Nan Zhi was on the sofa, listening to him push the wheelchair to the entrance door to contact the food delivery person about how to come upstairs. She was peacefully teasing the cats, and while teasing, as if ghost-driven and god-sent, she asked him:
“Song Qing, what do you think makes up the members of a family?”
Song Qing had just finished the call with the delivery man and was waiting for the food to arrive. When he heard that, he paused for a moment, “Dad, Mom, and child?”
This should be a question everyone knows, so he was a little hesitant.
Nan Zhi nodded, then pointed at herself and said to the cat:
“Call him Daddy.”
The two cats — whether they understood or not, anyway — cooperatively let out a “meow,” as if replying to her. Nan Zhi took advantage and pointed at Song Qing, saying shamelessly:
“Then that’s Mommy.”
She kept a straight face, acting seriously, “Call her Mommy.”
The two cats: “……”
Nan Zhi felt like it’s always like this in the beginning, so she continued teaching, “I’m Daddy.”
She pointed at Song Qing again, and raised her voice, “That is Mommy.”
At the entrance, Song Qing heard the title and lifted his eyes to glance at her.
He felt like something was off, but as for what exactly, he couldn’t say.
On the sofa, Nan Zhi was still teaching, “I’m Daddy.”
The cats probably knew they were being talked to and cooperated with a meow.
Nan Zhi became even more enthusiastic, “Call him Mommy.”
Meow~
Nan Zhi beamed with joy, “So obedient.”
The food delivery had already arrived at the door. Song Qing brought it in, and while turning the wheelchair this way, on the sofa, Nan Zhi pointed at him and instructed the cats to say, “Mommy.”
If it could be said that at the beginning he was far away and couldn’t clearly hear what she was teaching, then now, it was solidly, clearly, and unmistakably obvious what she was teaching.
Nan Zhi did it on purpose. Even though he came over, she still taught like that.
Song Qing listened seriously while putting down the takeout.
This appearance of his — more focused than usual, clearly receiving yet showing no trace of resistance — was practically equivalent to silently consenting. Nan Zhi’s arrogance grew stronger: “I’m Daddy, he’s Mommy.”
Song Qing paid attention while taking advantage of her pause to go wash his hands. When he came back, he opened the takeout boxes and laid out a few dishes side by side.
While opening a box, some of the dish’s sauce splashed onto his finger. He raised his hand and silently licked it, licking clean that bit of sauce.
Nan Zhi had been secretly watching him and saw this scene with her own eyes. She couldn’t help but think of Grandma.
The elderly were used to being frugal — when cracking eggs, even the clear liquid stuck inside would be licked clean, and soup would be soaked up with steamed buns and eaten.
This kind of habit of his was the kind only seventy- or eighty-year-old grandpas and grandmas would have.
But Nan Zhi quickly thought, although he lived in a peaceful era, when every household could eat their fill, the days he lived were no better than those of that generation — all equally bitter.
Nan Zhi put away her playful attitude and focused on him spreading apart his fingers, discovering a streak between them. He stretched out his bright red tongue and continued licking.
Maybe noticing her gaze on him, he paused again, pulled out a tissue, and wiped it off.
Nan Zhi withdrew her gaze and thought.
Why didn’t she notice before, this kind of action is quite pleasing to the eye?
“Alright, Daddy and Mommy are going to eat now, you two go play.” Nan Zhi let go of the cats, also intending to go wash her hands — she had been touching the cats for a long time — just as she was about to get up, she noticed that between Song Qing’s fingers there were still some spots not wiped clean, so she naturally pushed Song Qing’s wheelchair toward the bathroom. “Daddy and Mommy are going to wash hands and eat food~”
Song Qing was silently pushed, all the way to the sink. Behind the faucet was a square mirror, in which the two of their reflections appeared.
Nan Zhi was all smiles, in a very good mood, holding the back handle of the wheelchair. He sat quietly, originally planning to wait for Nan Zhi to wash first, then he would wash, but Nan Zhi said justly and confidently:
“I’m Daddy, have to give way to Mommy, Mommy washes first.”
Song Qing: “……”
He gave Nan Zhi a strange glance. Nan Zhi’s attitude was very firm. With no choice, he could only stretch out his hand and turn on the water to wash.
Nan Zhi watched from the side, sighing at how nice “Mommy’s” hands looked.
Fingers long and slender, joints distinct, nails and fingertips had a bit of pink — if posted online, for sure a bunch of hand fetish lunatics would go crazy.
Unfortunately, he didn’t seem like the kind to go online, and definitely not the kind to upload photos of his own hands to please others.
After Song Qing finished washing his hands, Nan Zhi washed hers. When she finished, she dried them and went to push his wheelchair — didn’t let him do it himself. Even though she knew Song Qing loved cleanliness, and that the wheelchair push rims had to be wiped several times a day, she still felt like touching those was equivalent to not having washed her hands.
The two returned and shooed away the cats that had come over, moving the dishes to the dining table.
The dining table was rectangular. Sitting opposite each other, the two weren’t too far apart. Nan Zhi knew that when he ate, he usually tried to only pick the cheapest things — like bean sprouts, green vegetables, side dishes like garlic or small chili peppers — trying to leave the good things, the meat, all for her. Nan Zhi happened to love eating meat, so she piled a bunch into his bowl.
“Mommy is too skinny, needs to eat more.”
Song Qing quietly listened.
Still a bit confused why she called him Mommy.
In his memory, there was nothing like this, so he couldn’t understand.
But it didn’t matter. As long as she was happy.
He didn’t know if it was his illusion, but every time she called him Mommy, her voice would lift a few tones, and the smile in her eyes couldn’t be hidden no matter what.
If she likes to call that, let her.
Song Qing picked up his chopsticks, stabbed into the bowl piled high with slippery meat and braised pork, almost unable to find a place to start.
She was always like this — her goodwill was like this bowl of food, piled high, full to the brim, enough to stuff him.
Song Qing lowered his head and ate in silence.
He had never refused this kind of address. To Nan Zhi, it was no different than encouragement. She didn’t show it on the surface, but in her heart, flowers were blooming with joy.
Nan Zhi, almost a little excited, continued picking food for him. Before he had even finished what was in his bowl, it was again piled high. Once he finally finished it, she filled it up again.
She had ordered three dishes in total — one vegetarian, two meat. The vegetarian one she pulled over for herself, leaving him only the meat dishes. The two meat ones mixed together, and he didn’t seem picky while eating either. Nan Zhi watched for a while but didn’t notice what he liked to eat.
At a glance, one might think it was white rice, because he would scoop a big chunk of rice to go with just a little bit of dish.
Nan Zhi knew clearly in her heart the real reason: rice was cheap. And one more thing.
These past two days Nan Zhi had more or less observed — his appetite wasn’t big. If he only ate dishes, he wouldn’t feel full, nor would it last long. A bowl of rice was necessary. So she ordered two portions for him. Half a portion was enough for herself. She even scooped some of her own to give to him, afraid he wouldn’t have enough to eat.
No matter how poor one is, even if being thrifty to the extreme, one must eat their fill.
Just like before, this meal was finished by her first. When she was done, there was still a bit of food left. She made a point to tell him, she couldn’t eat overnight dishes, so he had to finish them.
Although Nan Zhi was now idle, her hands were not. She kept giving him food, scooping up all the meat from the two meat dishes in front of him until there was only the base left. The remaining side dishes he was unwilling to throw away — he would eat all of them.
The dish soup was poured into the rice, and even the garlic, scallions, and cilantro used as garnish were not spared. After he finished eating, the takeout box was completely clean — nothing left at all.
If there was still a bit left, he would even eat the ginger.
It’s known that ginger — this thing — is something that nationwide, even people who don’t care much about food, usually don’t love eating.
While he was still finishing up, Nan Zhi had already thrown the empty takeout boxes into the trash bin, wiped off the spilled sauce on the table. Although Song Qing’s eating speed had obviously increased, he still didn’t catch up to her. He hadn’t managed to do any of the cleanup — she had already done everything that needed to be done.
Once she was free, she thought:
Need to work hard to earn money, so that the little wife can live the life of four dishes and one soup, only eating dishes and one bowl of rice per meal.
But when he ate, he looked really fragrant [idiom, means eating with appetite, or deliciously]. Nan Zhi usually ate in bits — eat a little, rest a little, eat a little more, rest again — as if eating was a tiring task for her, something she had to complete.
And she resisted this task, so she dragged it out, refusing to properly enjoy it.
Ever since eating with him, her speed had clearly increased — a meal that would take her an hour or two now only took ten-odd minutes to finish.
There was still a little bit of time left. She wanted to use it to observe her “wife” and “child.”
The “child” currently didn’t have much sense of presence. It was mainly the “little wife” — wanted to understand him a bit more, to avoid the situation where she wanted to buy him something but had no idea what to buy.
Time was still too tight. She hadn’t managed to observe anything. Her phone was already showing 12:40 — time to go to work.
Nan Zhi: “……”
She let out a reluctant choking sound. “Don’t wanna go to work~”
She wanted to stay with her “wife” and “child.”
“Working is so painful~”
But reality is — still have to go. Nan Zhi braced herself and stood up, saying: “Daddy’s going hunting~ Gonna earn money for you girls to spend~”
While speaking, Nan Zhi’s gaze remained on Song Qing. He put down his bowl, raised his eyes to look over. His gaze was clear and clean, dazed and dumbfounded, like he hadn’t reacted yet.
Kinda cute.
Nan Zhi walked to the entrance door. When changing shoes, she deliberately slowed down a bit. Sure enough, not long after, she heard the sound of the wheelchair turning. When she had finished putting on her shoes and stood up, Song Qing had already come to her side to see her off.
Nan Zhi intentionally only carried her backpack. Just as she was about to open the door and leave, Song Qing worriedly pointed at the ornament on the cabinet, “Keys.”
The keys were hanging on that ornament.
Nan Zhi pretended to have just noticed, exclaiming in surprise, “Aiya, almost forgot, good thing you reminded me.”
To thank him, Nan Zhi turned back and gave him a big hug. After absorbing enough energy from his body, she let go of him and happily headed out.
Before leaving, Song Qing still heard her voice drifting from far down the hallway:
“Going to earn little money for wife and child to spend~”
The ending tone lifted up, the voice was cheerful — completely happy.
Song Qing stood dumbfounded at the doorway, dazed for a long time without snapping out of it.
After quite a while, he finally realized — the “wife” she spoke of seemed to be himself.
She compared the cats to children, told the cats to call her Daddy and call him Mommy — calculating it that way, then it meant he was her wife.
But—why?
Song Qing closed the door, still couldn’t figure it out.
He returned to the dining table, finished off the last bit of rice, even picked up half a grain of rice from the bottom of the bowl. After making sure nothing was left, he finally tossed the takeout box.
Thinking for a moment, he took the takeout bag Nan Zhi had stuffed into the trash bin back out.
This takeout bag was the one he had opened. There were staples at the top, which he had removed. The bag was still perfectly intact, very good quality. He felt it was a waste to throw it out — it could be used to hold things.
After wiping off a bit of sauce on it, Song Qing neatly folded it up. When he was about to put it away, he wasn’t sure where it should go. Her place was clean and tidy, it seemed like no place was particularly fitting. In the end, he brought it to the small living room and placed it under his luggage bag.
Once he had done everything and had nothing left to do, he couldn’t help but start overthinking again.
What on earth did that mean?
In the end, he couldn’t stop himself. He went online and searched:
“When a girl calls a boy ‘wife’, what does it mean?”