YHTD 11

Chapter 11

5
San Ye’s “young master syndrome” was particularly serious, mostly showing up as extreme laziness. His dad had complained to me more than once about San Ye’s eating habits, especially when it came to fish.

One time I went to San Ye’s house for dinner, and his dad specially made a braised turbot. For some reason, the meat along the backbone was especially tough, and no matter how much I tried with my chopsticks, I just couldn’t pull it off. I was about to give up and pick another spot when I heard his dad mutter under his breath, “Why are you so clumsy…”

Me: “…”

Wanting to fix my image in my future father-in-law’s eyes, I stubbornly kept working at that piece of meat that refused to part from the bone. When I finally managed to pick it up, I couldn’t help but quietly sigh in relief.

Sensing the awkward atmosphere, San Ye’s dad switched into “lecture mode,” directing his words at me:
“See, he usually doesn’t eat fish. It’s not that he doesn’t like it—it’s that he’s too lazy to pick out the bones. Can you imagine how lazy someone has to be to not even bother with fish bones?”

San Ye defended himself, “I’m not lazy! I just have trauma from choking on a bone before!”

His dad snorted, picked up a big, tender, boneless piece of fish, and dropped it into San Ye’s small dish. San Ye poked it with his chopsticks and immediately started eating.

His dad muttered like a voice-over, “Look how happily he’s eating now! See how lazy he is!”

I silently watched this instant contradiction unfold, realizing my future father-in-law’s eyes were sharp as a hawk!

6
People say science and engineering guys are “broad-minded.” Personally, I think it’s just low emotional intelligence.

Once, I was on a train. It was late at night, and my phone battery was about to die. I messaged San Ye, weakly asking what I should do. If I turn off my phone and sleep, what if something happens and I can’t reach you?

He replied: “Sleep my ass, get up and have fun!”

What I actually wanted was for him to reassure me—something like, Don’t worry, nothing will happen, just turn off your phone and sleep.

But this guy’s suggestion? “Go charge it in the corridor. Play on your phone while it’s charging. When it’s full, then go to sleep.”

I glanced at the pitch-black train carriage where the lights had been off for hours. At 1:30 in the morning, lying in my sleeper bunk, I fell into silence.

Where had that boyfriend gone—the one who used to worry I’d get kidnapped just picking up a delivery?

7
One time I washed grapes. I carefully plucked every grape from the stem, rinsed them, discarded the rotten ones, neatly arranged the rest on a plate, and even added a durian pancake on the side. San Ye was playing a game at the time. I put the plate by his hand, along with a fork, for him to snack on.

San Ye scoffed, “It’s just grapes. Why go to all that trouble?”

I ignored him and went to the kitchen to start stewing ribs for lunch. Barely ten minutes later, when I came back, the plate was sparkling clean…

I exploded, shouting at him:
“You didn’t even leave me a single one! Fine, but at least let me take a photo first! Damn it, I spent so long washing them, arranging them nicely—just so I could post about it!”

San Ye jumped, startled, then quickly grabbed the plate, held it to his mouth, opened wide, and let the very last grape—one he hadn’t eaten yet—drop back onto the plate…

He looked at me nervously. “Do you… still want to take a picture?”

Inside my mind, a little version of me did a hundred flying roundhouse kicks.

8
After being together with San Ye for so long, we’d already said almost everything there was to say. Unless something new caught both of our interest to discuss, our usual way of spending time together was simply sitting side by side, each doing our own thing.

So, the day before he had to return to Wuhan for work, we agreed: no phones, just spend the day together meaningfully.

But I had a novel update deadline to meet. I asked him to watch TV while I wrote for an hour. Halfway through, I noticed he was no longer on the sofa.

I ignored it, hurried to finish my writing, then carried my laptop to the bedroom—only to find him lying on the balcony, playing a mobile game.

I angrily kicked his leg, “Didn’t we agree—no phones today?!”

He instantly locked the screen, shoved the phone in his pocket, and closed his eyes, pretending to sunbathe.

I snapped, “I’m not blind! I saw you playing!”

He defended himself:
“The agreement was so we could spend time together. But you were busy writing, not paying attention to me. So I’m allowed to play!”

I glared at him, “Fine, play all day for all I care! I’m in a bad mood now, and I don’t want to go out to the movies or shopping with you anymore!”

I put my computer away and left the bedroom. Since we were staying at my grandma’s, I couldn’t raise my voice to argue. Instead, I went to the kitchen to help her cook.

Grandma eventually shooed me out, so I sat in the living room with some fruit, planning to make a salad. San Ye came out of the bedroom and silently sat down beside me.

We sat there in tense silence, neither saying a word.

Eventually, I peeled an apple, cut it up, and was left with a big core that still had some flesh on it. I held it out to him and said, “If you eat this clean, I’ll forgive you.”

Both of us hate apples. He grew up with an orchard at his grandma’s house, so he ate too many as a kid and got sick of them. As for me, I once got the idea to lose weight by eating nothing but three apples a day. I didn’t lose any weight, but I did develop a distaste for apples.

San Ye stared at the core for half a minute, then reluctantly asked, “Really?”

I nodded.

So he took it, chomped it down without tasting much of anything, and then smiled sheepishly as he tugged my arm. “We’re good now, right? Don’t be mad anymore.”

Seeing his eager-to-please expression, my mood lifted. As I continued cutting fruit, I peeled another apple. This time, he immediately took the core and ate it himself. Then, smugly, he told me:
“I’m cashing in an advance reconciliation! That way I can make you mad one more time today!”

Me: “…”

How could anyone so shamelessly announce to someone else, ‘I still get to piss you off once more today!’

I forced down my irritation, smiled sweetly, and told him:
“Alright. You’ve officially used up your advance reconciliation.”