36. See

Zhuang Jia was awakened by the chirping of birds outside the window.

Suggestions on the division of labor within the family and personal space

.

He instantly regained his senses.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, falling on the paper. He sat up, leaned against the headboard, and read line by line. The handwriting was Yi Yi's, but the layout was as neat as a report. From picking up and dropping off the children to helping with homework, from sharing housework to providing emotional support... everything was clearly stated.

His first reaction was absurdity. Was it really necessary to write down family matters like this? Like negotiation terms.

But then, a more complex emotion welled up inside him. He looked at the items: “Pick up and drop off Kai Kai at least three times a week,” “Responsible for weekend breakfasts,” “Pack your own clothes”... Each item was ridiculously simple, yet each one was like a tiny needle, pricking a place he had never examined closely before.

"Awake?" Yi Yi's voice came from the doorway. She was already dressed, wearing a light jacket over her sportswear, and her face was flushed from exercising.

Zhuang Jia looked up at her, still clutching the two pieces of paper in his hand. "This is..." His throat was a little dry.

"It was released last night." Yi Yi walked in, her tone calm, revealing no emotion. "You can look at it first, no rush. I'll go make breakfast."

“Yi Yi,” Zhuang Jia called out to her, “do we… really need to do this?”

Yi Yi stopped at the doorway and turned around. Sunlight slanted across her profile, revealing fine downy hairs. "Zhuang Jia," she said softly, "if your company were to adjust departmental responsibilities, would you rely solely on verbal communication, or would you send emails, create meeting minutes, and clearly define authority and responsibilities?"

"That's work..."

“A home is a business that needs to be managed.” Yi interrupted him, her gaze falling on the paper in his hand. “I’m just clarifying what I didn’t make clear before. You can disagree, you can discuss it, you can revise it. But at least, we need a basis for ‘talking’.”

After she finished speaking, she turned and went to the kitchen.

Zhuang Jia sat on the bed, the edges of the paper crumpled from his grip. The sizzling sound of frying eggs came from the kitchen, along with Kai Kai's groggy calls of "Mommy." Everything seemed normal, yet everything was different.

He got out of bed, walked to his desk, and picked up a pen. Next to "Matters Zhuang Jia Can Share," he paused, and finally put a checkmark next to the first item. Then came the second, the third... He drew slowly, each item as if confirming permission to enter an unfamiliar territory.

He stopped when he drew the eighth item: "Learn to cook three signature dishes." He couldn't cook. Apart from instant noodles and fried eggs, he had almost never been in the kitchen. The last time he tried to make soup, he burned the pot dry.

He put down his pen and walked to the kitchen doorway. Yi Yi was stirring the porridge in the pot, while Kai Kai sat at the dining table playing with his dinosaur toys.

“Um… cooking,” Zhuang Jia leaned against the door frame, her voice a little awkward, “you have to teach me.”

Yi Yi glanced back at him, her lips seemingly curving into a smile before quickly returning to their usual shape. "Let's start with scrambled eggs with tomatoes; it won't kill anyone."

"Okay," Zhuang Jia replied, then paused and added, "I've looked at the list. Most of it is fine. Some... I'll try my best."

"Okay." Yi Yi ladled out the porridge. "Eat first."

In the morning, Zhuang Jia took her to the park. Yi Yi stayed home and turned on her computer.

The document titled "At Thirty-Seven, I Decide to Start Over" was mostly empty. She watched the cursor blink, her fingers resting on the keyboard, but she didn't know what to write next.

Should I write about anxiety? Confusion? The panic I feel when I wake up in the middle of the night? Or the self-hypnosis of repeatedly telling myself "I can do it" while running?

She opened a writing forum, registered an anonymous account, and posted a thread in the "Life Essays" section:

"I'm 37 years old, a former media professional, and a full-time mom for six years. My body is giving me warning signs, and I want to pick up my pen again, but I don't know what to write or who to write for. Has anyone had a similar experience?"

She sent it, like throwing a message in a bottle into the ocean. She didn't expect an immediate reply.

My phone rang; it was Xian'er.

"The list has been given?" Xian'er asked directly.

"Um."

What was his reaction?

“No arguing or making a fuss, they said they would try their best.” Yi Yi paused, “It was better than I expected.”

“Men are like that; as long as you don’t hurt their pride, you can reason with them,” Xian’er laughed. “But you wait and see, it’ll be tough once it starts. My man used to forget to take out the trash for three days.”

"I know," Yi Yi said, looking out the window. "Take it slow."

"By the way, you mentioned last time that you wanted to write something, have you started yet?"

"I started writing, but I can't continue."

“That’s normal. Start with small things and don’t think about writing something earth-shattering right away. Write about daily life, about grocery shopping and cooking, about your little quirks with Zhuang Jia. Authentic things have their own power.”

After hanging up the phone, Yi Yi looked back at the screen. She created a new document and named it "Daily Life".

She wrote the first line:

“This morning, I gave my husband a list. After looking at it, he said that learning to cook should start with scrambled eggs with tomatoes. This is probably the first time in our ten years of marriage that we have talked so specifically about who should do what.”

She stopped writing here. It didn't seem like anything special.

But with her fingertips hovering over the keyboard, she continued after a while:

"The tenth item on the list is: chat with your child for ten minutes before bed every day. Last night I asked him, did you talk to Daddy today? He said yes, and Daddy asked him which dinosaur he liked the most. He said it was the Triceratops because it has a shield on its head to protect itself. Zhuang Jia said, then Daddy should be a Triceratops to protect Kai Kai. Kai Kai said, no, Daddy should be a Tyrannosaurus Rex, it's powerful and can fight bad guys. I was listening to this and suddenly realized that there were some conversations I had missed before."

As she wrote, the words gradually flowed smoothly. Like a blocked riverbed being cleared of stones, the water began to flow, slowly but surely.

In the park, Zhuang Jia was being dragged around by Kai Kai.

"Dad, look! The ducks are fighting!" Kai Kai shouted excitedly, pointing at the lake.

Two mallards were scrambling for breadcrumbs thrown by tourists, flapping their wings and splashing water everywhere. Watching this, Zhuang Jia suddenly thought of the power struggles and infighting within the company, and felt a little dazed.

"Dad, can you fight?" Kai Kai asked, looking up at his father.

“Dad doesn’t fight.” Zhuang Jia squatted down. “Dad… solves problems in other ways.”

"Should we make lists like Mom does?"

Children speak without thinking, but Zhuang Jia was taken aback. He patted his son's head and said, "Hmm, a bit like him."

My phone vibrated; it was Wu Si.

"Want to come out and sit for a bit? Same place as always."

Zhuang Jia initially wanted to refuse, but seeing Kai Kai running wildly on the grass, she changed her mind: "Can I take my son?"

"Sure, let me get some of your popularity."

In the coffee shop, Wu Si looked even more haggard, with dark circles under his eyes. He ordered a black coffee, without sugar or milk.

"Went to the hospital again?" Zhuang Jia asked as he ordered Kai Kai a glass of juice.

"Hmm, a second check. Same old story, the chances are slim." Wu Si stirred his coffee, the spoon clinking against the cup. "My wife cried again last night, saying she was sorry and that we should get a divorce so I could find someone who can have children."

Zhuang Jia didn't know what to say. He thought of Yi Yi's list, and the clauses about "sharing," "support," and "equal partnership." Compared to Wu Si's predicament, his own troubles seemed...luxurious?

"And you?" Wu Si looked up at him. "How have you been lately?"

"The company might have to lay off employees," Zhuang Jia said frankly. "The pressure is immense."

“That’s normal. Layoffs happen every year.” Wu Si said dismissively. “With your seniority, you’re not going to be laid off.”

"They can't touch me, but they want me to touch others." Zhuang Jia's voice was deep. "The kid under my command just got married, and his wife is pregnant."

Wu Si fell silent. After a long while, he gave a bitter smile: "It's all difficult." He looked at Kai Kai, who was concentrating on drawing in the seat next to him, "Sometimes I really envy you, at least... you have such a good son."

Zhuang Jia followed his gaze. Kai Kai was intently coloring a green dinosaur with crayons, his little face tense, looking adorably focused. A soft spot in his heart softened, then tightened again.

“Old Wu,” Zhuang Jia suddenly said, “if your wife… it’s not a problem with fertility, but something else, like she’s having a setback at work, or she’s not in good health and needs you to take care of the family more, what would you do?”

Wu Si paused for a moment: "Of course we have to take care of that. When people are together, isn't it all about supporting each other?"

"What if...she made a list and told you exactly what you needed to stock up on?"

“Just list them out, saves us the trouble of guessing.” Wu Si finished his coffee. “It’s better than keeping it to ourselves and then bursting out. My wife and I now… sigh, we just don’t talk enough and guess too much, and as we guess, we go astray.”

After Kai Kai finished drawing, he ran over holding up the picture and exclaimed, "Dad, look! A Triceratops!"

The green dinosaur, with its three horns painted crookedly, was full of imposing presence. Zhuang Jia took the painting: "It's really well done."

"I'll give this to Daddy!" Kai Kai hugged his neck. "Daddy, be the Triceratops!"

Zhuang Jia held his son's soft little body and suddenly felt a lump in his throat. He looked out the window; the sun was shining brightly, and the ginkgo trees along the street had almost all their leaves fallen, their branches stretching towards the sky, possessing a kind of solitary beauty.

That evening, Zhuang Jia offered to wash the dishes.

Yi Yi was a little surprised, but didn't say anything, handing him the apron. The water gurgled as he washed slowly and carefully, rinsing each bowl three times. Kai Kai was watching cartoons in the living room, his giggles occasionally drifting over.

Halfway through washing, Zhuang Jia suddenly said, "The third item on the list is tutoring math homework. Where is Kai Kai at now?"

"I'm learning addition and subtraction within 100 recently, including carrying and borrowing." Yi Yi was wiping the stove, her movements never stopping.

"Let me see his workbook."

After wiping her hands, Yi took out a math workbook from her bag and handed it to him. Zhuang Jia's hands were wet and he didn't feel comfortable taking it, so Yi opened it and pointed out the homework from the past few days and the marks the teacher had made.

“Here,” Yi Yi pointed to a wrong answer, “he always forgets to carry over.”

“I’ll tell him about it tonight,” Zhuang Jia said.

"Hmm." Yi Yi closed the notebook. "Don't rush him, he's easily flustered."

"Know."

The conversation was brief, but it possessed a strange...sense of order. Like two gears that were originally operating independently, attempting to mesh for the first time, though awkward, they were heading in the same direction.

Before going to bed, Zhuang Jia went to Kai Kai's room. Yi Yi listened outside the door. He explained the problem in a low, patient voice, occasionally interspersed with Kai Kai's excited shouts of "Oh!" and "I understand!"

She went back to her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Her phone lit up; it was a reply notification from the writing forum. Someone had left a comment on her post:

"Also 37, a former accountant, I tried to return to the workforce after my child started elementary school, but I kept hitting roadblocks. Now I'm writing on a public WeChat account, documenting the struggles and glimmers of hope during my midlife career transition. I don't have many followers, but writing it out is like leaving myself a window to the world. Keep going, just keep writing, we'll worry about the rest later."

A link to a WeChat official account was attached at the end.

Yi Yi clicked on it. The title was "The Accountant Aunt's Breakthrough Diary," and it contained few articles, each short, about failing job interviews, the frustration of learning new software, and the warmth of a child's simple question, "Mom, are you happy today?" The writing was simple, even a little clumsy, but there were dozens of comments below, all sharing similar experiences and encouraging each other.

She looked at it for a long time, then opened her "daily" document.

Continue writing:

"Today, someone told me online that writing it down is like opening a window for yourself. I want to give it a try. I'll start with this window and see if I can let a little light in to illuminate this 37-year-old me who is a bit lost but still wants to move forward."

She finished writing, saved it, and turned off the computer.

Zhuang Jia tiptoed in, his body smelling of baby bath wash. "Asleep," he whispered.

"Mmm." Yi Yi lay down.

Turn off the lights. In the darkness, the two were still a little distance apart, but the air seemed less stagnant.

“Yi Yi,” Zhuang Jia suddenly spoke.

"Um?"

“The list… I posted it on the study wall.” His voice was somewhat muffled in the darkness, “That way I won’t forget it.”

Yi Yi opened her eyes in the darkness, and after a long while, she softly hummed in agreement.

She didn't say "thank you," and he didn't say anything else.

But some changes are like ice in spring; the cracks are tiny and hard to see with the naked eye, but the rushing water underneath can only be heard when you get close.

It's late at night.

The city sleeps outside the window, and the lights of thousands of homes gradually go out.

In this ordinary bedroom, two tired middle-aged people, on their respective halves of the bed, quietly moved one centimeter towards each other.

It's only one centimeter.

But it was enough to bring some warmth to the cold bed.

That's enough to make the long night seem less unbearable.