Chapter 18: The Floor

I lasted until the lamp had been out for as long as it takes to boil a pot of rice.

"Chengzhi."

"I'm awake."

"You're on the floor."

"That was the arrangement."

"It was your arrangement," I said. "I never agreed to it."

The boards creaked as he turned over.

I could hear the paper crackle on his chest.

"You said you weren't sure whom I was kissing," I said.

"Lanxi."

"Be quiet.

"I'm saying it once, and then you can sleep wherever you like."

He was quiet.

"I picked a boy with a wooden horse who was afraid of thunder," I said.

"I picked a man who wrote me a letter and carried six candies in his coat."

"I have been picking you since the first bowl, and it is the same stubborn fool every time."

The room was dark and very still.

"Get in the bed, Lu Chengzhi."

"I said I would not..."

"I'm your wife, I'm cold, and I have decided which." My voice shook, and I let it. "Get in the bed."

He didn't answer.

Then I heard the quilt rustle, and his bare feet on the boards, and the bed frame took his weight on the far side.

He lay on his back, rigid, with a hand's width of cold sheet between us.

"I want it said," he said, to the ceiling, "when there is nothing to gain by it. When it costs you something."

"Then you'll hear it in front of the whole lane."

"Lanxi..."

I rolled over and put my hand flat on his chest, on top of the paper.

I took the paper out and set it on the floor.

His heart was going hard under my palm.

"You'll hear it," I said. "Tonight you can just lie there and be my husband."

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