Then never wake up.

When she woke up, her first thought wasn't "Where am I?" but rather, "Did I forget to turn off the humidifier last night?" Her throat wasn't dry, the air was sweet, and the locust blossoms outside the window were falling like salt. She pulled the blanket up, turned over, and found herself facing a glass of warm water, white steam rising from the rim like a small wisp of water.

"Awake?" Shen Huai'an stood at the foot of the bed, his hand holding the cup as steady as an instrument reading a value.

"You're awake. Give me some water, it'll save my life." She gulped it down, almost choking, coughed twice, then looked up at him with a grin. "Alright, I'm saved. Is there breakfast, my dear ever-changing chef?"

"Soy milk, poached egg, tomato."

"Oh wow, the classic three-piece set." She sprang up from the bed, but stopped abruptly as soon as her feet touched the ground: she couldn't remember when she started calling him "darling." It was as if a button had been pressed prematurely, and even the spring was nowhere to be found.

She thought for two seconds, then shrugged: Forget it, happiness is about having enough to eat first, we can talk about philosophical questions later.

——————————

The lights in the Civil Affairs Bureau were as white as disinfectant. They were in line, and the two young people in front of them were arguing for ages about the bride price—it was so old-fashioned. She tiptoed up behind him and whispered, "How about we have a little argument too, just for fun?"

Shen Huai'an turned his head to the side, his eyes as if washed by rain: "Fine. What do you want to argue about?"

"Noisy—who's washing the dishes tonight?"

“Me,” he said.

She laughed out loud: "Comrade Shen Huai'an! You don't know how to be romantic. There's a technique to arguing."

The photographer, holding up his camera, said, "Get closer, move your shoulder a little closer, it's hilarious!"

She grinned, her eyes crinkling into two little sickles. As she pressed her fingerprints, she noticed a detail: on the tip of her index finger, there was a small white scar from a childhood scald, which hadn't been erased in the dream. She thought to herself, "Huh?"—this was so illogical. If dreams were this detailed, it would be incredibly meticulous.

She looked up at him. His gaze was steady, as if he knew what she was thinking. She winked at him and whispered, "If this is a dream, please make me two extra bowls of noodles."

“Okay,” he said.

She cursed herself inwardly: Yunhe, stop dreaming. This dream is so good, why are you still being so sarcastic?

——————————

The wedding is scheduled for late autumn.

That day, she was wearing a white dress, which rustled in the wind like a plastic bag fluttering in the breeze. She almost burst out laughing.

“Chief Shen,” she leaned over and tugged at his tie, “be serious. You look even more compelling when you’re serious.”

"Okay." He cooperated with a "serious" expression for a second, but then softened at her look.

She mentally marked this as a bit over the top. A normal person at this point would be nervous, sweating, and making mistakes, but he seemed to have rehearsed it eight hundred times. She pinched her thigh: it hurt.

It's good that it hurts; pain means you're alive.

Halfway through her vows, she stole a glance at the little boy standing beside her—the one holding the flowers. Who did his features resemble? She couldn't place it, but her nose stung with tears. When the host asked, "Are you willing?" she shouted "Yes!" loudly and decisively, like a slogan. After shouting it, she burst into laughter, and then her eyes reddened.

When she got home that evening, she was putting on makeup in front of the mirror. After removing half of it, she suddenly stopped and said, "Old Shen, do you think we're really family from today onwards?"

He brought out a bowl of soup from the kitchen, topped with chopped scallions, and held the spoon to her lips. "Yes. From today onward, every day."

A "hmm" echoed in her mind again: the lines were too perfect. But she drank the soup—the saltiness was just right, even the salt tasted like it had been fished out of the sea, healthy and environmentally friendly.

——————————

She's pregnant. The pregnancy came unexpectedly.

One morning, as she was getting clothes from the balcony, her stomach rumbled, like a little fish gently tapping her with its tail.

"Ouch!" She clutched her waist with one hand and tugged at his arm with the other, complaining, "Is he kicking me or hitting me? You little bastard, are you even being reasonable?!"

“He’s greeting us,” he chuckled.

"Okay, the child who greets us gets full marks." She held her belly, her eyes glistening with tears. "Chief Chen, we're going to have a baby."

"Um."

She asked suspiciously, "Why don't you refute this? Didn't you say that mermaids and humans are reproductively isolated? Logically, you should be arguing about it."

“I’m very happy.” He paused, “more happy than winning an argument.”

She reached out and flicked his forehead: "This is so boring. You need to learn to be crazy, you know?"

He hummed in agreement and earnestly "learned to be crazy." That night, he made an unprecedented mess of the kitchen, turning it into a hurricane-like scene. She stood at the doorway, hands on her hips, laughing: "Okay, this madness has soul."

She had a dream that night, in which an invisible tide slowly rose and then receded. She stepped into the tide, her shoes got wet, but her heart was warm. She woke up, stared blankly at the ceiling for a while, then pulled the covers over her head and chuckled softly, "Even in your dreams you're celebrating a holiday, Yunhe, you're really something."

——————————

During her prenatal checkup, the doctor placed the stethoscope on her belly, and the room echoed with a series of thumps. She suddenly sat up straight, her eyes welling up with tears, and her voice became nasal: "Little one, you have a good rhythm, you must be like me."

The doctor laughed, and he laughed along. She then glared at him: "What are you laughing at? You should be nervous, understand? Nervous."

He immediately adopted the "sense of nervousness," clenching his fists until they were warm. She looked at him, her heart melting.

On the way home, she suddenly said, "Old Shen, don't you think our lives are going a little too smoothly?"

"Hmm?" He gripped the steering wheel, his profile quiet.

"It's like a TV drama, where all the high-energy and cringe-worthy moments are cut out, leaving only the gentle moments." She sighed. "This doesn't really resemble my life. My life has always been a mess, from childhood to adulthood. The smoother things go, the more uneasy I feel inside."

He didn't speak. A gust of wind hissed in through the crack in the car window, carrying the salty smell of the sea. Her nose itched, she sneezed, and laughed: "Whatever. I'll just enjoy two days of high-quality editing."

——————————

On the day her child was born, she screamed in pain, cursing heaven and earth and her ancestors for eighteen generations. After she finished cursing, she suddenly grabbed his hand and said, "Help me pry open a crack in the sky so I can breathe."

"Here you go." He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath steady like a breeze from the ocean depths. "Follow me, in, out. In—out—"

She actually followed along, obeying like a fool. She suddenly realized: when did she start listening to him like this? She couldn't remember. It was as if it had always been—always.

The child cried out "Wah!" and then fell silent, his little face scrunched up in a grimace, looking quite ugly. She stared at him: "This kid looks like he has something on his mind."

“He’s looking at you.” He pulled the child closer.

"What are you looking at? Do you think I've gotten fat?" she scoffed. "Look all you want, Mom looks great."

She laughed. As she laughed, tears fell, landing on her child's forehead. She quickly wiped them away with her sleeve, saying, "Oh, I'm sorry, Mommy won't cry anymore. Mommy is happy."

——————————

Having a child has robbed life of its refinement, like the burnt edges of a pot smoldering from cooking fires. She paced the house, holding her baby, singing off-key nursery rhymes, then forgetting the lyrics halfway through and starting to ramble: "Little Chao, little Chao, growing tall and strong, not crying today, laughing tomorrow too..."

He stood to one side, watching her lift the baby up and gently put him down, grinning like a monkey. She turned and glared at him: "Don't just stand there, come here and burp him. Focus on yourself, patting too lightly won't work, pat him hard."

He did as she said. The child hiccuped, and she put her hands on her hips: "See? I'm a professional."

The child cried as usual that night. She picked him up and shook him back and forth, her hair a tangled mess, muttering, "Whose ancestor is putting on a concert in the middle of the night? Shut up—okay, okay, ancestor, please continue, I'll be a backup dancer, alright?"

He handed her some water, which she downed in one gulp. "Thanks, Lao Shen." She then shoved the child into his arms. "It's a rotation system, otherwise I'll die of overwork sooner or later."

He took it, his posture extremely serious, as if holding some ancient instrument. The child quickly quieted down in his arms. She squinted at him for a while, then suddenly felt a little jealous: "Did you use some kind of superpower to cheat?"

"He knew it was me."

"Tch, as expected, Dad's reputation is still better." After saying this, she stared at him for a while, then suddenly frowned, "Wait a minute... how come you haven't aged at all?"

"What?"

“You, your face. Look at me, after giving birth, my dark circles are so thick they could smear a wall, while you’re as white as a bowl of clear soup noodles, dazzlingly white.” She cupped his face in her hands, “Confess and you’ll be treated leniently.”

He chuckled softly: "You're still very beautiful."

"Nonsense." She let go of him. "Fine, I'll let you off the hook for today."

She turned to leave, but her heart skipped a beat: she had said those words before, seemingly in a colder place. She stood at the door for two seconds, then turned back and waved to him: "Go to sleep."

——————————

She started forgetting small things. She kept losing her keys, forgetting her phone, and forgetting to turn off the stove while the water was boiling—luckily, he was quick-witted and nimble-fingered. She joked, "My brain probably cleared out all the nonsense I used to remember, making room for serious things."

"What is the important thing?"

"You and the child."

After she finished speaking, she felt so embarrassed by her own cheesy words that she couldn't help but spit out two "pui pui" sounds, then laughed, "Fine, I'll let you use this line for ten years."

He then smiled and accepted it, saying, "I will remember it."

She also began to notice other oddities: the people in the neighborhood always had the same faces, the supermarket cashier was always the same girl, her smile like she was following a set schedule; the weather was unusually 'cooperative,' sunny when she wanted to hang out laundry, raining when she wanted to stay in bed; the subway was never crowded, as if she were being gently carried along in a meticulously planned city. She stood at the intersection, staring blankly at the traffic lights—the red light was like the tide, the green light like the receding tide, who was pressing the button? She couldn't help but laugh out loud: Who cares, whoever presses it is right, I'll cross the street first.

But she wasn't entirely oblivious. That evening, as she leaned on his shoulder watching TV, she suddenly said, "Old Shen, if I said that all of this might... not be true, would you hit me?"

"Won't."

"Then listen to me. We've been having such a smooth time lately, like a TV drama with commercials cut out, without even a transition. I know I'm unlucky, my luck hasn't been this good. But..."

She paused, then sighed, "But I like it. You know what? I like it. Even if it's fake, I'll still be secretly happy. When it finally falls apart, I'll beat you so badly your ancestors wouldn't recognize you."

"I understand." He pulled the blanket up over her shoulder. "Hit me however you want, just don't kill me."

"Don't try to wake me up." She stared at him, her eyes shining like newly cleaned glass. "Let me tell you, if I wake up, I'll hit you."

He hummed in agreement. She was satisfied and snuggled into his arms, saying, "I'm going to sleep."

——————————

The day her child first called her "Mom" was a rainy day. She was on the balcony collecting laundry, and before she had finished, her child called out "Mom!" from the living room, clear and bright, like someone had tapped her heart. She exclaimed, "Holy crap—!" and dropped the laundry, rushing out barefoot to hug her child and spin him around: "Call me another one! Give me ten more!"

The child laughed, and she laughed too. After she finished laughing, she suddenly stared at the floor for two seconds: she remembered running barefoot like this and laughing like this in other places before, but that time, her laughter was followed by a feeling of panic.

She patted her face: "I don't want to think about these things. Happiness is so precious, I have to save it for later."

That night, after the child fell asleep, she nestled on the sofa watching him repair his toy car. After watching for a while, she suddenly said, "Old Shen, do you know how smart I am? I can understand a lot of things you don't say."

"Know."

"Do you know what I'm thinking right now?"

I want to eat noodles.

“You solved the case. I want to eat Zhajiangmian (noodles with soybean paste).” She raised her hand. “The cheap kind in the dorm is so salty, I’m going to cry while I eat it.”

He went into the kitchen. Watching his back, her heart melted, and she almost laughed: This dream is so good at feeding people, so worldly-wise.

——————————

They took the child to the beach. The sand was fine, and the wind was strong. She took off her shoes and went down to walk on the sand, but after a couple of steps, she came back and pulled him: "Don't pretend to be serious, get in the water and walk on it. No one who doesn't walk on the beach today will get no dinner."

He did as she was told. She watched him roll up his trouser legs and couldn't help but laugh out loud: "You're so serious about even rolling up your trouser legs, like you're doing surgery."

"Occupational hazard," he said, looking at her. "As long as you're happy."

"Of course. I don't ask for much—as long as you and the children are here, not hungry or cold, I'll give the world a perfect score."

As soon as she finished speaking, a sudden chill ran through her: it felt like something had gently touched her from behind, and her palms began to sweat. She froze for a couple of seconds, then pretended nothing was wrong and ran after the child. The wind carried a heavy salty smell, and her nose stung terribly; she didn't know if it was from the wind or from her thoughts.

In the evening, she and he sat on the rocks. She asked, "Are there times when you're afraid this is all a dream, afraid that when you wake up, I won't be there anymore?"

He thought for a moment and said, "Yes."

"So what do you plan to do?"

"To keep you as happy as possible while you're still asleep."

She stared at him for a long time, then cursed, "Damn it, how can you be so good with words?"

He laughed again: "Okay, then don't wake me up. If you do, I'll beat you up."

"good."

——————————

Her memory wasn't working properly. She forgot to turn on the gas, forgot her access card, and forgot where she put her phone. She fumbled in her pockets, pulling out a bunch of hair clips, a coupon, and half a candy wrapper. She looked up and said, "Old Shen, am I getting old?"

"Xiaoyun, you're just tired." His voice was as gentle as ever.

"You're just trying to fool a child. Fine, I'll accept that I'm getting old." She scratched her head. "Getting old is fine too. When you're old, you can be lazy without any excuse."

That evening, she looked in the mirror, examined the fine lines around her eyes, and patted her face. "Not bad, I can still fight. I'm not someone who makes a living off my looks."

He looked at her from the doorway. She raised an eyebrow at him: "What are you looking at? Think it in your heart, and say it out loud: 'Wife, you are so beautiful.'"

He did as she said. She waved her hand: "Alright, alright, sincerity gets eight points, tactics get nine points, average score is excellent."

She turned and went into the bedroom, her steps heavy, like drumbeats. But her heart wasn't quite so resounding. She knew some places were slowly thinning, like the elbows of her old shirt, which had become see-through after wearing them for a while. But she decided not to look at the holes first—she looked at the collar, which was still fine.

——————————

One night, she woke up from a dream. Her back was soaked with sweat, and her heart was pounding so hard it felt like someone was knocking on the door. She sat up, gripping the headboard, speechless for a long time. He handed her some water, and she took a sip, the water bringing her back to reality.

“I had a dream,” she said. “I dreamt that we weren’t here.”

"Um."

"In a...very cold place. I was wearing a white lab coat, my hair was all tied up, and my face looked terrible. You were there too, but not like you now. You were very fair-skinned and beautiful, unrealistically beautiful."

He didn't speak, waiting for her to continue.

"I wanted to call your name in my dream. My voice was hoarse, and I couldn't say it, so I felt so anxious I wanted to cry. When I woke up, I felt even more like crying." She smiled slightly. "Am I sick?"

"You're not sick."

"Then hug me."

He hugged her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling a salty breath. "Why do you smell like seawater?"

"It might be windy today."

"Okay, whatever you say. I won't investigate anymore." She snuggled closer into his arms. "Don't move, I'm going to sleep."

The instant she closed her eyes, another thought flashed through her mind: if this was a dream, she knew; but what good would knowing do? She didn't want to wake up. Waking up meant going back, and going back meant—

She doesn't say it. Not even in her mind.

——————————

Her child is in elementary school, and his schoolbag looks like a little shark. She squatted down at the school gate to tie his shoelaces, looked up at him and made a face: "If you don't get an A on your homework today, I'll eat your favorite egg tart tonight."

The child chuckled, waved to her, and walked into the school gate. Watching his retreating figure, her nose stung again, and she thought: No, Yunhe, if you keep being so sentimental, you'll end up pickling yourself into sauerkraut sooner or later.

On her way home, she reached a traffic light. The red light turned green, then red again, the rhythm as steady as a giant heart breathing through the traffic. Suddenly, she looked up and saw a clear sky, the clouds like rolling waves. She stood there for a while, and a phrase came to mind—"We've reached the shore."

She didn't know who said those words or when they were said, but they were like a small key that gently turned in her heart.

She raised her hand to rub the corner of her eye and whispered, "Okay."

——————————

That night, she leaned against him watching the news. The television program reported on a coastal city building a new seawall, a diver rehabilitation program, and how a new breathing technique improves cardiopulmonary function. After watching for a while, she stretched and said, "How tedious."

He asked, "Are you bored?"

"No. It's real. Too real, so real it's like it's explaining the logic of my dream." She tilted her head. "Did you understand what I said?"

"Um."

"Then tell me, what am I saying?"

"You know that some places in this world are carefully arranged, but you choose not to overturn them for the time being."

She stared at him for a while, then laughed: "Well, Lao Shen, you're getting better and better at talking. This is the way you spoil me rotten."

She reached out and pinched his cheek. "I'll give you one more chance. Right now, immediately, promise me one thing."

"explain."

"Don't wake me up. I'll wake up on my own. I might swear when I do, but don't take it to heart."

"good."

She gave a satisfied "humph," then flopped onto the sofa. "Going to sleep. We still need to go grocery shopping tomorrow. I want coconut chicken. Get your wallet ready."

He: "Hmm."

She closed her eyes, and her breathing slowed down.

——————————

She walked confidently down the main road of happiness, as if the corridor lights were always on for her. She knew something was amiss, knew there were flaws, knew someone was secretly tightening every screw for her—she even knew who that person was. But she decided not to ask, not to pry, not to dismantle for the time being. She treated this happiness as a short-term stolen gain, the longer she kept it, the more she profited.

She remained as carefree as ever, swearing, laughing out loud, and being cheeky. She would argue with a salesperson for half an hour at the supermarket to get a free gift for her child; she would leave her socks scattered everywhere at home, stepping on them and cursing herself; she would lean over and arrange his vegetables into the shape of "LOVE" while he was diligently chopping them, laughing so hard she almost fell over. She deliberately made her life a little messy, as if protesting against some unseen scheme: "I'll make a mess of things, and you can't do anything about it."

Late at night, she would often wake up for a short while. She would stare at the ceiling, watching a very thin crack extend from the corner, like a dried-up stream. She would reach out and gesture in the air, trying to sew the crack shut. It didn't matter if she couldn't, because daytime would come, and daytime would paint the crack white.

"Old Shen—" she called him once in the dark, her voice muffled by the blanket, "Are you there?"

"exist."

"Okay. I'll sleep a little longer."

She rolled over, buried her face in the pillow, and muttered, "If I wake up, I'll hit someone."

He responded from behind, like the sea echoing in the distance. The lights were off, and the wind blew through the window cracks, carrying a hint of salt, just right.