016 An Unexpected Inspiration to Observe Ramadan

Having heeded Yinchian’s warning earlier, I had from the start pegged Musa and Ayub as underachievers, so this message felt like an unexpected warmth, kindling an enduring sense of gratitude deep within me.

Following the principle of reciprocity, I typed into the message box: “Actually, if you’re too busy, it’s okay not to come. You can be responsible for gathering materials, so you can manage your own time.”

My fingers hovered over the send button for a long moment. On reflection, this was precisely what he ought to do; why should I be overly accommodating?

So, I deleted the lengthy message and simply replied with “ok.”

I thought he had nothing more to say, yet my phone vibrated again.

He wrote: “You had diarrhea last time, probably your stomach isn’t very strong. Ramadan starts next week—don’t forget to stock up on food to avoid falling ill.”

Ramadan? I nearly forgot about that.

The Ramadan in Dubai differs from that observed by Hui Muslims back home. Since Han Chinese predominate there, the Hui only need to restrain themselves. But in Dubai during Ramadan, restaurants close or operate behind closed doors during the day; even drinking water in public is forbidden. If the thirst becomes unbearable, one must find a place unseen by Muslims to eat or drink. Only after sunset can one break the fast, known as iftar.

In short, during Ramadan, I must face an entirely new daily routine.

What warmed my heart was that Musa, a devout Muslim forbidden to eat or drink during Ramadan, would take the trouble to remind me to prepare food.

The earlier hesitation quietly faded, and with some amusement, I replied: “You’re telling me to stock up on food—isn’t this tacit permission for me to violate your faith?”

“Stock up, yes, but don’t eat where we can see you. We understand foreigners’ habits; as long as you hide yourself, no one will blame you.”

Musa’s response was very reasonable; apparently, this was a common occurrence, while I had foolishly mistaken it for special indulgence.

Such self-delusion is a form of self-inflicted pain.

Feeling a touch disappointed, I gathered my thoughts and asked: “Fasting all day without a drop of water for a whole month—do you never sneak a bite?”

“Of course not,” Musa answered firmly. “Ramadan isn’t about starving; it’s about training the spirit and purifying the soul. It’s not about hunger but about not violating faith.”

I was nearly moved by his devotion and suddenly felt a yearning for spiritual cleansing myself. Resolutely, I said, “Then this Ramadan, I’ll fast during the day just like you.”

“Really?”

I hesitated for a second, then replied, “I’ll try.”

“That’s wonderful.” Musa sounded genuinely pleased. Was he delighted at converting a nonbeliever? If so, he was mistaken.

In truth, I simply wanted to use this opportunity to lose some weight—nothing lofty.

A woman who loves beauty should do so not for men, but to please herself. Secretly, I doubted I could ever hide beneath the heavy layers of black robes like other women did.

With the intention to fast, I didn’t stockpile snacks in advance, only buying many small bottles of mineral water, which I secretly tucked into my bag.

Lianpian sneered at my feigned fasting: “You keep saying you want to observe Ramadan, but no water is allowed—not even mineral water, not even swallowing your own saliva.”

I opened my eyes wide in surprise. “What? Not even swallowing saliva? Are you still human if you don’t swallow your saliva?”

“Just kidding,” Lianpian smiled slyly and added, “Actually, you can swallow saliva, but you mustn’t accumulate it and then swallow it all at once.”

“That’s barely doable,” I nodded, gaining a new understanding of Ramadan’s customs and feeling a deep apprehension about the coming month.