Carrot Smoothie

Fortunately, Xia Jiao had only ordered these two pots of flowers for now.

The Gentle God no longer provided door-to-door services.

Teacher Wen’s domain remained secure, with his wife and two cats continuing to live comfortably.

The balcony in Wen Chongyue’s home was enclosed, with one facing north and the other south. The north-facing balcony received little sunlight, so it had fewer plants. With Wen Chongyue’s permission, Xia Jiao moved a few shade-loving plants over, like dumb cane and arrowhead vine. Outside the glass window of this balcony, treetops swayed gracefully, making it an ideal spot for tea. Wen Chongyue adjusted the layout and placed a small tea table here, perfect for tea sessions, along with a storage area for the tea sets Xia Jiao had purchased.

The south-facing balcony, spacious and bright, had a door leading to the master bedroom. This was where Xia Jiao invested the most thought. In decorating the home with plants, she had to consider more than just light or shade preferences. Wind intensity, temperature and humidity, home decor style, and the flowering seasons of the plants all needed to be taken into account. Xia Jiao briefly categorized everything, drew a simple design plan, and then diligently followed her sketch to bring it to life.

Recently, Wen Chongyue had been a bit busier at work, often receiving calls during dinner. These were usually work-related issues. Initially, Wen Chongyue would step out onto the balcony to take the calls, but later, he no longer avoided Xia Jiao and communicated with his colleagues openly.

Xia Jiao had never seen Wen Chongyue working before. In fact, his demeanor while discussing work was just as gentle as always. He seemed like someone who never lost his temper. No matter the conflict, he could resolve it calmly and with ease.

However—

Could there really be someone in the world who never loses their temper?

No one is perfect. Everyone has moments of losing control or feeling upset. But Wen Chongyue wasn’t like that. Aside from their intimate moments, Xia Jiao had never heard him curse or seen him emotionally agitated. He appeared incapable of anger, as though nothing could stir his emotions. It was like tossing a pebble into a lake, sinking silently without even the faintest ripple.

But Teacher Wen wasn’t always like this.

There was a time when he could get angry. Xia Jiao had inadvertently witnessed it once.

During the rainy summer season, Xia Jiao’s weekend coincided with her physiological period. She had set an alarm for two in the afternoon, intending to enjoy a relaxing nap.

However, for some unknown reason, the alarm didn’t go off. When she woke up, she found Wen Quan curled up like a fluffy ball of glutinous rice beside her pillow. At the foot of the bed, Xia Mi was chasing its tail in circles. Rain pattered against the windows, and the door leading to the balcony was slightly ajar, allowing a gentle, cool breeze mingled with the faint scent of jasmine to waft into the room. The rhythmic sound of rain on glass was accompanied by distant, muffled thunder. More prominent was the soothing sound of rain and the faint gurgle of boiling water, which made her guess that Wen Chongyue might be brewing tea.

She vaguely heard Wen Chongyue talking on the phone outside. His voice was low and controlled.

“…I’m telling you, this matter is absolutely impossible… Don’t use my father’s illness to threaten me. You should know what caused it…”

Half-drowsy, Xia Jiao closed her eyes again. In her arms, Wen Quan softly pressed its warm paw against her arm, its pink tongue—rough but endearing—licking her cheek. The sensation reminded her of lying on grass as a child, her face brushing against the edges of blades of grass.

In the midst of these sounds, her mind wandered back to her school days, particularly a rainy season. Water droplets slid off bamboo leaves, falling with a soft plop onto the white ground, rippling through puddles and distorting the reflections of the world.

As a middle school student, Xia Jiao stood alone outside the classroom in a white dress for a long time, sighing.

It was a rainy day, and her tutoring class had only offered self-study sessions. Students could choose whether to attend or not, with the missing hours rescheduled for the following afternoon.

The notice had been sent out early that morning via a mass text message, but Xia Jiao rarely checked her messages.

At the time, many of her peers were splurging on iPhone 4s, but Xia Jiao didn’t have that kind of pocket money. The price of a phone could cover three years of her tutoring fees. She still used a white flip-phone from BBK, which excelled at playing music and even allowed her to play old games like “stealing crops” on QQ Space. However, these games had fallen out of favor among her peers, who were more into online console games. Conversations revolved around titles like Dungeon & Fighter or Fantasy Westward Journey, while World of Warcraft sat at the top of the gaming hierarchy.

Xia Jiao, on the other hand, was more comfortable playing 4399 or Rainbow Town, occasionally venturing into Aobi Island or Little Flower Fairy.

Having missed the notification, she braved the heavy rain to attend her class, only to find the room empty.

Going straight home didn’t feel right, especially since she’d overheard her uncle arguing with his wife before she left. Returning so soon might only disturb them again.

Xia Jiao decided to stay in the classroom and study alone.

Her breakfast had been modest—fried liver buns with soy milk. She couldn’t stomach the peculiar taste of bean juice. With no classmates or teachers around, she started by solving problems in her workbook, then moved on to memorizing text. She struggled with spoken English, so she only practiced aloud when she was alone.

Stammering, she recited from her textbook, “I can open up my students’ eyes to the…the…”

She got stuck on “the” for a long while, unable to recall the next line.

“The outside world and give them a good start in life,” a voice suddenly completed the sentence.

Startled, Xia Jiao let out a soft yelp and turned to see Wen Chongyue.

“Teacher Wen,” she greeted nervously.

Wen Chongyue looked puzzled. “Are you the only one here?”

Stammering, Xia Jiao explained, “I… forgot to check my messages… I thought I’d study for a while…”

Wen Chongyue nodded and took a seat at the back of the classroom with his laptop instead of heading to the podium. “I’ll be back here. Let me know if you have any questions,” he said.

Xia Jiao replied softly, “Okay.”

For the first time, she felt a prickling sensation at her back, knowing the teacher was right behind her. It was hard to concentrate on her books. She didn’t dare practice aloud anymore, worried her poor pronunciation would make him laugh. Instead, she silently wrote, memorizing vocabulary, fixed phrases, and texts. All the while, the sound of Wen Chongyue typing on his keyboard filled the room.

About half an hour later, Teacher Li Lian arrived, laughing as he called, “Chongyue, so this is where you’ve been hiding!”

The door opened, letting in the sound of rain along with the earthy scent of wet soil. Li Lian, carrying a few items, paused.

Xia Jiao awkwardly stood up, stumbling through an explanation.

Li Lian chuckled in understanding but was troubled by the fact that he’d only brought two servings of almond tofu. It didn’t seem right for the teachers to eat without sharing with their student. Wen Chongyue handed his portion to Xia Jiao.

“I remember you’re from the south, right?” Wen Chongyue smiled. “Try this. It’s authentic Old Beijing almond tofu—perfect for beating the summer heat, even on a rainy day.”

After much polite refusal, Xia Jiao finally accepted and ate slowly.

The tofu was indeed refreshing—cool and smooth, with a strong almond aroma accentuated by sweet osmanthus syrup. As she finished, she overheard the two teachers chatting behind her.

They must have assumed she was just a child, as they didn’t avoid sensitive topics. From what she caught, Li Lian was asking Wen Chongyue about his family, particularly his mother, but Wen Chongyue clearly didn’t want to discuss it and steered the conversation elsewhere.

The rain continued through the afternoon, and though the weather didn’t clear up, Xia Jiao eventually left with her umbrella. It wasn’t until she had walked some distance that she remembered leaving the small plastic almond tofu container in the desk’s storage compartment. She hurried back to dispose of it properly but froze upon opening the door.

Inside, Wen Chongyue had a man pinned against the wall by his collar, slamming him repeatedly.

Wen Chongyue’s face was expressionless as he asked coldly, “What else did that Bai guy say?”

“She’s not my mother.”

His tone was terrifying, filled with barely restrained anger, shocking Xia Jiao. It was her first time witnessing a fight—no, a one-sided beating. She was so scared that she gripped her umbrella tightly and ran out.

…

Xia Jiao woke from her long dream to find Wen Chongyue on the balcony, teasing Xia Mi with a cat wand. Hearing her stir, he turned and saw her groggily sitting up.

“Awake?”

“Mm.”

The small bell at the end of the cat teaser was firmly held by Xia Mi’s little hands. Wen Chongyue played with it for a while longer before walking over. Xia Jiao didn’t immediately lean into him. Instead, she sat quietly, feeling his gentle touch as he stroked her head.

“This weekend, I’m going home to visit my dad,” Wen Chongyue asked. “Will you be okay staying here alone?”

Xia Jiao replied, “Don’t worry about me.”

Wen Chongyue sighed. “I don’t know why, but I used to think you were very independent. Now, leaving you home alone makes me uneasy.”

Xia Jiao found it odd too.

Before Wen Chongyue entered her life, she had managed well enough on her own. Though her life was a bit rough around the edges, it was nothing beyond the usual struggles of a working adult.

But things felt different now.

On the first day after Wen Chongyue left, Xia Jiao thought the house seemed incredibly large and empty.

On the second day, she turned on every television in the house, leaving them running for the noise, even though she wasn’t watching. It made the space feel less lonely.

By the third day, she raised the air conditioner’s temperature and brightness. For some reason, she felt cold.

Even so, she adapted. When Wen Chongyue wasn’t home, she didn’t resort to ordering takeout. Before he left, he had restocked the fridge with neatly sorted ingredients. Each package came with detailed instructions.

For example, a box labeled for carrot smoothies contained clean baby carrots and chunks of fresh papaya, with a note:

“Add the contents of this box to 120ml of unsweetened soy milk and 100ml of yogurt. Blend with 5ml of syrup and four ice cubes for five minutes.”

Another box for kale and ham salad included pre-cut kale, arugula, cooled tri-color quinoa, and sliced Spanish ham.

Wen Chongyue’s note read: “Mix with an appropriate amount of roasted pepper vinaigrette (found in the first cabinet on the third shelf, fourth bottle from the left). Stir well and season with black pepper.”

Not to mention the marinated meats and countless other semi-prepped meals he left behind. Concerned she might skimp on breakfast, he even prepared four kinds of vegetable purees, like pea and cauliflower, and sauces like yellow bell pepper mango and French mushroom. He labeled them for use with cooked pasta or as spreads on toast—and yes, he even pre-sliced the whole-grain bread.

Wen Chongyue didn’t ban Xia Jiao from experimenting with takeout, but he created a cozy alternative that made it unnecessary.

When he returned home on Monday night at 8 PM, he looked distracted, burdened by his thoughts.

Xia Jiao prepared warm glutinous rice porridge, chicken braised with lettuce, and homemade tofu. Over dinner, she cheerfully showed him the empty fridge—she had finished all the food he left without ordering takeout once.

Wen Chongyue, appreciating her effort, finished everything on his plate.

Even so, he seemed unhappy. Xia Jiao guessed it might be due to his father’s health or perhaps something related to Ms Bai Ruolang. These were sensitive topics, so she didn’t ask.

She decided to wait for Wen Chongyue to open up instead of rashly touching on his wounds.

That night, Xia Jiao changed into a new nightgown and spritzed on a fresh perfume. The bedding was entirely new—pillows, sheets, and all. Yet, Wen Chongyue seemed oblivious and didn’t compliment her.

After the lights were turned off, he lay quietly.

Xia Jiao stayed still for two minutes, sensing something unusual about him.

In a small voice, she asked, “Teacher Wen, do you want to?”

In the darkness, Wen Chongyue moved closer, gently touching her hair, which smelled like ripe figs in summer.

Wen Chongyue said, “No.”

Xia Jiao obediently murmured, “Oh.”

After a moment, Wen Chongyue asked, “Aren’t you going to try persuading me again?”

“Huh?”

“Usually, when you say ‘no,’ I still try to coax or convince you,” Wen Chongyue remarked. “Why don’t you give it another shot?”

“But, Teacher Wen,” Xia Jiao said thoughtfully, “you sounded so serious when you said ‘no’ just now.”

“Serious?” She considered and found the perfect description. “You sounded so resolute. I worried if I insisted, you’d rather die than comply.”

Wen Chongyue was silent for a moment.

In the darkness, Xia Jiao opened her eyes wide, feeling his fingers softly brush her lips, delicate and smooth.

“This role-playing idea is quite refreshing,” Wen Chongyue said. “I look forward to seeing if you can truly make me resist to the point of defiance.”