Sun Jingfei was tidying up the kitchen. Mother Sun packed the steamed buns into bags, then placed them in the freezer to be taken out and resteamed when they wanted to eat them.
Her mouth wasn’t idle either, praising Zhou Yu for being sensible, better than her own daughter.
Sun Jingfei curled her lips, too lazy to respond. Everyone was better than her.
Mother Sun sat in the dining chair rubbing her shoulders. “I had my eye on her early on, wanted to introduce her to your second brother, but their ages were too far apart.” As she spoke, she counted on her fingers, “Eleven years apart, almost a full cycle.”
…
“The fourth son is always running around without a trace, no proper form either. I didn’t even dare to think about it. Hey, who would have thought… Your Aunt Feng came to the door personally to propose, and in the end those two were like a turtle eyeing a mung bean—they really hit it off…” Mother Sun appeared quite proud. “Where can you find reason in that?”
“Mom, don’t praise her too much.” Sun Jingfei couldn’t listen anymore. “Zhou Yu is good, but she’s far from what you’re saying…”
“Anyway, she’s better than you!”
…
“Your Aunt Feng knows better than me how to raise children.” Mother Sun broke off a piece of bun and put it in her mouth. “From childhood she taught Zhou Yu to grow flowers, all delicate flowers. Back then life was hard, we could barely feed ourselves, who had the energy for flowers? At first I didn’t understand, but these years I’ve slowly come to realize—the more delicate the flower, the harder it is to grow, and it most tempers one’s temperament.”
“When she grew into a young lady, she always stood daintily behind your Aunt Feng. Floral print dress, red leather shoes, white lace-trimmed socks, dressed stylishly from head to toe…” The reason Mother Sun remembered so clearly was that at the time she’d also wanted to outfit Sun Jingfei the same way, but once she inquired about the price, she immediately gave up the idea.
During her teenage years, Sun Jingfei was a wild girl, constantly riding a bicycle bigger than herself back and forth. When she fell, she’d stick her bottom up, pat off the dust, and lift the bicycle back up. Whenever she saw Zhou Yu on the street, Zhou Yu would never stick her bottom up doing anything—she was very ladylike, even picking things up by squatting down sideways. For this, Mother Sun had even beaten Sun Jingfei once, forbidding her to wear skirts anymore, because every time she stuck her bottom up you could almost see her underwear.
Setting aside everything else, when it came to raising children, she most admired Feng Yiqun. Thinking of this, she brought up the old refrain—she still hadn’t properly educated Sun Jingcheng. If she hadn’t indulged his temperament when he was young, who knows, he might be a pianist now.
This time Sun Jingfei picked up the conversation, saying heartlessly, “The fourth son was born into the wrong family. Switch to an intellectual household where the parents could guide him, and he’d have made something of himself long ago. Even if he couldn’t become a pianist, he’d be somebody in the medical field.”
“Our family is just too ordinary, we buried his talent.” Sun Jingfei wrung out the cloth and wiped the range hood, speaking in absolutes. “When parents lack ability themselves, they can’t guide a precocious child to success. A poor family producing an exceptional child is just wishful thinking.”
“You think Zhou Yu has good upbringing, but that upbringing is in her bones. Didn’t you always sigh before, saying her maternal grandmother came from a distinguished family, and back then was forced by circumstances to marry her maternal grandfather, and her maternal grandfather was a servant in her family, right?”
Speaking of this, she thought of something else and said offhandedly, “Parents always complain their children aren’t successful, but maybe the children feel the parents held them back.”
Mother Sun ate her bun in silence, sipped her tea, then went back to her room to rest.
Only after Sun Jingfei finished everything did she realize Mother Sun had silently returned to the inner room. She tidied up the living room too, mopped the floor, and stood at the stairway calling out, “Dad, the upstairs floor was just mopped, come up later tonight.”
The clinic downstairs should be closing too.
Soon a staff member called her and handed her a bottle of diluted disinfectant, saying Sun Youping had instructed it, for her to use when mopping.
She had to mop all over again. After mopping and preparing to wash up and sleep, she saw the short video her son sent. He was holding a sparkler, setting them off on the street with several cousins.
Sun Jingfei smiled and replied, “Be safe, remember to wear a mask when you go out.”
Ke Yu replied, “Okay, Mom.”
Sun Youping also closed up and came upstairs to sleep. While changing into house clothes, he asked Mother Sun, “Did you drink your medicine?”
“Not yet.” Mother Sun propped up her pillow and sat leaning against it.
Sun Youping went out and heated two bags of Chinese medicine for insomnia. The old couple sat at the head of the bed drinking it. Seeing her eyelids were swollen, Sun Youping asked, “Did the third daughter upset you?”
The words rolled around on her tongue several times before Mother Sun suppressed the choking feeling and said, “She couldn’t upset me. I was just thinking about some trivial matters.”
“You have insomnia precisely because you worry too much.” Sun Youping went to the bathroom to wash up, came back after a while, turned off the light, “Let’s sleep.”
Sun Jingcheng played for over half an hour before coming back. He’d worked up enough sweat and vented his feelings. On the way home he thought about how to communicate with Zhou Yu—they couldn’t keep arguing at the drop of a hat like before. Moreover, he noticed that every time they got in the car after gathering at the clinic, the two of them always argued without fail.
He wondered if they should change cars?
In the bedroom, Zhou Yu was leaning against the headboard reading. He glanced over, went to wash up first, then came out and sat on the edge of the bed saying, “I won’t tell my close friend to his face, but I’ll buy a new number to tell him. In any case, I won’t let him be kept in the dark like a fool.” He had his own principles. He believed that when everyone around knew but the person involved didn’t, that was the greatest harm and joke.
Zhou Yu closed her book. She wanted to say that buying a phone number requires real-name verification, and wanted to say that in marriage no one is a fool, but in the end she just nodded without saying anything.
Sun Jingcheng lay down in the other quilt, saying, “The hairtail was something I specifically told my mom to fry for you. If you don’t want to eat it, you can give it to me, but you can’t throw it away. That’s my mom’s thoughtfulness.”
Zhou Yu made an “mm” sound. “I didn’t throw it away, it’s all in the refrigerator.”
“You threw away a piece when we were arguing, wrapped in tissue paper.” Sun Jingcheng was particular about this.
Zhou Yu also lay back in her quilt, saying nothing.
At this very moment, as if through telepathy, Sun Jingcheng inexplicably sensed that she had softened, was no longer showing her claws and being aggressive. To verify this thought, he reached his hand into her quilt, intending to touch her hand, but unexpectedly touched something soft. Before he could react, she slapped his hand away.
He immediately burst into laughter, becoming happy, and even said that sleeping in a bra wasn’t good.
Zhou Yu glared at him, too lazy to deal with him.
Because her cheeks were flushed red, that glare appeared coquettish and charming, lacking any deterrent power whatsoever.
Sun Jingcheng gathered his courage and, propped on his pillow, popularized for her some tips on effectively preventing breast cancer. He was completely acting with a physician’s benevolence, adopting the posture of an expert giving a lecture, without any impropriety.
As he was educating her… he saw her hands somehow fiddle about, pulling out a black lace bra from under the covers and throwing it directly onto a chair to the side.
It didn’t land well… one cup on the chair, one cup hanging in mid-air… and that lace as thin as a cicada’s wing made him think of a dancing girl’s mask.
Sun Jingcheng stopped his educational lecture and shrank back into his quilt, wrapping himself tightly.
Zhou Yu turned off the main light, turned on the bedside lamp, wished him goodnight, and turned over to sleep.
Sun Jingcheng couldn’t sleep, kept looking at the back of her head. Her hair had a bit of natural curl, and at the nape of her neck there was a cluster of soft, delicate baby hairs. Thinking this, he reached up to touch them. Zhou Yu turned back to look at him, “Are you going to sleep or not?”
“Can’t sleep.” Sun Jingcheng answered honestly.
“If you can’t sleep, count sheep.”
“I’m counting the baby hairs on your nape…”