In the eyes of outsiders, she and he really don't seem like a married couple. She is robust and tall, while he is short and slender. But they always seem to be very happy when they are together. He had just ended a 20-year marriage when he met her. His ex-wife was a French woman. They fell in love and got married when they were just over twenty years old. They have two children, a boy and a girl. Their life was pretty good. But as time went by, he increasingly desired a quiet family life. However, his wife still enjoyed parties and night dances. She never cooked at home. Every evening, he would drag his weary body back from the company to find the house cold and empty, with the grown-up children at their friends' homes and his wife not yet returned. Thus, their marriage began to drift towards an end from these small details and faint conflicts. Both were good people, but they simply could not go on anymore. She was only just over twenty when she met him. Young but serene; not beautiful but youthful. Most importantly, she gave him a sense of peace and warmth of a home. She loved eating. Eating out; even more so eating at home. She could cook all sorts of delicious dishes. And every time after a hearty meal, she would say, "Wow, I've eaten so much again, I've gained weight again, I need to lose weight." But he would always smile at her and say, "You're not fat, this is great!" Now, their pair of children are already in middle school age, and they still look very loving when they are together. He, contented; she, happy. There are many kinds of romance in marriage. For her and him, cooking and eating together at home, hearing the children's laughter at the dining table; planting flowers and grass together in the backyard, sweating and admiring together; exchanging with teachers at the parents' meeting, discussing together; sending the children to their friend's house, then quietly hiding in the home cinema to watch a rather dull comedy... that is a kind of romance. Marriage is like the shoes on one's feet. What others see as mismatched may feel very comfortable to oneself. On a sunny summer afternoon, she walked into that tiny gallery. Slowly looking at the paintings, carefree and industrious, she just wanted to rest her brain that had been reading for a whole week. "Excuse me, are you Chinese?" came a low male voice behind her, as a man asked in English. She turned around and looked at the courteous Asian man in his forties in front of her. Playfully, she said, "What do you think?" Surprised by the not-so-young girl with a sexiness uncommon among Chinese girls, he smiled and said in Mandarin, "Hmm, not quite?!" Later, they became intergenerational friends. He was about twenty years older than her and had achieved success in business in the United States. He had two children. His son had left home to attend university, and his daughter, who was born with mental disabilities, lived in a nurturing center in the suburbs not far from the city. His wife had passed away from illness many years ago. She, being too young at the time, treated him like a father. In their interactions, there was never any romantic sentiment involved, just letting him take care of her and cherish her. And he, not knowing how to express himself, had experienced all sorts of storms in the business world and had never been afraid, but for some reason, he was afraid in front of that little girl. He liked being with her, which made him feel young, energetic, and sweet like both a father and an elder brother. He would often mumble to her, "Your vitality and energy remind me of myself when I was young..." Until one day, she told him, "I have a boyfriend." He stood there stunned, only saying, "Is he good to you?" On the day she got married, he gave her an ancient jade pendant of considerable value. He said to the groom: "You are lucky!" She has never worn that jade pendant. For many years, it has been kept in the safe deposit box.
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