In the end, Wei Qingyue made a cup of instant noodles and called Jiang Du to get up and eat.
Tender and devoted through the night, only to face instant noodles first thing the next morning.
Jiang Du stared at the instant noodles and seemed lost in thought. She didn’t feel like eating. Wei Qingyue stood with his hands in his pockets, still carrying a certain early-morning irritability. Watching her not eat, he reached over, took a taste himself, and said, “Forget it, don’t bother. I’ll go downstairs and get you proper breakfast. What do you want?”
He thought of her grandfather — a man who appreciated fine food. Jiang Du’s palate had, in truth, always been rather pampered.
“Then get soy milk and boiled corn,” Jiang Du thought about it. “Sweet soy milk — I like it sweet.”
Wei Qingyue had originally planned to establish his image as the ideal, devoted boyfriend — the sort who excels in every act of care. But he found himself facing immediate obstacles. He didn’t know how to cook. The cooking skills he’d picked up during his years studying in America had long since been swept into the dustbin of history.
When he came back with breakfast, Wei Qingyue ate at his usual pace — fast. Jiang Du, by contrast, was quite refined about it, eating like a little bird pecking daintily at her food: a bite of corn, a sip of soy milk, the corn chewed slowly and carefully, the soy milk savored as though she were detecting some particular nuance of flavor.
Their differences surfaced from the very first morning together. She was unhurried; he preferred to get things done without delay.
Wei Qingyue watched her, cleared his throat, and said, “Jiang Du, are you always this slow when you eat? Aren’t you in a rush for work?”
Jiang Du replied earnestly: “I don’t sleep in, so I have plenty of time for breakfast. Nine to five, and my apartment is close to the office. Besides, I don’t like eating on the subway.”
Wei Qingyue nodded along, still watching her eat, a glint of mischief flashing in his eyes. “You’re a goose, aren’t you?”
Jiang Du looked at him, puzzled.
Wei Qingyue raised a hand to cover his mouth, concealing his teasing smile. “Wasn’t there that essay by Feng Zikai — ‘The White Goose’ — in our school textbooks? That goose of his ate in a very fixed, methodical way. How did it go again — unhurried, step by step: a bite of rice, then a sip of water, then a bite of mud and grass. You’re only missing me getting you a portion of mud and grass to round out the meal.”
Jiang Du’s face went red. Watching the amusement in his eyes deepen and deepen, she finally adopted an air of serene, effortless composure:
“I may be a goose, but that makes you a pig.”
Wei Qingyue was not pleased. “How am I a pig?”
“The kind raised in the countryside — covered in filth, charging over the moment it hears someone about to throw in the feed, head down, snorting and gobbling everything up. Do you know what pig slop is? The owner spends half a day stirring it together, and the pig finishes it in three minutes. That’s exactly how you eat.” Jiang Du bit back her laughter and continued gnawing on her corn.
Wei Qingyue made a sound of mock disdain. “I thought you were such a gentle soul. You hold a grudge like nobody’s business.” He got up, flicked her on the forehead, and walked away — pulling out a key and placing it on the table with a clatter. Hanging from the ring was a brand-new Tweety Bird charm, still in its plastic packaging.
“House key. Take one.”
Jiang Du weighed it in her palm, lips curving into a smile. Wei Qingyue turned back, both hands braced on the dining table, and looked at her seriously. “Stop smiling. Can we possibly eat a little faster? I’ll drop you off first.”
“Alright then,” Jiang Du said, a little embarrassed. “Actually, I can take the subway myself. You don’t have to go to all this trouble.”
Wei Qingyue straightened up. “I want to go to the trouble. I’m happy to.”
He really was not a likable person, Jiang Du thought to herself. By then, Wei Qingyue had already gone to change. He was dressing more formally today — dress shirt with suit trousers. He stood at his full height of one hundred and eighty-nine centimeters. Quite tall.
His appearance had changed, she noticed — subtly but genuinely. In the past he had that quality of a lean, unfinished youth. Now he was handsome and vigorous, filled out into himself.
Jiang Du glanced at his wardrobe and saw that it was not particularly organized — clothes from all four seasons hanging together in a jumble. She said warmly, “I’ll come over after work and help you sort it out.”
Wei Qingyue was still doing up his buttons, and he laughed, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Such a little housewife.”
“Who are you calling a little housewife — what a terribly old-fashioned thing to say,” Jiang Du said. She really did find Wei Qingyue’s mouth rather insufferable.
“You,” he answered without hesitation. Wei Qingyue’s waist really was narrow — lean and taut, but radiating a sense of latent strength. She had just been irritated by his lack of any decent way of referring to her, yet now Jiang Du found her gaze drifting involuntarily to his waist, her mind a mess of disordered thoughts.
Wei Qingyue seemed to read her thoughts in an instant. He smiled in that knowing, slightly wicked way of his and said, “Tonight I’ll turn the lights on, take my trousers off, and you can look properly.”
Jiang Du still blushed easily. She was no match for him — this was simply how Wei Qingyue was. He was so unrestrained. With the person he was most intimate with, he was bold and uninhibited, spirited and free.
That edge of sharpness he used to carry seemed to have gone.
He smiled easily, joked freely, his brow and eyes relaxed and open.
Jiang Du found herself slowly smiling along with him. The two of them left together. Seated in his car, Wei Qingyue said he would come to her place tomorrow — she should let her grandparents know.
True to his word, after dropping Jiang Du off, he asked Lao Luo to help him pick out some gifts.
Lao Luo asked, “Is President Wei going to visit a friend, or…?”
“Meeting the parents. Though my fiancée’s family is just her grandparents — two elderly people. Find something suitable for them. I don’t really know what’s appropriate.” Wei Qingyue’s voice was light and buoyant — his step even more so.
He had never felt this light in all his life.
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