6 A Hard-Fought Battle

What does marriage look like in your imagination?

Si Mingming had no imagination about marriage; she lacked such fancy and only allowed reason to govern everything. On the eve of Zhang Lele’s marriage registration, the three of them held a pajama party at Si Mingming’s place. That night, Zhang Lele kept giggling foolishly, repeatedly saying how wonderful it was—how her abundant and profound emotions were now protected by law, wrapped in three layers of armor: emotional, moral, and legal; it would never break again.

Lu Manman laughed at her naivety and poured cold water on her enthusiasm: “I’m telling you, those three layers of armor are just rotten rags. Wait and see.”

Zhang Lele scolded Lu Manman for spoiling the fun, calling her a cancer of society with her anti-marriage stance. The two argued bitterly until almost dawn, exchanging venomous words. Only when the sun rose did they reconcile, holding each other and sobbing.

“I really don’t want you to get married,” Lu Manman said.

“I really hope you won’t leave this time,” Zhang Lele replied.

Si Mingming had just woken up, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Seeing them in such a pitiful state, she asked, “Who died? Why are you crying like this?” The two tear-streaked friends stopped crying and looked at Si Mingming, hesitating to speak but finally shaking their heads: “No hope. Our good friend is lost.”

On the night before Si Mingming’s own marriage registration, her heart was calm as still water. After arriving home, she did a symbolic set of Tai Chi, took a shower, and lay down on the bed. Chen Ming sent her a message: “Heard there’s a change in the layoff strategy?”

Si Mingming didn’t reply.

Before leaving work, Vice President Wu Yinan called her for a closed-door talk, saying that in the next round of business adjustments, middle management positions were up for change. Although Si Mingming had guessed that a managerial reshuffle was coming, she hadn’t expected it to come so soon. Her eight years of rapid promotion seemed to have prepared her to shield the boss from bullets one day. She vaguely felt that now, pushed into this position, she finally faced her greatest challenge.

She kept this to herself.

But having worked with Chen Ming and others for many years, navigating the intricate web of connections inside the company, it was not difficult for them to get wind of such news. His messages to her were only to seek confirmation. Si Mingming could offer no certainty, especially nothing in writing.

Chen Ming sent another message: “Lunch together tomorrow?”

“Sorry, I’m off tomorrow.”

“What’s going on?”

“Getting my marriage certificate.”

This was no secret; Si Mingming did not want a secret marriage. She had long coveted the marital leave benefits and wanted to take the opportunity to find a place to hide away alone for a while. Chen Ming was shocked. “Really getting married?”

“Really.”

Of course, truly getting married.

Si Mingming didn’t expect marriage to shelter her from storms; she carried her own umbrella in the rain and stayed indoors in the wind. If misfortune blocked her way, she would face it calmly. Life is long and unpredictable. She was like a teenager setting off on a bike trip with good friends, not thinking much, just eager to begin. The scenery along the way was gradually beautiful, and the noodle bowl in Changping county town was delicious, even if she later had to write a self-criticism essay at the teacher’s demand. So what? It was good practice for her writing.

Back then, Nie Rushuang said she looked like a dead pig unafraid of boiling water even at a young age, as if she had suffered some karmic retribution in a past life, resulting in her ghostly demeanor now. She even tapped her forehead and said: “In this whole family, you’re the only one without a warm spark. Even your grandmother is afraid of you.”

Si Mingming’s “ethereal and otherworldly” aura had scared off a few ex-boyfriends. To reach the present moment of registering her marriage, she owed much to the bold bravery of this match she had accepted. As she left, she reminded herself: be nicer to him, be kinder; after all, men this easy to manage are rare.

Thinking this, she couldn’t help but smile softly. Even her old car seemed to jump in celebration. Upon arrival, she walked straight in and saw her future husband, Comrade Su Jingqiu, punctual as ever, already seated and waiting. Yet his expression looked as if he had come to sign a divorce certificate.

Si Mingming took off her sunglasses and put them in her pocket. “If I regret this now, I won’t call you heartless,” she said.

Su Jingqiu’s heart was already in turmoil, but her words acted like a giant leather shield, calming the storm on his small boat. He coldly glanced at her, mocking, “You go to your death so calmly.”

Si Mingming said nothing, lowering her eyes to his feet, pondering that if he tried to flee at the last moment, she could quickly trip him. “Sly,” Lu Manman often said of her.

But Su Jingqiu didn’t leave. His pride flared; he wouldn’t be looked down on by the cold-faced woman beside him at this critical moment. This marriage was nothing more than a farce, with one party utterly disheartened and the other harboring impure motives. During the paperwork, the disheartened one looked away; the one with ulterior motives stared intently.

No matter what, the two were bound by an invisible rope, uncomfortable no matter how much they pretended otherwise.

The civil affairs officers were unmoved—they had seen stranger marriages before. At least these two appeared sane and calm. Once the official stamp was affixed, Si Mingming glanced at the marriage certificate. The haphazard photo they took by the door looked like a funeral portrait—twenty-four facial nerves between their two faces yet not a hint of a smile.

As they stepped out of the civil affairs bureau, the clear weather suddenly turned to heavy rain, drenching them back under the eaves. While walking, Si Mingming’s hand accidentally brushed Su Jingqiu’s arm. From the warmth of his skin, she inferred his limbs must be burning hot. She never understood why so many healthy men had such a temperature, as if it was meant to prove their vibrant vitality, active sperm, and unwearied nerves.

Su Jingqiu noticed her strange gaze and stepped aside, intending to stop her boldness. She timely put on her sunglasses. He wanted to plunge into the rain and drown himself in a puddle if only three centimeters of water could kill a man.

So they stood far apart, waiting for the rain to stop.

Si Mingming felt she should inform her family and sent a photo of her marriage certificate to the propaganda committee member Nie Rushuang. As expected, she received a barrage of criticism.

“I told you to have fun, not to marry him!”

“You’re still young; you don’t understand. You should marry a decent man like your father!”

“Does he beat people?…”

…

Nie Rushuang regretted her impulsiveness in finding her daughter such a top-tier “male specimen,” never imagining she’d actually register the marriage. As a somewhat immature mother, her emotions fluctuated wildly, her mood rising and falling, imagination running wild envisioning her daughter’s miserable married life.

The first thought: domestic violence. Those tattoos on the man’s body were not ordinary. Nie Rushuang recalled some of Si Mingming’s peers who dropped out, tattooed words like “Endure” or “Righteousness,” drank, fought, got expelled, and ended up in reform schools. This young man, though formally educated and from a decent family, bore large tattoos on his arm that always suggested something complicated. A healthy body is good, but if he ever raised a fist to her, her daughter wouldn’t stand for it. At that moment, Nie Rushuang forgot her daughter’s legendary subway incident or that she had never feared anyone, not even the local thugs who usually steered clear of her.

Next was the financial concern. Running a restaurant and bar was a tough business nowadays. What if he lost everything and had to rely on his daughter?

Fuming, Nie Rushuang refused to attend social events, only wanting to talk seriously with her daughter, urging her to turn around and book a divorce appointment at the civil affairs bureau.

Then she reconsidered—married and divorced so quickly would only invite gossip. No matter what, it was unacceptable.

While still angry, she saw a message from Si Mingming and told herself, “Ms. Nie, calm down.”

Like when Si Mingming once led people to skip school and Nie Rushuang drove her nearly broken car to pick her up, she always quickly made peace with what had happened. In war, one meets force with force; when water comes, build a dam. With that thought, she turned back to rehearsal.

Si Mingming guessed her mother had reconciled and turned to look at Su Jingqiu. This man was truly handsome; in such hot, humid weather, others’ faces glistened with oil, but he looked fresh. Su Jingqiu had some experience; seeing her glance his way, he knew her eyes hidden behind the sunglasses were fixed on him.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, without the warmth one might expect from a new husband, but with his usual arrogance.

Si Mingming zipped her sun-protection jacket up to cover her nose, so her polite smile remained unseen.

Outside the civil affairs bureau, they looked like two odd creatures—one armored head to toe, the other revealing a sour mood. Glancing at each other, neither felt the other was their spouse; rather, like debt collectors picked up from somewhere.

Too unfamiliar.

Though taciturn, Si Mingming was skilled at breaking the ice. She took out her phone first: “Let’s add each other as friends. Do I scan you or you scan me?”

So considerate, Su Jingqiu couldn’t refuse and pulled out his phone: “I’ll scan you.”

Thus, the newlyweds stood at the bureau’s entrance, now friends in each other’s messaging apps. But it didn’t end there. Si Mingming, unusually warm, invited Su Jingqiu, “Come to my place? Let’s get to know the neighborhood?”

When a calm, silent woman suddenly becomes enthusiastic, it feels strange. But she was so thoroughly covered up, revealing no thoughts to Su Jingqiu, who suddenly wondered: could this be a scam?

His heart trembled but felt his fate was not so doomed. After all, Si Mingming’s or Si Mingyue’s home surely had no monsters. He behaved properly and sat upright, unafraid of a sudden trap.

With that thought, he got into her car.

Just as he settled, he noticed the passenger seat felt unstable, his long legs cramped in the small space, stiff and awkward. Su Jingqiu recalled the profile of his ex-wife that his mother, Wang Qingfang, had sent him: a mid-level executive at a prestigious company, earning over two million annually. Realizing this, he understood that the focused driver beside him was a colleague of Zheng Liang.

How small the world was, how many twists and turns daily, how many people trapped in events beyond their control—Su Jingqiu had now witnessed it.

“Aren’t you hot?” He wiped sweat from his forehead, glanced at the air vent, and couldn’t help but reach out: the car’s air conditioning seemed as lifeless as its owner. With that two-million salary, why not get a better car? Saving coffin money?

“I’m preserving my health,” Si Mingming said. “I don’t like air conditioning. You should avoid it too.” Turning to see his ashen face, she added, “We must cherish our lives.”

Su Jingqiu was utterly shocked, while Si Mingming silently resolved to get the broken air conditioner fixed soon!