Lemon-Flavored Pickled Vegetables

Wen Chongyue sighed, “This is really nice. Too bad I don’t have a bumper car for you to drive.”

Xia Jiao wanted to say something, but her nose started to itch, and she sneezed loudly. Quickly, she grabbed a wet wipe and vigorously wiped her nose, not wanting to lose her composure in front of Wen Chongyue, even though he had seen her in less graceful moments many times before.

Tears were uncontrollable.

Wen Chongyue casually pinched her wrist and said, “You’ve lost weight.”

Xia Jiao paused for two seconds and told him, “You know, the way you just pinched me felt a lot like selecting pork.”

Wen Chongyue shook his head in denial, “Impossible.”

He added, “They don’t let you touch the meat when you buy pork.”

Xia Jiao: “…”

It was a rare nice day, yet she couldn’t go out.

Outside the glass window, the shade of the trees was dense. Wen Chongyue’s apartment was on the third floor, and from the shaded side, they could see the beautiful treetops and the birds resting on them. The sunlit side had a wide view, especially when the cherry blossoms were in bloom. From a distance, it looked like a sea of pink, shimmering under the sunlight like splendid satin.

The playful cats were always watching the birds that occasionally perched outside the window. However, now both the big and small were curled up in Xia Jiao’s arms. The cicadas hadn’t started their chorus yet, and Xia Jiao watched Wen Chongyue as he tried to find the recipe for Fengzhen’s braised pork noodles.

With the changing seasons, food therapy was especially important for nourishment. Moreover, Suzhou’s geographical location was excellent, with Taihu Lake covering 36,000 acres, two-thirds of which belonged to Suzhou.

Wen Chongyue loved to eat meat. In spring, he made sauce-infused meat with red yeast rice, creating a cherry-colored dish that was rich and fragrant. Xia Jiao had not eaten fish before, but Wen Chongyue prepared it so carefully that she wouldn’t get hurt by the bones, making her unable to resist breaking her vow.

Just like the folk songs about Taihu Lake say, in January they catch small fish like the head of the mudfish, in February the flowing waters bring fat perch, in March they catch clams, in April the fresh fish can even take a tongue, in May they enjoy silverfish from Taihu Lake scrambled with eggs, and in June, there are white fish.

Besides fish, there were also nourishing soups that flowed like a stream into Xia Jiao’s body.

At the end of winter and the beginning of spring, Wen Chongyue made a soup with honey dates, lotus root, and octopus. He also stewed fish maw, which was essential. However, since fish maw is hard to digest and can cause bloating if eaten too much, he switched to papaya soup, adding some cuttlefish for flavor. As the weather gradually warmed, Xia Jiao preferred lighter soups, so Wen Chongyue made a soup with corn, carrots, and water chestnuts, simmering it slowly with dried scallops. Now that summer had arrived, he had just bought some eels and originally intended to prepare them with perilla and cucumber. It seemed he could change the recipe a bit.

He simmered a soup with pig bones and eel bones. In the kitchen, Wen Chongyue worked methodically, while on the sofa, Xia Jiao wrapped herself in a blanket and sweated a bit. As her body started to heat up, she knew she shouldn’t let it linger; it would be better soon. The two cats popped out from under the blanket, bouncing over to the balcony to climb the tall posts, sharpening their claws on the sisal pole. With the kitchen door open, Xia Jiao could smell a faint aroma. The movie was still playing, but she couldn’t focus on it anymore. Slowly, she lay back on the sofa, curled up, and fell asleep.

Just a quick nap.

Xia Jiao thought to herself, just a short nap, and then she would check to see if there was anything she could help with.

The human brain often works against one’s will. Xia Jiao fell into a long dream. She dreamt of a humid and sultry summer in Beijing. She was sitting in a car with unfamiliar people, and a slow song was playing in the background, the lyrics clear enough for her, even with her poor English skills.

“…Two drifters, off to see the world…”

It was “Moon River.”

Driving through rainy Beijing, she looked out through the fogged-up glass. The neon lights sparkled like a woven tapestry as if they could lead her to the moon. Xia Jiao lowered her head, feeling frustrated about her old shoes and how she accidentally splashed in a puddle, dirtying the carpet in the teacher’s car with the edge of her sneakers.

She mumbled an apology, and her teacher smiled, “Why are you always so cautious?”

Xia Jiao replied, “I’m not very good at talking.”

“Are you afraid of saying the wrong thing?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled, “Everyone makes mistakes.”

Xia Jiao pressed her lips together and hugged her backpack tightly.

“There’s a fruit gift box in the back,” the teacher said. “Take it. It’s a reward for your progress in English.”

It was a unique assortment of fruits, the first gift Xia Jiao received since coming to Beijing, a random act of kindness from someone else.

Moon river.

The car drifted through the moonlit river, the moon shining in the sky while the rain formed rivers below.

Bright and clear, the moon shone brightly.

“Jiao Jiao.”

The moon river suddenly came to a halt, and she was pulled from her rainy dream back into the sunny reality.

Xia Jiao opened her eyes, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. Sunlight poured through the windows, illuminating the floor and everything inside with brilliance.

Xia Jiao squinted, unable to see clearly.

Wen Chongyue said, “Time to eat.”

Summer was the perfect time for light soup noodles. The pig bones and eel bones had simmered long enough, resulting in a rich, fatty broth infused with flavor. Wen Chongyue tried adding some rice wine for fragrance and paired it with snails, giving it a light, refreshing scent without being greasy.

The eel meat wasn’t wasted either. It was separately prepared with perilla and cucumber for stir-fried eel, combining the vegetables with the eel for an even fresher taste.

For those who love Suzhou-style noodles, a variety of toppings is a must. With limited ingredients at home, Wen Chongyue only made two dishes: one of braised duck and one of three kinds of shrimp—shrimp brains, shrimp roe, and shrimp meat. Now that the plum rain season had ended, any shrimp caught later wouldn’t be as fresh.

Good dishes should be eaten in season. Once the season is over, the flavor is significantly diminished.

In addition to these, Wen Chongyue prepared several other small dishes. A plate of blanched leafy greens, a plate of fragrant mushrooms in scallion oil, a plate of sweet and sour lotus slices, and a plate of finely shredded ginger.

“Shredded ginger?” Xia Jiao was taken aback, unable to believe it. “Are we eating it directly?”

Wen Chongyue remained calm. He picked up a piece, placed it on his noodles, and asked, “Want to try?”

Xia Jiao shook her head vigorously.

She watched Wen Chongyue eat the ginger shreds with his noodles without batting an eye, making her tongue tingle with the thought. Shivering slightly, Xia Jiao decided to hold off on trying it and focused on her noodles instead.

Wen Chongyue excelled at cooking meat. Xia Jiao had never tried authentic Fengzhen braised pork noodles, but the one she had now was quite good. The meat was fatty yet not greasy, tender, and not dry. She had to be careful picking it up with her chopsticks, as it could easily break if she wasn’t careful. The flavors melded beautifully, melting in her mouth like a slide, the aroma swooping down directly into her stomach.

The broth was also fresh, with bits of fermented rice floating in the clear soup, making it refreshing and delicious. It was rare to enjoy hot soup noodles in summer without feeling hot or rushed. It was a comfortable experience.

While Wen Chongyue wasn’t paying attention, Xia Jiao stealthily grabbed a piece of ginger. Watching him eat calmly, she felt that this seemingly ordinary ginger might have a unique freshness, especially since it was made by Wen Chongyue!

With this hopeful thought, Xia Jiao took a bite.

It was indeed fresh, the tender ginger bursting with the essence of spring, like a strong east wind sweeping through a lush forest in her mouth.

However, no matter how fresh it was, it was still ginger. Tears sprang from Xia Jiao’s eyes as she swallowed the heat and finally began to eat the noodles.

She heard Wen Chongyue chuckle softly. He stood up and left, returning a moment later with a cup of lemon water, garnished with fresh lemon slices, ice cubes, and a sprig of mint.

Xia Jiao gulped down the refreshing drink.

Trying to save face, she said, “It looks very refreshing.”

Wen Chongyue didn’t sit down, confirming, “You want something refreshing?”

“Mm-hm.”

Making a refreshing side dish was easy. Wen Chongyue had previously prepared lemon-flavored pickled vegetables, originally meant for Xia Jiao’s lunch box, which came in handy now.

Soaked in fresh lemon, vinegar, coarse salt, sugar, bay leaves, black peppercorns, and small red chilies, the finely sliced celery and cucumber retained their delicious colors, not to mention the bright red bell peppers.

Arranged on a white plate decorated with small strawberries, it looked clean and neat.

The pickled vegetables had been stored in the fridge. Xia Jiao picked up a piece of cucumber, which was crisp from pickling. The cucumber’s unique fragrance reached a delightful peak when catalyzed by the lemon, and the cool sensation made her taste buds dance. She sighed in satisfaction, “Delicious.”

Xia Jiao praised Wen Chongyue, “You’re amazing. It seems you can do anything.”

Wen Chongyue replied, “Your cooking is also quite good.”

“That’s different,” Xia Jiao shook her head, honestly telling him, “I feel a bit slow, wanting to learn everything but mastering very little. I seem to be a step behind my peers.”

Wen Chongyue stopped eating and quietly listened to Xia Jiao.

“For example,” Xia Jiao continued, “when I was in high school, it felt like all my friends had goals from the moment they started—where they wanted to go to school, what major to choose. I didn’t have any. I just thought, as long as I get into a school in Beijing, that’s fine. I just wanted to go to Beijing.”

“College was the same. It seemed like everyone knew what they wanted to do from the very beginning—graduate school, civil service exams, studying abroad…” Xia Jiao sighed, “I had no goals. I just went with the flow—studying, interning, working—completely following the old paths laid out by others. I didn’t have my own purpose.”

Wen Chongyue said, “Going with the flow is also a kind of ability.”

Xia Jiao disagreed, “I feel like I’m just drifting along—do you understand? It’s like I’ve got things backward in life. Marriage, for instance, should come after a relationship reaches a certain depth, when two people decide to support each other, not just for the sake of getting married.”

Wen Chongyue remained silent, looking at Xia Jiao.

Unaware of her misstep, Xia Jiao continued, “Before, I felt like I was just going to school for the sake of it, working for the sake of it… Until recently, I didn’t have a goal. Then I realized my friends, like Juzi, had already figured theirs out. And you, you started working part-time while in college, but I only got my first paycheck in my senior year.”

On the table sat a beautiful bouquet of lisianthus. These flowers were inexpensive yet lovely, effortlessly exuding the quality of an oil painting. Xia Jiao liked them and bought many.

Wen Chongyue said, “Everyone blooms at their own time.”

Xia Jiao raised an eyebrow, “Hmm?”

“Peach blossoms bloom in spring, jasmine in summer, but they’re all beautiful,” Wen Chongyue said. “Don’t have anxiety about age. You possess many qualities I don’t have.”

Xia Jiao’s eyes lit up, “What qualities do I have?”

Wen Chongyue listed them carefully: “You’re great at caring for plants, you sing well, you’re kind, you empathize easily, you understand others, and you’re tolerant…”

“And gentle,” he added.

“You’re very gentle,” Wen Chongyue said.

Gentle?

Xia Jiao had never thought Wen Chongyue would describe her that way.

She considered herself a somewhat anxious person, not particularly skilled in socializing.

The gentle person wasn’t her. It should be Wen Chongyue himself, which is why he saw the world so tenderly.

Just like the moon shining on white sand. The sand borrowed the moonlight’s brilliance, yet the moon praised the cleanliness of the sand.

Xia Jiao diligently took her cold medicine, drank plenty of hot water, and made frequent trips to the restroom, finally regaining her energy before work, and successfully shaking off her cold.

Sister Lan wasn’t around these days, and in the shop, Gao Chan and Yu Qingzhen didn’t quite get along. During their chats, they started to exchange sharp words and snide remarks.

Xia Jiao pretended not to hear. She was still immersed in selecting floral materials for her clients.

She had added a client on WeChat, who left the name “Lemon.” They mentioned wanting to give flowers to a boy on his birthday. They had also sent Xia Jiao the name of a restaurant for the birthday reservation. Xia Jiao looked it up. It was a restaurant decorated with many flowers and plants.

It was precisely because the other person loved flowers that Lemon wanted to give him flowers.

Xia Jiao saved the restaurant’s address. It wasn’t far from here, just over a kilometer away. She planned to take a look after work.

Delivering flowers had to match the scene, and this was the first order Xia Jiao received; she wanted to take it seriously and make sure it was perfect.

As Xia Jiao was deep in thought, a vague idea for floral arrangements began to form in her mind. She lowered her head and quickly sketched some lines on paper when she heard Gao Chan gasp behind her.

Turning around, Xia Jiao saw that Yu Qingzhen’s pants and shoes were indeed wet, and she was standing there with a very displeased expression.

It turned out that while Gao Chan was carefully moving the water lily bucket, she accidentally bumped into Yu Qingzhen. The momentum caused some water to splash out, soaking Yu Qingzhen completely. Gao Chan hurriedly apologized, but Yu Qingzhen stiffly replied, “It’s fine,” and walked to the side to grab some tissues to wipe off the water.

At that moment, the shop’s glass door swung open, and the old man who bought a rose every day came in.

While Gao Chan was busy with the water lilies, Xia Jiao was mopping up the spilled water, and Yu Qingzhen was closest to the customer.

The old man approached Yu Qingzhen and said, “I’d like a yellow rose.”

Yu Qingzhen, already irritated by her wet clothes, tossed the used tissues into the trash and hastily grabbed a yellow rose. She roughly trimmed the stem and handed it to him, saying, “Ten yuan, thank you.”

The old man refused, asking, “Aren’t you going to wrap it?”

“Ten yuan, Grandpa,” Yu Qingzhen replied. “It’s only enough for one flower, so we don’t offer a wrapping service.”

The old man raised his voice, questioning, “Who said that?”

Xia Jiao had just finished cleaning the floor and, having washed her hands, stepped out to hear this.

Walking up to Yu Qingzhen, Xia Jiao explained to the old man, “In our shop, we only provide optional fancy wrapping for flower purchases over one hundred yuan. If your purchase is under that amount, we can only offer simple wrapping.”

The old man’s expression softened slightly. He replied, “I don’t need anything fancy, just like before.”

Xia Jiao smiled brightly, “Alright.”

For the yellow rose the old man selected today, Xia Jiao chose some handmade paper printed with a short English poem, carefully wrapped the yellow rose, and neatly tied it with a brown satin ribbon, forming a lovely bow.

The old man paid without saying thank you and turned to leave.

Yu Qingzhen remarked, “Married people really are different. They pay attention to details, making us seem so behind.”

Gao Chan laughed, “Don’t say ‘we’, I’m not behind.”

Xia Jiao chuckled and explained, “Brand image.”

Yu Qingzhen retorted, “We’re not a charity. If every customer only buys one flower, the shop would probably close down.”

Xia Jiao replied, “A florist often starts by practicing with a single flower.”

Yu Qingzhen fell silent, tearing off another tissue to continue wiping the wet spots on her clothes.

Later in the evening, she called a friend to complain, her voice breaking through the phone intermittently.

“…Really, marriage changes everything. It’s terrifying. Just thinking about becoming like that after getting married makes me fear it…”

Gao Chan sighed quietly as she sorted through the cellophane, the rustling noise quieting Yu Qingzhen’s phone conversation.

Xia Jiao focused on adding the final touch to her hand-drawn design.

Before leaving, Xia Jiao made it a habit to buy a bouquet.

Earlier that afternoon, Wen Chongyue had sent her a text saying two old friends were visiting Suzhou, and they would get together, so he wouldn’t be home to cook dinner. He would probably return around nine.

Xia Jiao decided to be self-sufficient.

On her way to the restaurant, she passed through a commercial street where the sunset was beautiful, casting a golden glow. Many college students and young couples were out on dates and shopping. There were also street performers singing with guitars, finding spots that didn’t obstruct traffic to showcase their talents.

Xia Jiao stopped for a moment, captivated by a singer performing “Suddenly.” His low, husky voice was enchanting.

Before leaving, Xia Jiao discreetly plucked a few pink roses from her bouquet and gently placed them on the singer’s backpack.

The singer noticed her and smiled, saying, “Thank you.”

Not used to being watched, Xia Jiao felt her face flush and hurriedly walked away, holding the flowers close to her chest.

Not far off, Wen Chongyue was sitting in his car, watching as Xia Jiao bent down to secretly give the singer flowers. He saw her face turn red and her hurried departure with the bouquet.

Chen Zhouren, who was sitting in the driver’s seat, looked over and asked, “Is that your wife?”

“Yes,” Wen Chongyue replied.

Chen Zhuren commented, “I didn’t expect her to enjoy listening to live music.”

“Yes,” Wen Chongyue responded.

Chen Zhuren added, “It’s a pity you can’t sing. I remember the last time you did, Juzi threw up right away—”

Wen Chongyue turned his head away.

He corrected, “The reason she threw up last time was that you kissed her, not because of my singing.”

Chen Zhuren shrugged, “But you do sing off-key, right?”

Wen Chongyue pinched the bridge of his nose. Despite the cool air conditioning in the car, he still felt uncomfortable and unreasonably hot.

He changed the subject, “Let’s head in first. We don’t want Old Qin waiting too long.”

Reuniting with old friends naturally involved some drinking.

Even though none of them were heavy drinkers and didn’t indulge in excessive drinking habits, Wen Chongyue still ended up a little tipsy that evening.

He had hired a young designated driver who was still a college student. The driver was chatty, engaging Wen Chongyue in light conversation during the ride. He didn’t seem to be a local, speaking with a Beijing accent.

Wen Chongyue responded incoherently with his eyes half closed.

After parking the car, the designated driver asked Wen Chongyue with a smile if he could give a good review. Wen Chongyue agreed and heard the designated driver’s phone ringing again.

He picked it up hurriedly and asked for the address. Apparently, there was another order nearby.

Wen Chongyue asked, “Why are you taking orders so late? Will you make it back before curfew?”

The designated driver smiled, revealing his white teeth and two dimples, and said without disguising, “My birthday is coming up in a few days, and I want to save some money to buy something for the girl I have a crush on.”

Wen Chongyue chuckled, watching as the designated driver pulled out a folding electric bike. He casually handed the designated driver an unopened bottle of water, reminding him not to rush too much at night.

A crush.

The sweetness of youthful infatuation.

It certainly sounded interesting.

Having never experienced such naive feelings, Wen Chongyue skipped the elevator and took the stairs instead. He habitually input the password, only to remember that he was no longer home alone.

Wen Chongyue rang the doorbell.

In less than a minute, Xia Jiao, dressed only in her loungewear, opened the door. She shyly poked her head out and asked, “…Why are you back so early?”

It was indeed early.

Wen Chongyue glanced at the time: 8:40.

Xia Jiao had a guilty look on her face, making it hard not to associate her expression with something suspicious. Wen Chongyue didn’t say anything as he stepped inside, keenly sensing the smell in the air.

He walked into the kitchen, which was clean and not at all a scene of chaos.

His gaze landed on the oven.

Wen Chongyue asked, “What’s inside?”

Xia Jiao replied, “Apple pie.”

“Oh,” Wen Chongyue said thoughtfully, “Did you also put a mahjong table in there?”

Xia Jiao looked confused and asked, “What mahjong?”

Wen Chongyue replied, “I heard the apple pie inside screaming, ‘I won!’ and ‘It’s burned!’”

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