The Civil Affairs Bureau is in the west of the city—a small, three-story gray building. A national flag hangs at the entrance, and rose bushes in the flowerbed beside it are in full bloom.

Fu Yanqing parked the car and walked inside with Su Xingyu. The lobby wasn’t crowded; a few couples were waiting in line, all wearing smiles. One young woman had her arm linked through her boyfriend’s, chattering away about something, while he listened with a smile, occasionally squeezing her hand.

Su Xingyu glanced at the couple. Fu Yanqing walked ahead of her, his steps steady and his back straight, but she noticed his hand—the one hanging by his side, its fingers slightly curled, the tips pale. He was nervous. She wasn’t sure where she’d gotten that impression. Maybe it was because his steps were too steady, as if he were deliberately controlling them; or maybe his back was too straight, as if he were bracing himself against something. She remembered her grandfather’s words—“The more someone seems to care about nothing, the heavier the things they truly hold dear.”

“Let’s go,” Fu Yanqing said.

They approached the window, where a female clerk in her forties, wearing glasses and looking very kind, greeted them. She looked first at Fu Yanqing, then at Su Xingyu, and asked, “Are you two here to register your marriage?”

“Yes,” Fu Yanqing replied.

“Do you have your identification with you?”

Fu Yanqing handed over the prepared documents.

The clerk flipped through them and looked up at them. “Are you both marrying of your own free will?”

“Yes,” Fu Yanqing said.

“Yes,” Su Xingyu added.

Their voices came out almost at the same time, yet their tones were completely different. Su Xingyu’s voice was crisp and clear, while Fu Yanqing’s was low and even.

The clerk’s gaze flicked back and forth between the two. She said nothing, just lowered her head and continued typing. Su Xingyu thought she must be thinking: these two really don’t seem like a couple at all. One is too cold, the other too warm; one is like winter ice, the other like spring wind. She stole a glance at Fu Yanqing’s profile. His expression was very neutral, showing no emotion at all, his brow slightly furrowed, as if he were looking at a document he wasn’t entirely satisfied with.

“Please fill this out,” the clerk said.

Each of them took a form and began filling it out beside the counter.

Su Xingyu leaned over the table, writing carefully, stroke by stroke. Her handwriting wasn’t particularly pretty, but it was neat and precise, every character perfectly aligned. When she reached the “Spouse Information” section, she paused for a moment and looked at the name on Fu Yanqing’s ID copy.

Fu Yanqing. Twenty-eight years old. Born on November 17th.

She wrote the three characters “Fu Yanqing” on the paper, each stroke slow, as if she were painting a picture.

Fu Yanqing filled out his form quickly. By the time he finished, Su Xingyu was still working on the last section. He put down his pen and glanced at her. She kept her head bowed, a strand of hair falling over her forehead and brushing against her eyebrows.

He didn’t look away. He just kept staring at her—for a little while.

When Su Xingyu finished the last character and raised her head, her eyes met his.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said, averting his gaze. “Are you done?”

“Mm-hmm.”

They handed the forms to the clerk. She checked the information, stamped them, and then told them to go upstairs for their photos.

The two went upstairs and found the photo room. The photographer was a young man who greeted them warmly as soon as they walked in.

“Come, please sit over here,” he said.

Su Xingyu sat down, instinctively straightening her back. Fu Yanqing sat beside her, still showing no expression.

The photographer raised his camera, took a quick look through the viewfinder, then lowered it again.

“Sir, could you smile?” he prompted.

Fu Yanqing tugged at the corner of his mouth.

It was a very light, very faint smile—if you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t even notice. And it lasted less than a second before disappearing.

The photographer raised the camera again, took another look, then put it down once more.

“Um… sir, could you try smiling a bit more naturally?”

Fu Yanqing didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth moved again. This time it was a little better than before, though it still looked as if he were enduring some discomfort.

The photographer gave Su Xingyu a somewhat troubled look.

Su Xingyu turned her head and glanced at Fu Yanqing’s face.

End of Chapter 9: Thinking About Happy Things