While she was in the bathroom, Shi Wenli returned to his room to continue packing some important items from the bookshelf. Recently, he had been packing a little every night, off and on, and was nearly done with the things he needed to move. Before he knew it, the end of the year was approaching.
He was putting some small ornaments from the bookshelf into a box when the half-closed door was pushed open. Xu Qinghe walked in, holding a water glass, and gave a symbolic knock on the door. Her hair was tied up tonight, and she was still wearing a knit cardigan over her pajamas. This room was only about eight or nine square meters—very compact.
"Packing?" she asked as she entered.
Shi Wenli turned his head: "Mm. Some little ornaments Shi Miao gave me." He gestured to the swivel chair in front of the desk and his single bed. "Sit wherever."
Afraid the swivel chair would be in the way, Xu Qinghe sat down on the edge of the bed. The bed was about a meter wide, with a smoke-gray sheet folded double over it, and a quilt of the same color neatly folded.
Shi Wenli said, "I told Shi Miao and the others about us being together."
Xu Qinghe had just taken a sip of warm water and tensed up as well, swallowing a little harder. "What was Shi Miao's reaction?"
"She was having hotpot. After hearing it, she dropped a meatball on the table twice."
"..."
Xu Qinghe laughed. "She couldn't believe it, right?"
"Yeah." Shi Wenli brought up his sister's urging to marry. "She had a flash marriage herself, and she thinks five days of us being together is already long enough."
Xu Qinghe thought to herself that she wouldn't mind a flash marriage with him. Not only did she not mind, she even had a slight hope. Maybe once they were husband and wife, some things would fall into place naturally, and she wouldn't have to mentally prepare herself for every step closer.
Shi Wenli then turned his attention to her. "You only ate a roasted sweet potato tonight? Nothing else?"
"One roasted sweet potato is enough."
Shi Wenli thought as he packed that he would prepare something for her to eat in the evenings from now on.
Xu Qinghe opened her phone and recorded him packing. "Shi Wenli," she called softly. "Look at the camera. Point those little ornaments toward the lens too."
Shi Wenli turned his face. "Recording a video?"
"Mm. Keeping it to watch later. Right now I remember sitting on your bed while you pack. Maybe in ten or eight years I won't be able to recall it clearly." She included herself in the frame, including the single bed she was sitting on.
Shi Wenli came over with a box of ornaments. Some were very small—the smallest was about the size of a thumbnail. He had no idea why Shi Miao had thought to buy such tiny ornaments. He took them out one by one and held them up to the camera, making sure she could film them clearly. Xu Qinghe adjusted the lens. His broad palm cradled the tiny ornament, and he deliberately faced it toward her. Patient and attentive.
When everything was filmed, Shi Wenli asked, "Is there anything else you want to record?"
Xu Qinghe said no. "I already recorded the bedroom and dining table when I got back." She wanted to keep a memento of the place where he had lived for so many years.
Shi Wenli closed the box and found a shopping bag to put it in. She sat there reviewing the videos she had taken that evening while he went to the balcony. The house was very quiet; the sound of him moving around in the living room was clear. She watched the videos contentedly until they finished, but he still hadn't come in. Exiting the photo album, she got up to look for him.
Shi Wenli had just come out of the kitchen with his own water glass. He took a sip. "Finished watching?"
"Mm."
Xu Qinghe suddenly remembered. "I haven't taken in the laundry yet."
Shi Wenli said, "I already brought it in for you."
The clothes Xu Qinghe had washed last night were too late to dry in the machine, so she had hung them up. Although it was cold today, the sun was good, and they had dried completely by evening. When she got home, she had been too busy recording videos and then taking a shower, forgetting about the clothes on the balcony. She looked back toward her bedroom—the clothes were neatly folded and placed at the head of the bed, convenient for her to wear tomorrow or pack into a bag.
Ever since moving in, she had become more and more embarrassed. Breakfast was made by him, the bed was made by him after she got up, and now even her clothes were folded by him. "You don't have to take them in from now on. I'll do it myself."
Shi Wenli said, "It's fine. It doesn't matter who does it."
Xu Qinghe felt her ears burning. With her hair tied up high, her ears had no long hair to cover them, and the redness was especially obvious. Let them burn, she thought; she could just attribute it to being warm from the shower.
She asked Shi Wenli to sit on the sofa. "I'll get the fascia gun to relax your arms."
How effective the fascia gun massage was, she couldn't say, but it definitely brought them closer. She had Jiang Yang to thank for that.
She came out of the bedroom, and Shi Wenli set down his water glass, reaching out his hand. "Let me do it." He smiled. "You can supervise."
Xu Qinghe handed him the fascia gun, then went back to the bedroom and dragged out the beanbag sofa. She placed it close in front of him, sat down cross-legged, and sank into it. The beanbag was especially suitable for a relationship like theirs—familiar as people but not yet familiar romantically. They could sit facing each other, not too close and not too far, relaxed and without the slightest awkwardness.
He started massaging. Bored, she pulled her loose knit cardigan over her bent knees, wrapping them both. Shi Wenli looked at the sweater that was nearly stretched out of shape and reached out to touch its hem. "What fabric is this? The stretch is amazing."
"..."
Xu Qinghe laughed. "It doesn't stretch." She said, "I bought it a few years ago. I only wear it at home." As she spoke, she pulled the cardigan free from her knees. It was stretched too tight, and when she yanked it, Shi Wenli was afraid she would lose her balance and tip over on the beanbag, so he reached out and steadied her by the shoulder. He leaned forward, and they were very close.
Xu Qinghe held her breath. "It's fine, I won't fall off."
But Shi Wenli didn't let go until she had pulled the cardigan up and tucked it around her waist. Then he released her, sat upright, and resumed his position.
After finishing with his own arms, he motioned to her. "Turn around. I'll help relax your neck and shoulders."
Xu Qinghe stood up and sat back on the beanbag with her back to him. She habitually tucked her left leg under her, propped up her right knee, and wrapped her arms around it.
Shi Wenli said, "I often see you rubbing your shoulders and neck. Are they usually sore?"
"A little."
Xu Qinghe turned the question back on him. "Do I rub them that often? I never noticed."
"Mm. Sometimes when I run into you after surgery, I see you rubbing them while you walk." Shi Wenli adjusted the fascia gun to a gentler setting and began working on her shoulders and neck. "You read too much with your head down. Do more exercises that lift your head. On my days off, I'll play badminton with you."
Xu Qinghe's badminton skills were mediocre at best—barely passable. Unlike him, whose smashes few could return. Apart from work, badminton was his only form of relaxation. Unless none of his partners were available and he couldn't make the time, he would go swimming instead. If he had a day off, she could always run into him at his usual badminton court.
"My badminton is no good. Haven't you seen me play? My swings are weak; the shuttlecock goes out soft." She teased herself. "It can float in the air for ages without falling. It would be boring for you to play with me."
Shi Wenli asked, "Is that why you stopped coming to play with me? Because you thought your skills were poor?"
A few years ago, he had invited her out to play, along with some other colleagues from the hospital. After just over ten minutes, she had gone to sit on the sidelines, saying badminton wasn't for her.
Xu Qinghe admitted, "That's part of it." Her skill level was, at best, bronze, while he and the other two were at the king level. The gap was too wide—whoever played with her had to accommodate her, and no one could fully enjoy themselves. At the time, she was busy working toward becoming an attending physician, while also mastering the core skills of cardiac and neurosurgery anesthesia. She simply didn't have time to practice. Even though she wanted to play with him, she decided to give it up so as not to encroach on his rare relaxation time.