We Fight Four Times a Month. Here’s Why Our Marriage Still Works.

5:1

At ten on Wednesday night, Fang Ning brought the last dish to the table. Chen Mo stared at his phone, chopsticks untouched. She said “Dinner’s ready” three times. He grunted. The fourth time, she untied her apron and threw it on the chair. He looked up: “What’s wrong with you now?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing, and you throw your apron?”

“Did I throw it?”

“You did.”

Fang Ning didn’t answer. She went into the bedroom and closed the door. Chen Mo sat in the living room until eleven, then dumped the food into the trash. When he washed the dishes, he turned the water on full blast.

It was their fourth fight this month. It started over the phone, the apron, the tone. Fang Ning posted in her besties group: “I can’t go on like this.” Xiaoya replied: “Us too.”

But Fang Ning didn’t leave. Chen Mo didn’t either. Like many couples, they fought, gave each other the cold shoulder, and the next morning Chen Mo bought two cups of soy milk, one with sugar, one without. Fang Ning drank the sweet one. Neither mentioned last night.

Later, Fang Ning found a book in a bookstore. It said: The frequency of conflict between spouses has no correlation with the health of their relationship. Couples who fight often don’t have a higher divorce rate than couples who rarely fight. What matters is the ratio of positive interactions to negative interactions. The best ratio is 5:1.

Fang Ning took a photo of the page. She did the math: yesterday Chen Mo took out the trash, +1; she cooked, he washed the dishes, +1; he forgot to buy soy sauce, -1; she rolled her eyes, -1; he went silent, -1. The account was almost empty.

Before leaving in the morning, Chen Mo would fill her thermos. She hadn’t noticed before. Now she saw it, +1. When he came home from work, he changed his shoes first, then washed his hands, then asked, “How was your day?” She used to say “Fine.” Now she said, “Morning meeting. Got chewed out by the boss.” He listened, didn’t give advice, just said, “Hot pot tonight, then?” She smiled, +1.

Chen Mo learned a sentence: “I see dishes in the sink. I’m a little annoyed, because I was hoping we could watch TV together tonight. Would you be willing to wash them now?” The first time Fang Ning heard it, she froze. Before, he would say, “Dishes piled up again. Do you not see work around here?” She would either fight or go cold. Now she washed the dishes, he wiped the table. They watched two episodes together.

They still fought. About money, about whose home to go to for New Year, about Fang Ning’s mother calling too often. After fights, Chen Mo would go to the balcony for a cigarette and come back with a popsicle. Fang Ning would take it, bite it, and say, “Too sweet.” He’d say, “Then don’t eat it.” She finished it.

Fang Ning’s company invited a counselor to give a talk. The speaker showed a video: wife rolls her eyes, husband slams the door. The speaker called it the “Four Horsemen”: criticism, contempt, defensiveness, stonewalling. Contempt is the most lethal. Fang Ning thought of her own eye-rolling. After she got home, Chen Mo asked, “What’s wrong?” She said, “Nothing.” That night, she brought it up: “I heard a talk today. When I roll my eyes, what does it feel like to you?” Chen Mo said, “Like I want to die.” She laughed. He said, “I’m serious.” She said, “Then I won’t roll my eyes.” He said, “I’ll try not to go silent.”

Fang Ning’s coworker is Singaporean. At lunch they talked about couples fighting. The coworker said many people where they’re from prefer to compromise, take a step back. Not bottling it up. Yielding. Fang Ning asked, “Does compromise count as a deposit?” The coworker said, “It does, as long as you’re not bottling it up.” Fang Ning saved that sentence in her phone’s notes.

The day Xiaoya broke up, Fang Ning went to help her move. Xiaoya’s boyfriend asked, “Why?” Xiaoya said, “No reason.” She no longer sent funny videos, no longer said, “Ran into an idiot today,” no longer asked, “What time are you coming back?” She left the pothos behind, saying she was “too lazy to move it.” The boyfriend later texted: “I watered the pothos.” Xiaoya didn’t reply.

Fang Ning brought the pothos back to her own balcony. Chen Mo asked, “Where’d that come from?” She said, “Xiaoya left it.” Chen Mo watered it. Fang Ning looked at the pothos and said, “She used to text every day.” Chen Mo said, “Mm.” Fang Ning said, “I text now too.” Chen Mo said, “You do.” Fang Ning said, “Does it annoy you when I text?” Chen Mo said, “Yeah.” Fang Ning kicked him. He laughed.

Chen Mo is from Qingdao, Fang Ning from Hunan. When they first moved in together, they fought over rice versus steamed buns. Fang Ning said, “If I go a day without rice, my stomach hurts.” Chen Mo said, “If I go a day without steamed buns, it feels like I haven’t eaten.” They fought three times. Later they bought a steamer and a rice cooker and put them side by side on the stove. Monday, Wednesday, Friday: rice. Tuesday, Thursday: steamed buns. Saturday: eat out. Sunday: whatever. Fang Ning said, “That works too.” Chen Mo said, “Mm.”

On Saturday morning, Fang Ning was still asleep, and Chen Mo put his socks in the laundry basket. She turned over and said, “Rice noodles today.” He said, “Okay.” On the balcony, the pothos grew new leaves. In the kitchen, the steamer and rice cooker stood side by side. Fang Ning’s thermos was filled. Chen Mo’s phone rang. He declined it. Fang Ning asked, “Who?” He said, “Telemarketer.” She said, “Oh.”

They still fought. After every fight, someone did one small thing first. Put out a bath towel. Buy stomach medicine. Replace a keyboard cover. Then Tuesday: steamed buns. Wednesday: rice. The pothos grew a new leaf.