When Cheng Liao was little, she was a handful. Every time her father finished reading her a bedtime story, she would stare at him with sleepy, wide eyes and ask, "And then?"
The princess and the prince lived happily ever after. And then?
The little tadpole found its mother. And then?
This forced her father to stretch his limited imagination. So, after the princess and prince got married, they had Cinderella. Cinderella went out to play and met the Big Bad Wolf, but at the crucial moment, Black Cat Detective saved her. The two of them went on an adventure together, discovered the treasure of the Forty Thieves, and called White Dove Detective, who brought the Seven Dwarfs… The Seven Dwarfs then escorted Cinderella home and became friends.
Of course, these plot holes didn’t escape the curious young Cheng Liao, who began to wonder, "What comes after happiness?"
When she was five, happiness meant the prince gave the princess a piece of candy.
At ten, happiness was the prince helping the princess with her math homework.
At fifteen, happiness was the prince and princess getting into the same prestigious high school.
As an adult, she gradually forgot about this question. Happiness itself became an abstract concept, let alone what came after.
Her honeymoon with Sheng Jingchu began in Portugal.
They arrived late in the evening, and Cheng Liao felt sore all over, like a robot with creaky bones. Sheng Jingchu, carrying the luggage, reached out to ruffle her hair.
"It’s even messier now," Cheng Liao grumbled, searching in vain for a mirror. She turned his face toward her, looking into his eyes. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?"
In his pupils, she saw her own reflection—a small, tired figure, like wilted greens. He smiled, indulging her childish whim, and gently pinched her cheek. "You are!"
Satisfied, she clung to his neck. "I’ve noticed you’ve been really sweet lately."
Sheng Jingchu leaned down and bumped his forehead against hers. "I don’t know if my words are sweet, but I do feel like my nose might be getting longer."
Cheng Liao took a moment to process, then pushed him away in mock annoyance. "No Pinocchio impressions allowed!"
"Let’s try again. Honest mirror, who’s the fairest in the world?"
When she didn’t hear an answer from him for a while, she urged him, "Hurry up and answer!"
"The mirror is searching… currently scanning 6.758 billion people…"
There were many people waiting for a ride. Cheng Liao checked their accommodations and found it wasn’t far from the airport—about a twenty-minute walk. After some discussion, they decided to walk, following the map’s directions. Halfway there, Cheng Liao regretted it. She complained about her back, "Ugh, my back hurts," and then her legs, "Ugh, my legs hurt."
After complaining about her entire body, Sheng Jingchu crouched down and patted his shoulder. "Come on, I’ll carry you."
Cheng Liao hesitated. "But you’re tired too…" she said before jumping onto his back. "Tired? You think I’d be so considerate? You’re overthinking it!"
Sheng Jingchu sighed. Her hands still smelled like cherry blossom hand cream as she loosely draped them around his neck. He took one of her hands and made sure she held on tightly.
Cheng Liao might talk big, but she wasn’t one to take advantage. Before Sheng Jingchu had walked far, she started to slide off his back. He gave her a gentle bounce. "Stay put!"
Having to carry her on his back while also dragging a suitcase and holding a backpack, Sheng Jingchu looked a bit strained, so Cheng Liao took the backpack from him and slung it over her own shoulder.
"Let me tell you a story," Sheng Jingchu’s voice had a slight rasp to it. "Once, there was a small-time trader who rode a donkey and took his wife along to sell some fabric. They bought back several rolls, and let the donkey carry them. Along the way, someone saw them and said, ‘Look at your wife, with her tiny feet, struggling to walk. Why don’t you let her ride the donkey?’ So he took the fabric off the donkey and carried it himself, letting his wife ride. A bit further along, another passerby saw how exhausted he was and said to his wife, ‘Look at your husband, he’s struggling so much. Why don’t you let the donkey carry the fabric instead?’ So the wife got off the donkey, and they were left in a dilemma. Suddenly, the wife came up with a brilliant idea—"
"The wife carried the fabric while sitting on the donkey."
Cheng Liao burst out laughing, suddenly realizing that by carrying the backpack, she was just like the wife in the story.
She couldn’t help but chuckle while feeling a bit sorry for him. She patted his back. "Put me down, little donkey."
Sheng Jingchu’s steps were steady. "We’re almost there."
Lisbon in December was slightly chilly. The ginkgo trees lining the road had leaves that had turned completely yellow, their bright color resembling the sunlight filtering through curtains on a summer afternoon.
Cheng Liao stretched out her hand, catching a fallen leaf in her palm. She twirled it by the stem near Sheng Jingchu’s ear, fanning him playfully. "Is that refreshing?"
They had checked the weather in Lisbon before coming and wore fall clothes from back home. Sheng Jingchu felt the faint breeze and worried that she might be feeling warm from their brisk pace.
"I'm not hot."
"Good," Cheng Liao shook the leaf a few more times, "Stay cool, stay fresh, onward we go—"
Their accommodation was a pre-booked Airbnb on the twelfth floor of a commercial building. The property manager had already sent the access code to Cheng Liao’s phone.
The living room offered a wide view, with huge floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the harbor not far away.
Cheng Liao let out a cheer and flopped onto the sofa, her voice trailing off in a playful whine. "Can I sleep here tonight… with the sea as my pillow?"
After freshening up, they went to a nearby supermarket to buy some groceries. The streets were lined with bakeries, each window displaying rows of egg tarts. After eating her way through three of them, Cheng Liao felt puzzled.
"They… don’t taste that special, do they?"
They were sweet—no doubt about that. European desserts had a reputation for their overwhelming sweetness, almost as if they were on a mission to knock out their customers with sugar. And the eggy flavor was intense. But to Cheng Liao, they all tasted the same.
She took just one bite from each egg tart and left the rest for Sheng Jingchu, who dutifully finished them. When she tried to drag him into a fourth bakery, he gently pulled her back.
Seeing him shake his head, Cheng Liao promised, "I’m not getting another egg tart!"
Once inside, she started to hesitate over the prices, mentally converting everything to her home currency. Then she turned to Sheng Jingchu with a pleading look. He smiled indulgently and handed her the loose change they had from the supermarket.
She then pretended to be picky, pointing out flaws in the pastries. "This one’s all show, no substance. That one has way too much icing—it’ll be sickeningly sweet. And this almond cake doesn’t look very fresh."
"Freshly made, just today!"
A bearded shopkeeper who had been standing quietly in the corner suddenly spoke up in Chinese.
Cheng Liao was startled. "You understand?"
The bearded man huffed with a hint of disdain, "I passed the HSK Level 6 exam."
Embarrassed at being caught speaking ill of his goods, they ended up buying a bag full of bread to make up for it.
Dinner consisted of oven-heated pizza, toast, and a large plate of lobster mac and cheese. Sheng Jingchu looked at the carb-heavy spread and sighed. "I’m starting to miss rice."
Cheng Liao didn’t let him be picky. She cut him a slice of pizza. "We had a neighbor whose son studied at Waseda University in Japan. When I was a kid, I thought he was there to study rice farming."
"Makes sense," Sheng Jingchu nodded, "By that logic, Cambridge University must specialize in bridge construction."
She continued with her whimsical thoughts. "Hey, I’d never even heard of Cambridge when I was a kid. But our school had a fisheries department next to ours, with a big pond full of fish. In my second year, there was a huge storm that flooded the pond, and the fish spilled out everywhere. On my way to class, I tripped in the water and somehow caught a fish. It was still flopping around and must have weighed four or five pounds. I kept it in the sink in our dorm bathroom and later that night, my roommates and I secretly made fish hotpot."
She detailed the hotpot recipe. "The meat has to be sliced thin so it cooks quickly. The dipping sauce must have fresh and cooked garlic, a bit of chili, soy sauce, and a drizzle of sesame oil…"
As she talked, her mouth began to water. She frowned at the pizza on her plate. "I don’t just miss rice. I miss hotpot, spicy stir-fried dishes, crispy duck, and chilled tripe salad."
Sheng Jingchu’s mind was still on the escaped fish from the flood. "What happened to the other fish?"
"Oh, the school organized a fish-catching event for all the students and staff. The caught fish were sent to the cafeteria, and we ate them until the end of the semester. I got so tired of fish that just looking at one made me feel full."
"And yet you still want fish hotpot?"
"Ah, you don’t get it," Cheng Liao shook her head, as if she had seen it all. "It’s not about the hotpot. I miss my youth."
But what is youth, really? To Sheng Jingchu, his youth had no thrilling first loves, no late-night study sessions, no long talks around the fire with friends. His youth was stark white, quickly bound into a rough manuscript and left to gather dust in the back of his memory.
Noticing Sheng Jingchu’s momentary sadness, Cheng Liao smiled. "Of course, compared to mine, your youth was a bit dull. But don’t worry, young man. With the time you have now, there’s still plenty of room for wild adventures."
Sheng Jingchu asked earnestly, "What would you suggest for wild adventures?"
Cheng Liao was momentarily stumped. She rubbed her hands together, thinking for a while before laughing mischievously, "How about we get a divorce first?"
"That’s not wild," Sheng Jingchu snorted. "It’s reckless—" He paused, finding the word a bit distasteful. "You can fill in the rest."
Cheng Liao burst into laughter, collapsing into her chair.
After dinner, it was time for Cheng Liao to give Sheng Jingchu a massage. She was convinced he had neck problems ever since she saw him rub his neck one day.
Her grandfather had neck problems, often complaining of pain as he got older. Every evening after dinner, her grandmother would bring out a stool, sit him down, and give him a neck massage.
Cheng Liao’s grandmother believed in the "no pain, no gain" philosophy when it came to massages, and Cheng Liao had learned to follow suit.
"Isn’t it a bit lacking? I’m nowhere near as good as my grandma. She used to make my grandpa howl with pain. Once, his cries were so loud that the neighbors thought she was abusing him and called the women’s rights hotline to report her."
Sheng Jingchu grabbed her hand mid-massage. "Do you know where we can rent a wheelchair in Portugal?"
"Huh?" Cheng Liao didn’t immediately catch on. "Why would I need to know that?"
Sheng Jingchu pulled her into his arms. "If you keep this up, I’ll be paralyzed."
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