Extra Chapter: Zhou Xingzhi - The End of the Story
When one reaches middle age, all things come to an end.
Zhou Xingzhi would occasionally recall this old saying, especially under the solitary lamp in his study late at night, or after an autumn rain, when a familiar, bittersweet feeling of age would rise in his bones.
Psychological desires, like the receding tide, gradually subside; physiological impulses, like a dying candle, should also slowly dim.
But whenever his young wife, with her everlasting warm fragrance and sparkling eyes, leans in and kisses him without warning, Zhou Xingzhi knows clearly that things are far from over.
The flame, far from being extinguished, was willingly ignited by her unbridled provocation and burned for her.
He remained willing and eager to give himself and do everything in his power to respond to her passion.
However, this "willingness" gradually requires some additional support.
He could no longer respond to her boundless energy on instinct alone, as he had in his youth.
Therefore, Zhou Xingzhi, who has always been reserved, self-disciplined, and health-conscious, had to place health preservation in an unprecedentedly important position.
Privately, he earnestly asked his brother-in-law how to maintain the necessary physical strength through long-term and appropriate exercise.
Zhou Xingzhi simply could not bear the thought that one day he would be unable to satisfy Yueyue due to his lack of strength.
Although she had passed the age of thirty, women's bodies and desires seemed to be inherently different from men's, with a longer blooming period and a more intense blossoming.
She is like a child who is forever full of curiosity about the world, and she also has an open and honest attitude towards intimate matters.
Years ago, she had a perfectly reasonable idea of asking him to find books and pictures so they could study together.
Zhou Xingzhi had no choice but to maintain his refined and elegant demeanor and teach her step by step, demonstrating his skills through his actions. Even he himself was nothing more than a novice teacher who only knew theory and adhered strictly to gentlemanly etiquette.
Now that he is older, he looks back on the past with regret.
I regret that I didn't let go of those unnecessary worries sooner and welcome her into my life sooner.
He couldn't empathize with his past self—the Zhou Xingzhi who was pursued by the young and vibrant Zhang Yueran like a blazing fire.
He desperately wanted her, yet he deliberately put on a cold and indifferent facade, rejecting her harshly time and time again.
Even after she ran away in tears, she locked herself in her study and copied the Heart Sutra over and over again, trying to suppress the surging longing in her heart with the fragrance of ink and Buddhist verses.
At that time, Zhou Xingzhi stubbornly believed that he was destined to be alone for the rest of his life.
In his view, marriage, and even love, were merely products of a whim for a girl like Yue Ran, who had been pampered and raised with love.
What she loved was perhaps the refined, elegant, and untainted "Mr. Zhou" of her imagination, rather than the real, rigid, and boring self.
He pessimistically predicted that if she were to stay with him, a man steeped in old rules, it wouldn't be long before she felt bored and constrained, and eventually grew tired of him and left.
He would rather have never had it than have had it and then lost it.
Fortunately, his little sun was steadfast enough.
In the end, it was she who pulled him along, without hesitation, and entered into marriage.
Even after marriage, Zhang Yueran's passion remained undiminished.
She remains curious about the world, continues to delve into the field of radio, and still... embraces intimacy with her husband with a calm and enjoyable attitude, approaching it with a research-like interest.
From initial embarrassment and passivity to later helpless indulgence, and now to finding a rhythm and tacit understanding that belongs only to the two of them in this matter.
As night deepened, the cicadas began to chirp.
The study door was gently pushed open, and Zhang Yueran walked in with her long, slightly damp hair cascading down her back.
She snuggled into his arms, leaning over to look at the unfinished garden sketch he was drawing. A few drops of water from her hair fell onto the rice paper, spreading out small ink blots.
"It's not finished yet?"
Zhou Xingzhi put down his pen and reached out to tuck a strand of wet hair behind her ear.
"Almost there. I'll go get the hairdryer; wet hair gives me a headache."
Zhang Yueran wouldn't let him leave, and pointed to the electric fan next to her that was oscillating: "It's so hot, you'll dry out in no time."
She leaned closer to his shoulder, her touch damp and warm, and said, "Hurry up and finish drawing so we can go to sleep."
Zhou Xingzhi had no choice but to loosely hold her waist with one hand to prevent her from slipping down, while he picked up his pen again with the other hand, trying to concentrate on completing the last few strokes of the sketch.
Zhang Yueran, however, was restless. She looked up at him and kept muttering, "Brother Xingzhi, you look so charming when you draw."
Her fingertips wandered up, playing with his lower lip and tracing his slightly furrowed brow.
The tip of the brush paused on the rice paper.
Zhou Xingzhi sighed silently.
He began to wonder if Zhang Yueran's reckless pursuit of him back then was because he had a reasonably good-looking appearance.
This thought brought a touch of self-mocking melancholy to his heart.
The worry that his love would fade before his beauty had faded seemed somewhat fitting when it came to him.
"Yueyue," he placed the pen back on the ceramic pen holder, lowered his eyes, and looked at the bright and beautiful face of the person in his arms, "Then... what if I get old? What if I'm no longer pretty?"
Zhang Yueran seemed to have heard something strange, and hugged his neck even tighter, almost embedding herself in his arms.
"Even when I'm old, I'll still be the most handsome old man in the world!" she answered resolutely. "Then I'll find the strongest rope and tie you to my side, taking you wherever I go, so you won't be lured away by other old ladies!"
Such a nonsensical and unreasonable declaration.
Zhou Xingzhi chuckled to himself.
"Oh no, I can't bear to do it now." Zhang Yueran seemed to be annoyed by her own assumption. She shifted her body, changing from sitting sideways to sitting face-to-face with him, straddling his lap, wrapping her arms tightly around him, and tilting her head up to kiss him.
Zhou Xingzhi's breath hitched, and he instinctively reached out to protect her back.
Her kisses were always unpredictable, yet passionate and sincere. The scent of mint tea mingled with her unique warm fragrance, subtly entangling his senses.
The fan was still running, blowing her half-dry hair, a few strands brushing against his cheek, tickling him.
Outside the window, the summer night was thick and oppressive; the cicadas had stopped chirping sometime earlier, leaving only a deep silence.
In this stillness, her breath, her warmth, and her restless writhing became the only distinct and clamorous presence.
Zhou Xingzhi closed his eyes, his hand on her back tightened slightly, and his other hand went through her long hair to support the back of her head, gradually deepening the kiss that she had originally initiated, making it long and tender.
He temporarily forgot about the unfinished sketch, the worries about growing old, and even his consistent adherence to the gentlemanly conduct.
Zhang Yueran let out a muffled sob and was forced to press even closer to him.
He carried his young wife and walked towards the bedroom.
——
The morning light, a bluish-green hue, shone through the window lattice.
Zhang Yueran stayed in bed, curled up in the thin blanket, her cheeks flushed from sleep.
Zhou Xingzhi's biological clock never wavered. He quietly got up and finished a set of Tai Chi in the courtyard, stretching his muscles and bones.
The maid had prepared congee and side dishes. He finished eating quietly and left a note in a conspicuous place on the table: "I'm going to my parents' place to pick up Pengpeng."
Pengpeng, Zhou Pengpeng, his daughter, whose name is taken from the Book of Songs, "Pengpeng Qi Mai", hoping that she will be like the new seedlings in the fields, free and abundant.
Since Pengpeng became a primary school student last September, picking her up and dropping her off every day has become a real challenge. Zhou Xingzhi and Zhang Yueran are both busy with their careers and cannot be on time every day.
My parents-in-law took the initiative to bring their granddaughter to live with them; the small courtyard was closer to the school, within walking distance.
Pengpeng is sensible and knows that her parents are busy. She also likes to stay with her grandparents every day after school. She only goes back to her own home for a couple of days on weekends or when her parents have free time.
My parents-in-law's small courtyard is only a three- to five-minute walk from here.
When the two elders retired, Zhou Xingzhi sincerely invited them to move to Beijing.
The parents-in-law are very sensible people and insisted on not living with the young couple, fearing that it would disturb their lives.
Following their wishes, Zhou Xingzhi found a courtyard house with a small patio nearby, bought it, renovated and maintained it, and invited the two elders to move in.
As I walked outside the courtyard gate, I heard a little girl's clear, melodious voice reciting her lessons.
Zhou Xingzhi's lips unconsciously curved into a smile as he raised his hand and knocked on the half-closed courtyard gate.
"Is that Xingzhi? Come in quickly!" Feng Xuemei's voice was filled with laughter.
Zhou Xingzhi pushed open the door and entered.
In the courtyard, Zhou Pengpeng sat upright on a small bamboo stool, a book called "Primer of Prosody" open in front of her. She pointed to the words with her little finger and read them carefully: "Clouds against rain, snow against wind, evening glow against clear sky..."
She wore a light green cotton dress, her hair was soft and fluffy, and she looked as quiet and beautiful as a traditional Chinese painting.
Upon seeing him, the little girl's eyes lit up instantly, but remembering her grandmother's teaching that "you must concentrate when you read," she didn't run over immediately. Instead, she unconsciously raised her voice and read more diligently.
"Dad, Mom."
Zhou Xingzhi first greeted his father-in-law and mother-in-law.
"Hey, come on over." Feng Xuemei smiled as she set out the bowls and chopsticks. "We were just talking about Wanwan. She got up early today and has been reading for a while. Have you had breakfast yet? We made mung bean porridge and some fried dough rings that your dad bought on his walk this morning."
"I've already eaten, Mom."
Zhou Xingzhi walked over to his father-in-law and sat down on another empty rattan chair.
Zhang Jianguo held a palm-leaf fan in his hand, slowly fanning himself, and nodded to him: "Where's Yueran? Sleeping in again, huh?"
Zhou Xingzhi smiled: "Yes, I went to bed a little late yesterday."
Zhang Jianguo grunted in response and didn't ask any more questions. He then turned to his granddaughter and said, "Pengpeng, Daddy's here. Read this passage and then we'll have breakfast."
“Good!” Zhou Pengpeng responded loudly, and recited the last few lines clearly and accurately: “The Qing Shu Palace on earth, the Guang Han Palace in heaven. The morning mist on both banks makes the willows green, the spring rain in the garden makes the apricot blossoms red. The temples are frosted with the wind, the early traveler on the road; the rain and mist in the rain make the old man fishing by the stream at dusk.
After reading it, she looked up at Zhou Xingzhi with her little face.
Zhou Xingzhi patted her head: "Pengpeng reads very well."
Zhou Pengpeng covered her mouth and laughed triumphantly. She loved beauty and was currently in the process of losing her baby teeth, so she didn't want others to see her gap teeth.
After Zhou Pengpeng finished breakfast, Zhou Xingzhi greeted his parents-in-law. Gu Yan's twins had arrived in Beijing and they had arranged to bring Zhou Pengpeng over today for a get-together.
Feng Xuemei packed a small package and asked her to take it to Nan Zhiyi, saying it contained dishes she had made herself.
Zhou Xingzhi took it and told Zhou Pengpeng to set off.
Feng Xuemei helped Zhou Pengpeng put on her sun hat and asked, "Pengpeng, do you remember those two older brothers? They picked a lot of grapes from the yard when they came last summer."
Pengpeng nodded, then shook her head: "I vaguely remember. They ran fast, I couldn't catch up."
She looked up at Zhou Xingzhi, "Dad, is Brother Gu Zhao here too? I miss him."
"Yes, he's resting these two days," Zhou Xingzhi replied. Gu Zhao entered the National Defense University, and his holidays were different from those of ordinary students, with strict discipline.
Pengpeng gave an "Oh" like a little adult, and the corners of her mouth subtly turned up.
She turned and ran back into the house, then came out with her little water bottle on her back. "Grandpa and Grandma, I'm leaving!"
Zhou Xingzhi took his daughter's hand and said goodbye to the two elders.
The father and daughter returned to their own courtyard.
Zhang Yueran had already gotten up and was sitting at the dining table, slowly drinking her porridge.
"You've brought her back? Has Pengpeng had breakfast yet?"
"We've already eaten at Grandma's house." Pengpeng ran to her mother's side and leaned against her. "Mom, we're going to see Brother Gu Zhao."
"Okay." Zhang Yueran put down her spoon, reached out and hugged her daughter, nuzzling her. "Let Mom see, hmm, our Pengpeng looks so energetic today."
She looked up at Zhou Xingzhi and said, "I'll be done soon. I'll change my clothes and leave."
In just ten minutes, Zhang Yueran had tidied herself up, changed into a new dress, and the family of three walked out along the alleyway.
Summer days are long and the sun shines brightly.
Pengpeng walked in the middle, holding her father's hand in one hand and her mother's hand in the other.
They had walked this road together many times, to the Gu family, to the Qin family, and to every familiar place in the capital.
Each time, it's the same ordinary and down-to-earth scene.
Zhou Xingzhi's anxieties about the passing of time and the fading of passion seemed insignificant in the face of this genuine warmth.
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