I started visiting Li Fang's home more often, dropping by every few days.
I no longer brought gifts—just lightbulbs, pipes, and tools.
Sometimes, when Li Fang visited me at the restaurant, she'd mention a flickering light, a leaky faucet, or a creaky bed frame.
I knew how to fix things, so I'd go over during my breaks.
Her mother, a homemaker, was usually home. Her father worked as a skilled technician at a state-owned factory, so our paths rarely crossed.
Maybe because I kept coming to repair things, her mother warmed up to me.
One afternoon, after I fixed a leaking pipe, she handed me a warm towel.
*"A-Cheng, you've been such a help. When I ask her father to fix things, he drags his feet. But you? You get it done."*
I ducked my head, shy. *"The restaurant's quiet in the afternoons. Dishes are done… I'd just be idle anyway."*
She looked at me and sighed. *"You're a decent kid. Li Fang told me everything—how you fought back because that man harassed her. Deep down, you've always been good."*
Shame washed over me.
No one had called me "good" since I was fifteen. I'd roamed the streets with no direction.
To hear it now, from a parent…
Just then, the front door unlocked. Her father's voice boomed:
*"Wife! New Year's goods from the unit!"*
He walked in, arms laden with rice, oil, preserved meat, and wedding candies.
Our eyes met.
*"What are you doing here?"* he asked.
I froze, tongue-tied.
I'd always been terrified of him—what man isn't scared of his girlfriend's father?
Her mother stepped in. *"He's been fixing things around here every afternoon. You think the lights and pipes fixed themselves? You just watch TV while he does all the work!"*
Her father's brow furrowed as he studied me.
Sweating, I stammered, *"I—I should get back. Probably more dishes…"*
As I turned to leave, he called out:
*"Hey!"*
I stiffened.
*"Come for dinner after work,"* he grunted. *"The unit gave out preserved pork tongue."*
First, panic. Then shock. Then joy—so sharp it stung my eyes.
I spun around and bowed. *"Thank you, Uncle!"*
He waved a dismissive hand, his tone gruff but not unkind:
*"Alright, alright. Get going."*
When I looked up, Li Fang stood behind her mother, smiling. Our eyes held for a moment before I left for work.
Honestly?
Happy.
So damn happy.
Even now, years later, that memory remains the tenderest corner of my heart.