Extra #7: Liang Chengmin

On the day little Nian Nian was born, he let out a symbolic cry and then closed his eyes to sleep.

It’s normal for newborns to sleep a lot. But as he slept, his tiny face scrunched up. Newborns often resemble little monkeys, but with his face all scrunched up, he looked even more peculiar. After glancing at him, Liang Chengmin suddenly felt worried and whispered to Luan Mingrui, “Do you think he’ll grow up to be… not very handsome?”

“Nonsense. How could my son not be handsome?” Luan Mingrui glanced at little Nian Nian, who indeed looked rather unattractive. He started to worry—what if the child grew up to be especially unappealing? He studied himself in the mirror, finding nothing particularly unattractive about his own features. And as for Liang Chengmin, she was beautiful—no question about it. In his heart, Liang Chengmin was the most beautiful woman, leaving no room for comparison with others.

Lying weakly on her hospital bed, Liang Chengmin turned her head to see little Nian Nian’s scrunched-up face, which left her feeling uneasy. Even after returning home from the hospital, this uneasiness lingered. Little Nian Nian slept beside her, his brows furrowed. When asleep, he resembled an old man, but when feeding, he became a force to be reckoned with—huffing and puffing with surprising strength.

One night, deep into the darkness, Liang Chengmin discovered that the baby truly had a bad temper. That night, he woke up hungry, and Luan Mingrui got up, saying he’d change the diaper first before feeding him. Being a new father, Luan Mingrui wasn’t yet skilled at changing diapers, so his movements were slow. The baby immediately began to cry. His face turned bright red, almost as if he were about to faint from crying, sounding like a pig being slaughtered. Both Liang Chengmin and Luan Mingrui broke into a sweat in the middle of the night trying to calm him. They even tried sticking a pacifier into his mouth, but he spat it out and continued crying. He cried until he was exhausted, and only then did he finally start feeding.

As Liang Chengmin fed him, she said to Luan Mingrui, “That’s it—I’m certain now. This kid’s temperament really takes after both of us.”

Luan Mingrui dismissed her concerns. “He’s not even a month old yet. How can you already tell he has a bad temper? It’s because I was too slow changing his diaper—he got so hungry that he cried like that.” Luan Mingrui began reflecting, mentally practicing how he could change diapers faster.

During Liang Chengmin’s confinement, both sets of grandparents came over during the day to help out. But Luan Mingrui didn’t trust anyone else to take care of her, insisting on overseeing everything—even preparing her confinement meals himself. At the time, it was commonly believed that women in confinement should eat eggs every meal. Luan Mingrui scoffed at the idea: “If you ate eggs every day, wouldn’t you get sick of them? Wouldn’t they make you nauseous?”

He couldn’t bear the thought of eating eggs himself, so why should Liang Chengmin have to?

Thus, he prepared her meals with great variety. Since elders advised avoiding hard foods to protect her teeth, he ground shrimp into a paste to make shrimp ball soup, steamed fish after removing its fishy smell, simmered carp soup until the broth turned milky white, and stewed chicken until the meat fell off the bone. Everything was cooked with minimal oil and salt but full of flavor.

The aroma of their meals wafted through the neighborhood, prompting neighbors to gather and chat. “Dr. Liang really married the right person,” they would say. “Look at what she eats during her confinement, and compare it to what others eat!”

What era was this? Many families couldn’t even afford eggs during confinement, yet their house was filled with fish, meat, and shrimp every day.

Luan Mingrui was well aware of how much all this cost, but he didn’t mind spending a single penny. When he had promised to marry her, he vowed to provide her with an endless supply of shrimp and crab for life—and he intended to keep that promise.

Not only did he ensure Liang Chengmin ate well, but he also made sure she stayed in good spirits. Throughout her pregnancy and after giving birth, her temper had been less than ideal, but Luan Mingrui never once argued with her. Sometimes, when she drove him to the brink of frustration, he would put on his clothes and stand in the yard, calming himself down. He would only return indoors once his anger had subsided.

He had softened—just a little.

Can marriage really change a person? Perhaps it can.

Luan Mingrui had always been such a stubborn man, tough as a bone no matter the situation. And Liang Chengmin was no different—two hard bones clashing together in daily life, each one bruised and battered.

But slowly, they both learned to compromise, and their days began to sweeten.

After giving birth, Liang Chengmin gradually softened.

It wasn’t an overnight change—it happened bit by bit, without her even realizing it. She still bickered with Luan Mingrui, but it wasn’t real arguing anymore. Sometimes, midway through a squabble, she’d burst into laughter. Her naturally radiant face became even gentler when she smiled, and sometimes Luan Mingrui would be left staring at her in awe. Quietly, he would tell his friends, “I feel like I’ve gotten a completely different wife.”

“You don’t like it?” his friends teased him, remembering how miserable he had been under Liang Chengmin’s torment in the past.

“No, I hit the jackpot.” Luan Mingrui felt his life had become so smooth and effortless, without a single unpleasant moment. As his life flowed smoothly, he exuded a sense of contentment. This ease illuminated his entire decade and carried through the rest of his life.

By the time the baby was three months old, he finally began sleeping for a few hours straight at night. Liang Chengmin nestled into Luan Mingrui’s arms, her face pressed against his chest, feeling as though life had begun to improve.

Under the dim glow of a small lamp, Luan Mingrui gazed at her. He noticed that her face had regained some of its fullness compared to her pregnancy days. All his efforts to feed her hadn’t been in vain—he had finally restored her to her former self. Feeling affectionate, he gently kissed her once, then again.

Liang Chengmin tilted her head up to kiss his chin. Cupping his face in her hands, she stared at him endlessly.

“What’s wrong?” Luan Mingrui asked, distracted by the sight of her slightly open collar.

Without speaking, Liang Chengmin let her tongue trace lightly along his jawline, then gently bit down on his Adam’s apple. His throat rolled beneath her tongue.

She paused there, then suddenly pushed him down.

Straddling him, she gazed down at him.

Liang Chengmin knew that medically speaking, a woman’s body undergoes changes after childbirth and requires time to recover. Though she appeared nonchalant, she had secretly been doing exercises—deep breaths, tightening, relaxing. She trusted science, but for the first time, she felt a flicker of apprehension.

Luan Mingrui held her close, and in the darkness, they studied each other for a long while, gradually brewing a storm.

But they both felt awkward because the baby was sleeping nearby.

Luan Mingrui kissed her gently, their tongues meeting, each finding the other irresistibly delicious.

“Not in this room,” Liang Chengmin said. She had heard a colleague recount an embarrassing story: when their child was three years old, the couple had been in the midst of intimacy when they heard the child call out, “Mommy.” The child had sat up, watching their intertwined parents. Liang Chengmin understood the psychological impact that could leave.

“Alright.” Luan Mingrui led her to another room, usually unoccupied, where the bedding was cool. When Liang Chengmin’s body touched it, the chill made her curl up instinctively. Luan Mingrui pressed down on her, enveloping her in warmth. She let out a soft moan, which he quickly silenced by covering her lips with his own. “Don’t wake Nian Nian.”

He whispered.

It had been so long since they had been intimate that both struggled to control themselves. All of Liang Chengmin’s focus was there—she wanted to know how much she had changed, how much she had recovered—but she couldn’t quite feel it. Instead, she felt an overwhelming flood of emotion spill out.

Luan Mingrui playfully competed with the baby over food, savoring the sweet and delicious taste, reluctant to let go for a long time. Liang Chengmin felt both embarrassed and strangely fond of this experience. When their tongues touched again, she tasted her own flavor.

Luan Mingrui was exceptionally, extraordinarily gentle.

He had done his homework. After his cousin’s wife gave birth to Luan Siyuan, their first intimate moment postpartum hadn’t gone smoothly, leading to nearly six months of her resisting intimacy. His cousin had complained to him: “Why does it have to be so difficult?” Luan Mingrui had taken those words to heart and was now being especially careful.

Even though he was on edge, he still didn’t dare to be too forceful, constantly asking her, “Is this okay? How about this?”

“Does it hurt?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Liang Chengmin was on the verge of tears. Luan Mingrui was being so cautious—this wasn’t like him at all. So she pushed him down.

A storm of passion swept over them, leaving them both exhilarated.

Luan Mingrui felt as though he had crossed a significant hurdle.

The next day, he was especially tender with the baby. By the time the child was 100 days old, he no longer resembled a little old man or a monkey—he actually started to look somewhat adorable.

The two of them sat side by side, watching as the baby chewed on his hands, making faint grunting noises. They exchanged glances and sighed.

“Mom, was Luan Mingrui like this when he was little?” Liang Chengmin asked her mother-in-law. She had seen other colleagues’ babies, and none of them were like Nian Nian. Other babies would laugh when tickled at 100 days old, but not Nian Nian. He’d give a perfunctory chuckle and then quickly withdraw his smile, as if everyone else were foolish. Now, even without anyone provoking him, he got frustrated while chewing on his hand.

“Every child is different. Luan Mingrui wasn’t as easily upset as Nian Nian when he was little.”

“So he takes after you,” Luan Mingrui finally seized the opportunity to blame the child’s temper on Liang Chengmin.

“Nonsense! My mom said I was very well-behaved as a child. Whenever I was taken out, people would pinch my cheeks or kiss me, and I never got upset. But look at Nian Nian—no one can touch him!”

Nian Nian didn’t allow any neighbors to touch him.

It wasn’t that he was scared; he simply refused to be touched. If someone tried, his little face would turn red with anger. What kind of personality was this?

Maybe he’ll grow out of it!

Liang Chengmin devoted herself entirely to medicine and the child, leaving Luan Mingrui in third place.

Gradually, Luan Mingrui began to feel resentful. He started to feel jealous of the child.

“You’re doing this wrong.”

“How am I doing it wrong?”

“We’re supposed to spend our lives together.” Luan Mingrui reasoned with her. “You should think of me as the most important person.”

“Do you need someone to watch you while you poop or pee? Do you need someone to feed you milk?”

“I don’t need help with pooping or peeing, but feeding… well, that could work too.”

Liang Chengmin’s face flushed red. “Go away!”

Although she told him to leave, she realized that Luan Mingrui was feeling neglected, so she often consoled him at night. Both of them enjoyed these moments, always approaching them with great seriousness. When their bodies were satisfied, their moods improved as well.

Luan Mingrui nurtured Liang Chengmin like a blossoming flower.

In the past, she had been the top formidable woman in their small town—a young and skilled surgeon. People remembered her as the serious doctor in the clinic, overlooking the fact that she was also a woman. Now, as she walked through the town, others would ask, “Who is that beautiful woman? Oh, isn’t that Dr. Liang from the hospital? Dr. Liang is married—to Luan Mingrui of the Luan family. Look how much more beautiful Dr. Liang has become since marrying the right person!”

Occasionally overhearing such comments, Liang Chengmin would pretend not to hear and walk past with a red face.

By the time the child was almost a year old, he could take a few steps. Liang Chengmin noticed that whenever they were outside, if he fell, he wouldn’t get up but instead try to brush the dirt off his clothes. Of course, he didn’t really know how to brush, so he got frustrated. When they encountered muddy areas, he refused to walk. If something got on his hands, he insisted on washing it off immediately. If his clothes got dirty, he would tug at them and demand a change. Moreover, he disliked broken toys.

Liang Chengmin realized that her child might not be like other children who were universally loved. He was a bit different. She and Luan Mingrui discussed it at length and decided never to criticize him for his strict habits. Instead, they would guide him appropriately without forcing him.

Their efforts yielded only minimal results.

Nian Nian’s first real fight occurred when he was just over three years old. While playing with other children, someone snatched his toy, and he suddenly resorted to physical retaliation. Children’s fights were usually symbolic—one child might scratch, another might push—but generally harmless. However, Nian Nian climbed onto the other child and started clawing at their face. This terrified Liang Chengmin, who rushed forward to pick him up mid-tantrum and said to the other parents, “Teach your child not to snatch toys randomly. My child hits hard.”

Liang Chengmin was deeply worried. That night, after the child had fallen asleep, she mentioned the incident to Luan Mingrui. His lips twitched, but he remained silent. He didn’t dare speak—the child’s behavior truly mirrored his own. As a boy, Luan Mingrui had loved to fight, and people in the small town used to warn their children: “Stay away from Luan Mingrui; don’t provoke him.” Luan Mingrui believed it was normal for boys to be combative. But Liang Chengmin disagreed; she thought Nian Nian’s actions bordered on cruelty.

She began studying child psychology and behavioral science, systematically researching her child’s behavior. She knew that her child exhibited some violent tendencies and signs of obsessive-compulsive behavior.

How much effort would it take to nurture such a child? Liang Chengmin understood, and so did Luan Mingrui. The two of them poured their hearts into it.

By the late 1980s, Luan Mingrui wanted to go to the United States. Many distant relatives of the Luan family had moved there years ago, and though they hadn’t seen each other for decades, contact had gradually resumed. He discussed it with Liang Chengmin, saying that if she didn’t want to go, he wouldn’t either. Liang Chengmin didn’t object—she wanted to continue her studies and pursue medical research in the U.S. So they began studying tirelessly—language, customs, habits—and included Luan Nian in their preparations.

On the day they left their homeland, Liang Chengmin said to Luan Mingrui, “I will return. I want to conduct meaningful medical research and contribute to our country and humanity.”

“Then I’ll focus on earning money to support your research.”

They embarked on a new life but never let go of each other. The early days were tough, but every night they lay together, reviewing the day and encouraging each other. Gradually, life became easier. Liang Chengmin continued her studies, eventually joining a research team to begin formal medical research.

The world Luan Mingrui faced was full of temptations, but he never wavered.

They only ever had one love affair, only ever loved one person, and grew old together with that one person.

Neither of them felt any regret.