His physiological preference

Yang Zhiyan looked at Jiang Siya. The room was lit by a warm yellow light, which shone on Jiang Siya's face, making her usually smiling eyes appear somewhat serious.

Yang Zhiyan recalled that Jiang Siya had a deeply unforgettable love affair during her university years.

During her sophomore year, Jiang Siya started dating a boyfriend who was a rich second-generation heir with assets worth billions.

That person was handsome, generous, and romantic like something out of a TV drama. Jiang Siya thought she had found true love and fell deeply in love. She assumed he was just like her.

But after graduation, the other party went abroad to study without saying a word. Jiang Siya pressed for an answer, saying that she could also go abroad with him, so why did he leave without saying goodbye?

The other person said, "Don't you understand? It's a matter of adult dignity; if I don't tell you, it means I don't want to talk anymore. It's better for everyone."

After that, she deleted all of that person's contact information, but it took her a very, very long time to pull herself out of that mess.

Yang Zhiyan held Jiang Siya's hand in her own. She knew Siya was doing it for her own good.

"I know," Yang Zhiyan said, "I'll stop here and not let myself get too involved."

Jiang Siya looked at her, a slight smile playing on her lips. She didn't say anything more, pulled her hand back, patted the blanket, and lay down.

"Go to sleep, you have to get up early tomorrow."

Yang Zhiyan lay down and turned off the bedside lamp. The room darkened, with only a sliver of light from a streetlamp filtering through the curtains.

Yang Zhiyan was thinking to herself, "Stop when you've touched the mark." How far had she gone? Had she touched the mark, or had she already gone too far? She couldn't find the answer.

Around nine o'clock in the morning, Yang Zhiyan arrived at her cousin's house.

The door opened.

My aunt stood at the door, wearing a dark red cheongsam. It was a ready-made dress bought in a shopping mall; the waist didn't fit quite right, and the shoulder line was half an inch too wide.

But my aunt was dressed very happily, and the smile on her face stretched from the corner of her eyes to the corner of her mouth. Her wrinkles were all squeezed together, like a chrysanthemum that had bloomed too much.

"Yan Yan's here!" Her aunt grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. "Come in, come in! Have you eaten? I'll cook you a bowl of noodles."

"Auntie, I've eaten. You don't need to do anything else." Yang Zhiyan changed her shoes and followed her aunt inside.

The living room has already been decorated. Red "double happiness" characters are pasted on the walls, colorful ribbons and balloons hang from the ceiling, and peanuts, melon seeds, and wedding candies are placed on the coffee table.

My cousin was standing in the middle of the living room, dressed in a suit and tie, neatly tied. He was confirming the afternoon's schedule with the wedding planning company.

"Yan Yan," her cousin turned around, saw her, and smiled, "You're here? Help your aunt pack some wedding candy. If you're worried it won't be enough, pack some extra."

"it is good."

Yang Zhiyan walked to the coffee table and sat down, starting to pack the wedding candies. The candies were loose, poured into a large basin, the colorful candy wrappers glittering under the light.

There was a pile of small red gauze bags next to her; she was going to put the candies into them one by one and tie them with ribbons. She grabbed a handful of candies and started filling them.

The people who make cheongsams have a dexterity in their fingers that ordinary people can't match. They can assemble one in just over ten seconds, and they tie the ribbons quickly and beautifully.

Her aunt brought out a bowl of white fungus soup from the kitchen and placed it next to her. "Drink the soup first, no rush."

"Thank you, Auntie." Yang Zhiyan picked up the bowl and took a sip. It was sweet and warm, and the white fungus was stewed until very tender, melting in her mouth.

She took two sips, put down the bowl, and continued filling it with sugar. Her aunt sat down next to her and also picked up a gauze bag to start filling it.

Auntie's hands were a little slower; she could fit three for every one she packed. The two chatted casually, about Cousin's wedding, Auntie's recent health, and Yang Zhiyan's job.

"Yan Yan, has your mother been giving you a hard time lately?" Auntie suddenly lowered her voice.

Yang Zhiyan paused for a moment, then stuffed a piece of candy into the gauze bag, tied the ribbon, and placed it aside. "It's alright."

Her aunt glanced at her but didn't ask any further questions. She reached out and gently patted Yang Zhiyan's hand.

That hand wasn't young; the skin was loose, and the veins were prominent, but the warmth of the palm was still there. Yang Zhiyan kept her head down, continuing to pack candy. Her nose felt a little sore, but she didn't let her aunt see.

My uncle and aunt only have my cousin as a child. My aunt had poor health when she was young, and after giving birth to my cousin, the doctor said it was not suitable for her to have any more children.

She had always wanted a daughter, and every time she saw other people's daughters wearing dresses and braids, her eyes were filled with envy.

Therefore, her aunt and uncle treated Yang Zhiyan very well. They gave her more lucky money during the Lunar New Year than her cousin did, and before the start of the new semester, they would secretly slip her a red envelope and say, "Don't let your mom know."

The year she got into university, her aunt bought her a new red suitcase, which was very pretty. Yang's mother said, "Why buy something so expensive?" Her aunt said, "Yanyan has become successful; it's only right." She remembered all those good things.

Around noon, Mr. and Mrs. Yang arrived. Mrs. Yang was wearing a printed top and black pants.

Her hair was freshly permed, curly and exaggeratedly voluminous. Yang's father followed behind, wearing a white shirt and dark trousers, his expression indifferent.

"Yan Yan," Yang's mother saw Yang Zhiyan as soon as she entered the door, quickly walked over and grabbed her hand, "You've been gone for so long, why haven't you come back to see your mother?"

Yang Zhiyan pulled her hand away and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm busy with work."

"No matter how busy you are with work, you have to go home and visit," Yang's mother said, her tone carrying just the right amount of grievance. "Mom misses you."

Yang Zhiyan looked at her mother's face. She was wearing makeup, with a thick layer of foundation and a dusty rose lipstick, making her look much more energetic than usual.

But her smile seemed a bit fake. When her mother smiled, her eyes would curve into crescent shapes, but now they weren't. Now they were straight and round, like two expressionless glass beads.

"You wouldn't go on a blind date even when I told you to," Yang's mother continued.

"Here it comes," Yang Zhiyan thought to herself. She knew that "Mom misses you" would be followed by something else.

"Mom, I told you, I'm not considering marriage." Her tone was flat, as if stating a fact.

"Yan Yan," Yang's mother's voice softened, as if she were reasoning with a disobedient child.

"Women should still get married and prioritize family. What's the point of earning a few thousand yuan a month if you only have enough left after paying rent? Wouldn't it be better to find a husband with a car and a house, so you don't have to work so hard?"

Yang Zhiyan looked at her mother. She had heard this kind of talk countless times. The versions had changed many times, but the core message remained the same: women need men.

She relied on her father when she was young, on her husband when she got married, and on her son when she got old. That's how her mother lived her whole life.

"Like you were when you were young," Yang Zhiyan said, trying to suppress her disdain, "having to beg several times to buy a pack of sanitary napkins? Is that okay?"

Yang's mother's expression changed; her sore spot had been hit hard.

"My salary isn't high," Yang Zhiyan looked into her mother's eyes, "but I can still afford sanitary napkins."

Yang's mother opened her mouth, wanting to say something but swallowing it back. Her lips were trembling; after being struck where it hurt most, she was powerless to refute.

"Why can't you explain it to me?" Yang's mother's voice was a half-octave higher, but her confidence was clearly lacking. "It's because I don't go to work, it's because..."

Li Fengxia walked over at some point, her hand resting on her already large belly, a knowing smile on her face.

"Zhiyan, look at me. I'm married, I don't have to go to work, I don't have to do chores, isn't that great? What woman doesn't get married?"