Extra #8: Nian Tao

During Shang Zhitao’s first year of high school, her class held a New Year’s celebration. The arts committee organized performances, and the rule that year was that everyone had to participate—even if it meant playing the role of a tree.

There were many talented students in the class, so the singing and dancing slots filled up quickly. The homeroom teacher suggested they diversify the program to avoid making the class seem artistically limited. Some boys stayed up all night learning magic tricks, while Shang Zhitao and He Yun exchanged glances, unsure what to do.

They volunteered to be props—like trees or sign holders—but the classroom was too small for extras like that during the singing and dancing acts.

Finally, Shang Zhitao said to the arts committee member, “How about I perform calligraphy, and He Yun can grind the ink?”

“Great idea! Afterward, we’ll frame the calligraphy and hang it at the back of the classroom—it’ll be meaningful.”

Shang Zhitao always found her classmates amusing. Though there were troublemakers in the class, they were kind to her. Perhaps it was because she always sincerely wished others well.

True to their word, Shang Zhitao and He Yun performed calligraphy and ink-grinding. A small table was set up in the classroom, and halfway through the celebration, they began their act. The host announced, “Next, Shang Zhitao and He Yun will perform synchronized calligraphy, accompanied by other acts. The final work will be displayed later.”

Every class was holding its own celebration, but when the school administrators entered Shang Zhitao’s classroom, they immediately noticed the smell of ink. Smiling, they commented, “Even calligraphy can be performed—it’s quite nice.”

And just like that, the performance passed without incident.

Shang Zhitao and He Yun breathed a sigh of relief. School ended early that day, and as they packed up their supplies and left the classroom, they noticed some older male students whispering among themselves. Seeing Shang Zhitao, they asked each other, “Is that the girl who performed the calligraphy?”

It seemed she had gained some recognition.

A couple of days later, someone slipped a note to Shang Zhitao in the hallway. She asked, “Who’s this for?”

“I don’t know!” The boy blushed and hurried away. Shang Zhitao figured it wasn’t for her and intended to ask the boy about it when she saw him again. But she forgot what he looked like, so the matter was dropped. She was rather oblivious.

Shang Zhitao always thought that the only person who liked her during her school years was Xin Zhaozhou, because his affection was so obvious. The first time he met her, he told his classmates, “Whenever we have large lectures in the auditorium, make sure to save the seat next to Shang Zhitao for me.”

“And when we line up for meals in the cafeteria, stand behind her.”

“In the library, reserve the seat across from her.”

“No matter where you see her, tell me immediately.”

His efforts were impossible to ignore. At first, female classmates told Shang Zhitao, “The class heartthrob, Xin Zhaozhou, likes you.”

“What does he like about me?” Shang Zhitao refused to believe it. She thought it was just a coincidence that Xin Zhaozhou sat across from her in the library, stood behind her in the cafeteria line, and after a week or two, occupied the seat next to her during lectures.

She was bewildered when Xin Zhaozhou finally stood before her, his face red, and confessed, “Shang Zhitao, I like you.”

It was winter in Nanjing, and he held a bouquet of flowers, presenting them to her.

So he really did like her.

Looking back, she realized how dense she had been. Only when someone showed obvious favoritism could she sense it. Now, she could feel Luan Nian’s love because his affection was unmistakable.

When Shang Zhitao opened her eyes, it was already bright outside.

She hadn’t slept so well in a long time. Pulling back the curtains, she saw the overcast sky and could feel the dampness in the air. It was going to rain.

Luan Nian, his arm resting over his eyes, groaned, “Shang Zhitao! Close the curtains!”

“No!”

Luan Nian jumped out of bed, pulled the curtains shut, picked her up, and tossed her back onto the bed. “Close your eyes! Go back to sleep!”

He locked her in his arms, his tone not particularly gentle. “Hurry up!”

“Okay.”

Shang Zhitao closed her eyes, though she really did want to sleep in. Wrapping her arms around Luan Nian’s waist, she nestled her legs between his and drifted off again. Her best sleep of the week always came when Luan Nian was with her. This domineering man wouldn’t let her wake up early. As long as he was there, they would sleep until late morning.

This time, they slept until the afternoon.

When they woke up, it was pouring outside—a torrential downpour.

“The weather forecast said it would rain for two or three days. Our flight on Monday morning will probably be delayed.”

“Monday is a full day of meetings—I can attend remotely. Let’s leave on Tuesday instead.”

Everyone had developed habits and skills for remote work over the past two years. Lumi once joked to Shang Zhitao, “I wish you could teleport your husband, my stubborn donkey—the head of Lumi China—back to Beijing every Sunday.”

“Why?”

“Because life is harder for us when he’s not in the office.”

With fewer distractions while working remotely, Luan Nian’s mind was sharper than ever. He went through department after department, leaving behind a mountain of tasks. When he was physically present in the office, he would meet with this person and that, reducing the workload and making life easier for everyone else.

The two of them lay in bed, watching the rain outside. Luan Nian played his “lazy” playlist, and neither of them spoke. Shang Zhitao traced her fingers along his chin, the stubble on his face tickling her fingertips and stirring something inside her.

Her phone rang, and she picked it up casually. To her surprise, it was Xin Zhaozhou: “How have you been? I heard you got married.”

Shang Zhitao glanced at Luan Nian and tossed the phone aside, unwilling to reply to Xin Zhaozhou’s message in front of him. Luan Nian was notoriously jealous.

Luan Nian wasn’t a perfect partner—his flaws matched his virtues. His possessiveness was his biggest flaw, and Shang Zhitao knew it well. Just hearing the name “Xin Zhaozhou” was enough to upset him.

“Aren’t you going to reply?”

“Huh?”

“Aren’t you going to respond?” Luan Nian asked, not even needing to look to sense her guilt.

“…It’s not urgent.”

“Xin Zhaozhou?”

“?”

When Shang Zhitao opened her phone, he caught a glimpse of the name. The man was sharp.

“He’s asking how you’ve been. Aren’t you going to reply?” Luan Nian gave her a sidelong glance, clearly determined to see what she planned to do.

“Fine.” Shang Zhitao picked up her phone and replied, “Yes, I’m married now, and I’m doing pretty well.”

“That’s it?” Luan Nian was clearly unsatisfied. “Doing pretty well” wasn’t specific enough for him. He wanted her to elaborate—something like, “My husband is incredibly handsome and treats me wonderfully.” Only then would “pretty well” take on a concrete shape.

Speaking of husbands, Shang Zhitao never called him “hubby.”

The word felt strange to her.

“Should I go into more detail? It’d feel like bragging. No need, right?” Shang Zhitao tossed her phone aside again. “I’m hungry.”

“Then go make something.”

“I’m not a good cook.”

“I’m six years older than you. Statistically, I’ll probably die before you. If you can’t cook, will you starve after I’m gone?”

“…”

Shang Zhitao let out a snort, wrapped herself in clothes, and hopped off the bed. After a quick wash, she entered the kitchen. The house was fully stocked, but standing in front of all the ingredients, she suddenly had no idea where to start. Luan Nian stood there watching her fumble around aimlessly. Finally, she gave up, turning around with a pitiful look on her face, silently asking for help.

“Call me ‘hubby.’“

“?”

“Call me ‘hubby,’ and I’ll cook for you.”

Luan Nian wanted to hear Shang Zhitao call him “hubby.” He thought it would be strange if they were married and he never heard her say it—would that mean he had married a buddy instead of a wife?

After struggling for a while, Shang Zhitao awkwardly muttered, “Hubby.”

Luan Nian’s lips drooped, feeling a strange discomfort. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

He pushed Shang Zhitao out of the kitchen. Recently, she had developed a fondness for gnawing on bones, much like a dog. The night before, Luan Nian had used a pressure cooker to prepare a pot of lamb spine. Now, he turned on the stove and had her wash vegetables while he put on a raincoat and dressed their dog, Luke, in one as well, taking him downstairs to relieve himself. Luke was getting old and wasn’t as energetic as before. On the slippery grass, he stumbled slightly. Luan Nian chuckled in the rain, teasing him: “Getting old, huh? Can’t handle it anymore?”

Luke likely understood what he said and barked at Luan Nian in response.

“It’s not embarrassing. Everyone gets old someday,” Luan Nian said, deliberately choosing words Luke wouldn’t like.

The rain poured heavily, leaving both man and dog drenched. Back home, Luan Nian hung the raincoat by the door and pulled Luke over to dry his fur, then used a hairdryer to ensure he wouldn’t catch a cold. They all treated Luke like a treasure because older dogs couldn’t afford to get sick—every illness aged them further. Even Dr. Liang, upon occasionally seeing Luke, would treat him like royalty and give him thorough check-ups.

Luan Nian teased Dr. Liang: “You didn’t study veterinary medicine.”

“Don’t you know that medical principles are interconnected?” Dr. Liang replied after examining Luke. “Our Luke is so healthy—he’s going to live a long life.”

After all the commotion, the lamb spine was finally ready. The two of them sat at the dining table, preparing to eat. Shang Zhitao suggested having a drink, but Luan Nian refused: “I’m not drinking.”

Luan Nian had quit smoking and drinking. One day, Dr. Liang casually mentioned that as they grew older, if they still planned to have children, it would be wise to cut back on such habits. Luan Nian smoked sparingly—just two or three cigarettes a day, sometimes none—and drank more frequently. But after Dr. Liang’s comment, he stopped drinking entirely.

“I think we can have just a little,” Shang Zhitao teased him, intentionally provoking a reaction. Seeing goosebumps rise on Luan Nian’s neck, she burst into laughter. “Say ‘wife’ to me!”

“Wife.”

Shang Zhitao carefully considered it—it sounded alright.

“How about just a sip?” Shang Zhitao wanted a small taste, but Luan Nian handed her soda water instead. “You’re not allowed to drink either.”

“But you once said I could do anything!” Shang Zhitao protested.

“Try drinking and see what happens,” Luan Nian shot back, glaring at her.

Obediently, Shang Zhitao took a sip of the soda water, then put on disposable gloves to dig into the lamb spine. She loved gnawing on bones, so Luan Nian had prepared a whole pot of lamb spine and shank for her. She felt deeply satisfied.

“So, Xin Zhaozhou just wanted to catch up with you?” Luan Nian asked. This guy was so petty—even after an hour, he still remembered this.

“No.”

“?”

“He sent me 5,000 yuan, saying it was a wedding gift. I didn’t accept it.”

Luan Nian glanced at her. Shang Zhitao really knew how to handle things.

“Why did he send you money?” Luan Nian pressed.

“…Because he got married, and I…” She had sent him a wedding gift years ago. Though they hadn’t seen each other in years, they still maintained a sense of camaraderie as classmates.

“Accept it.”

“What?”

“The money he sent as a wedding gift—accept it.”

“And then?”

“I’ve been eyeing a hat. Buy it for me.”

“…”

Shang Zhitao still couldn’t quite figure out Luan Nian’s intentions. She thought he’d be jealous, but it turned out he just didn’t want to lose money. So she picked up her phone, confirmed the payment, and thanked Xin Zhaozhou.

“Transfer the money to me.”

Luan Nian wanted to try spending the ex-boyfriend’s money. Once the transaction was complete, he ordered the hat in two colors—it was nice.

After finishing, he turned to Shang Zhitao and said, “So what if he’s your ex-boyfriend? There’s no need to avoid mentioning him around me. I’ve had ex-girlfriends too, and you know a bit about that. But I think I’m better than you—I don’t keep in touch with my exes.”

After saying this, Luan Nian raised an eyebrow, waiting for her response.

But Shang Zhitao refused to react. She intended to drive him crazy by ignoring him and happily gnawing on her bones.

Her lack of response meant trouble for her later.

In the afternoon, when she least expected it, Luan Nian lifted her from her chair and placed her on the cold table.

Her skin touched the icy surface, and her body shivered.

“I’m cold.”

“You’ll warm up soon.” Luan Nian wrapped her in his arms, his forehead pressing against hers. “Do you feel how much I favor you now?”

Shang Zhitao tilted her head up and bit his lips—a silent affirmation.

“There will be even more favoritism in the future.”

“Just bear with it.”

Luan Nian thought to himself: Xin Zhaozhou, old or new, could step aside. This woman was by his side, and he would cherish her properly. As for everyone else—they could disappear.

And if they could have a child, that would be even better.