Li Shiyi was explaining it to her. Eight characters; Song Shijiu was only able to process them after a full twenty seconds. She hadn’t had any playthings since childhood; the only beloved she had was Li Shiyi; Li Shiyi was her stuffed toy, her fledgling bird; her bamboo toy horse, her green plums; [1] she was the memories of each unsteady footstep, and her entire, world-spanning dream of embracing and kissing. She had almost thought that she was soon about to lose her. In the world, there wasn’t any feeling that emerged more splendidly than from losing and regaining something once again, even moreso when it was Li Shiyi. Li Shiyi hadn’t gotten angry, or resentful; she’d only placated her with a tone like the gentle spring breeze and melting snow. She hadn’t gone on a blind date, and didn’t want to produce children for someone else, and, more than that, she cared about her. Therefore, she earnestly and with great patience repeated that she hadn’t known. In her gaze, Song Shijiu lowered...

After a few days, it was a bright day with clear weather; Tu Laoyao was cooking noodles, and was massaging Tu Saozi’s swollen calves, forehead covered in sweat; A Yin came in, bringing in a bowl of fresh lychees, and, thinking that Tu Saozi shouldn’t be eating cold or raw foods, placed it aside, and said, “They were just in ice water; let them dry and then eat them.” Tu Saozi, legs bared, felt quite embarrassed, and smiled bashfully. “Thank you for your trouble, A Yin-guniang.” A Yin leaned over to look at her, and clicked her tongue regretfully. “Look at your legs, they’re swollen as radishes; when a finger presses, it leaves a depression.” Tu Saozi stroked her belly, and smiled with a sigh. “Women’s lives are just like this, enduring hardships.” She paused, and then added, “This time, it’s more or less experiencing misfortune; in the future, when A Yin-guniang becomes pregnant, I can tend to you somewhat.” A Yin hurriedly waved her hand, straightening up and stretching out her slende...

Song Shijiu, having received a suggestion, practised the skills with incredible diligence; but she was entirely without a foundation, and without method, only relying on holding her breath with rapt attention; it really caused one embarrassment; having practised for a few days, there wasn’t even any progress. So, she went to plead with A Yin, saying that before she’d given the incantation “as lovely as a flower”, which had been very useful; and, she thought about others’ magic; most of the time, they also needed incantations to be recited to work, and she asked A Yin to use her mind, and gift her another one. A Yin cracked a melon seed, and spat the shell into the handkerchief, carelessly getting a small amount on the corner of her mouth; she raised her hand to grab it, considering carefully. It had to be fierce and succinct, as well as useful. “Then…” She wrapped the melon seed in the handkerchief, and said, “Go drop dead.” Tu Laoyao snorted, laughing with more liveliness than a pig. ...

The pattering sound of the rain was like the quiet music of instruments in harmony; plump hands dredged up from within the vapour, holding the wrung out towel loosely between fingers, stretching forward into the bedding to wipe Song Shijiu’s back clean from top to bottom. Her back was both glossy and tender, having alluring dips and valleys, shoulder blades protruding slightly, but not too much, as if a dove restraining its wings. A Yin gazed at the red mark, smaller than a grain of rice, on the back of her neck; the bright moonlight smudged it a bit larger, and her absent-minded gaze turned it into the size of a fingernail. It stilled on the skin of the occupied young lady, as if an intruder entirely lacking decorum, and traced over the outline Li Shiyi’s words had drawn, like an uneducated seductress. The beautiful state of the young lady; the envy and shame in her heart had both long been peeled away, and so she could calmly and meaninglessly use Li Shiyi and Song Shijiu to make jok...

As the night fell, the stars twinkled like fireflies; the Li family courtyard had sunk into a deep sleep, only Song Shijiu’s room lit bright, the traces of a quiet, cold, elegant shadow on the screen window, which had attracted a layer of comfortable warmth in the yellow light. When Song Shijiu had returned from the mountain god temple, she’d immediately been struck with a fever, eyes blinking dazedly as she’d spoken nonsense; Tu Laoyao had volunteered to go look for A Luo; when A Luo heard about it, she said it was just snake venom from having just switched noses, and the fever would be gone in a night. Said like this, Li Shiyi couldn’t relax, and fed Song Shijiu half a bowl of plain rice porridge, sitting by the bedside and making sure that she slept peacefully. Song Shijiu’s vitality had improved a bit, but her cheeks still remained crimson, and her lips were also bright red, as if they’d been stained by juice from blossoms; her eyes were parted narrowly, as if having been assaulted...

Chen Man ran downstairs; downstairs had already turned into a mess, like a pot full of porridge. The sound of police sirens, the incessant alarms of the ambulances, and the group of people standing in a circle and watching obstructed by the police cordon; each person had their heads stretched out, looking within, wanting to see the state of the victims with their own eyes. Humanity’s favourite thing was watching a bustling scene; after all, it hadn’t been them  who the needle had pricked, so they didn’t know pain. Chen Man stood lifelessly at the doorway, looking at the doctors and nurses running about, hurriedly taking away those few injured people; in total, there were four who had been directly covered with white cloth. Five people; one was missing. Secretary Yang hurriedly followed after; it could be counted as chasing after; the police blocked them and didn’t let them advance; Secretary Yang hurriedly tugged at Chen Man’s sleeve, and said, “General Manager, don’t stand about h...

This was the first time that Song Shijiu had heard Li Shiyi speak on intimacy. However, it wasn’t aimed at her. Originally, when the four characters of “its love lasts eternally” came from Li Shiyi’s mouth, it was as pleasant to listen to as experiencing a long-lasting kiss. Song Shijiu felt her own love, hanging in the balance, had turned into tea, and had been gently plucked out by Li Shiyi, placed within a pot, and been scattered by boiling water, four scattered limbs and white bones emitting a pleasant scent, and then been picked up in a reserved and aloof manner by her, from the small pot into her mouth. To love someone in secret was to lift a heavy weight as if it were a light one; even if the heart expanded a hundred times and contracted a thousand, what was usually shown on the surface was only the remainder of those few things which were not crucial. It was impossible to demand that anyone else sympathise with this; even hoping there wasn’t anyone else who could sympathise wit...