Extra #15: Nian Tao

Luan Nian had always been a troublemaker.

Whenever someone provoked him, he would retaliate with overwhelming aggression. While other kids might push each other around in harmless play, Luan Nian wasn’t like that. When he fought, he would pin his opponent down and relentlessly pound their head.

In the small Jiangnan town, five- or six-year-old Luan Nian was already infamous. Elders often ended their admonishments to children with a warning: “Stay away from Luan Nian,” or “Don’t provoke Luan Nian.”

As a child who couldn’t be provoked, Luan Nian often wandered alone. He didn’t mind—being alone suited him just fine, and he didn’t enjoy playing with those kids anyway. He found it strange how they would cry and throw tantrums over the smallest things.

His favorite pastime was staying cooped up in his grandfather’s house.

His grandfather was an artist, having studied under renowned masters in his youth. Seeing that Luan Nian was interested, he taught him how to paint. From a young age, Luan Nian could sit still for hours on end. Everyone found him peculiar—how could someone so combative also have such patience?

Luan Nian lacked empathy from a young age. He couldn’t understand why people were so consumed by strong emotions. Sometimes, as he walked through the small town, he would see people sitting by the roadside, sobbing uncontrollably over some misfortune, with sympathetic onlookers wiping their tears. He would furrow his brow, finding it all very strange.

It was as if he had never truly experienced childhood.

After meeting Shang Zhitao, he began to pay attention—to someone. He had rarely focused on anyone before, perhaps because Shang Zhitao’s entrance into his life hadn’t impressed him. She had seemed utterly unremarkable during her interview call, yet Tracy had given her the green light. Curious about why Tracy, who was usually fair, would vouch for such an ordinary person, Luan Nian attributed his interest in Shang Zhitao to the circumstances of her arrival.

It was the first time in his life that he had taken such a keen interest in someone.

He pressured her, driven by a mindset even he couldn’t fully articulate, wanting to see when this girl would give up. But she was incredibly resilient—timid, fearful, yet admirably determined. She refused to surrender easily.

How could someone like her exist?

Clumsy, yet endearing; timid, but occasionally fiery; ordinary, yet with moments of unwitting beauty.

In a teahouse in Guangzhou, he saw her snow-white, translucent skin and her slightly flushed face, and something primal within him stirred.

Gradually, he discovered that “interacting with others could feel comfortable.” He had only a few close friends and kept everyone else at arm’s length. Even in relationships, he disliked being overly controlled. He hated constraints. His interactions with others were picky and finicky—people didn’t like him, and he didn’t like them either, making it hard for him to find comfort in socializing. But Shang Zhitao, with her lack of sharp edges, simply bloomed on her own, not forcing others and avoiding unnecessary conflicts.

Luan Nian found this kind of comfortable interaction novel.

Later, Luan Nian slowly began to understand what it meant to feel compassion. Her life was chaotic, yet she always smiled. It was as if everything to her was just another level in a game—if she lost, she could start over, and she could handle losing. When she was bullied by scam real estate agents, harassed by others, or used by colleagues, Luan Nian thought: You dare prey on someone like her? Are you even human?

What kind of person was she? Probably someone like Shang Zhitao—always sunny, sincere, and genuine.

Luan Nian knew he was a bastard.

Cold-blooded, violent, and clueless about love, someone like him was truly a calamity for someone like Shang Zhitao. Though Luan Nian had never been burdened by guilt, he began to feel remorse toward her.

For those he didn’t care about, it didn’t matter what kind of person he was or how terrible his personality might be, because there was little to no interaction with them, so it didn’t hurt anyone. But Shang Zhitao was different—they had been together for so long, and she had suffered because of it.

Luan Nian gradually realized this. He was grateful that Shang Zhitao loved him, and that love changed him.

At one point, Luan Nian thought of the word “redemption.”

Those seemingly insignificant moments, accumulating over time, filled the hollow shell of a person, giving him flesh, blood, and emotion—it was like redemption.

From the very beginning, she was special.

From the very beginning, he was flawed.

Later, watching Song Qiuhán and Lin Chun’er interact, Luan Nian gradually understood where he and Shang Zhitao had gone wrong.

Loving someone was never something to be ashamed of—it should be done openly. True appreciation, respect, and equal communication were essential. And he had been completely wrong.

Luan Nian was willing to learn, and he was grateful that Shang Zhitao gave him the chance. All dazzling and beautiful things eventually fade into the ordinariness of daily life, but precious qualities shine forever. Shang Zhitao was someone who always shone brightly, and Luan Nian, after half a lifetime, finally found his old-fashioned romance and tenderness.

If given another chance, he would stand by her side in every important moment and say: “You’re amazing. Keep going.”

Keep going, Shang Zhitao.

And stop feeling ashamed of how we began—it was me who fell in love with you first.

===

When Little Nian Tao was 13 months old, she fell ill for the first time in her life.

That day, Luan Nian was on a business trip, and Shang Zhitao was meeting with a client. Dr. Liang called Shang Zhitao and said, “Don’t worry. I’ve given her physical cooling, but her fever will likely come back. I just needed to let you know.”

“I understand, Mom.”

After returning from the client meeting, Shang Zhitao drove home. She saw Little Nian Tao lying on Luke, a fever patch on her forehead. Perhaps Luke’s fur was soft and warm, so she was hugging his neck and soothing him, mimicking the way adults spoke to her: “Be good.” Her words were unclear, and drool dripped from her mouth.

Luan Mingrui sat nearby, looking displeased and clearly upset.

“What’s wrong?” Shang Zhitao whispered to Dr. Liang.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Dr. Liang replied. “He wanted to take Nian Tao to the hospital for an X-ray, but I refused. I’m a doctor—I know what’s best. What’s he fussing about?”

“Oh.”

Shang Zhitao washed her hands and picked up Little Nian Tao, who seemed quite cheerful: “Mama, Mama.”

“Are you sick?”

Little Nian Tao patted her forehead and pointed to her grandmother: “Grandma.”

“Oh, Grandma took care of you. Mama knows. Shouldn’t you thank Grandma for taking care of you?”

“Thank you.” Little Nian Tao clasped her tiny hands together and waved them at her grandmother.

“And don’t forget Grandpa!” Shang Zhitao reminded her.

“Thank you.”

The child’s speech was unclear, and her thanks sounded odd. Luan Mingrui chuckled softly and then sighed again, still dissatisfied that they hadn’t taken her to the hospital for an X-ray.

By midnight, Little Nian Tao’s fever returned as expected. Shang Zhitao followed Dr. Liang’s instructions to cool her down. In the midst of the commotion, they heard Luke bark. Luan Nian had returned.

He carried the chill of the outside air with him, leaving his coat downstairs. Crouching down, he spoke to Luke: “Why aren’t you sleeping yet? You’re getting old—don’t stay up late.”

“Woof woof woof.” Luke stubbornly protested, probably saying he wasn’t staying up.

Luan Nian laughed, giving Luke’s face a firm squeeze: “Let’s go check on your sister. She’s sick.”

Upstairs, he first washed his face and hands, changed his clothes, and shook off the cold before approaching Little Nian Tao’s bedside: “Her fever’s back?”

“Yes.”

“You go rest. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“It’s fine. Tomorrow’s the weekend.”

Shang Zhitao checked Little Nian Tao’s forehead temperature—it had dropped slightly, and she felt a bit relieved.

“Aren’t you supposed to return tomorrow?” Shang Zhitao pulled Luan Nian down to lie beside her, sprawling across him with arms and legs.

“The meeting ended early, so I came back sooner.” Luan Nian held her feet, warming them for her: “Sleep.”

“Okay.”

Shang Zhitao closed her eyes for a long time, then heard Luan Nian move his arm, likely checking Little Nian Tao’s temperature. She smiled: “We’re really pathetic, aren’t we?”

“You’re pathetic. Don’t drag me into it.”

“Then why aren’t you sleeping? Isn’t it because you’re worried about Nian Tao?”

“I’m just not tired.”

Shang Zhitao was used to Luan Nian’s stubbornness. Sitting up, she looked at him.

“What?”

“Someone likes me.”

“?” Luan Nian let out a skeptical sound.

“I’m serious.” Shang Zhitao herself found it strange. She was married and had a child, yet she still attracted unwanted attention. At first, she thought the client was just overly enthusiastic, but during the day, while at his place, he suddenly pulled out a jewelry box and handed it to her. Naturally, Shang Zhitao rejected it, but Lumi had told her: “Quick, tell your husband! Make that donkey feel a little threatened!”

“Hmm. So?” Luan Nian asked.

“So, I’m very popular.” Shang Zhitao’s expression was dead serious. If Lumi knew Luan Nian was still wearing his usual stoic face, she’d definitely say: “Your husband is undoubtedly emotionally paralyzed.”

“Congratulations on still being charming in middle age,” Luan Nian sat up and asked her, “Just this one?”

“…How many should there be?”

“Ten? As many as my admirers?” Luan Nian, of course, knew Shang Zhitao was showing off. Naturally, he couldn’t back down now—it was necessary to remind his wife how desirable he was and to deflate her ego a bit. He grabbed his phone and tossed it to her: “Here, take a look.”

Shang Zhitao rarely looked at Luan Nian’s phone before, but on this night, she suddenly felt a bit curious. Taking it, she said to him: “I’m looking, really looking!”

Luan Nian raised an eyebrow: “Go ahead.”

Shang Zhitao opened the phone. There wasn’t much interesting on Luan Nian’s phone, but he had pinned their chat at the top, followed by the group chats “We All Love Niantao” and “Tao’s Family Group.” The first group included Dazhai, Old Shang, Dr. Liang, Luan’s father, and the two of them—it was filled with records of Niantao’s growth. The second group was for Luan Nian, Dazhai, Old Shang, and Shang Zhitao. Further down were the pinned work groups. Shang Zhitao scrolled further and finally saw something different—a girl with a beautiful profile picture. She clicked on it and saw that the girl had added Luan Nian as a friend and then messaged him: “Luke, I’m so glad to have met you. If there’s a chance next time I’m in Shanghai, I’ll treat you to dinner. Shall we go sit by the Bund at night again?”

Luan Nian replied: “No need, I’m married.”

Shang Zhitao pouted. She scrolled down further and saw about five or six girls. She tossed the phone back to Luan Nian and snorted. Luan Nian pressed his advantage and said: “These are the ones I haven’t blocked yet. Want to check my blacklist?”

“You’re determined to win, huh?”

“It wouldn’t look good to lose this kind of thing.”

Luan Nian was completely open about it—he never told Shang Zhitao about the temptations he encountered because there was no need. He dealt with every temptation cleanly and decisively, giving the other party no chance. When on business trips, he was busy with work, and after returning to the hotel, he would work out. Once his work was done, he would rush home even if it was late at night, unwilling to stay until the next day. When not traveling, he would head home early after work because he wanted to see Niantao as soon as possible. He didn’t expect Shang Zhitao to be home early—her branch company had just started, and it was rare for her to be home on weekends.

Seeing Shang Zhitao’s pouting lips, he teased her: “What? Can’t accept defeat?”

“This isn’t fair—I only have one.”

“You’ve lost your mind. Do we really need to compare numbers?” Luan Nian scoffed, completely forgetting that he himself had initiated the comparison earlier: “This isn’t something worth bragging about. All confessions that can’t become stories are just episodes that can be deleted anytime. If you want to compete with me on this…” Luan Nian paused: “I’ll kill you.”

They would encounter countless temptations throughout their lives. Marriage could shield some of them, but there would still be those who were persistent, had impure motives, sought thrills, or played with life. They couldn’t possibly tie each other down, taming and restraining one another, losing their individuality in the process.

He tapped her forehead with his fingertip and pushed her back onto the pillow: “Sleep.” Turning around, he checked on Niantao. Her fever had subsided, and she had stopped whimpering in her sleep. He picked up her little water bottle and gently called her: “Drink some water, Little Niantao.” Half-asleep, Niantao took a couple of sips of warm water, turned over, and continued sleeping.

Only then did Luan Nian lie back down. Seeing that Shang Zhitao was still awake, he pulled her into his arms: “What’s wrong?”

“You’ve encountered so many temptations. Will there ever come a day when you can’t resist?”

“Yes.” Luan Nian feigned seriousness. Shang Zhitao pinched his arm hard: “Say that again!”

Luan Nian groaned in pain, instinctively pinching her cheek: “Who taught you to pinch people like that?”

“Lumi.”

Lumi had gotten into an argument with Will and left a big bruise on his arm. Earlier in the day, she had told Shang Zhitao about it, saying: “Don’t say anything, but it felt so satisfying.”

The two of them talked about everything under the sun—rainy days, traffic jams, affairs, and even ants fighting.

“You should learn something useful. Be more selective about your friends. Lumi’s not the brightest—don’t let her corrupt you.”

“Nonsense!” Shang Zhitao scolded him, then burrowed into his arms and closed her eyes to sleep. She was exhausted too. During the day, hearing that Niantao was sick had worried her to death. She rushed back home, persuaded her in-laws to leave by ten o’clock, and then took care of Niantao non-stop. Only after this illness did she fully understand what mothers feared most—their children falling ill. With Luan Nian back, her heart eased a little, and she could finally rest.

She noticed Luan Nian getting up several times during the night. When she opened her eyes the next morning, she saw Luan Nian holding Niantao, leaning against the headboard, fast asleep. Shang Zhitao tiptoed downstairs to walk Luke, then started preparing breakfast for everyone.

Luan Nian disliked having strangers around and still refused to eat food prepared by others. The housekeeper only came to clean and then left. Shang Zhitao had never argued with Luan Nian about this—marriage was a form of cultivation, and they needed to understand each other. She tolerated his quirks, and he appreciated her efforts. Slowly, their lives began to bear more substantial fruits.

Shang Zhitao’s cooking was still not great, so she only fried eggs and steak. The pepper salt on the fried eggs was something Luan Nian had prepared beforehand, and the steak sauce was also pre-made by him. For breakfast, Niantao ate tomato and egg noodles, cooked with less oil and salt and topped with seaweed flakes. The rest of the snacks were baked goods that Shang Zhitao and Luan Nian had made together, stored in small snack boxes, with just a little left. Luke’s meal consisted of previously dried chicken and dog food.

After finishing breakfast preparations, Luan Nian and Niantao woke up. Luan Nian carried Niantao, who was still wobbling as she walked, down the elevator. Seeing Shang Zhitao, Niantao was delighted, letting go of Luan Nian’s hand and running to her: “Mama, Mama.”

“Still feverish?” Shang Zhitao touched her forehead—the little one’s fever had subsided.

Luan Nian walked to the dining table, saw that Shang Zhitao had prepared breakfast, cut a piece of steak, and popped it into his mouth. Perfect—it was well-done, maybe a bit overdone.

“Delicious?” Shang Zhitao asked him.

He remembered one of the principles of marriage he once summarized: mutual appreciation. He gave a slight nod: “Delicious, eat more.” Then he checked Niantao’s breakfast—the noodles were cooked decently.

The three of them and Luke ate their meals. Niantao ate like she was fighting—by the end of the meal, half the noodles ended up in her bib, and her hands and face were covered in food. She thought it was fun and tried to smear the leftovers onto her hair and neck. Hearing Shang Zhitao scold her, she giggled, thinking her mother was playing with her!

Shang Zhitao was a bit annoyed: “Little Niantao, your habits are terrible. You’re wasting food and deliberately making yourself dirty.”

“Were you completely self-sufficient at her age?” Luan Nian frowned, picking Niantao up from the table: “And besides, she’s still sick!” Actually, Niantao’s illness had come and gone quickly—she was already better.

Niantao seemed to understand and pouted at Luan Nian, as if saying: Mama is so mean.

Shang Zhitao was thoroughly exasperated by the two of them and glared at Luan Nian: “You shouldn’t always spoil her. Rules need to be set from a young age.”

“Mom and Dad said no rules were set for you when you were little—you grew up however you wanted.”

“Nonsense…”

“Or should I tell Mom and Dad that you scolded Niantao for making a mess while eating by herself?”

“…”

Luan Nian winked at Niantao: “Come on, Daddy will take you for a hot bath. And you—getting dirty while eating is fine, but you can’t get sick again today.”

Shang Zhitao thought Luan Nian was overly indulgent with their child and followed behind them, wanting to say something more. Suddenly, as Luan Nian reached the elevator, he stopped, turned around, and kissed her forehead: “Don’t be jealous.”

The implication was that Shang Zhitao had scolded Niantao out of jealousy, which was infuriating. Luan Nian felt a bit smug as he blocked the elevator door with his foot: “Not coming up?”

“Oh.”

The two of them undressed Niantao and placed her in the bathtub. Niantao was thrilled, deliberately splashing water with her little hands. When she heard Shang Zhitao and Luan Nian’s exaggerated “Ouch!” she laughed even harder. Shang Zhitao wiped the droplets from her face, finally no longer wearing the stern expression of an overworked mother. The two of them played with Niantao in the water, splashing it everywhere.

Shang Zhitao’s clothes got wet in the process.

Luan Nian glanced over and noticed the lace bra visible through her white t-shirt—his gaze darkened. Shang Zhitao wrapped Niantao in a towel, saw Luan Nian’s expression, and covered Niantao’s eyes with her hand before leaning over to kiss him quickly on the lips and pulling back just as fast.

Niantao thought Shang Zhitao was playing peek-a-boo with her, so she pretended to cover her own eyes and then opened them again, saying “nao”—unable to pronounce “cat.”

…

After Dr. Liang and Luan Mingrui arrived, Luan Nian took Shang Zhitao grocery shopping. As they approached the supermarket, he suddenly changed course. Shang Zhitao was momentarily stunned: “Where are we going?”

Luan Nian didn’t answer, driving instead to a resort hotel. He told Shang Zhitao: “Get out.”

“Our house is only ten kilometers away,” Shang Zhitao reminded him.

“There are people at home.”

“Oh.”

Luan Nian had been away for a week, and the previous week coincided with Shang Zhitao’s period. He couldn’t wait until nightfall. Even when night came, he dared not make a sound, feeling like something was missing.

He grew impatient, his teeth grazing her chest. Hearing Shang Zhitao emit a soft moan, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It had been a long time since they’d been this carefree together—it felt like returning to the days before Niantao was born, or perhaps even better than then.

Life was often messy, but these rare moments of indulgence felt like a reward. They both cherished it. Luan Nian softly asked her: “Do you want to go on a trip?”

“Just the two of us?”

“Yes.”

He felt they needed a brief escape—even if it was just for two or three days—to be together without thinking about anything else. That would be wonderful.

“What about Niantao?” Shang Zhitao raised a practical question.

“She’ll stay behind.”

That’s exactly what Luan Nian did. The following weekend, he flew with Shang Zhitao to the south, to the small town where he was born. Shang Zhitao, unable to help herself, asked as the plane took off: “Will Niantao blame us? Will Luke miss us?”

“Are you still hesitating even though we’re only giving ourselves a three-day vacation every year?”

Though Luan Nian loved Niantao deeply, he also craved alone time with Shang Zhitao. Both sets of grandparents doted on Niantao, so he felt completely at ease leaving her behind. He simply believed they should have two or three days each year to be alone together, just like before—uninhibited, free to do whatever they wanted or avoid doing anything at all.

The small town where Luan Nian was born had long since changed from what it once was.

Over the years, he occasionally returned once or twice during Qingming to sweep graves and pay respects to ancestors. Each time, he found the city dressed in a new guise. Only the ancient street by the river retained traces of its former self. Luan Nian’s grandmother lived at one end of the ancient street, while his maternal grandmother lived at the other.

The two of them walked hand in hand along the ancient street, and Luan Nian began recounting his childhood to Shang Zhitao. His childhood seemed sparse now—he mentioned fighting with other children, climbing trees here and there. For the most part, he had roamed alone because he didn’t fit in. Dr. Liang had cried many times in secret over this.

But he loved drawing. He could sit still for long periods, and his grandfather taught him how to paint, even praising him for having talent.

What left the deepest impression on Luan Nian, however, beyond those memories, was the curling smoke rising from chimneys on the ancient street every evening and the aroma of food wafting through cracks in doors.

As Shang Zhitao listened to Luan Nian reminisce about his past, she felt that his childhood had been quiet and mature, while hers had been lively and innocent. But people change over time—that’s inevitable. Just as life doesn’t remain tumultuous forever; eventually, it settles into calmness.

And the most precious thing is that, after everything has settled, we’re still willing to occasionally take risks, to embark on adventures with that person. This became Shang Zhitao’s favorite aspect of their relationship.

That night, they sat by the hotel window, watching the bustling crowds outside. Suddenly, Luan Nian produced a small cake with two candles sticking out of it, like a magician performing a trick. Shang Zhitao stared at it for two seconds before realizing that it was her birthday.

Time passed so quickly. Once upon a time, she used to flip through calendars eagerly awaiting her birthday, but now she had forgotten it altogether.

Luan Nian stood up: “Allow me to perform ‘Happy Birthday’ for Ms. Shang Zhitao.” He swayed slightly to keep rhythm and sang a playful rendition of the birthday song. Shang Zhitao giggled uncontrollably, reminded of the time he sang on stage years ago.

They couldn’t quite explain how time had changed them.

At that moment, as they gazed at each other, they both felt a profound sense of resolution.

“Make a wish,” Luan Nian said to her. Shang Zhitao clasped her hands together, closed her eyes, and made a heartfelt wish. It was small yet sincere—a deep longing within her heart after enduring the passage of time.

“What did you wish for?” Luan Nian asked.

Shang Zhitao smiled faintly: “To have this day every year.”

In the year they met, they were so far apart. She loved humbly, never daring to hope for a future together. It was time that gifted them hardship and the courage to overcome it; chaos and the conscience to seek purity; separation and the joy of reunion; rain and sunshine alike.

This moment was truly beautiful.

May we have this day every year.

And may everyone find their own early spring sunshine.

(End of story)