That Night in the Hotel, We Looked Up Japanese Tengsu—Only After the Fight Did We Finally Talk

Chen Yanting was dragging his carry-on into the room of the business hotel when it was already past eleven at night. This was his third business trip this month. The wheels of his suitcase pressed dull sounds into the carpet, much like his mood these past few weeks. He hung his suit jacket on the back of the chair, undid two buttons at his shirt collar, and sank into the single armchair by the bed. His phone screen lit up—a message from his wife, Lin Peijun, asking if he had eaten. He replied, "Yes," though dinner had actually been a convenience-store rice ball and black coffee. The only sound in the room was the low hum of the air conditioner. Staring at the ceiling, he suddenly felt that this kind of loneliness was harder to endure than overtime.

He opened a video call, and Peijun's face appeared on the screen, backed by the warm yellow light of the living room lamp at home. She asked how many days he would be staying this time. He said about four, his tone flat as if reporting progress. Peijun was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly said, "Every time you come back from a business trip, it feels like we're a little further apart." Yanting was taken aback. He wanted to explain something, but what came out was, "That's just how my job is. What do you want me to do?" The moment he said it, he regretted it. Peijun didn't talk back. She just turned the camera away, leaving only a corner of the sofa in the frame. Those few seconds of blankness were harder to bear than an argument.

After hanging up, Yanting paced back and forth in the room. He thought about how, over the past six months, the two of them had indeed rarely talked properly. It wasn't that they had stopped loving each other—it was that every time they tried to get close, they got stuck in exhaustion and awkwardness. He scrolled through his phone, originally just looking for something to distract himself, when he came across a forum where someone was asking about men's health information. One comment mentioned "Japanese Tengsu." He stopped—not because he was tempted, but because he realized he knew nothing about this kind of thing, and yet he vaguely felt it might be one of the bricks in the wall between him and Peijun. He didn't place an order. He just filed the term away in his mind, like jotting down a to-do item.

The next night, Peijun called him on her own. This time she didn't speak first. Yanting was silent for a few seconds too, then said, "I'm sorry about yesterday. That's not what I meant." Peijun's voice sounded a little nasal. She said, "I know you're tired, but I'm tired too. I'm not asking you to do anything—I just want to talk to you." Yanting closed his laptop, sat on the edge of the bed, and said, "I looked some things up yesterday. I saw people talking about things like Japanese Tengsu. I'm not going to buy it. I just feel like... we haven't figured anything out together in a long time." Peijun didn't laugh at him or press for details. She only said, "Then when you come back, we'll look it up together. Don't just go poking around by yourself." Those words made Yanting breathe a sigh of relief. He realized what he really needed wasn't an answer—it was someone willing to look for the answer with him.

The day he flew home, Yanting bought two cups of coffee at the airport. When he got home, Peijun had already cleared the dining table, with his laptop and a few blank sheets of paper on it. They sat down as if holding a small meeting. Peijun spoke first: "Let's not worry about which brand for now. Let's first figure out whether this is medicine or food." Yanting nodded and opened several web pages. He found that under the same term, some descriptions were wildly exaggerated, while others said the complete opposite. They wrote down their questions one by one: What does the packaging say? Is there a license number? Does it require a doctor's evaluation? If someone is taking other things, can they be mixed? By the third item, Peijun suddenly said, "We can't figure all this out on our own, can we?" Yanting smiled and said, "Then let's ask a professional."

They decided to start with the simplest step. Peijun suggested gathering all the health supplements they currently had at home into one basket, and next time they went to a clinic or pharmacy, they could bring the list and ask directly. Yanting initially felt a bit embarrassed, but Peijun said, "When you go see a doctor for a cold, you tell them what you've taken. What's there to be embarrassed about?" He thought about it—she had a point. They looked up several nearby pharmacies and clinics with more reviews, noted their business hours, and planned to go on a weekend that worked for both of them. Yanting wrote on the paper: "First ask if it's a prescription drug, then ask how to judge the source, and finally ask whether further examination is needed." Peijun added beside it: "Don't play doctor yourself."

That night before bed, Peijun leaned against the headboard scrolling through her phone and suddenly said, "Actually, I got angry yesterday not because you went on a business trip, but because you didn't say anything." Yanting lay beside her, staring at the ceiling, and said, "I was afraid that if I said something, it would sound like I was making excuses." Peijun put down her phone, turned her head to look at him: "If you don't say anything, that's when I start imagining things." They were quiet for a moment. Yanting reached out and held her hand, saying, "Then from now on I'll try to talk more. If I say it badly, you can scold me." Peijun laughed and said, "Who wants to scold you? I just want you to really come back when you come home." Those words were light, but Yanting remembered them for a long time.

The next weekend, they went together to a pharmacy near their home. After hearing their questions, the pharmacist didn't directly recommend anything. He only said that the classification of this kind of product in Taiwan depends on the packaging label—some are classified as food, while others require further confirmation. He suggested they list everything they normally took, and if they had doubts, make an appointment to ask a doctor. When they walked out of the pharmacy, the sun was strong. Peijun opened an umbrella, and Yanting took the handle. They walked side by side. He suddenly felt that after this business trip, they seemed to have relearned something: not to rush to find an answer, but to be willing to face the problem together. As for all that dazzling information, they decided to look into it slowly, however far they got. At least this time, he wasn't facing it alone in a hotel room.