Chapter 65 Wife

He glanced at his watch—it was already past four in the morning.

Across from him, two girls around seventeen or eighteen whispered to each other.

“Is this Quzhou Station?”

“Yeah. Still a long way to Shenzhen. Let’s get some more sleep.”

So, this was Quzhou in Zhejiang province.

The Qiantang River shouldn’t be far from here, he thought.

As Wang Qiang watched the passengers boarding one after another, his mind drifted to the face of his wife, and any desire for sleep vanished.

Suddenly, a hesitant voice reached his ears, “Are you Brother Qiang?”

Wang Qiang looked up. The speaker was a girl of about sixteen or seventeen, with large eyes beneath a pink round cap and a white dress. He’d met her once before—Xiao Qing.

“It’s Xiao Qing! Are you heading to Shenzhen again?” Wang Qiang asked in surprise.

Fang Yueqing smiled prettily, her lashes lowered. “Yes, I have something to do.”

Someone behind urged her on.

“Miss, please move along.”

“Don’t just stand there, let us through.”

Fang Yueqing gave the man behind her an apologetic look and said, “I’ll come find you during the day.” With that, she hurried off with her little bag.

A brief meeting.

Now it was Wang Qiang’s turn to be puzzled. He was heading to Shenzhen to buy goods, but judging by her appearance, Xiao Qing didn’t seem to be on a buying trip. Why did she often travel to Shenzhen?

As he pondered this, drowsiness crept in.

He leaned against the train window and soon fell asleep.

…

Around ten in the morning,

Wang Qiang looked at Fang Yueqing, now sitting beside him, both amused and exasperated. Moments ago, the girl had pouted and swapped seats with the middle-aged man who’d originally been by Wang Qiang’s side.

He asked, “How did you manage to switch seats?”

Fang Yueqing blushed. “Well… um… actually, the man next to me kept taking off his shoes. I couldn’t stand the smell anymore, so I thought since I know you from the train, I’d switch.”

Wang Qiang was speechless. “That’s how it goes on trains.”

“I wouldn’t know—it’s only my second time on a train,” Fang Yueqing replied, swinging her legs.

So last time was her first trip.

As they chatted, Wang Qiang found out why she was on the train again. She was so absent-minded, she’d left her university admission letter at home and had to rush back to fetch it.

After hearing this, Wang Qiang asked instinctively, “How old are you this year?”

Fang Yueqing blinked. “Twenty.”

Wang Qiang broke into a sweat. “Do you know how old I am?”

“You look about twenty-one or twenty-two,” she guessed.

Wang Qiang: “…”

Indeed, children who grew up in the countryside might look more mature. Wang Qiang had often helped his mother with farm work after school—plowing fields, harvesting rice and wheat—he’d done it all.

Their conversation drifted to families. Wang Qiang spoke openly about his rural upbringing, feeling no embarrassment.

Some city folk looked down on rural people, but not Fang Yueqing. She kept asking about country life and, listening to Wang Qiang describe catching fish and crabs in the river, even showed envy.

“I was made to learn piano and painting since I was little. I hardly ever played as a child,” Fang Yueqing said with a hint of resignation, then smiled. “Now that my parents are divorced and each has gone their own way, nobody cares what I do. I’m free.”

Wang Qiang was surprised. “They’re divorced?”

“Yes. My mother married an American, my father works in Japan, and I’m the only one left at home,” she replied, seemingly untroubled. “But it’s better this way—they’d only argue when together.”

Wang Qiang sighed. “Yes, what matters most in a marriage is affection. If there’s no love, it’s hard to keep a family together.”

This reminded him of his wife.

He and his wife had been married for over ten years. There had been quarrels, days spent angry and silent, but their bond remained strong, and so their family was peaceful.

“Are you married? I’ve heard people in the countryside marry early,” Fang Yueqing asked.

Caught off guard, Wang Qiang hesitated, then, with a hint of nostalgia, replied softly, “I am.”

Fang Yueqing was curious. “So how did you and your wife meet? Was it an arranged match?”

“No, we… fell in love freely and then married. At first, her parents didn’t like me much—after all, I’m from the countryside and she’s from the county town,” Wang Qiang recalled. In truth, he’d never figured out why a woman from a well-off family, blessed with good looks, would choose someone like him.

They’d been apart for nearly twenty days now. Almost every night, when everything was quiet, Wang Qiang would think of her and unconsciously touch his chest, as if his heart had wrapped her up tightly, tucked away in its deepest corner. She wasn’t present in his daily life for now, but he could still feel her existence clearly.

Fang Yueqing nodded thoughtfully. “You’re away a lot—are you two still close? My parents’ relationship turned sour because my father worked in Japan all year round. Don’t you have the same problem?”

“Not at all.” Speaking of his wife, Wang Qiang’s face softened, and he began to talk more. “We’ve been together so long that even though I travel often for work and we’re apart much of the time, our feelings remain stable and natural. You could call it a calm, water-like happiness—so steady and ordinary that I never have to reflect on it. The happiness is so effortless, I hardly notice it. I rarely think about what kind of person she is or what charm she has to keep me so devoted.”

“So what kind of person is your wife?” Fang Yueqing asked with interest.

“I never really thought about it until this separation of nearly twenty days. I began to reconsider and ask myself why she had earned all my respect and admiration,” Wang Qiang mused, half to himself. “She’s never said a single bad word about my parents…”

Fang Yueqing interjected, “My mother always speaks ill of my grandparents.” She looked at Wang Qiang. “Go on.”

His gaze grew distant. “She’s usually gentle, but if anyone speaks ill of me, she’ll flare up.”

He remembered once, during the second year of their marriage, when he first met his wife’s friend, freshly returned from overseas. The friend seemed to look down on him and said, ‘You could have found someone better.’ Without a word, his wife took him by the hand and walked out of the restaurant, never contacting that friend again over the next ten years.

He’d asked his wife why she’d done that. After all, the friend might have meant well.

His wife answered simply, “Since I married you, you are the best man in the world in my eyes.”

Her virtues far exceeded these few things. Whenever holidays came and it was time to prepare gifts for both sets of parents, she never showed favoritism. If she bought a coat for her own parents, she’d buy one for Wang Qiang’s parents too. Whatever her parents had, his parents would also have. Whether or not he was home, she handled everything with care. The only time she acted out of self-interest was when her mother was ill and hospitalized—she secretly slipped her ten thousand yuan.

Wang Qiang could understand this. He only regretted being away on business at the time; if he’d known, he might have given even more. After all, if his own parents were sick, he would have done the same.

She never demanded that he earn a certain amount. Even during their poorest days, when all she could do was envy her friends’ new clothes and pretty jewelry, she never asked anything of him. Instead, she worked hard to contribute to their home.

Especially when Wang Qiang lost his job, his wife comforted him every day, telling him to quit if he was unhappy—after all, she was there for the family.

Even when they argued, she was always the first to make peace.

Some couples, during spats, would blurt out that they’d been blind when they married. His wife never uttered such words; she always stuck to the matter at hand, never used divorce as a threat.

He remembered once, in a fit of anger, he’d shouted ‘divorce’ at her. That night, she sat by the bed and cried until morning.

There were countless memories like this.

Having spoken so much, Wang Qiang fell silent, sinking into gentle recollection. Every memory of his wife seemed to bring a rainbow to mind.

Perhaps it was this little figure in his memories who gave him the strength to persevere and strive in these times.