Nan Zhi finished, released his wrist, and also left the bedside. “It’s too late, I’m going back to sleep.”
As she spoke, she spread open the cream left between her fingers from applying hand cream for Song Qing. There was a bit too much, so she even wiped it along her jaw and the sides of her neck before finally using it up. “You sleep early too.”
Once she finished speaking, just like how she came, she wore her fuzzy slippers, went back upstairs.
Song Qing was still half-lying on the bed. Hearing this, he put down his hem, sat up, and watched her leave.
Only after she walked far enough, and he couldn’t see her figure, did he withdraw his gaze, looking at the wrist that had been held and the soft flesh on the palm that had been rubbed many times, feeling the other person’s body warmth there gradually cool and fade.
Song Qing rubbed it warm again himself. The cream in the center of his palm also melted. He imitated Nan Zhi’s motion, raised his hand, and applied it to both sides of his neck.
There was still a bit left, which he continued to use on his legs. After finishing, he tidied up and lay into the blanket, pulling it over as he thought:
There wasn’t any stickiness today. The amount Nan Zhi applied was more than what he did.
He closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.
—
The next morning, he woke up on time, right on the dot. Although he had stayed up very late yesterday, waking at seven had already become a biological clock.
Usually, he would get up, wash up, and make breakfast along the way. Today he didn’t, because Nan Zhi was resting.
Her meaning was: it’s rare to have a day off—don’t call her before noon, she wants to have a good sleep.
She really had been working hard lately, so Song Qing didn’t plan to wake her. After thinking about it, he also pulled the blanket over and went back to sleep again. He had stayed up too late yesterday, so waking up this early also gave him some pressure.
This nap lasted until after ten. Song Qing got up feeling full of energy, brushed his teeth lightly, washed his face, microwaved two mantou, ate them with fermented bean sauce, and, belly full, continued doing what he didn’t finish yesterday.
Practice is practice—even during free time he wasn’t idle. He knitted a scarf and earned ten yuan.
It was the kind that sells for ten yuan per scarf.
At noon, twelve o’clock, Nan Zhi still hadn’t woken up.
Song Qing hesitated for a moment but still didn’t go cook, because when he was at his uncle and aunt’s house, on Saturdays and Sundays, those two kids could sleep all the way until the afternoon. If food was cooked too early and reheated later, the taste wouldn’t be as good, and they’d get angry.
Cooking at the right time was the same as waking them up properly.
Actually, the time it took for someone to wake up, change clothes, brush teeth, wash face, and so on, was enough to cook a meal.
Song Qing was afraid he wouldn’t make it in time, so he prepared all the side ingredients in advance, so that once she woke up, he could immediately cook.
Once everything that needed preparing was done, only then did he continue into the small living room and tap at the keyboard.
—
A little past one, Nan Zhi woke up. When she saw the time, her first reaction was that it was earlier than usual. She pulled out her phone, intending to play, and then realized—it had been the same during previous breaks too.
One sleep all the way to two or three in the afternoon, or even four or five, then playing on the phone until very late. A whole day off would pass just like that, without feeling like she experienced anything.
This time, she put her phone down, lifted the blanket, got up, walked to the edge of the balcony, and suddenly pulled open the curtain—only to be pricked by the bright sunlight outside.
Nan Zhi raised her hand to cover her face. Only when she felt her eyes had adjusted did she put it down, leaning against the balcony railing, looking outside through a layer of glass.
What a big sun. What beautiful sunlight. Golden and shining—stretching from the balcony all the way into her bedroom, spreading over her bed.
Why didn’t she notice it’s like this usually?
Usually, she really just lazily lay in bed all day, not even in the mood to eat. Every day she wondered: why do people have to eat, to work, to get up?
Wouldn’t it be great to sleep until the end of the world?
In the past during rest days, even ordering takeout was too lazy to do—because it meant getting out of bed, going downstairs, putting on clothes to get it.
Very troublesome. If one just keeps sleeping, then they won’t feel hungry, won’t feel discomfort.
Nan Zhi couldn’t help but recall recently, when she asked Song Qing what the house looked like during the day. The next day, Song Qing took a photo for her—it was an overcast day, no sun. But on the third day, when it was sunny, he took a photo of the sun for her.
Very beautiful, very beautiful sun—morning one, noon one, evening one, and one during sunset clouds.
On the fourth day, fifth day—all the way until recently when she said she’d seen enough—then he stopped taking pictures.
He really kept every word she said in his heart.
This kind of feeling—being thought of, being taken seriously—really feels good.
Nan Zhi stretched her body a bit, then opened the window inside the room and looked down. Song Qing just happened to come out from the small living room. Hearing the sound, he raised his head and looked up at her.
Nan Zhi was in a great mood. “Did you cook? If not, then don’t—I’ll show off some skills today.”
She also had a few signature dishes. She wanted to pan-fry oyster and egg.
Last time when eating outside, she thought it tasted pretty good. Yesterday when she came back, she bought oysters, planning to show off her skills.
Song Qing wanted to say he had made some, but was afraid she’d come down and check, so he could only honestly answer: “No.”
He paused for a bit, hesitantly asked: “Are you sure?”
Each trade has its specialization. Nan Zhi’s painting skills were very strong—just one glance and you could tell the style was mature and experienced, self-contained with her own distinctive flavor. She belonged to the elite in the industry. But she really couldn’t cook. Even frying an egg would end up burnt. At most, she could cook instant noodles.
Those hands of hers were meant to hold a pen, not suitable for cooking.
“I’m extremely sure.” Nan Zhi wanted to go down right now—but her hair wasn’t brushed, face not washed. In the end, she was a bit embarrassed, so she went to wash up first. Before leaving, she repeatedly told, a thousand times, ten thousand times, told Song Qing: he must not cook.
While brushing her teeth she even ran out to check whether he was in the living room. If he wasn’t there, she’d shout for him.
Song Qing originally wanted to cook something to save her some trouble, but being called out of the kitchen several times in a row by her, he simply stayed obediently in the living room to wait for her.
He didn’t want to waste even a little bit of time, so he picked up a book to read.
When Nan Zhi finished tidying up and came downstairs, whether because she ran too fast or slept too long, her low blood sugar flared up. Originally, she was heading straight to the kitchen, but upon reaching the ground floor, she changed direction to the small living room—where Song Qing slept—and pa collapsed onto his bed.
She came into his room to get something to eat—yesterday’s small bread.
Needed a little startup energy to boot up.
After collapsing, she couldn’t get up. Her heart was panicking, her legs and feet weak, no strength at all.
Song Qing sensed something wasn’t right and followed her in. Nan Zhi raised one finger and pointed at the place where the small bread was placed. Song Qing understood, wheeled over, and handed her the small bread. With enough startup energy, she finally “booted up” and sat up from the bed.
After resting for a while, she went to cook.
Song Qing followed behind her, a bit worried.
Nan Zhi’s legs were still a little weak, but overall no big problem. After entering the kitchen, she saw that Song Qing had already shelled and removed the meat from the oysters brought back yesterday, and even made garlic sauce. From the looks of it, he was planning to bake garlic oysters, not make oyster egg.
Nan Zhi felt a little relieved in her heart. Otherwise, if he kept guessing exactly what she was thinking of eating every day, it’d be a bit scary—felt like he had mind-reading powers.
Looked like he didn’t. Maybe she had casually mentioned it at some point, and he remembered it.
Nan Zhi rolled up her sleeves, took the oyster meat out from the shells, poured in eggs, stirred and stirred, then added a bit of seasoning, and opened the pan to fry it.
Low heat—Song Qing was beside her reminding again. This time it was actually pretty successful. They had bought a lot, so they fried a lot. Three to five pieces per person, planning to eat until they were sick of it.
Nan Zhi had a small appetite—after eating three, she was already full. The rest were all given to him, so he could also be full full. Only then did this meal end.
Rare to have a rest day, with time to do things, Nan Zhi entered the neighborhood owner group, shouted once, asking if anyone could help give her cat that always tried to run away a beating—not too hard, just enough to scare both cats.
The people in the owner group were very enthusiastic. All came to play with the cats. In one go, two or three young people came. As soon as Nan Zhi opened the door, everyone rushed in and gave a round of rough treatment—scaring the cats so much that the moment the door was opened again, they pretended to be busy: one drinking water, one sharpening claws.
The two slowly went out and came back again, back and forth many times, but didn’t even think of running outside.
Nan Zhi, one by one, held snacks and drinks to thank everyone. Then she dismantled the corridor railing. But she was afraid they’d suddenly want to make a run for it some day, so this time she installed the railing inside her own home, at the entry hall.
The entry hall wasn’t a square shape—one wall was missing. That’s also the reason she hadn’t considered enclosing it before. This time, after putting up a ceiling-high stand as the missing wall, she decided to fence it in.
The previous railing could still be used—just the middle connection needed to be dismantled and extended with a few more railings.