After turning eighteen, it’s the world of adults now.
No need to be limited to pure things like pinching cheeks anymore, now can tease.
Twelve o’clock, originally should be sleeping time, usually eleven o’clock, but today Nan Zhi stubbornly stayed up late and even finished a painting she was satisfied with, then tidied up and prepared to go upstairs.
On the way out, she paused when passing by Song Qing, then stretched out her hand and rudely pinched his cheek.
Although she could now do more excessive things, she liked pinching cheeks, so she didn’t want to let it go.
He’d been using her half-used bottle of lotion and toner lately, and his skin was originally good, now soft-soft, like pinching some kind of water balloon.
A balloon filled with water — pressing, pulling, pinching round and kneading flat — it was that kind of hand feel.
Because it was too nice to pinch, she even ravaged the other side as well, pinching both his cheeks until they turned bright red before letting go.
This guy seemed used to it already, didn’t even lift his head, continued knitting his scarf. If she kept going, kept on pinching, only then would he raise his head with some curiosity and ask, “What’s wrong?”
If it was just a few seconds of pinching, he just treated it like a daily misfortune, didn’t take it seriously.
After all, it was his birthday during the day, so Nan Zhi didn’t torment him too much. She hugged her tablet, went upstairs back to her room to rest.
Didn’t sleep — leaned on the bed playing on her phone.
She had night shift tomorrow, so today she didn’t need to sleep so early.
—
On the living room sofa downstairs, the scarf in Song Qing’s hands was finished, he tied off the fringe and finally had some free time, raised his hand to touch his own face.
Didn’t know if it was his illusion, after being pinched again and again by Nan Zhi, the flesh had gone soft.
Didn’t have the same firmness as before.
He let go of his hand, got off the sofa, sat in his wheelchair, turned off the lights and returned to the small living room. Rolled his wheelchair to the desk, turned on the computer, opened commonly used software, continued studying — learning while doing.
Staring at the screen for too long made his eyes sore, so he took a break, drank some tea, and habitually picked up his phone to go to Nan Zhi’s Big-Eyed Zai account.
Clicked into the homepage, as expected, new drawings again, and not just one.
The first picture was of a little girl hugging a woman wearing a crinoline dress.
Looking closely, that “woman” had a white-tagged hair tie on her wrist, and also had short black hair. Even though she drew a hat to cover it, she still deliberately revealed a corner, like she knew he would look, and drew in the detail just for him.
Letting him know — this “woman” was him.
Song Qing lowered his head, looked at the hair tie on his wrist — as expected, it was black with a white tag. The English letters on it were the same as the one Nan Zhi had drawn.
Below the picture was a caption.
【It’s a fragrant soft-soft wife~】
Song Qing scrolled down to see the second picture. This time the setting changed to a bed. The “woman” wearing a luxurious crinoline dress lay on a red checkered duvet with lace trim, bare shoulders and back, and a girl was patiently threading the strings on her back.
Part of the laces had already been threaded, crisscrossed on the “woman’s” back, another part still in the girl’s hands, with long thread dangling beside.
That bedspread — Song Qing had seen it at home. Nan Zhi had carried it down from upstairs, she was almost late for work, and he was the one who washed it.
Looking at the arrangement in the room, it wasn’t the downstairs space — it should be her room upstairs. The way it was drawn, it was like he was lying in her room, sleeping on her bed, pillow under her four-piece bedding set.
Actually, he was indeed sleeping in her bed now, using her bedding set. But after she carried it down and gave it to him, it was like it had been reassigned by Nan Zhi as his.
For example, she would say: the small living room is his room —
“I’m going to your room to get something,”
“Your four-piece bedding set has dried, I put it back on your bed.”
Even going into the first-floor bathroom was the same — using “his” bathroom, but actually, all of it was hers.
Song Qing kept reading, scrolled down — this picture also had text:
【Tying the back laces for the fragrant soft-soft wife~】
Song Qing casually clicked into the comments to have a look.
【Oh my god: It’s yuri, two fragrant soft-soft girls!】 \[Yuri – Japanese loanword, refers to girl x girl romantic content]
【Fence Shadows: So pretty, as expected, girls and girls are still the most fragrant.】
Song Qing clicked reply.
【Little Sun: Not girls and girls.】
He went down the list replying to all the mistaken comments, and after finishing, clicked on the folded comment threads of those people — saw that someone had already explained, so he searched for his own comments again, and deleted them one by one.
He himself didn’t know why he was doing it — anyway, only after doing it did he return to writing code.
Lately, Nan Zhi had started supervising him, not allowing him to stay up too late, so at around two o’clock, he shut off the computer and went to wash up.
The towel, toothbrush, and plastic cup on the sink had all been changed — the old ones had been deliberately stepped on and thrown into the trash can by Nan Zhi, he had also seen it.
This kind of thing happened from time to time — he was already used to it. Whenever Nan Zhi couldn’t tolerate anymore that he always used broken and worn-out things, she would do this.
Even the underwear he kept wearing from before had also been cut up and thrown away by her, replaced with new ones.
Nan Zhi said wearing old ones too long wasn’t good for the body. Actually, he washed them very clean — he just wanted to save a bit of money.
Those new underwear were meant to be saved for later, so he wouldn’t have to buy new ones again.
Nan Zhi had already spent a lot for him to get a prosthetic leg.
But she couldn’t stand it — there was no way — if she cut them, then so be it, if replaced, then replaced.
After brushing his teeth and washing his face, Song Qing took the opportunity to also shower.
A while back, bathing was still a bit inconvenient, now no need to wrap himself in plastic wrap — the wound had already fully healed, the stitched joint only left behind several ugly scars.
Song Qing didn’t look closely, stripped himself completely, unwrapped the bandage on his leg, and directly entered the bathroom.
The bathroom had a warm air blower — even in this kind of weather, it didn’t feel cold — it was specially installed by Nan Zhi.
Before, she didn’t bathe downstairs, so there was only a ceiling heater in the downstairs bathroom. Recently, he’d been using the bathroom frequently and ended up catching a bit of a cold. After she noticed, she bought a wall-mounted heater, saying: getting sick from cold and going to the hospital would cost more than this thing.
If he got sick from cold, she really would take him to the hospital.
So Song Qing obediently turned it on — in that small space, buzzing sounds came out right away — warm wind blew over, wrapping his bare skin in warmth.
Song Qing turned on the water, after waiting a while and confirming that what came out was hot, only then started rinsing his body and washing himself.
Same as usual — he scrubbed hard from head to toe, all his skin was red before he stopped. After applying shower gel and just as he was about to step out, he paused.
He suddenly recalled the drawing Nan Zhi posted on her social media — The girl was hugging “him,” saying “he” was fragrant and soft-soft.
Song Qing hesitated for a moment, then stepped back and washed again — scrubbed until his skin was nearly rubbed raw, applied shower gel again, and even washed his hair one more time before finally coming out.
Wrapped in a soft bath towel, changed into the clean pajamas that had long been prepared, while hurrying toward the small living room, he thought.
In the past, how could there be such conditions—there was no body wash, no shampoo, even the soap added frost to the snow \[an idiom meaning “making a bad situation worse”], rising from three yuan to six yuan, needed to be used sparingly.
No warm air when washing, just a single plastic sheet, and when coming out, there was no bath towel, even less so pajamas.
Having hot water at all was already not bad.
Out of ten showers, eight would lead to catching a cold. But being young, those minor illnesses weren’t something to care about—he just got better on his own.
Now Nan Zhi was taking care of him. Every day living here felt like a dream to him—someone taking care of his food, his stay, and even helping him get a prosthetic leg. Towel torn? Cup broken? She would help him replace them.
Song Qing arrived at the small living room and saw the cat lying under his blanket, half-asleep and listless. The cat saw him come over, stretched its two paws out long, yawned once, then walked to the bed’s edge and affectionately rubbed against him.
Song Qing raised his hand and patted the cat’s head.
Still her cat that he was petting.
He moved the cat aside, sat on the bed, shifted toward the headboard, then took out a box of medicine from the drawer—it was for treating colds.
He had a bit of a cold recently, and Nan Zhi had told him to take it. He had almost never taken cold medicine before—if he caught a chill, he would just drink some hot water and sleep in the covers, and by the next day he’d be fine.
Originally, even here, he planned to do the same. But since losing a leg, his movements were clumsier, bathing took longer—he got chilled and caught a cold again, then got sick again—this cold dragged on for over a week without getting better.
That was also the reason Nan Zhi bought the warm-air machine for him. The medicine—Nan Zhi also ordered him to take it. At first he felt it was wasteful, but later found a nearly expired box of medicine in the medicine cabinet.
With the warm-air machine, his cold was actually almost better already—but since that box of medicine was close to expiring, he opened it and took some according to the instructions anyway.
After taking the medicine, Song Qing felt a bit dizzy. He pulled the pillow out a bit until it was within reach, then leaned up against it.
While lying down, he thought: probably because the medicine expired—shouldn’t take it again.
Or maybe the water was too hot, and he drank it too quickly.
Song Qing pulled out his phone to check the effects of taking expired cold medicine. After finding symptoms similar to his own, he felt reassured, pulled the blanket over himself, and prepared to sleep. Just as he closed his eyes, he thought of something again, pulled his hand out from under the blanket, and grabbed his shirt collar to sniff it.
Couldn’t smell anything. His cold wasn’t fully recovered yet—his nose was still a bit stuffy—he couldn’t smell.
Song Qing had no choice but to lie back down, thinking that next time while bathing he’d pay more attention, make sure there’s no odor.
He closed his eyes and completely fell asleep.
—
The next morning, that dizziness had completely gone. As usual, he got up full of energy and started cooking.
For that family next door. His client was a family of three, with a child who needed to go to kindergarten, so he had to get up early to make breakfast for the child.
The couple felt that eating outside wasn’t nutritious, also not very hygienic— one of the items in his contract stated: cooking process must be fully recorded.
Song Qing had no objection. He got dressed and quietly went to the kitchen. First closed the glass door, to keep the noise down a bit. Now Nan Zhi had closed all the internal windows upstairs—when he worked here, it couldn’t be heard from upstairs.
Song Qing continued pushing his wheelchair and went to get the ingredients from the fridge—they were brought from that client’s place yesterday.
The ingredients they needed were all provided by the client—after finishing dinner delivery in the evening, he would bring back what was needed for today.
Occasionally, the ingredients were from this side. He would record it in a ledger, and settle the accounts later—once settled, the payment would be given to Nan Zhi.
Song Qing cooked cod and vegetables, also made rice, brought the food to the door, and placed it in the cabinet by that family’s door—that was it.
They would take it themselves when heading out in the morning.
After putting it down, he returned to sleep again for a while.
Grasping the timing, he got up before Nan Zhi and tidied up the junk in the storage room.
Yesterday, Nan Zhi had agreed to take him to go sell junk today.