我的周末

I keep my shop open six days a week, and Sunday is the only day I do not go in. On that one day, my alarm clock never rings.

I am Xiao Yue, and I run a tiny dessert shop in Hangzhou. Today the shop is closed and I am not making cakes. I want to take you through a very, very slow Sunday.

You might be thinking, the weekend is when business is best, so why close at all? Because I am the only person in that shop, and six days is already tiring enough.

My first year, I opened all seven days. Later I realised that if a person never rests, the cakes they make do not taste good either.

This morning it was Xiao Hua who woke me up. She jumped onto the bed and bumped my face with her head, which means: time to get up and get me some food.

I glanced at my phone. Nine twenty. On a normal day, I would already be at the shop making cakes by now.

But today I am in no hurry. I pulled the quilt up a little and lay there for another ten minutes, scrolling on my phone while I lay there.

While we are here, there are three words you will definitely use. Waking up in the morning and not wanting to get out of bed, just lying there, we call that lai chuang.

Sleeping in until late is shui lan jiao. Waking up on your own with no alarm is zi ran xing.

So when the weekend comes, Chinese people often say: these two days I am going to have a proper lie-in.

Once I am up, the first thing I do is pull the curtains open. The sun is strong outside, the sky is blue, and there is not a single cloud.

On a day like this, one thought pops into every Chinese person's head: today I have to do the laundry, and I have to air the quilts.

I carry the quilts out to the balcony and hang them up one by one, then pat them with my hand to fluff them up.

A quilt that has been out in the sun has a certain smell when you sleep under it that night. It is hard to describe, so we just call it the smell of the sun.

And it is not only me. Walk into any apartment compound on a Sunday, look up, and you will see quilts on every balcony and hanging outside every window.

Downstairs someone has strung a rope between two trees and hung their quilt over it. Around noon they will come back down and turn it over.

The washing machine rumbles away on the balcony while I head into the kitchen to cook. It is already half past ten, so this is not breakfast, and it is not lunch either.

I do not feel like anything complicated, so I boil a bowl of noodles, crack an egg into it and throw in a handful of greens.

When you eat alone, simple is perfectly fine. I sit by the window holding my bowl, eating and watching the kids run around downstairs.

Afterwards I wash the bowl, wipe the table, and mop the floor as well. One morning and all my housework is done.

But do not assume every Chinese weekend is this relaxed. Plenty of people still work on Saturday and only get Sunday off.

And a lot of children go to extra classes at the weekend, studying maths and English, busier than they are on a school day.

So getting to spend one quiet Sunday like this is not as easy as it sounds.

At two in the afternoon my friend Xiao Lin comes over. Last time we ate out she paid for the meal, and I have not forgotten.

So this morning I made a little cake and waited for her. The moment she walks in she says: it smells amazing in here. Did you make me something good again?

She has a bag of fruit in her hand too. In China you do not turn up at someone's home empty-handed.

Bring a little fruit, or a box of pastries. It does not have to be expensive. It is the thought that counts.

I make a pot of tea and we sit in the living room, talking slowly. Xiao Hua jumps onto her lap, turns around twice and falls asleep.

We talk about the shop, about the drama we are both watching, and about a classmate who is getting married next month.

The afternoon goes by so fast. On her way out she says: I will come again next Sunday.

A little after five, I go out to the balcony to bring the laundry in. The sun has gone down and the breeze is a little cool.

I carry the quilts back into the bedroom. A quilt is still warm in my arms, and it smells exactly like the thing I told you about.

Dinner is simple: one stir-fried vegetable and a bowl of hot soup. The noodles are long gone, so tonight I just eat whatever is around.

After washing up I turn on the TV and watch one episode of a drama. It is only half past eight when it ends, not late at all.

After my shower I spread the sun-dried quilt over the bed. The moment I lie down, I feel my whole body let go.

Xiao Hua settles down by my feet. Tomorrow the shop opens again, but I do not mind at all, because today I rested properly.

A weekend does not have to be full of things. A good sleep, some quilts in the sun, one friend over, that is already plenty. How do you usually spend yours?