"Chairman Ye, your wife just complained you're clueless about romance. Any rebuttal?"
"No."
Affectionately, he gently squeezed You Lin’s palm, his thoughts drifting back to long, long ago.
...
When we were kids, she made me guess who she liked. I cycled through all her friends but never got it right. Seeing her persistence, I said, "Just tell me how many strokes his name has."
"Nineteen," she replied.
I spent years puzzling over that answer.
...
Another time.
She asked, "What kind of girlfriend do you like?"
"I go by feeling," I said.
"What about me?"
"You’re too familiar—I can’t see you that way."
...
Another time.
I warned her, "Pinch my nose again, and I’ll steal your first kiss."
"You wouldn’t dare," she teased, reaching to pinch me.
First warning!
Second warning!
Third warning!
Final ultimatum!
Don’t say I didn’t warn you!!
Fine. You win. I surrender.
...
Another time.
We watched a horror movie at her place. She propped her fair, long legs on me, trembling, and even brushed my ear with her foot. I slapped it away.
That night, my lap held her and two cats. Normal couples wouldn’t have those damn cats.
...
Another time.
I asked her to join my middle school reunion.
"I don’t know anyone. What’s my role?" she asked.
"Childhood friends," I said.
So I went alone.
...
Another time.
Late at night, she lingered outside her door. "Hurry up," I said. "My sister’s waiting for dinner."
She pointed at her doorway. "Nothing to say?"
"No," I replied. She followed me home to cook.
Later, I understood her melancholic gaze while stirring the pot.
...
Another time.
In college, classmates pressured me to confess. After class, she asked, "Were you serious at noon?"
"Just joking!" I said.
"Who do you like?"
"Guess."
"I can’t. Tell me."
"Then you forfeit."
...
Another time.
She demanded a drawing. "You or me?" I asked.
"You," she insisted.
I drew a dashing Zhao Zilong of Changshan. She laughed for life, saying I should’ve drawn Zhang Yide of Yan.
That painting still hangs in my living room. My grandson once bragged in kindergarten that his grandpa was Zhao Zilong.
...
Another time.
She asked, "After all these years, how do you see me?"
"Childhood friends!"
"More?"
"Neighbors!"
"More?"
"Classmates!"
"More?"
"Deskmates!"
"That’s all?"
"What else? That’s everything!"
...
Another time.
She staged a runaway—no location, phone off—to test our "telepathic bond." My first move: call the police. Two squad cars parked outside her best friend’s building.
She said it was her second time seeing officers. The first was when I fought in high school, and she gave my statement.
...
Another time.
Her friend copied the "runaway" trick to test her boyfriend. He found her that night. Months later, she was pregnant.
I thought her foolish—assuming every guy was as virtuous as I was, like the legendary Liu Xiaohui. I mocked her lack of street smarts endlessly.
...
Another time.
She tried climbing over me for her phone. I just handed it to her.
...
Another time.
Outdoors, she held up a sun umbrella. "Why should I, a guy, hide from sun?" I stepped aside. Five seconds later, she folded it.
...
Another time.
She confronted me before my mom: "He bullies me at home!"
I denied it. She listed my "crimes" in detail.
Mom cut in: "Having You Lin as a daughter-in-law is a blessing. She forgives all his faults."
Feeling wronged, I argued over who was right.
...
Another time.
Post-honeymoon, we stayed at my parents’. Mom had Dad stew goji berry black chicken soup daily. Stupidly, I complained, "Why no variety? I’m sick of it."
...
Another time.
Mom said You Lin never spoke ill of me. Often, I upset her without realizing. Mom would rush to scold me, but You Lin always stopped her. It made me feel like a perfect husband.
...
"You always were."
"Thanks. I’ll keep it up."
His thoughts returned to now. The best decision of my life? Heeding the old saying—a rabbit eats the grass by its burrow—and mustering courage to confess to You Lin.
