101 Realizing One’s Mistake Only After Being Deceived

Zhang feared he didn’t understand ballet, or perhaps any of the refined arts. For ordinary people, to live with wine, meat, and a roof over their heads, and to have a noble pursuit, that alone was life’s joy.

But at this very moment, Zhang’s happiness was doubled. Liu Xiaomei’s figure was exceptionally beautiful, and her dance even more so—telling stories with her body, expressing beauty through her movements.

Liu Xiaomei danced a brief piece lasting just over a minute. When she finished, she bowed gracefully, then approached and asked, “Was it good?”

Zhang opened his arms wide. “Uncle, hold me.”

Liu Xiaomei laughed. “You rogue,” she said, yet she still gave him a firm embrace.

Just a hug. Zhang held her waist for a moment, then gently released her and stepped back softly, speaking quietly: “I’m clumsy, truly clumsy. So you have to promise me—if anything ever makes you unhappy, you must tell me. Absolutely must.”

Why is someone so intelligent? Because they care. Just a phone call, but from her tone, one could sense Zhang’s unhappiness, which showed one thing: Liu Xiaomei cared deeply about Zhang, enough to sense his mood.

By comparison, Zhang fell short somewhat.

Liu Xiaomei smiled and replied, “Okay,” then went back to dress before heading out with Zhang. “Did I dance well?”

“Especially well,” Zhang said. “Like a fairy.”

Liu Xiaomei teased, “And you call yourself a writer? Your vocabulary is so poor.”

Zhang replied, “The truest heart, the most direct expression, is always found in the simplest words.”

“Alright, you’ve convinced me,” Liu Xiaomei laughed and asked, “No more theme songs? No more cartoons? No more hiring?”

Zhang apologized for wasting her efforts.

Liu Xiaomei said, “If it’s for you, I’m willing. Money can’t buy that willingness.”

Zhang said, “I’m done for—I’m completely ruined. I’ll never be able to leave you again in this life. What shall I do?”

“If you can’t leave, then stay together. But I haven’t agreed yet, so you’ll have to keep pursuing me, comrade. Keep trying, I’m watching you closely.” Liu Xiaomei smiled as she spoke.

Zhang snapped to attention. “I obey orders.”

Liu Xiaomei laughed again, then after a moment suddenly asked, “Aren’t you curious about my past?”

“Very curious,” Zhang answered.

“Then why don’t you ask? I thought you didn’t care,” Liu Xiaomei said.

“I don’t know how to ask,” Zhang admitted. “You’re so outstanding… I don’t know what to say.” Everyone has a story, and if Liu Xiaomei’s story were unexpected, he wasn’t prepared yet.

Liu Xiaomei said, “There’s nothing you can’t know. Ask whatever you want, and I’ll tell you.”

Zhang smiled faintly. “When the weather warms next year, if you still don’t mind me, let’s find a night to go to the beach, lie side by side on the sand, watch the stars, listen to the waves, and you can tell me your story. How about that?”

Liu Xiaomei agreed and held out her hand. “Little one, Auntie will take you to the classroom.”

Zhang gently grasped that warm, soft hand. “Thank you, dear.”

“Taking advantage of me again,” Liu Xiaomei said, happily stepping forward with light footsteps.

Entering the dance classroom, a round-faced little girl approached Liu Xiaomei. “Teacher, my birthday is tomorrow. Can I invite you to my birthday party?”

Liu Xiaomei smiled and asked, “Do you really want to invite me?”

“Yes, I want to celebrate with you, Teacher Liu,” the girl said, glancing at Zhang. “And this big brother too.”

Liu Xiaomei didn’t know how to decline. Kids aren’t like adults. Just as she hesitated, the girl added, “I invited my classmates too. Everyone’s coming. Teacher, you should come.”

Liu Xiaomei said, “Let’s finish class first; we’ll talk after.”

Class went on for two and a half hours. When it ended, it was time for Zhang’s extra practice, but today they paused briefly. The little girl’s mother came in, saying there would be a birthday party for Yezi tomorrow at the International Hotel at noon. All the classmates were invited, and she hoped the teacher would come too.

After some thought, Liu Xiaomei agreed. Yezi’s mother then invited Zhang as well.

“May I come?” Zhang asked.

“Why not? You’re Teacher Liu’s boyfriend. What’s wrong with that?” Yezi’s mother replied.

Zhang laughed. “Alright then, if you don’t mind, I’ll come.”

“It’s settled then,” Yezi’s mother said as she left with her child.

After a few minutes, the classroom emptied, and Zhang began his solo practice. Today’s session ended early—twenty minutes—because Liu Xiaomei needed to go home.

While changing clothes, Liu Xiaomei said, “Come to my house for dinner tonight. My mom’s been saying it for days.”

Of course, Zhang agreed and asked, “What should we get Yezi for her birthday tomorrow?”

“Something small will do,” Liu Xiaomei replied. “Actually, why don’t you just stay over tonight? How about that?”

Zhang chuckled. “The Liu family is quite something. Usually, girls’ parents push men away, worried their daughters will be mistreated. But your family is eager to keep me around. What’s this? Want me to move in?”

“Exactly that. Wouldn’t you want that?” Liu Xiaomei smiled.

“Would love to,” Zhang said.

So there was no need to go to the dormitory or eat out—Zhang rode his bicycle, giving Liu Xiaomei a ride home.

Along the way, many men must have felt resentful: I drive a fancy car and have no girlfriend, yet this poor old man has such a beautiful woman by his side.

They arrived home quickly. Upon opening the door, Mrs. Liu praised, “That’s right. Coming to our home means coming home. No need to buy anything. That’s the best.”

Zhang smiled awkwardly. “Xiaomei wouldn’t let me buy anything, so…”

“Good you didn’t. Come in,” Mrs. Liu took their slippers and said, “Dinner’s ready, waiting for you both. Go wash your hands and come eat.”

Zhang nodded, feeling somewhat uncertain.

If Liu Xiaomei were ugly or if Zhang were fabulously wealthy, Mrs. Liu’s attitude would be understandable. But Zhang was poor and old, and Liu Xiaomei was outstanding beyond measure—why would they treat him so well?

Liu Xiaomei went to change clothes first. Soon, the four of them sat down together.

The kindness of Liu Xiaomei’s parents was boundless, almost unbelievable. According to TV dramas, they should have been critical and picky, but instead, they were so gracious.

During dinner, Mrs. Liu asked Zhang about his job, whether he had any difficulties, showing genuine concern. Zhang replied it was going well. Mrs. Liu continued chatting, moving from one topic to another, occasionally asking about Zhang’s hobbies.

Zhang answered honestly, feeling the pressure mounting—an obvious sign of his uncertainty.

Fortunately, Mr. Liu was straightforward. He interrupted, “Let’s eat. Save other questions for next time.”

“Is this going to be serialized?” Zhang muttered softly.

To Zhang, Mr. Liu seemed more approachable, but that was wishful thinking. After dinner, Mr. Liu invited Zhang to have tea. The two sat on the observation balcony, where Mr. Liu brewed tea directly from a large pot, not the elaborate kung fu tea ceremony.

“Drink,” Mr. Liu said, and Zhang complied.

Mr. Liu took a sip and said, “This is our second meeting. I have a good impression of you. But living together can’t rely on impressions. Let me be clear: as long as Xiaomei avoids bad habits and doesn’t waste money, my fortune can support her for life. But life isn’t lived that way. Xiaomei brought you home because she thinks well of you. Even if your relationship isn’t formalized, she likes you. So, if you live together, you can’t just spend my money, understand?”

Zhang replied, “I understand.”

Mr. Liu continued, “Of course, Xiaomei earns her own money. I don’t interfere. A few years ago, a director approached me wanting to cast Xiaomei as a lead actress. She had many offers, but back then she was focused solely on dance and turned everything else down. She earned plenty just through dancing—enough to live comfortably.”

He paused and asked, “Have you looked in Xiaomei’s wardrobe?”

“No,” Zhang said.

“That’s what makes me proud,” Mr. Liu said. “She’s wealthy but doesn’t spend recklessly. She doesn’t worship brand names or only wear designer clothes, but she also doesn’t buy only cheap things. She knows what she should buy and what she should do.”

Zhang smiled. “She looks good in anything.”

“Tell her that,” Mr. Liu said. “I called you here to talk about your future. Our Xiaomei doesn’t waste money, but that doesn’t mean she’ll live in poverty. Of course she won’t. But I don’t want her to earn money for you to spend. Let me put it this way: if Xiaomei earns two hundred thousand a year, you shouldn’t earn less than one hundred and fifty thousand, or at least one hundred thousand. You don’t have to make more than her, but you need to maintain a certain standard. You understand?”

Zhang nodded.

“Good,” Mr. Liu said. “I’m not trying to make it difficult. I’m talking about what it means to be a man. If you and Xiaomei really end up together, I’ll pay for the house, the car, even the wedding. But you have to be worthy of that. In other words, don’t let me think you’re a freeloader.”

“I won’t,” Zhang said.

“That’s good. That’s what I wanted to say. Now, let’s drink tea.”

Zhang glanced at the teapot. “That’s a big pot you have.”

“Have you seen those old Republic-era dramas? The kind where waiters carry huge patterned teapots in restaurants? That’s what I use,” Mr. Liu said.

“Tea is for drinking. I don’t have time to waste on fancy ceremonies. Kung fu tea is just a waste of time. Young people shouldn’t bother with it,” he added.

“I don’t know how to do kung fu tea,” Zhang admitted.

“Even better,” Mr. Liu said. “Do you play chess?”

“I do, I learned as a child but stopped playing as I grew up,” Zhang replied. “Mahjong too—I barely play.”

“Whether you play isn’t what matters. What matters is how you manage your time,” Mr. Liu said. “I don’t know how you feel, but since my twenties, I’ve always felt there’s never enough time. I get up as soon as I wake—never lie in bed… Enough talk. Go have fun with Xiaomei.”

Mr. Liu stood, took the large teapot, and left.

Once Mr. Liu was out of sight, Zhang left the balcony and slowly made his way upstairs.