Chapter 1
Edward Quan ·
I was shoe shopping with my two best friends.
“You know that meme about men from Inner Mongolia?”
“Are they really twenty centimeters?”
“Oh my god. Who could handle that?”
Bent over fastening a high heel, I caught only half the conversation.
“Right? Eight centimeters is my limit. Two to five is usually plenty.”
My friends went silent.
So did my boyfriend, who had somehow appeared behind me.
What?
Was being bad at walking in heels really that embarrassing?
1
That weekend, I met my two friends at the mall to shop for clothes.
I was trying on heels when I heard them talking.
“You know that meme about men from Inner Mongolia?”
“Of course!”
“Are they really twenty centimeters?”
“Apparently. I heard they’re as long as a forearm!”
“Oh my god. Who could handle that?”
I bent to fasten the shoes, only half listening.
Automatically, I agreed.
“Exactly. Eight centimeters is the most I can handle. Two to five is usually just right.”
They abruptly fell silent.
I didn’t understand.
“What?”
They exchanged a look.
“Qiaoqiao, are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
I had hardly worn high heels in my life.
Too high, and I really couldn’t cope.
They stared in disbelief.
“Wait… Did you mishear us? We mean that part.”
“What part?”
“The… bit at the bottom!”
I nodded.
“Right. That bit.”
The heel, obviously.
What else would it be?
They looked dumbfounded.
“Your standards are… really low.”
It was only a pair of shoes.
Did they have to be so picky?
Remembering some of the heels that had once been fashionable, I went on complaining.
“And I hate thick ones. They look awful.”
Both of them suddenly grew awkward.
Their faces reddened.
“Does appearance matter? They all feel about the same…”
“Right. As long as it works. Hehe.”
I shook my head.
“Of course it matters. It should look good and work well!”
They froze.
“Seriously? How good can two centimeters look? And what’s it useful for?”
I disagreed.
“Why wouldn’t it look good? Pale pink is lovely. Practical and comfortable too.
“Oh, forget it. There’s no talking to people with no taste.”
Their expressions went through an astonishing range.
I was about to laugh at them.
Then I caught sight of my boyfriend in the mirror.
Standing behind me.
Looking very unhappy.
What?
Was being bad at walking in heels really that embarrassing?
2
Xu Yanqing had come to pick me up.
It was our third anniversary.
We had planned a movie that evening.
And… booked a hotel room.
After all this time together, we had hardly gone beyond holding hands, hugging, and kissing.
We were getting married soon.
Time for a little premarital quality inspection.
After we said goodbye to my friends, he barely spoke all evening.
He seemed distracted.
Following the movie, we walked hand in hand to the hotel.
At the entrance, he stopped.
His dark eyes searched mine.
“You really don’t like them over ten centimeters?”
Why were we back on this subject?
Did men care so much about women’s shoes?
“No. I don’t. Not every woman does. That’s normal.”
“Why don’t you?”
“They’re uncomfortable.”
His face changed.
“So… you’ve tried?”
“Of course. Ten centimeters. Twelve. I really couldn’t take it. That’s my absolute limit.
“Two is still the most comfortable.”
He went pale.
“When?”
The question seemed to cost him an effort.
Why did he want to know?
I thought for a moment.
“After I started working. Here and there.”
“During the three years we’ve been together… you’ve tried them too?”
“Yes.”
Hurt flashed in his eyes.
A miserable, wounded look.
“Yu Xiaoqiao, how could you go behind my back… How could you do this to me?”
Wait.
I wasn’t allowed to try on heels by myself?
What century was this?
Did I need his permission to choose a heel height?
We weren’t even married, and he was already policing everything.
Now I was angry too.
My voice turned cold.
“What I do is my business!
“That’s how I am!
“If you don’t like it, we don’t have to be together!”
Way to ruin the mood.
I didn’t feel like doing anything tonight anymore.
I walked off.
He stood rooted to the spot, his back bowed.
As though he had suffered a terrible blow.
Was that necessary?
I hadn’t done anything wrong.
This was his problem.
Let him think about it.
3
At home, I opened PUBG and spent the night shooting furiously.
I slept until noon the next day.
About to go out for food, I opened the door.
And jumped.
Xu Yanqing sat outside.
He reeked of alcohol.
Slowly, he raised his head.
His eyes were bloodshot.
He looked on the verge of falling apart.
Dejected.
Miserable.
Empty beer cans surrounded him.
Oh my god.
Had he sat here all night?
I hurried to pull him up.
He leaned limply against me.
His arms, though, held me tight.
His voice was strangely hoarse.
“Xiaoqiao… Don’t you like me anymore?”
I had never seen him so vulnerable.
My heart felt stuffed with wet cotton.
Heavy.
Choked.
Oh, honestly.
Why had I argued with him over such a small thing?
Look what it had done to him.
And we had wasted what should have been a wonderful night.
I couldn’t bear it.
I hugged him.
“It’s not that. Stop imagining things.”
“Are you still angry?”
“No.”
He immediately held me tighter.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper last night.
“I’ve thought about it. From now on, do whatever you want. Try as many as you like. I’ll accept it.
“Just… don’t leave me.”
His voice caught on the last words.
Well.
Usually so cool and serious.
Who knew he could say such sweet things?
My heart softened at once.
I rose onto my toes and kissed him.
“All right.”
At last, he breathed again.
Then asked cautiously, “Can I come in and shower?”
Looking at him now, all that cold composure broken, I wanted to devour him.
As though he needed to ask.
We could shower together!