a quote online that said, “Love has its own divine timing,” so I decided to stop constantly messaging Miss Y to say “I love you” while she was at work. As a result, Miss Y complained that I had become cold and distant. I seriously thought about it, then burst out laughing and said, “No, I haven’t.”
Miss Y looked super-duper serious. “Yes, you have, yes, you have! You don’t even say you love me anymore. I don’t get any messages from you while I’m at work now. I’m almost starting to suspect you don’t love me anymore.”
“I don’t love you? No way! It’s just what the internet said… Sigh, you can’t trust the internet. I love you the absolute most, my dearest wife! Wifey, I love you, I like you the absolute most. I won’t leave you, and I won’t break up with you. Besides, we’re already married, there’s no such thing as breaking up, only divorce—and I will never agree to a divorce anyway. I like you the most!”
I blurted out this massive wall of text all at once, and Miss Y looked completely dazed by the sheer volume of words hitting her. After I finished speaking, she didn’t even process what I had said; instead, she looked at me with concern and asked if my mouth was dry after saying so much.
Ahhh, my wife is just too cute, I love her so much, ahhh!
Miss Y stayed up in the middle of the night and asked if I wanted to play a round of video games. I wasn’t fully awake yet and mumbled incoherently for a long time.
Miss Y couldn’t understand a word I was saying, so she just ignored me and kept playing her game. She played for half the night, and because her teammates were absolute trash, she found herself completely enraged with her hair standing on end, while I was sleeping peacefully right beside her. Out of pure spite, she shook me awake on the spot and told me to get up and curse out her teammates.
? I looked at her with a face full of utter confusion and bewilderment, but the phone was already thrust right to my lips. Though I had no idea what we were even fighting about, I opened my mouth and let loose a barrage of colorful greetings.
The moment I finished cursing, I lay back down and fell asleep instantly. Miss Y wanted to wake me up again, but trying to shake someone awake a third time felt a bit too impolite, so I finally managed to secure a full night’s sleep.
While watching a TV drama, Miss Y stopped halfway through and asked me when I was going to build a villa for her, saying she wanted to be a rich person too. I stood up, led her out to the balcony to look at the moon, pointed at the bright orb outside, and asked if it was bright. Miss Y said yes.
“So you’re still lucid. Why are you starting to talk nonsense then?”
“??? Hehehe. If you don’t have the money, just say so, it’s not like I’d look down on you,” Miss Y retorted, though she still put on a face of pure mock disdain. I quickly wrapped my arms around her as she turned to walk away, sweet-talking and coaxing her.
I told her I would work hard—even though it sounded like I was drawing a pie in the sky, as far as the present was concerned, building a grand villa for her was indeed impossible, ahhh!
Infected by Miss Y’s habits, when the two of us took cheek-to-cheek photos, I started loudly sucking on her cheek too. I ended up getting a mouthful of face powder and was promptly beaten up by Miss Y. My crime: ruining her makeup. As I watched her touch up her makeup, I stood off to the side smiling widely. The atmosphere looked incredibly happy—if you ignored the red bump on my head, that is.
Once she finished fixing her face, we started taking photos again. This time I didn’t try to kiss her cheek; I just gently pressed against it. Miss Y’s eyes looking into the camera were brimming with laughter, while my face was pressed against hers, my eyes uncontrollably drifting sideways to look at her. In the end, the frame captured by the camera showed one person looking into the distance full of smiles, while the other person was looking at the one beside them, utterly full of love.
After falling ill, my body really wasn’t as healthy as it used to be. Initially, Miss Y felt that as long as I was happy, nothing else mattered. But later, during a physical checkup, the doctor very seriously told her that my physical constitution had become extremely weak, and if I didn’t eat more and exercise regularly, there was a very high risk of a relapse. At that moment, Miss Y was scared completely pale by the doctor’s words.
Her expression was even graver than when she first found out I was sick. She kept bombarding the doctor with questions on how to treat it, how to manage daily life, and how to exercise.
On the way home from the hospital that evening, the two of us were uncharacteristically silent. Once we got home and turned on the lights, in an attempt to break the heavy tension, I jokingly said, “Oh please, doctors always say stuff like that just to scare people. Look at me, I can eat anything and everything right now. Don’t listen to all that nonsense.”
For a long time, Miss Y didn’t say a word. She stood by the doorway, silently weeping, her teardrops smashing one by one straight into my heart. I went up to hug her, gently stroking her hair over and over, and said very calmly, “Alright, alright, don’t cry.
Look at me, aren’t I perfectly fine right now?”
“Are you going to wait until something does happen to be satisfied?! Are you going to wait until you are truly bedridden to be satisfied, Zhang Ruyu?! Have you ever actually cared about your own body?!” Miss Y uncharacteristically lost her temper and yelled at me, even letting slip a few curse words at the end. I know, I know.
I just kept right on stroking her hair, beat after beat.
You are still in this world; how could I ever bear to leave early? Miss Y cried all the way until the middle of the night. She cried so hard and got so exhausted that she literally fell asleep while standing up crying.
I carried her back to bed and sat alone on the balcony looking at the moon all night long. It wasn’t until the sun rose the next day that I finally stood up to make breakfast for her.
Before I could even go call Miss Y to wake up, she naturally got out of bed on her own. She didn’t say a word and just silently ate her food, chewing a single bite of a bun fifteen times before taking a sip of soy milk, then continuing with the bun. Once she finished eating, Miss Y announced that starting today, she was going to take charge of my exercise and workouts, telling me to get mentally prepared.
I knew Miss Y was doing this for the sake of my health, and thus, my fitness journey began. For me, this was absolute torture, ahhh!
Miss Y started waking me up at six in the morning to go for a run. Initially, it was a five-kilometer run—which in her mouth was a “mere five kilometers,” but in my heart, it was FIVE KILOMETERS! Ah! FIVE KILOMETERS! Ah! Right at the start, I could barely manage a single kilometer before I was completely spent, practically ready to collapse right onto the ground.
Seeing that this wasn’t going to work, Miss Y started dragging me along to run together.
After pulling through another kilometer, I collapsed right onto the ground. Miss Y then started coaxing and sweet-talking me into running.
I pushed through yet another kilometer, but I truly couldn’t go on. Miss Y checked the distance and decided three kilometers was acceptable enough, so she carried me home on her back.
On the way, she bought two portions of breakfast to take home.
Miss Y carried me back to bed while the two of us got ready to wash up. She was taking a shower while I was brushing my teeth and washing my face
. By the time she finished rinsing off, I had finished washing up and simultaneously heated up the leftover breakfast from the night before. I forced myself to take a quick shower, and the moment I stepped out, I crawled right back into the bedroom to sleep.
I slept all the way until five in the afternoon—seriously, I have the body of an elderly person.
In the evening, after Miss Y came home and we finished dinner, she started telling me that from now on, all cooking at home had to be low-oil, low-salt, and low-sugar. At first glance, I thought, Sure, that’s healthy. But then Miss Y added that besides that, all other snacks and milk tea were completely banned.
My reaction shifted from a compliant, Okay, I can accept that, to an immediate regret of, If I had known, I would have treated myself better tonight and made way more delicious food.
But out of respect for Miss Y’s good intentions, I could only accept it. And so, our healthy lifestyle officially began. Just to add—right after she finished speaking, she dragged me out for another run. The next morning, I literally couldn’t even stand up.