Under The Sunset, She Kissed Me. - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

There is an old lady who sells apples downstairs. When Y-miss came home from work and saw her, she felt sorry for the old lady, so she bought all of her apples. Looking at the thirty-plus apples, I asked Y-miss if she was crazy. Y-miss laughed like a fool and said she liked to eat them. With no other choice, we sliced up a plate that night to taste them; they were quite crisp but not very sweet. Lying in bed that night, Y-miss whispered in my ear, “That grandma is about the same age as my maternal grandmother, but she has had a harder life than my grandmother. Her son doesn’t want to take care of her, and he is her only child. What is she going to do for the rest of her life?” I said, “It’s okay, we can fry them into apple chips. They shrink significantly after frying, so we’ll go buy more after we finish these. Ruru, I love you so much.” Ah, my tender-hearted Y-miss.

I like to sing; I like to sing love songs, and I love to sing even though I’m tone-deaf. My approach to falling in love is based on the same principle—I like her, I like her as a person, and I love her no matter how she is. I can’t bear to see her cry, I feel heartache for the wounds she has suffered, I care about her girlish worries, and I want to become an important person in her life.

Y-miss: “Ruru, Ruru, Ruru, Ruru, Ruru, Ruru, calling Ruru.” Me: “What’s wrong?” Three minutes later… Y-miss: “Ruru, Ruru, Ruru, Ruru, Ruru, Ruru.” Me: “What’s wrong?” Y-miss: “Nothing, just calling you.” Me: Deathly smile.

At clock-out time— Me: “Y-miss, Y-miss, Y-miss.” Y-miss: “What’s wrong, baby Ruru?” I stop replying to messages. Y-miss: “Ruru, are you angry?”

A life of sweet lace, perhaps, is waking up in my wife’s embrace in the morning, opening my eyes to see my wife’s magnificent beauty, a toothbrush with toothpaste already squeezed onto it. After washing up, there is the breakfast my wife carefully prepared; I casually mentioned wanting wontons last night, and this morning, my wife had already prepared them. Before my wife goes to work, she gives me a fragrant kiss. I go back to sleep, and the scent of my wife still lingers in the covers—a faint, womanly fragrance. Even if I sleep until the afternoon, I wake up to find messages from my wife on my phone. While I work, my wife also sends me kind greetings. When my wife comes home in the evening, she brings flowers. We buy groceries, prepare dinner, and cook together. After dinner, we play rock-paper-scissors; the loser does the dishes. After washing the dishes, we lie on the sofa and watch shows together. My soft wife feels like a marshmallow when I hold her. In the heat of the moment, we quietly dim the lights. Lying in bed at night, thinking about the meaning of life, with my wife’s soft humming in my ear, I listen to her sing gently and slowly drift into dreamland. The next day is another happy and fulfilling day.

When two people love to hoard, it’s easy for things to expire before ever taking a single bite. This happens often in our house. Later, we started to reflect on this. We report to each other when buying things; first, this avoids duplicate waste, second, we can remind each other if there is any remaining at home and if it is needed, and third, thinking about it together can greatly avoid waste. Of course, if we both really like something, we still buy a lot. Sometimes I am also glad that both of our salaries are decent; otherwise, the problem of waste would easily lead to arguments.

In the year and a half before we lived together, whenever I missed Y-miss, I would write her a love letter. Later, those letters stacked up to the height of my knees. Looking at that pile of letters, I suddenly made up my mind to quit my job. That same night, I handed in my resignation letter to my boss. I didn’t even ask for that month’s salary, nor did I take any company belongings. I just took my clothes and the love letters and went to find Y-miss. I took a flight to Kunhe in a wretched state. I didn’t tell Y-miss I was coming. I looked at navigation apps and asked passersby for directions. I arrived at where Y-miss was staying at five in the morning. The moment I knocked on the door and saw Y-miss—in that exact moment, I suddenly realized I really couldn’t live without her.

What is the definition of love? I met Y-miss for the first time at 15, and it was love at first sight. From then on, all I could think about was her. We went to the same high school but were in different classes. Every day, I would get up early to bike her to school, and at night, I would take the long way home just to spend a little more time with her. We had one and a half days off a month, and I would spend the whole day with her. During summer break, which lasted 40 days, I would go to her classroom to be with her the day before break started, studying together and helping her with her homework. If her family was busy, I would cook for her. In college, we chose different majors and began a long-distance relationship.

Zhangsha to Kunhe is 880 kilometers. We went from seeing each other every day in high school to meeting once every three months. Not being able to see each other didn’t become a trigger for fights; on the contrary, the distance made us miss each other more and love each other more. The time after college graduation when we were looking for jobs was our first argument, and the biggest one we ever had. After we fought, we realized it wasn’t that we didn’t love each other, but rather we hated ourselves for not working hard enough to be by the other’s side. After becoming long-distance, it was the most difficult year and a half we had spent together. I am glad for that impulsive thought of mine that ended our time apart. And now, I am recording our story, and my lover is leaning against me, watching me record it. Every story has an ending, but we will never be separated.

I confessed to Y-miss after my middle school entrance exams. At the time, Y-miss had a look on her face like, “Aren’t we just good friends? Why are you suddenly confessing to me?” Of course, Y-miss didn’t reject me. If she had, there wouldn’t be this novel. That’s the story of our confession.

When we travel, we like to buy local fruit to eat. Y-miss bought two catties of green tangerines; they looked sour. Y-miss took a bite, and stars appeared in her eyes. “Wow, this is delicious! Do you want to try some? This is different from the ones sold back home.” “No, they look so sour.” “Alright then, I’ll eat them myself. Where did we buy these tangerines just now? Let’s go buy some more.” I pointed with my hand, “Just at that shop.” “Okay, you hold the bag, I’ll go buy some more.” I was curious if these tangerines were really that good, so I took one while Y-miss went to buy more. As soon as I took a bite, it was so sour that my facial expression vanished. Hahaha, I looked up and found Y-miss laughing hysterically in front of me. “Y-miss, you tricked me! Quick, quick, bring me some water! It’s so sour, it’s sourer than a lemon!” “If I wasn’t trying to trick you into eating a bite, I would have spat it out immediately.” “Why are you so mean? You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” “Yep, yep. This is called ‘sharing the hardship,’ while I enjoy the fortune.”

We found a small shop that said if you buy chocolate, you get a free figure. As soon as Y-miss saw the figure, her eyes lit up—buy it! So I saw my lady bringing home two big bags of chocolate, and I wanted to kick her out. Y-miss said, “I love eating chocolate, what’s wrong with buying some?” “Is this ‘some’?” Y-miss looked at me with starry eyes, begging, “Please, please.” Alright, I’ll endure it… A week later, we were both lying in the hospital seeing a dentist. The first night we got back home, I couldn’t hold back, and my tooth fell out and wouldn’t go back in. Because it was a “gift” item, it couldn’t be returned. Oh, this Y-miss.

We bought two catties of persimmon cakes; they were too delicious. Y-miss and I finished them in an hour. As a result, both of us were back and forth in the bathroom that night. The next day, we looked at each other, bewildered. Me: “Should we eat more?” Y-miss: “Yes.” Me: “Actually, after I finished eating them yesterday, I already placed another order.” Just like that, these persimmon cakes, which still give us indigestion, became one of our house’s regular food items.

I followed an online trend and bought a set of clothes. After putting them on, I found they looked completely different from the seller’s photos. Y-miss came home, saw me, and laughed so hard she couldn’t straighten her back, asking if I had worn the house curtains. Y-miss is so annoying—even though she saw me still debating with the seller, she kept bothering me. I was so angry that I went to sleep on the sofa that night. Y-miss didn’t coax me either; she just looked at me with an “I’m here to enjoy the show” expression. I was so angry I didn’t want to talk to her. I couldn’t fall asleep on the sofa, but in the darkness, I saw a blurred shadow. The shadow held me as I lay on the sofa. I knew it was Y-miss, so I asked her why she was crowding the sofa. She said she came to accompany the “little grump” to sleep.

Neither Y-miss nor I are very addicted to our phones. I wouldn’t say not addicted, but other than for work, as long as the other person is around, we are the type of clingy couple that doesn’t want to look at our phones and only wants to hold hands and chat.

I was born a science student, but I had a writer’s dream. Even though my writing skills were terribly poor, I still loved and cherished it. Whenever I wanted to give up, Y-miss would always look at me with those expressive eyes and say, “I believe the world’s greatest writer, Ruru, can definitely persist.” So, from junior high, year after year of hard work, I finally published my first book, Butterfly Dream, half a year after we moved in together. I still remember the first sentence of my speech on stage was thanking my wife, Y-miss. Having such a wife, what more could a wife ask for?

There is a broken scarf in the closet; that is the one I knitted for Y-miss during college. It wasn’t until I came to Kunhe that I clearly perceived the weather in Kunhe. It’s not very cold, and sometimes it’s even quite warm. In the winter, Y-miss is always wearing the scarf, saying how warm it is. Is it actually warm in Kunhe? While I was reminiscing about the past, Y-miss came home. Seeing the scarf in my hand, she asked, “Which little lover are you missing?” The good atmosphere was ruined by Y-miss. I rolled my eyes at her, put the scarf back, and asked, “Kunhe is so warm in the winter, how do you manage to live wearing my scarf every day? Aren’t you afraid of being hot?” Y-miss replied with an indifferent look, “Because I miss you. My heart feels like the Siberian wind, unable to feel any warmth. Your scarf arriving means you have come to my side, so I just wear it like this.”

In high school, Y-miss and I listened to a song called “Us.” I really like a line of lyrics in it: “Now that I’ve matured, I want to tell you, there are still many days in the future, and I want to spend them with you. It really hasn’t been easy for us to come this far; how many times have we shed tears and said it would be better to separate? But why is it that, afterwards, I always pull you into my arms again?” During evening self-study, I copied these lyrics down. On the way home after school, I gave them to Y-miss. Why did I suddenly remember this? It’s because I was flipping through our photo album today and found the photo Y-miss took back then. Has seventeen years already passed?

Staying up late to write, Y-miss was already asleep. Carrying a steaming cup of strong tea, I stood at the bedroom door looking at the sleeping Y-miss, filled with thousands of emotions. The first fifteen years were not considered lucky; as the eldest in the family, I was required to be sensible and make sacrifices. It was only after meeting Y-miss that I truly tasted the beauty of life. Since then, Y-miss’s image has been imprinted on my heart.

I love to sing for Y-miss, and even if I’m tone-deaf, I still sing. Sometimes I’ll be dancing and gesturing halfway through. At these times, Y-miss just quietly watches me make a scene. When I finish singing and making a fuss, she hands me a cup of warm water to soothe my throat so I can keep singing. The consequence of singing all night is that my voice is hoarse the next day. I’m painlessly cosplaying as An Lingrong the next day. Y-miss looks at me and laughs out loud, saying I deserve it, then goes to work, leaving me alone in bed. Ah, women are heartless. Just as I was cursing her in my heart, the doorbell rang. It was the food delivery guy; it turned out Y-miss had bought throat lozenges for me yesterday for the next day. My dark clouds instantly turned into sunshine. I smilingly took a picture and sent it to Y-miss. Y-miss just happened to be looking at her phone and teased me, saying, “Weren’t you unhappy this morning?” I said, “Considering you bought me these throat lozenges, I’m not angry anymore.” Y-miss looked at me with a smile and asked why I was so easy to coax. I said, “Because it’s you.”

I scrolled across a debate topic: “Can true love withstand all hardships?” I shared it with Y-miss. She must have been busy and didn’t reply right away. I didn’t see her message until I was finished with my work in the afternoon. Aren’t we just the perfect example?