March 17th, Year X
Weather: Sunny
It turns out Wu Yunfei does know his way around. At least he managed to get us to the airport terminal instead of the train station.
“Why would you think I’d take you to the train station?” he asked. “Even if I didn’t know the way, we have navigation apps.”
He had a point, but that dream had felt so real that even while sitting on the plane, everything felt a bit surreal.
“Ten whole hours on this flight, what should we do?” He muttered, glancing at me expectantly, hoping I’d suggest something fun.
“Do whatever you want, I’m going to sleep,” I said.
To avoid disrupting our schedule, we chose a red-eye flight. This way, we could sleep on the plane and continue sleeping once we arrived. It might sound weird, but it’s the most effective way to deal with jet lag, ensuring I wouldn’t doze off at work the next day.
“Sleep? Come on, let’s party!” He took a sip of the champagne provided on the plane.
“Tastes awful,” he commented.
I don’t have strong opinions about alcohol. To me, it’s just a sleep aid, but he insisted I try it too.
What’s so special about airplane booze?
I skeptically sniffed it and found nothing amiss. One sip confirmed it tasted fine.
“Tastes normal to me,” I said.
He didn’t reply, just smiled at me mischievously.
That’s when I noticed his glass was still full, meaning I drank from the one he had already sipped from…
Was this what they call an indirect kiss?!
Feeling oddly shy, I turned my head away and muttered, “You’re so childish.”
“Do you know why it tasted better when you drank it?” he whispered in my ear. “Because I cast a spell to make it taste good.”
“Have you had too much to drink?” I asked.
His tolerance is unpredictable. Sometimes two sips of beer make him drunk, other times he can down a whole bottle of baijiu by himself.
“It’s not the wine that gets you drunk, but the person,” he mumbled.
I wonder if all artists are like this. Lately, he’s been throwing poetic lines around.
“Flowers don’t charm people, people charm themselves,” I quipped.
He paused, asking what I meant.
I told him it meant nothing, just going along with him.
He seemed a bit disappointed, sighing softly.
“Go to sleep. I won’t bother you. Wouldn’t want you blaming me if you mess up at work,” he said.
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“You’re such a cat slave, always thinking about your pet!” he teased.
Despite his teasing, he leaned in to watch with me.
I have a movable camera, so I can scan different rooms. But after searching several places, there was no sign of my cat.
Could it have gotten out accidentally? I started to worry.
“Look here!” Wu Yunfei pointed at a small yellow spot on the screen.
If I wasn’t mistaken, my cat was hiding behind a potted plant.
What was it doing back there? Playing hide and seek?
I maneuvered the camera closer.
Suddenly, my cat darted out from behind the plant, slamming into the camera and knocking it over. Now, it was staring helplessly at the ceiling.
“It probably thought the camera was prey,” Wu Yunfei laughed. “You sure you bought the right gadget? It got defeated by a cat!”
“It’s a camera, not a combat robot,” I retorted.
Seeing my lively cat, I finally relaxed.
The cleaning lady would probably set the camera upright when she arrived.
“I think it knows you’re spying on it and feels its privacy is violated,” Wu Yunfei said with a serious face. “Its message is ‘Stupid human, what are you looking at?'”
“My cat is a sweetie, not a meanie.”
I believed my cat saw the camera as an intruder, hence the aggressive behavior.
Due to Fashion Week, the hotel the company booked for me was fully occupied. As a result, Wu Yunfei had to share a room with me.
Luckily, I got a business suite. Though there was only one bed, it was big enough for both of us.
“You knew this would happen. Why didn’t you book a room earlier?” I asked. “Or at least tell me, so my assistant could arrange it.”
“I forgot,” he shrugged. “This way is better. We save money and bond more.”
Bond more? I had my doubts.
The last time we shared a bed, I ended up with a cold for several days!
“Don’t worry, I won’t steal the covers this time,” he said. “But you better not talk in your sleep.”
Do I talk in my sleep?
Honestly, no one ever mentioned it.
“Most people don’t get to sleep with you,” he rolled his eyes. “You talk a lot in your sleep, like a chatterbox.”
“What do I say?” I asked.
“Who knows? You mix all sorts of languages together. It’s hard on a language-challenged person like me,” he said.
I must have talked in my sleep on the plane, as that floating feeling makes one insecure.
But I couldn’t recall what I dreamt about.
“If I talk in my sleep, just cover my mouth,” I said.
And so, we reached a temporary room-sharing agreement.
I planned to sleep after dinner, but he insisted the night was young and wanted to go sightseeing.
What’s there to see in the dark?
I declined his suggestion.
“Anything is better than sleeping again. Besides, you just woke up. Can you really sleep again?” he asked.
He underestimated my ability to sleep. Given the chance to eat intermittently, I could sleep for 48 hours straight.
But he hadn’t slept much on the plane. How was he still so energetic? Wasn’t he tired?
“Do you know the phrase ‘too much is as bad as too little’? You’re exhausted because you sleep too much,” he said.
To keep me awake, he proposed a finger wrestling match. If I won, he’d stay in and sleep. If he won, we’d go out.
To stop him from nagging, I accepted the challenge.
“Prepare to lose,” he grinned.
I rolled my eyes.
He used to boast about beating me when I was seven or eight, while he was a teenager. Bragging about beating a kid, really?
“This time, I’ll reclaim my honor,” I declared.
Traditionally, we draw faces on our fingers before starting finger wrestling.
Just as I was about to draw, he suggested we draw each other’s.
“Drawing your own face is boring,” he said.
I agreed, finding his suggestion more interesting.
We decided on the order by rock-paper-scissors, and I got to draw first.
For some reason, the moment I touched his hand, it felt like an electric shock, my heart racing.
“Why are you shaking?” he laughed. “Did you catch Parkinson’s early?”
I realized my hand was trembling slightly.
“A bit cold,” I said. “I’ll turn up the heat.”
“Cold? I feel hot,” he said. “You’re too frail!”
He couldn’t go a day without roasting me.
I shot him a glare and drew a googly-eyed face on his finger.
“Looks terrible. Good thing you didn’t become a manga artist. Doesn’t capture a fraction of my charm,” he teased.
I told him that in manga, glasses-wearing characters are usually sharp-tongued, so the eyes represent his true nature.
“Eyes are the true essence?” he mused.
“Yes, the eyes are the essence,” I affirmed.
He then put on his glasses, taken from his bag.
“Can’t neglect my essence, right?” he grinned.
Next, he drew on my finger.
I swallowed nervously, feeling tense.
“It’s not a needle, why so nervous? Coward!” he chuckled.
I wasn’t sure why I was nervous—maybe more anticipation than anxiety.
The pen tickled my finger, and I watched Wu Yunfei, admiring his good looks. How could he have such perfect skin?
“Done,” he said.
I snapped out of my daze, looking at my finger.
“Why does it look half-asleep?”
“Because you’re always half-asleep.”
“And the tie?”
“Guess.”
“Because I’m a workaholic who’s always tired?”
“Exactly.”
I hated to admit it, but he was right.
The finger wrestling commenced. Perhaps due to his lack of sleep, his movements were sluggish. I easily gained the upper hand.
But just as I was about to press his finger down, I hesitated.
He probably really wanted to see the night view after not sleeping much on the flight.
Honestly, after sleeping so long on the plane, I wasn’t that tired.
So, I eased up, letting him win.
“Haha! Still a loser after all these years. Put on your coat and let’s enjoy the night!” he laughed.
“Ugh, so close. What a shame,” I sighed.
