Chapter 44 (End of Main Text) If I could do it all over again, I still wouldn't...
When long-separated couples reunite, their passion is indeed bound to ignite.
It had only been a few days since we parted, but it felt like a long time had passed. The longing I had been holding back was ignited and burned fiercely.
Su Mu said, "I'd better take a shower first," but Jiang Ran stopped him as soon as his fingers touched the zipper of his coat.
Jiang Ran swept his arm around him and scooped him up in his arms. Su Mu gasped and wrapped his arms around Jiang Ran's neck, his cheek brushing against the warm skin on the side of his neck. He smelled the familiar scent, mixed with a hint of the chill of the winter night he had just brought back from outside.
"Let's shower together." Jiang Ran's voice was close to his ear. He carried her and walked steadily toward the bathroom, kicked open the half-closed door, and closed it behind him in one smooth motion, giving Su Mu no chance to protest.
When the showerhead was turned on, warm water cascaded down, creating a misty atmosphere. The mirror quickly became fogged up, blurring the light and shadow in the small space.
Su Mu was pressed against the cold tiled wall. Water droplets trickled down Jiang Ran's brow bone, nose bridge, and jawline, dripping onto the hollow of Su Mu's collarbone and then meandering down. The steam and heat made his vision somewhat blurry.
Su Mu vaguely thought that Jiang Ran had indeed made great progress.
When they first started out, they were both very inexperienced, tentatively exploring and figuring things out, like two children who had just received a new toy, stumbling and fumbling, but with a kind of clumsy sincerity.
They were at roughly the same learning pace back then.
But now, Su Mu had a strange feeling that Jiang Ran had been secretly getting tutoring behind his back. Not only was she getting tutoring, but she was also making rapid progress, leaving him far behind and making it impossible for him to catch up.
He was unwilling to accept this and didn't want to fall behind, so he tried to keep up with Jiang Ran's pace.
The body tells a story. The fatigue accumulated from days of travel, coupled with the overload of stimulation at this moment, left Su Mu feeling somewhat powerless. His legs were weak and his knees were trembling. He only managed to stay upright thanks to Jiang Ran's arm for support.
With the sound of rushing water, Su Mu, on the verge of losing consciousness, suddenly grasped a sliver of clarity: "...Jiang Ran...why don't...wear it..."
Before she could finish speaking, Jiang Ran said with a mix of amusement and helplessness, "I've already lost my fertility."
Su Mu almost solemnly retorted, "I...I might be what they say online...to have a highly fertile constitution."
"Get pregnant at the slightest touch."
Jiang Ran: "…………"
Jiang Ran looked down at the flushed face and wet eyes of the person in her arms, and almost couldn't help but laugh. She pressed her forehead against Su Mu's sweaty forehead, her voice filled with indulgence and a hint of gritted teeth: "Mu Mu, can you spend less time on those weird websites?"
He had no idea that Su Mu's Xiaomoushu (a Chinese social media platform) had been precisely programmed to push content related to the "pampered wife and childcare model."
However, Jiang Ran was not the one who benefited.
"You reap what you sow," Jiang Ran thought to herself. Then, looking at Su Mu's flat and firm abdomen, where a faint pink scar had once been left after the birth of Xiao He, she felt that if that were the case, Su Mu's land might indeed be an excessively fertile fertile ground.
Otherwise, how could you have won on your first try?
But with the die already cast, there's no time to discuss whether the soil is fertile or not.
Jiang Ran still didn't want to wear that cumbersome rubber film. He preferred direct skin-to-skin contact, enjoying the unobstructed feeling of each other's temperature and heartbeat.
Su Mu was worn down by his persistence and lost her temper. Plus, after not seeing him for so many days, she missed him terribly, so she finally gave in to his persistence.
After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder.
The bathroom was steamy, and the orange light made their skin feel hot, making it difficult to breathe, like they were about to suffer from heatstroke. Later, they couldn't stand the heat anymore, and they were afraid that they would faint from lack of oxygen in the bathroom, so they quickly rinsed off the soap, wrapped themselves in towels, and stumbled to another spot.
From the bathroom to the bedroom, just a few steps, a trail of wet footprints was left on the floor, mixed with dripping water stains, glistening under the light.
The main lights in the bedroom weren't on; only a small bedside nightlight was lit, casting a soft, warm glow that was much cooler than the sweltering environment of the bathroom.
Su Mu collapsed onto the bed, the dark sheets making his skin appear even whiter. He was so tired that he could barely lift his eyelids, and his whole body felt like it was falling apart, aching and weak. Jiang Ran leaned down, her arm supporting her beside his ear, casting a shadow that blocked most of the light.
Su Mu lay below, only a blank, satisfied void remained.
The next day, Su Mu slept straight through until the afternoon.
The curtains were drawn tightly shut, with only a sliver of pale sunlight seeping through the gaps at the edges. When he woke up, his consciousness felt as if it were submerged in sticky glue, struggling for a while before finally surfacing. Then, his senses slowly returned, one by one.
First, his lower back ached, feeling like it had been repeatedly crushed by a heavy object. He tried to move his legs, and the muscles on the inside of his thighs immediately felt a sharp pain from overuse. He tried to sit up, supporting himself on the mattress, but his arms were too weak to move. His elbow slipped, and he fell back into the messy bedding.
After several attempts, I managed to get myself into a semi-sitting position.
When he got out of bed, every step felt like walking on cotton, unsteady and floating. Looking at his face in the mirror and the shocking marks on his neck that couldn't be covered up, Su Mu felt like a stroke patient.
My hands and feet were constantly moving.
I moved back to the bedroom and collapsed back onto the bed, and then the door was pushed open.
Jiang Ran walked in carrying the little crane.
He was refreshed and radiant, his eyes and brows brimming with satisfaction and pride. In contrast, Su Mu, leaning against the headboard, was pale and moved sluggishly, as if he had been tortured all night.
"Mumu, are you awake?" Jiang Ran asked in a light voice as she carried the child to the bedside.
He held the little crane steadily in one arm, wearing a onesie with a puppy pattern. Its big, black, grape-like eyes were curiously looking around, and its little hands were scratching in the air.
Su Mu reached out and said weakly, "Give me a hug."
Jiang Ran handed Xiao He over, and Su Mu took the child in his arms. As the warm bundle pressed against his chest, he lowered his head and rubbed the child's soft hair with the tip of his nose, smelling that familiar milky scent. His voice was muffled, with a hint of self-mockery: "...Why do I feel like I'm still in postpartum confinement?"
Jiang Ran sat down on the edge of the bed, raised an eyebrow upon hearing this, and leaned closer: "Mumu, don't say things like that in front of your husband who has already had a vasectomy. I feel like I'm being cuckolded."
Su Mu ignored his nonsense and looked down at the child in her arms. Xiao He had indeed grown a little more. The baby's growth seemed to be happening at a speed visible to the naked eye. After just a few days, the baby was heavier in her arms.
Specifically, he kicked with significantly more force.
Jiang Ran was kicked a few days ago. It is said that Jiang Ran was about to bite Xiao He's leg, but his son suddenly kicked her in the chest.
Such strength in a baby only a few months old.
Jiang Ran told Su Mu that their Xiao He might become a sports student in the future.
Jiang Ran took out Xiao He's pacifier, waved it in her hand, and deliberately teased him by not giving it to him. Xiao He stared at the pacifier, his mouth pursed, his lips curved down into a wronged arc, and his eyes were slightly red, but he didn't cry. Instead, he twisted his body more forcefully, buried his face in Su Mu's arms, and made humming and dissatisfied nasal sounds.
Su Mu quickly returned it to him.
Xiao He's personality is mostly like Su Mu's, not like Jiang Ran's.
Jiang's mother had mentioned in casual conversation that Jiang Ran was a firecracker when she was little.
Hungry? Cry. Wet? Cry. Nobody will hold them? Cry even more.
And once she starts crying, it never stops. Tears stream down her face, and if she cries too much, small red spots appear on her face. She is also allergic to tears, so the more she cries, the more she cries, creating a vicious cycle that can be quite a hassle.
As for Xiao He, when she is uncomfortable or wronged, she will at most pout and hum a few times, but she rarely cries loudly. If she wants something, she will look straight at you with her bright black eyes and try her best to reach for it with her little hands.
Su Mu held Xiao He in his arms. The room was warm and cozy, making him feel lazy to the bone. He asked Jiang Ran, "When did Xiao He come back?"
Jiang Ran was processing work emails on her tablet: "Around eight o'clock this morning, my parents brought me back themselves, along with my aunt. Then both sets of grandparents went out together, saying they were going to some newly opened hot spring resort and wouldn't be back tonight."
Su Mu said "Oh," and looked down at Xiao He in his arms, who was already a little sleepy and whose eyelids were starting to droop. The little guy's head was nodding little by little, like a dozing chick. He softened the patting and placed him next to him to sleep.
It's Chinese New Year, and the air seems to be filled with a busy yet festive atmosphere.
Su Mu's message notification would pop up every now and then.
Greetings from classmates, relatives, and former work partners. Mass-sent New Year's greetings interspersed with a few simple words of greeting.
He leaned against the headboard, clicking through each message and replying with a few words.
Meng Lingxuan: Why didn't you come back this year?
Su Mu: I'll spend this year in Jiangzhou and return next year.
The message was sent out and received a reply almost immediately.
Meng Lingxuan: Spending the New Year at Xiao Jiang's house? That's the downside of marrying someone from out of town; you have to discuss where to spend the New Year.
Su Mu sent a New Year's red envelope to Jiao Jiao to shut Meng Lingxuan up.
After finishing these tasks, Su Mu's fingers unconsciously slid down to Sister Jing.
Su Mu hesitated for a moment, then opened the chat window. The chat history was still from a long time ago. He thought for a moment, then carefully typed a line: Sister Jing, Happy New Year.
He knew he wouldn't get a reply after sending the message.
But this time, unexpectedly, the phone vibrated quickly. A reply had arrived.
It's not Sister Jing.
It was Jingjie's husband who replied: "Xiao Su, right? Thank you for remembering me. Happy New Year, and I wish you all the best."
Su Mu was stunned for a long time. The child in her arms had fallen asleep, breathing evenly and deeply.
This year has indeed been a fruitful one. Su Mu has found a lover, although this lover is immature, domineering, and sometimes annoying, but loves him very much. He has gained a child, this tiny, soft life, who will grow up day by day, call him "Dad," run and jump, and become the continuation and hope of their lives.
All of this stemmed from a near-disastrous escape.
If he hadn't bought a one-way ticket back to Phoenix Village with his parents because of the unbearable pressure and confusion, if he hadn't been chased and blocked by Jiang Ran in that place he thought he could hide away and heal, and then clumsily and forcefully confessed everything.
Su Mu thought that he might never be able to confirm his love for Jiang Ran so quickly and clearly, and he would never have the courage to seize this relationship, which at the time seemed fraught with difficulties and almost impossible to have a result.
After Jiang Ran finished dealing with the emails, she leaned over and kissed his forehead: "Are you still sleepy? Go to sleep."
Su Mu didn't speak, but turned her face to the side and gently kissed his chin in return.
The child is fast asleep, and the loved one is by his side.
The confusion and pain that once kept Su Mu tossing and turning at night have been pressed into the depths of his memory by the real gains of this year, becoming blurred and distant.
Jiang Ran naturally stretched out his arm and placed it on the back of the sofa behind Su Mu, forming a semi-hugging posture. He turned his head to the side, his chin almost brushing against Su Mu's earlobe, his breath warm: "We'll have dinner with Mom and Dad tomorrow and the day after."
Su Mu was bending down to adjust Xiao He's sleeping position, not wanting his son to have a flat head. Hearing this, he looked up at him and asked, "Aren't you going to visit relatives?"
From the first day of the Lunar New Year, their schedules are packed with activities, as they carry New Year's gifts and visit each household to offer New Year's greetings.
Jiang Ran: "Some relatives live too far away, and we don't usually visit each other. It's enough for everyone to get together for the New Year and have a meal. If it weren't for the fact that Xiao He is too young and we're worried about him getting too tired, our family would go to a warmer place for the New Year, like the seaside or a hot spring hotel."
The festive atmosphere of the New Year in the city is indeed not as strong as that in the village.
Su Mu recalled the Spring Festival in Phoenix Village, when the air was always filled with the smell of sulfur and incense, and the sound of firecrackers could be heard from the twelfth lunar month to the fifteenth day of the first lunar month.
Every household has brand-new red couplets and upside-down "Fu" characters pasted on their doors. This is because many people work away from home all year round and can only come back for these few days to see their parents and meet up with childhood friends they haven't seen in a long time. So those few days are squeezed out with extra tension, and every minute and every second is precious.
In the city, even during the Lunar New Year, people simply pause the machine and slow it down. Nowadays, most social interactions are simplified to New Year's greetings via text message and money transfers on mobile phones.
“In the village, we would have to visit each of our relatives in turn.”
Jiang Ran said, "Next year, we'll take Xiao He back next year."
The Jiang family's close relatives knew about Xiao He's existence. Although the initial process was chaotic, the die was cast, and the child was cute and healthy.
So Xiaohe received an astonishingly large amount of red envelopes this year.
Su Mu found the money heavy to hold, let alone the ones that were directly transferred, with an astonishing number of zeros after the amount.
Su Mu thought to himself, "No wonder rich people like to have children."
Chi Luoxi also sent a New Year's red envelope, which was for Xiaohe. Chi Luoxi's profile picture is a chubby white cartoon radish with two emerald green leaves on top.
Su Mu accepted the red envelope, said thank you, and casually asked him: Where are you spending the New Year?
The reply came quickly: a photo. The background was the snow-covered foothills of the Alps, with a small wooden cabin nestled on the hillside. Warm yellow light shone from the windows, and icicles hung from the eaves, sparkling in the sunlight.
Chi Luoxi: In Switzerland, He Angxiao's parents are here. He Angxiao came to ski, and I accompanied him.
Su Mu was somewhat surprised: He introduced you to his parents?
The reply came a while later.
Chi Luoxi: I didn't really want to come. I was planning to stay home and continue doing practice problems, but He Angxiao brought me here.
Su Mu couldn't help but laugh and replied: "Studying can wait."
The family ate at Jiang's parents' house. The round table in the dining room could seat ten people, but only six adults were seated there, plus Xiao He in the stroller. The dishes were exquisite, the plating was elegant, and the taste was impeccable. A professional chef had been hired to cook for them.
The atmosphere at the dinner table was warm and slightly polite.
Jiang's mother kept putting food on Su's parents' plates, saying, "Try this, in-laws," and "It's air-freighted, very fresh."
Su's parents were also very happy.
After dinner, Su's mother said, "Xiao Mu, Jiang Ran's parents are very nice people, just too polite. But your father and I have never had such a leisurely New Year in all these years."
In the past, the Spring Festival was the busiest time for people in Fenghuang Village. They had to prepare a New Year's Eve dinner for the whole family, receive a constant stream of relatives, and take care of all sorts of trivial social obligations.
This year in Jiangzhou, besides eating, I just watched TV and played with my grandson. I didn't have to worry about anything, which was pretty good.
Their chubby little dog is almost someone else's dog.
Su Mu and his friends, who were in a small group chat at university, sent a red envelope. Skinny Monkey's hometown was also in Jiangzhou. Soon after, Fatty Knife and Jiang Ran followed suit. The red envelope amounts were not large; they were just for fun.
Su Mu opened the message, grabbed some money, and sent it back. The group chat immediately became lively, with people joking around and complaining about being pressured to get married during the Chinese New Year. The familiar feeling returned.
The first unexpected thing after the New Year was that the first episode of the documentary about Ren Ran edited by Su Mu and his team went viral.
Su Mu asked He Angxiao if he had spent money on them.
He Angxiao: "...Your project doesn't look profitable, why should I spend money on it?"
The film's content is actually not heavy; in fact, it could be described as somewhat lighthearted. Ren Ran doesn't flinch in front of the camera; on the contrary, she has a kind of humor that finds joy even in hardship.
She would complain about the conveyor belt at the express delivery sorting station, describe the eccentric boss she encountered while playing games with her, and imitate the boss's tone perfectly. In her rented small room, she would cook all sorts of instant noodles in a small electric pot and then seriously comment on the food in front of the camera.
She's a very savvy girl. She knows which supermarkets offer discounts on prepared foods after 8 p.m., which alley has the best and cheapest snacks, and how to keep her little house clean and cozy with the least amount of money.
Yet this girl, who seemed to live her life in an orderly and even somewhat joyful way, calmly shared her insights about life in front of the camera, which touched a long-dormant corner of many people's hearts.
“Sometimes I feel like an empty shell.” Ren Ran sat in her small room with a potted green ivy on the windowsill. “I feel like I can’t muster any enthusiasm for anything. The passion, dreams, and enthusiasm that others talk about seem so far away from me. I just want to get through today, earn the rent, and make money for the next meal. It doesn’t seem wrong, but I just feel empty.”
The comment section of this video is piling up with messages at an astonishing rate.
—Oh my god, I thought I was the only one like this, indifferent to everything, yet also a little afraid of everything.
—It's so true. Every day, I go to get off work and come home, like a robot with a pre-programmed routine. My sense of humor is strange. I can be happy for half a day because of a half-price cup of milk tea, and then I continue to feel numb.
—Isn't this just me? I'm unwilling to be just an ordinary person, but I don't have the strength or ability to become extraordinary.
—Turns out I'm not the only one who's empty inside.
The video's editing style is also completely different from the currently popular fast-paced, high-conflict style. There is no deliberately sentimental background music, no exaggerated special effects or transitions, and some shots are even shaky and blurry.
The film makes extensive use of Ren Ran's monologues and empty shots: her back view as she walks through a crowded subway, her profile as she stares blankly at a computer screen, and her squatting by the roadside watching a stray cat eat the half-eaten sausage she shared.
Sometimes, the scene doesn't even show her; it only shows the small house she rents, from the first light of dawn to the last twilight of dusk.
The editor deliberately abandoned all dramatic elements, simply showing Ren Ran's daily life layer by layer, like peeling an onion, in a calm manner.
Working, getting off work, doing part-time jobs, occasionally catching a glimpse of inexplicable laughter and small moments of happiness in life, then everything returns to silence, the sun rises as usual the next day, and the cycle begins again.
This seemingly ordinary video, without any sensational elements, was like a drop of water falling into a pot of boiling oil, triggering a violent reaction.
Because it exposes a widespread yet unspoken collective emotion: a reluctance to accept ordinariness, yet an inability to do so; a yearning for meaning, yet a sense of loss amidst the daily grind.
Many people saw themselves in this video, struggling to survive in the cracks of the city, yet feeling a desolate emptiness inside.
That wasn't despair, but a more general weariness and confusion.
This is what growing up is like. It's not a dramatic transformation, but rather recognizing the ordinary, even mediocre, nature of life and still continuing to move forward, day by day, step by step.
Even after recognizing that you may eventually become ordinary, you should still try to find a bit of genuine warmth and light in those trivial and insignificant moments.
The documentary about Ren Ran ends at the moment she receives her graduate school admission letter from that ordinary university.
The image freezes on her holding that thin piece of paper, standing in front of the window of her rented room. Outside, the summer sun shines brightly. Her expression is somewhat dazed, somewhat bewildered, and also contains a faint, almost imperceptible sense of relief.
There is no narration, no summary, and no deliberate elevation of the narrative. The road ahead is unknown; the school admitted is not top-tier, and the major is not popular. The future may still be full of thorns, and the road ahead may not be smooth.
But don't stop.
Stopping is for a more powerful beginning; the record ends, but the life of the person being recorded continues to move forward.
With the unique perspective and delicate texture shown in this documentary series, Su Mu has truly gained a foothold in He Angxiao's company, which is full of elites from all walks of life and is highly competitive.
Instead of choosing grand, sensational, or attention-grabbing topics, he focused on exploring the small living conditions and mental dilemmas of ordinary people. His topics were very small, almost submerged in the vast daily narratives of the city.
But from these small things, one can always extract a resilient warmth and a sense of profound strength.
Time slips away silently amidst the mundane busyness and small senses of accomplishment.
Little Crane is one year old.
The first birthday party was not a big affair; only the closest family and friends were invited for a simple and warm gathering.
The sun was shining brightly, the lawn was a vibrant green, and the air was filled with the aroma of grass and barbecue. Xiao He, wearing a red Chinese-style jacket embroidered with a little tiger that Su Mu and Jiang Ran had picked out together, was being held in Jiang Ran's arms. She looked around curiously, her bright, black grape-like eyes sparkling.
Jiang Ran secretly planned a marriage proposal.
Little Crane picked up an abacus during his first birthday celebration, which made Jiang's mother very happy.
While everyone was eating cake and playing with the children, a small circle of items was placed in the center of the lawn. Among them were Xiao He's favorite singing toy cars, colorful soft building blocks, teething biscuits, and a small, square red velvet box.
Little Crane first looked around at the adults with a blank expression, then his attention was drawn to the various objects in front of him. He crawled over, his chubby little hands grabbing a toy car first, pressing it, and the car played cheerful music. He giggled, then put it down and grabbed a teething biscuit. Finally, his gaze fell on the red velvet box. He seemed interested in the color and texture, clumsily reaching out and grabbing it. Then, instead of examining it as before, he clutched the box, wiggled his bottom, turned around, and, wobbling but with a clear goal in mind, crawled towards Su Mu, who was sitting at the other end of the picnic mat.
This was an instinct that Jiang Ran had secretly trained Xiao He for a long time.
Using a red box and tempting him with snacks, I repeatedly taught him to give the box to his father.
Xiao He is strong and learns quickly. Although she doesn't understand what it means, she has developed a conditioned reflex to the instruction to give the red box to Su Mu.
Jiang Ran always felt that with her son's physique and strength, he might actually become a sports student in the future.
Little Crane crawled intently, his little bottom wiggling up and down. He gripped the red box tightly in his hand. Finally, he crawled to Su Mu's feet, looked up at Su Mu with his dark eyes, and called out "Daddy." Then he raised the hand holding the box high and handed it to Su Mu.
Su Mu was stunned. He subconsciously reached out and took the velvet box that still contained the warmth and saliva of the little crane. The box was very light and soft to the touch.
The moment he took it, Jiang Ran stepped out from the side and knelt down on one knee on the lawn with a clean, decisive motion. Sunlight fell on the top of his head, gilding it with a layer of fluffy gold.
He looked up at Su Mu, his eyes filled with an unprecedented seriousness and nervousness: "Mu Mu, will you marry me?"
Little Crane was still lying at Su Mu's feet, looking up at Jiang Ran kneeling down with curiosity, then at Su Mu holding the box, as if she didn't quite understand what the adults were doing.
Su Mu looked at Jiang Ran kneeling on the grass and slowly opened the velvet box.
Inside was a men's ring, simple in design, made of platinum, with their initials and the date they met engraved on the inner band, gleaming with a warm and resolute luster in the sunlight.
Tears welled up unexpectedly, blurring her vision. Su Mu sniffed, suppressing the soreness, and nodded forcefully, her voice choked with emotion: "...Okay."
Jiang Ran took out the ring and put it on Su Mu's ring finger; it fit perfectly.
He stood up, stepped forward, and pulled Su Mu into a tight embrace. His arms were wrapped tightly around Su Mu, as if he wanted to meld him into his very bones. Su Mu returned the embrace, resting his chin on Jiang Ran's shoulder.
Cheers, whistles, and applause erupted around them, while Jiang's mother secretly wiped away tears.
Only Xiao He remained lying blankly on the grass, watching his two fathers hug each other tightly. He didn't understand what the adults were so excited about. Dissatisfied with being ignored, he cried out a few times and reached out his little hand to grab Su Mu's trouser leg, but Jiang's mother, who was quick-witted and agile, picked him up and held him in her arms, coaxing him softly, "Sweetie, let your fathers hold you for a while."
Su Mu buried her face in Jiang Ran's arms, choking back tears but smiling, and whispered something only the two of them could hear: "...If it happened again, I still wouldn't buy that condom."
—end.
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