My cousin brought his new girlfriend home for dinner.

The girl is refined, uses shared chopsticks to pick food, and speaks softly.
After dinner, she eagerly volunteered to wash the dishes. I thought she was just being polite, but she really wiped the stove until it shined.
My mom was so happy she couldn’t close her mouth, kept saying how good, clean, diligent, and capable she was at managing a household.
My cousin looked proud beside her, whispering to me: “She really is clean, a bit of a neat freak. Every time I go to her place, the sheets must be changed that day, and she washes the ones taken off overnight. I said no rush, but she said seeing dirt lingering overnight makes her feel uncomfortable all over.”
I was peeling an orange at the time, and paused.
“Does she soak the sheets in fabric softener after washing?”
My cousin was stunned: “What fabric softener?”
“Fabric softener. It leaves a strong scent, can cover up any smell.”
He snatched the orange from me and shoved it into his mouth.
I whispered, “Bro, she’s not a neat freak. She’s afraid that next time you go, you’ll still smell someone else’s shampoo on the pillow.”
The sound of water in the kitchen stopped.
The girl poked her head out, smiling, asking us: “What do you want to eat tomorrow noon? I can go buy it in the morning.”
My cousin clenched the orange peel without turning back.