It was late into the night. The early autumn breeze already carried a hint of chill, making it necessary to bundle up tightly even indoors. This was the time of year when colds and flus struck most frequently, though it was not yet cold enough to light the hearth. Aside from winter, the stove saw use only a handful of times a year, yet it remained completely free of dust. This was the result of Clara wiping it down over and over again. Though she looked lazy and casual, seemingly devoid of any interest in housework, once she set her mind to doing something, she had to make it perfect; otherwise, she simply wouldn't do it at all. That was the rule of life she always lived by.
I quietly ate a few pieces of bread to fill my not-so-empty stomach. The bread had no taste and offered no tactile sensation when chewed, yet I still ate it quite happily because Clara was sitting right across from me. At that moment, she was tossing the freshly mixed salad, spooning it into her mouth bite by bite. The taste must have been good, for she narrowed her eyes in contentment, a flush rising across her cheeks. She always looked like this whenever she felt satisfied, even her hair gradually fluffing up like a little golden bird spreading its feathers.
Clara kept her figure under perfect control—neither too slender nor overly voluptuous. She had flesh precisely where she ought to, and her proportions were well-balanced. She never seemed to gain weight, and I had never seen her put any particular…
Chapter 40