The supermarket was not far downstairs, the route was short, but winding. Nan Zhi then took the opportunity while walking and stopping to pull the hood of his home clothes over his head, playing with the ears on his hood, as well as the tail sticking out from behind.
It was just nearby, so the two of them were used to just throwing a coat over their home clothes before going out.
Actually, it was Nan Zhi who had this habit. Later it influenced Song Qing as well—anyway, now both of them did it this way.
Home clothes didn’t need to be all prim and proper. Just wear however’s comfortable. Plus, all the clothes were bought by her, so of course they followed her preferences. In winter, she and Song Qing both wore thick, fleece-lined animal-shaped pajamas.
If not fox ones, then it would be little white rabbit.
Today, Nan Zhi was wearing the fox one. He, on the other hand, was wearing the little white rabbit one. The outer coat could only cover his upper body; the ‘head’ of the little white rabbit and the lower half of the body were exposed. The two rabbit ears drooped down, long enough to be tied in a knot.
He was just dressed like that, seriously driving his wheelchair in front. Nan Zhi was behind, arranging the ears into all sorts of shapes—sometimes letting them droop, sometimes folding them up, twisting them like braided dough. Once she was done, whenever they passed by a glass door or a reflective tiled wall, she would lower her head and pretend to bite the ears of the little white rabbit, gnawing on them while watching their full reflection in the mirrored surface—his and hers.
The red fox was biting the little white rabbit.
Foxes love eating little white rabbits the most.
The animal that foxes love the most is also the little white rabbit. If they’re already full, they won’t eat them when caught—they’ll raise them by their side, play with them, torment them.
She was full but still loved playing with the little white rabbit—little white rabbit: Song Qing.
Song Qing had no idea what she was doing. Maybe he caught a glimpse from the tiled wall, since this wasn’t the first or second time she’d done it, but he didn’t care and just ignored her, letting her mess around however she liked.
Nan Zhi, on the other hand, was having quite the time. In the middle of this big winter, her hands frozen red, she still took out her phone to take pictures of the fox bullying the little white rabbit. After messing around, she shoved her phone between Song Qing’s back and the seat cushion, warming her hands against the fuzziness of his pajamas and his body heat.
All the way, fooling around like that, they soon arrived at the supermarket entrance.
They often came to buy groceries. The store clerks all recognized them. Just saying they were regulars was enough to get a friendly discount. When they passed the dairy section, they were even gifted two bags of little yogurts.
They scratched off a prize and won a few eggs. Since the winter solstice was just around the corner, followed by Christmas and Christmas Eve, every festival meant buying loads of ingredients and eating a proper meal. Since the three holidays were lined up together, of course it was going to be a big celebration. So the two of them bought several hundred yuan worth of groceries.
If you spend 199 yuan, you could scoop for coins once. They got to scoop three times—Song Qing once, Nan Zhi twice. Altogether they got 11 yuan and 70 cents. It was like saving over 11 yuan, so they were quite satisfied as they carried their stuff home.
It wasn’t too late yet. The next day, they’d start making fillings and dumplings.
They recorded videos while doing it, hoping to let others feel some of that festive atmosphere too.
Still the usual—when Song Qing kneaded the dough, Nan Zhi filmed; when it was time for her to do some tasks, she did, and Song Qing recorded.
Nan Zhi could wash and cut the ingredients—like vegetables, wood ear mushrooms, regular mushrooms, and meat. They planned to make both vegetarian dumplings and meat dumplings.
By midnight, it was the actual start of the festival. Today was just prep. After eating their own meal, they still had time, so they lazily dawdled the whole afternoon just to finish making the fillings and dough.
With the camera set up, the two of them freed their hands—one rolled the wrappers, the other wrapped dumplings.
Nan Zhi could do both rolling and wrapping. Back home, it had always been her and her grandma—one rolling, one wrapping. Sometimes she rolled, sometimes she wrapped. No set rule. Just knew how to do it.
Today Song Qing rolled, she wrapped. Rarely was she able to free her hands, so Nan Zhi was very motivated. Her wrapped dumplings looked pretty too—each one standing in a row like little ears, and occasionally there’d be regularly pleated dumplings.
One batch pleated, one batch little ears. Fancy wrapping—showing off the skills.
By midnight, since Nan Zhi had long been a bit impatient, and Song Qing also seemed a little excited, the two of them boiled water early, watched the time, and when the time came, quickly dropped dumplings into the pot. In the other pot were tangyuan.
Song Qing minded their local tradition—tangyuan. Nan Zhi minded his local tradition—dumplings.
Tangyuan cooked faster. Once they boiled, Song Qing transferred them to cold water to soak, so she could hurry up and have a bite.
During festivals, she would always act like she couldn’t wait for this little moment. It was the same back at home with her grandma—after the first day, since they could eat it anytime afterward, she would instead feel tired of it. The first bite was always the most fragrant.
Nan Zhi bit into the first tangyuan, and gave the second one to Song Qing. The outside was cool, but the inside was still hot. The two of them kept puffing out hot breaths in the kitchen as they ate.
The fire under Song Qing’s pot was already off. While scooping tangyuan into bowls, he glanced over at Nan Zhi’s side. The range hood had been turned on, and the humming sound came through. Most of the white steam above the stove had been sucked away, with some still drifting around nearby.
On the glass door, on the countertop, even in the air—it all seemed covered with a layer of mist. Nan Zhi stood inside the mist, passing over a big ladle. In the ladle was a dumpling—she asked him to try it.
Cooking, making food, wrapping dumplings—these had once been part of his daily routine. The difference was, back then, only the part that involved preparing food had anything to do with him. When it came time to eat, others helped themselves first. The rest would be tossed to the dog. If there was some, he’d get it. If not, he’d go bake himself two steamed buns and ladle a bowl of dumpling soup, return to his room, and from the crack in the window watch the main house on the other side—bright dishes laid out, cheerful laughter filling the room.
He was like the dog waiting outside the door—forever inferior, never allowed to sit at the table, never able to blend in.
Now he was part of it. Celebrating the festival with Nan Zhi, eating the very first dumpling—meat or vegetable, he could have it if he wanted. Whatever Nan Zhi had, she would give it to him. Nan Zhi said the two of them were equals.
Equal. Everyone talks about equality. People say humans are all equal. But in truth, the hierarchy between people—everyone knows it clearly in their hearts.
Not even talking about anything else—just the difference in salaries already divides people into high, medium, and low ranks.
Equality—it’s like a joke. Ironic and laughable.
But with Nan Zhi, it could truly be equal.
He and Nan Zhi were exactly that.
Song Qing lowered his head and bit into the dumpling. Beside him, Nan Zhi waited for him to finish and asked, “How is it, is it good?”
Song Qing nodded.
Nan Zhi understood, picked up a bowl, and served a bowl for each of them. Since she knew it wasn’t convenient for him to carry soup bowls, Nan Zhi had never let him do it—he only needed to take chopsticks and a spoon.
Actually, now that he was using an electric wheelchair, one of his hands was free, which already made things much more convenient. But Nan Zhi was still the same as always. When she was around, he didn’t need to worry about a thing—just like how he didn’t buy his own clothes or daily necessities, yet still had clothes to wear and things to use.
Nan Zhi had prepared it all.
Song Qing followed behind her. By the time he sat down, Nan Zhi had already brought over two bowls of dumplings and two bowls of tangyuan, placing two bowls in front of each of them.
Aside from that, in the center were two large ceramic basins. One was filled with tangyuan, the other with dumplings.
It was because she knew that after he finished a bowl, it would be inconvenient for him to go get more—so she specifically bought the basins and set them out this way, to save him two extra trips and a few less hassles.
Nan Zhi was really very good.
Nan Zhi would often nag during the times when he had finished cooking and was waiting for her, when he was washing her clothes, boiling her brown sugar water, and so on—saying it was really great that she met him, thank goodness she snatched him up first. If someone else had gotten him, they wouldn’t be able to enjoy this kind of meticulous care.
He would also give meticulous care to someone else.
After all, he was a person—a living, breathing person, with blood, flesh, and his own thoughts. Even if he was really saved by someone else, he would respond differently depending on the person.
For example, if the other party was not good to him, like his uncle and aunt—money was given, labor was done, after paying off the unequal-deal debt he had signed, it was written off in one stroke. He’d leave without the slightest hesitation, not staying even a moment longer.
If the person had been generally kind to him, he would also repay the kindness diligently, earnestly, and after that he would leave to go live his own life.
The reason things were different with Nan Zhi was because she was too good—so good that he felt no matter how good he was to her, how much money he gave her, it was all deserved. So good that he didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to separate, didn’t want to calculate everything clearly with her.
Just like this was good. Living parallel like this for a lifetime—one drawing, one doing programming. In the future, traveling with Nan Zhi, one going to do rural teaching, one doing charity work. At night, going through the same door, sleeping in the same home.
Winter Solstice was spent like this—under the glow of the lights, with Nan Zhi, watching the scenery outside while drinking hot tangyuan and eating dumplings.
Christmas Eve and Christmas, he also spent with Nan Zhi. No longer that little dog peeking through the window crack at other people’s warm family celebrations, reaching for that faint sliver of warmth leaking out. Now, he was a member of the household, lit by all the lights inside. There was someone who valued him, cared about him, called him guai bao [good baby], and sometimes wife.
She called whatever, all over the place—whatever rolled off her tongue, that’s what she called him.
Anyway, they weren’t derogatory terms, so let her call what she liked.
At the end of December, she said with her mouth that the day of the concert she was going to attend was getting closer—but this person was still the same as usual: slippers, pajamas, slumped on the couch, not looking like someone who was preparing at all.
Song Qing had a general idea in his heart—she’d forgotten. Or rather, to go to a concert, the first step was to grab tickets, then ride the train to another city, book a hotel, and when the day came, venture through the freezing cold to the concert venue.
Any one of those obstacles could knock her down, make her give up on the idea.
The longer he spent with her, the more he understood her. The more he understood her, the more he realized: back then, when she brought him back with her, just how much courage she must’ve gathered, how long she had struggled in her own mind, and how many hardships she’d gone through along the way.
In short, it had always been her accompanying him—this time, he would accompany her.
Song Qing had already grabbed the tickets long ago—because he knew her nature. Eight times out of ten, she would try to buy, and if she didn’t get it, then just drop it.
It wasn’t that she lacked money—she simply lacked enthusiasm for everything. If something was too hard, she would give up.
There was no relying on her side, so Song Qing wrote a simple ticket-snatching program himself, bought two tickets. He even booked the high-speed rail tickets, reserved the hotel over there, arranged a private car pickup—from the high-speed rail straight to the hotel. After staying a day or two, they’d go to the concert, and after it ended, they’d be picked up again.
Only after arranging everything did he tell her—the shock on this person’s face could be imagined.
Nan Zhi actually didn’t not want to go—she just had late-stage procrastination. She always felt there was still time. She would wait a few more days to fill in the information, wait a few more days to enable password-free payment on her phone. Day by day passed, and suddenly it was the actual day. She’d rush and fumble to finish everything, fail to get any tickets, and end up just lying at home. She hadn’t expected Song Qing to actually get them.
She just had late-stage procrastination, but wasn’t someone who ruined the mood. Song Qing wasn’t into these things himself, so if he bought them, it must’ve been for her. So she decisively packed up and set out with Song Qing.
On the road, she was still like usual—couldn’t resist painting big pictures for Song Qing, saying she’d take him to see the beautiful sights of the city, try out all the delicious foods, go to all the influencer hotspots and check-in locations.
But in reality, it was just like the concert—her mouth said it smoothly, but when the day approached, she’d go lazy. If you asked her, she’d just keep quiet, act like she didn’t know, like she never said it. Didn’t want to go anywhere.
However, the one she encountered was Song Qing. Song Qing was a true action-taker. Just like with the concert tickets—she only talked big, but Song Qing had already booked all the entrance tickets, hotel, and restaurants for each place.
The procrastinating big-mouth girl had met her nemesis, the action-taker.
This time wasn’t like before—they didn’t arrive late and miss the opening, regretting it for a long time. It also wasn’t like before, where they stayed in a hotel for a few days, ordered takeout every day, never even going out once. The concert ended, and they said they’d go sightseeing, but it was just the usual hotel-and-takeout routine.
This time, the girl with procrastination and a big mouth, thanks to Song Qing the action-taker, did visit all the trendy internet-famous check-in spots, didn’t miss out on the beautiful sceneries, tried all the food, and made it to the concert—on time and right on schedule.