On the living room sofa.
Zhang Ruowei had seen Empresses in the Palace more times than she could count and knew the plot inside out, so her mind wasn’t on the television at all. She played with her phone for a while, then noticed the watch on Chen Qingqing’s wrist and asked, smiling, “Qingqing, that’s the watch Xu Ye gave you, isn’t it?”
Before Chen Qingqing could answer, Jiang Yu laughed. “You’re only spotting that now? I saw the pair of them wearing matching watches at breakfast this morning.”
Chen Qingqing made a small sound of assent, gave her wrist a shake and smiled. “It is nice, isn’t it?”
Jiang Meilin had actually bought Chen Qingqing a watch once before — the Vacheron Constantin currently on Jiang Meilin’s own wrist. Chen Qingqing had worn it a handful of times at most, and in the end Jiang Meilin had simply taken to wearing it herself.
That watch was worth a great deal more than this one. But Chen Qingqing had never cared about what things cost, and to her, the one Xu Ye had given her meant more.
“Shen Xinyi, what did Qin Zhiwei give you?”
“Um…”
Shen Xinyi knew there was no hiding it. Her bag was small, and when she’d put the instant camera in it the night before, the zip hadn’t even closed.
So she came clean. “An instant camera.”
“Must be nice, having someone. Jiang Yu, go and order me a bubble tea. Pumpkin walnut milk — hold the pumpkin, hold the walnut milk. Just the nanren.” [TL: 南瓜核桃仁露 minus 瓜 and 核桃露 leaves 南仁, nánrén — a homophone of 男人, “a man.”]
“Get lost. We’re out.”
Shen Xinyi could hear the sound of a wok going in the kitchen. She lowered her voice. “Should I not have accepted his present?”
Zhang Ruowei said, “If you’ve decided to keep seeing him, why on earth shouldn’t you accept it? When his birthday comes round you can give him something back. Just don’t be like a certain someone and end up wrapped around his finger that fast.”
Chen Qingqing knew exactly who she meant. She rewarded Zhang Ruowei with a flat look, pretended she hadn’t heard, and kept watching the television.
Zhang Ruowei carried on dispensing wisdom. “Step one in a relationship is holding hands. My advice is within a fortnight of making it official. After holding hands, the next step is hugging — the normal pace for that is within two to three months. After that comes kissing, and that one depends on the people involved…”
“Xinyi, Qin Zhiwei hasn’t held your hand yet, has he?”
Shen Xinyi shook her head quickly.
Zhang Ruowei grinned. “Then you want to be careful. Once you’ve held hands, there’s basically no putting the brakes on after that.”
Shen Xinyi waved her hands in a panic. “No — no, it won’t be like that. We’re not moving that fast.”
“Let me tell you something. When a boy wants to hold your hand, he’ll have all sorts of tricks up his sleeve. He is definitely not going to come out and ask, ‘Can I hold your hand?'”
“So what do they say?”
“They say things like: ‘Your hands are so small.’ ‘Let’s compare hand sizes.’ ‘I heard girls’ hands are really soft.’ ‘Can I read your palm?’ Something along those lines, anyway — and then they take the opening and get hold of you. And once there’s been a first time, there’ll be a second and a third.”
Jiang Yu, Shen Xinyi and Chen Qingqing all sat there absolutely dumbstruck.
…
In the kitchen.
Xu Ye was on the wok and Qin Zhiwei was prepping. They say a man and a woman working together means nobody gets tired — but these two worked together perfectly well.
Qin Zhiwei’s family ran a small supermarket and both his parents were always busy, so he’d learned to cook back in middle school. He’d started with boiling noodles, then egg fried rice, then stir-fries; the early attempts hadn’t tasted like much, but you get better by doing it.
There wasn’t much time, so Xu Ye hadn’t planned anything elaborate — five dishes and a soup, just with larger portions of each.
The main dish was braised pork belly. Then cola chicken wings, eggplant with minced pork, cucumber stir-fried with diced chicken, and hand-torn cabbage.
The soup was a simple three-delicacy tofu soup.
The two of them started a little after eleven and it was half twelve before everything was out of the pan. Zhang Ruowei and the others only came into the kitchen as the last dish came off the heat, and immediately started piling on the compliments.
“That smells incredible—”
“It looks amazing. I had no idea you two could cook like this.”
“Thanks for all your hard work, handsome pair.”
Xu Ye gave the lot of them a flat look and laughed in spite of himself. “All right, that’s enough sucking up. Get yourselves a bowl and serve the rice.”
Zhang Ruowei said quickly, “Bowls are in the cupboard. Give them a rinse first — they’ve been washed, but they’ve been sitting a long time.”
“Where’s the rice paddle?”
“I’ll find it.”
The square dining table seated exactly six. Xu Ye served Chen Qingqing a bowl of rice first, then one for himself — and no sooner had he sat down than Chen Qingqing scraped a small portion of hers across into his bowl. Fortunately he’d seen it coming and hadn’t filled his own.
“I’m starting.”
“Go on, eat. Don’t stand on ceremony, there’s nobody here but us.”
They couldn’t wait to try it, and every one of them made appreciative noises through the whole meal, thoroughly satisfied, and delivered glowing verdicts at the end of it.
It was the first time Chen Qingqing had eaten anything Xu Ye had cooked. She wasn’t a fussy eater, but she had eaten every delicacy there was, so she thought these particular dishes were merely all right. Hearing her roommates all praising him, though, she felt a small flicker of pride.
The little expression on her face said: My boyfriend’s pretty impressive, isn’t he?
Talk went back and forth over the table, small and unimportant. Afterward, Jiang Yu and Shen Xinyi volunteered to do the washing up. The two of them were just getting to their feet to clear the table when Xu Ye caught hold of Jiang Yu. “Jiang Yu. Don’t put yourself out. Leave the dishes to Zhiwei and Xinyi.”
Understanding arrived all at once. Jiang Yu nodded hastily. “Fair enough. Saves me the trouble.”
Shen Xinyi pushed her lips out, as though objecting to being abandoned quite so quickly — but she still got up and started clearing the wreckage of the table with Qin Zhiwei.
Fed and watered, the rest of them went back to lying about on the sofa like corpses.
Seeing Chen Qingqing sitting on the big sofa with Zhang Ruowei and Jiang Yu, Xu Ye took the armchair beside it and asked, “Shall we find a film?”
“Sure.”
“What do you all want to watch? I’ll cast it from my phone.”
Jiang Yu said, “Anything that isn’t horror.”
Zhang Ruowei added, “And no martial arts films. Girls don’t like those.”
Xu Ye opened a streaming app, scrolled for a while, then smiled. “How about a romance?”
“Which one?”
“Capital Love Story. It’s got Chen Sicheng and Tong Liya in it—” [TL: A lightly altered title. The film described — Chen Sicheng and Tong Liya, 2014 — is 《北京爱情故事》, Beijing Love Story.]
“That’ll do.”
Xu Ye hit play and cast the video to the television.
Once Qin Zhiwei and Shen Xinyi had finished washing up in the kitchen, they came back to the living room together — but there was an awkwardness waiting for them. The big sofa was a three-seater. Four people could sit on it, technically, but it would be a squeeze. Seeing that everyone else was absorbed in the film, Qin Zhiwei said quietly to Shen Xinyi, “Why don’t you take the armchair?”
Shen Xinyi said, equally quietly, “What about you?”
“I’ll sit on the floor. It’s fine.”
Shen Xinyi was about to say something when Xu Ye turned his head and said, straight out, “Qingqing. Let’s sit together — give your spot to Shen Xinyi.”
Chen Qingqing looked at Xu Ye’s armchair, then at Qin Zhiwei and Shen Xinyi. While she was still hesitating, Zhang Ruowei laughed. “Oh, come on. The two of you can squeeze in, it’s fine. You’re practically an old married couple as it is.”
And with that, Zhang Ruowei gave Chen Qingqing a nudge with her hip. Chen Qingqing was embarrassed, but Qin Zhiwei and Shen Xinyi still hadn’t sat down after all this time, so she got up anyway and went to sit with Xu Ye.
Shen Xinyi sat down beside Jiang Yu at once, and Qin Zhiwei took the other armchair.
The film played on.
Xu Ye had seen it before, but he’d long since forgotten what happened in it.
As everyone’s attention settled onto the story, the living room went quiet, apart from the occasional sound of a crisp being chewed.
But when the progress bar hit eleven minutes and fifteen seconds, the expressions on all six faces changed.
Because what came next was a sex scene.
(End of Chapter 174)