Chapter One – The World May Be Dull, But I Have You

The morning after the start of autumn was clear and cloudless, the sky scrubbed clean like glass. Trees along the roadside wall swayed their branches gently to the ethereal and soothing melody of “Blooming Like a Flowering Tree” playing inside the house. Lin Zhiyi and I sat face to face at a desk by the window—he was reading, and I was writing. I looked up at him. He had grown more mature than before, yet traces of his youthful aura still lingered on his face. As I gazed at him, I suddenly felt as if I had been transported back to our university days, studying together. Just then, he looked up at me, and we shared a smile.

He glanced out the window and said, “Look, some morning glories are blooming by the wall.”

I followed his gaze, and sure enough, on the other side of the green foliage, a cluster of pink-purple morning glories were blooming, climbing up the utility pole. Morning glories, also known as “Asagao,” bloom at dawn and wilt by evening. Such delicate beauty often goes unnoticed by those busy rushing through city life.

“You have a pair of eyes that see the beauty in everyday life. That’s wonderful,” I said.

I recalled chatting with my traditional medicine therapist, Ms. Yang, the night before. When she brought up Lin Zhiyi, she couldn’t stop praising him. She told me about a time when, after a treatment session, it started to rain. I hadn’t even texted Lin Zhiyi yet, but when I went downstairs, there he was, already waiting at the door with an umbrella. I had nearly forgotten that small moment, but she remembered. “Your husband is truly thoughtful,” she had said. “You’ve got an amazing eye—you really know how to pick a husband.”

Thinking of this, I looked at Lin Zhiyi, who was focused on his book, and said, “Yesterday, Ms. Yang said I have a great eye for choosing a husband, and I completely agree. I’ve read so many great books, but the best one I’ve ever read is you—and I never get tired of rereading it. That proves I have great taste in husbands.”

“The problem is, you didn’t really choose,” he said casually, his expression unchanged.

“Huh?” Was he saying I didn’t have a choice?

“I pretty much delivered myself to your doorstep,” he added.

Without realizing it, my lips curled into a smile, like the morning glories blooming outside the window.

Lin Zhiyi has a clean, refined appearance—most of the time, he’s gentle and courteous. But when he gets sarcastic, his words can be pretty sharp.

Once, I had a work trip to Tianjin. Before leaving, I was rummaging through my closet, struggling with what to wear. Since I was going to meet a publishing house director, I needed to look professional, but I’d also be riding the high-speed train, so I figured I’d just go with trousers. Black pants and a white polka-dotted blouse—elegant and neat. Should I add a belt or not? I tried a black one and stared into the mirror, undecided. I called Lin Zhiyi for his opinion: “Do you think it looks better with the belt or without?”

He glanced at me and said, “With the belt.”

“That’s what I thought too. You’ve got a pretty good fashion sense!” I said.

“With the belt, at least we know where your waist is,” he replied.

“….”

One morning before work, I asked Lin Zhiyi to help me put on a necklace.

“Do I get a reward for this?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said.

Suddenly, he planted a quick kiss on my cheek and chuckled, “Helping myself to a little reward—gentlemen speak with their lips, not their hands!”

“….”

The unexpected kiss made me blush. Then, while putting on the necklace, he suddenly asked, “Why does your neck seem thicker?”

“I… don’t think I’ve gained that much weight.”

“It’s just a necklace, why all the commentary?”

“I know why now!” he exclaimed.

“Why?”

“That kiss just made you blush. Blush spreads to your neck, so now it looks thicker!”

“….”

Though his teasing can be hard to handle, Lin Zhiyi’s sweet words are equally disarming.

One year on my birthday, I received a box of peony pastries from Luoyang from a friend. It was my first time trying them. As I nibbled on one, I thought about how stunning peonies are when they bloom. “People usually eat the fruits of plants, not their flowers. It’s fascinating that we can eat flowers too,” I mused.

“That’s why there’s such a thing as being a ‘flower fanatic,’ right?” Lin Zhiyi joked.

“Peonies are gorgeous, the pride of the capital, but the prettiest ones aren’t always the tastiest. I think the rose pastries we had in Yunnan were better,” I said. “If peonies are the most beautiful flower, then rose pastries are the most delicious.”

“I disagree. The tastiest pastry is wife pastry,” he replied. “And the most beautiful flower is your smiling face.”

One year during the Mid-Autumn Festival, we went to the Hundred-Mile Gallery in Yanqing and stumbled upon a sunflower field. It was dusk, and the sunflowers were all drooping. We were disappointed not to see the classic image of sunflowers facing the sun and figured it was just because the sun had set.

The next morning, Lin Zhiyi brought me back to the field. The morning sun poured over the blossoms, but most sunflowers still bowed their heads. Upon closer inspection, I saw they were heavy with seeds and could no longer stand upright.

I said to Lin Zhiyi, “Sunflowers in bloom are like young girls turning their faces toward love. But once they bear seeds, they bow their heads like a pregnant woman, burdened with life.”

He replied, “Whether the sunflower turns to the sun or not, I’ll always turn to you.”

On our tenth wedding anniversary, Lin Zhiyi and I returned to our alma mater, the place where we first met and fell in love, to relive those youthful memories.

Perhaps because we’ve been to many places and seen countless beautiful sights together, the old campus seemed plain in comparison, especially the somewhat worn-down buildings.

Looking around, Lin Zhiyi said, puzzled, “This place isn’t even that pretty. How did we manage to fall in love here?”

He must have felt the love was too beautiful for the setting to match.

“It’s not about where you fall in love, but whether you meet the right person,” I replied.

He turned to look at me and said, “You were the most beautiful thing in this school.”

Another Qixi Festival came around, and a friend asked me, “What does it feel like to be in a nineteen-year relationship?”

“Even after nineteen years, every day still feels like we’re newly in love. I just want to keep dating him forever,” I said.

I posed the same question to Lin Zhiyi: “We’ve been together for nineteen years—what does that feel like to you?”

“Has it really been that long? Feels more like we’ve just been dating for a month,” he said.

The sweet smile that bloomed on my face came straight from the heart. He’s still the boy who makes my heart race.

Nineteen years sounds long, but it’s really just a blink of an eye. And after nineteen years of love, I still want more time with him every day.

I still reach for his hand first thing in the morning, still steal kisses when I see his profile, and still can’t help but jot down the little joys we share.

Because one day, when we look back, it’s these sweet little moments that will make time smell like flowers.