Several times he wanted to tell a joke or talk about something else, but he just couldn't bring himself to speak. She was clearly distracted and didn't ask about anything else at all.
After the meal, she washed the dishes, tidied up, and prepared a fresh cup of light green tea. She was always respectful and attentive, serving him with the deep reverence of the most virtuous wife attending to her husband who had just returned from a long journey. Yet, for some reason, he felt a sense of unease.
Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Perhaps it was the forty-degree blistering heat, the inadequate air conditioning in the living room, or the hot tea she had drunk.
He took the initiative, "Xixi, let me cut some watermelon."
He remembered she always liked watermelon. As early as February or March, she would go on about wanting chilled watermelon and had a small dish every evening after dinner. She would often act coquettishly, insisting that he cut it into small pieces.
