YHTD 03

Chapter 03

8

One time I went to a small shopping mall to buy something. Third Master had just returned from a business trip and was dragging his suitcase. He didn’t want the hassle of leaving it at the baggage counter, so he stayed outside waiting.
I only needed to buy some rock sugar and a hot-water bottle, which should have been quick. But the store was out of hot-water bottles, so the clerk went to the warehouse to look for one. That took a bit of time.

By the time I finally came out, Third Master dashed forward, grabbed my hand, and gazed at me with deep affection:
“Do you know? Every single minute since you went inside has been torture for me.”

I was stunned by this sudden confession. My heart bloomed with joy, though I pretended to be reserved and teased him:
“Oh, you’re so annoying~ That’s so cheesy~”

Then, with one hand pulling his suitcase and the other holding me, he sprinted toward home as if flying:
“Hurry up—I’m about to pee my pants!”

9

Back in college, one summer vacation, Third Master came to Beijing to keep me company. My cousin found out and insisted on inviting him to dinner—twice: once for barbecue, once for hotpot.
Oh, and both were buffets.

As Third Master put it: “Eating buffet once shortens your life by a year.”

The hotpot was at noon. Both of us ate so much our stomachs felt like balloons about to burst. The weather was scorching, the sun vicious. I had a brilliant idea: “Let’s walk around Prince Gong’s Mansion—it’ll help us digest.”

But that stroll didn’t go well. When we came out, Third Master looked as weak as a wilting flower, scaring me. Just then we passed Huguosi Snack Street. My appetite instantly revived—I was ready to feast again, even planning to take him for dinner.

Logically, his weak expression meant he must be starving, right?
I was just about to dash into a little noodle shop yelling “Zhajiangmian!” when he tugged at me—not my hand, not my arm, but the corner of my shirt! That kind of pitiful action only my little nephew does when he desperately wants to ride the coin-operated car downstairs!

Puzzled, I asked: “What’s wrong? Look at that zhajiangmian, it looks delicious!”
Third Master forced a smile: “I really don’t feel well. We can come back another time, okay? Let’s just go home—I think I’ve got heatstroke.”

Being the virtuous girlfriend, I had to give up my beloved snacks and take him home. On the subway he stayed silent, looking pale. At a transfer station, a seat opened up in front of me. Thinking of his “illness,” I kindly offered it. But he waved me off.

I urged him again, only to hear: “Don’t talk to me. Talking to you makes me feel worse.”

That stung my pride. I sat down silently and stared out the window, just like him.

After ten minutes of this cold shoulder, I was sure he regretted his harsh words but was too proud to apologize. Generous me tilted my head to gaze at him tenderly. My eyes must’ve burned into him, because he glanced down—just a fleeting look—then turned back to the window.

So arrogant! I had no choice but to take his hand: “Look at me, talk to me.”
Pale-faced, he leaned down, and in the noisy carriage I heard his words crystal clear:
“But every time I look at you, I feel like throwing up.”

The burly man and young girl standing nearby burst out laughing!

I know you were really nauseous and couldn’t lower your head—but Third Master, your choice of words was terrible!

After that we stayed silent all the way home. He later saw my upset face and insisted I must have gotten heatstroke too. In the end, we both downed two bottles of herbal cooling water and reconciled with a handshake.

10

One night I bought half a durian. It was extra sweet, and therefore extra pungent. I ate a bite in the dorm and nearly got beaten by my roommates. So I locked it in my cabinet, sneaking pieces out to the balcony to eat in the cold north wind.

The durian was huge—I hadn’t finished by bedtime. Sitting under the lamp, I glanced at my sleeping roommates and thought: If I open the window to eat durian at midnight in winter, will they wake up and fight me?

After some thought, I hugged the last piece of durian with a spoon, slipped out, and squatted next to the hallway trash can to eat (standing made me too obvious).

But of course, what you fear always happens. I thought nobody would be out past midnight—then suddenly, “Awooo!” rang out, followed by a racket from every room.

Still chewing, I wondered: Wolves?

A minute later, girls poured out of every dorm with phones in hand, rushing to the hallway windows, shouting: “Meteor! Meteor!”

It turned out to be the Geminid meteor shower. I had wanted to watch too, but now every classmate in my major passed by me and my trash-can durian, politely greeting: “Oh, hi! You’re here too.”

Like a mascot matched with the trash can, I smiled awkwardly: “Yeah, you’re watching meteors—I’m eating durian.”

I wolfed it down quickly, skipped the crowd at the window, and fled back to bed.

That night meteors streaked constantly. Every few minutes the girls shouted in unison. I longed to watch but was too embarrassed to show up again, so I told Third Master on WeChat.

He said: “Since the whole sky is full of meteors, make a wish to me first. Maybe one will fly overhead and hear it.”

I didn’t take it too seriously, but I wished: “I hope my family stays healthy!”
Third Master: “Okay. Approved.”

Since there were so many meteors, I made more: “I hope we’ll always be good together.”
Third Master: “Okay. Approved.”

“I hope I lose 20 pounds next year!”
Third Master: “Nope. Disapproved.”

“Why! You can’t reject it! Don’t mislead the meteors! Hurry, say ‘Okay, approved!’”
Third Master: “No. If you’re too thin, I won’t feel secure. You look perfect as you are.”

Speechless, I said: “Fine, then I’m out of wishes. Your turn.”

He was quiet for a while, then typed: “I wish… I can live just as long as you.”

The room was pitch-dark, and because of the dark it felt extra quiet. I could hear my roommates’ light snores, and the girls outside squealing over meteors. For a moment, I suddenly wanted to cry.

I didn’t know if any star heard his wish as it fell, but like he did for mine, I told him:
“Okay. Approved.”