Chapter 15 Roast duck, candied haws~

Xue Fengrong and Xie Yan were around the same age. As rivals, they had a mutual respect for each other. A man’s thoughts were usually simple enough—if Xie Yan had any intention of deceiving him, Xue Fengrong would see through it instantly. Xie Yan had personally picked him up from the military district, so the two could finally get along somewhat peacefully.

“My illness—I’ll do my best to treat it. I want to give her a perfect home,” Xie Yan said. He was a man of his word, and that gave Xue Fengrong some peace of mind. Having his own child was ultimately a good thing—it just depended on whether Xie Yan was truly sincere. A man who genuinely cared didn’t need to be taught; he’d naturally take initiative.

“Alright,” Xue Fengrong replied, letting out a hearty laugh, counting this as Xie Yan passing the first test.

Xue Qingdai wore a lake-blue dress. In the old streets, it wasn’t anything too flashy. As a doctor for many years, she simply preferred the comfort of soft cotton dresses. Her small bag contained a pitch-black hand cream she had specially made. As a physician, she needed sharp eyes and a calm heart. She had noticed her second brother’s chilblains and discolored wounds, clearly not fresh. Given his personality of hiding pain and reporting only the good, he likely wouldn’t say anything about it. She’d spent some time the night before making the ointment, sealing it with wax so it would last for a year.

Xue Yongkang opened the car door for his sister. In the rearview mirror, Xie Yan stole a glance—just in time to meet Xue Qingdai’s clear almond eyes. That one look made his already uneasy heart tremble, and he instantly behaved himself. The military jeep parked steadily by the side of the road, not blocking traffic.

At this time, the country was hailed as the world’s number one bicycle nation. Cars were rare. The roads were filled with “28-bar” bicycles. Looking out, it was a sea of bikes. Sitting in the car, Xue Qingdai was stunned by the rows of bicycles parked outside Tiananmen. Some people even cut out Coca-Cola logos and pasted them onto their bikes as a fashion statement. The influence of the “happy water” (Coke) was already budding in the country.

Xue Qingdai thought about how cough syrup had a bitter taste on the tongue. As a traditional medicine doctor, she didn’t like soda, but she did love honey water.

Xie Yan had already reserved two signature Peking ducks at Quanjude, a famous roast duck restaurant. On the way, someone guided their group inside. Xue Qingdai was closely guarded by her brothers, watching with calm eyes as the newly restored Quanjude sign was rehung. Her gaze was thoughtful.

There were many time-honored brands in the capital. Quanjude was one of the most famous. It had been forced to shut down during the Cultural Revolution’s “Four Olds” campaign, but with reform and opening-up, such brands gradually returned. Quanjude had just recently reopened and was booming with business. Thanks to Xie Yan’s well-connected friends from the compound, they didn’t have to wait long.

Xue Qingdai had eaten Quanjude roast duck from forty years later—but never this nostalgic 1980s version.

The first method was the crispy duck breast skin dipped in sugar—the most primitive and fragrant way to enjoy duck fat.
The second method involved duck skin dipped in sweet bean paste, wrapped in thin, paper-like spring pancakes.

Both her second and third brothers made wraps for her, and she was already full.

But when her third brother, Xue Yongkang, went to the restroom, and second brother Xue Fengrong was busy rushing to pay the bill, Xie Yan took the chance to hand her another wrap.

“I grew up here. The way I wrap it is the most authentic,” Xie Yan said, a little guilty—he actually had very little experience eating roast duck. His father, Xie Songshan, believed in thrift and hardship. They rarely had duck. Only when his mother, Zhang Shuying, craved it, did she take him.

Xue Qingdai saw through his clumsy attempt to please her and looked conflicted. “I can’t finish a whole one. You eat it.”
Xie Yan held it to her lips. She glared at him and took a small bite. “Not good~” she muttered, annoyed he was forcing her.

Xie Yan swallowed the rest. “It’s not bad.”

Xue Fengrong, having failed to pay, returned only to find Xie Yan smiling like a peacock displaying feathers beside his sister.

“Xie Yan!” he barked, plopping himself between the two and refusing to move.

As someone born in the capital, Xie Yan wasn’t all that impressed by the place anymore. But since they were already eating together, they might as well stroll around. It was a chance to spend more time with Xue Qingdai.

“When my old comrades come to the capital, they always climb the Great Wall. We don’t have to, but I brought a camera. Let’s take a few photos together before we leave,” Xie Yan suggested, holding up the treasured black “brick” of a camera borrowed from his mother, Zhang Shuying.

Xue Qingdai was intrigued. Her family barely had any photos together. After tragedy struck, only a single family portrait remained. She had vowed that when she had money, she would buy a camera and take at least ten photos of each loved one.

“Okay,” she agreed readily.

Xue Fengrong and Xue Yongkang, of course, supported their sister unconditionally. Afraid she might get thirsty but knowing she didn’t like soda, Xue Fengrong bought her some tangerines, and Xue Yongkang bought apples. These fruits were expensive and rare. Even though their family grew some, Xue Yongkang wiped them clean but didn’t eat any—saving them all for his sister.

Xie Yan watched and learned silently.

He realized both Xue Qingdai and his mother, Zhang Shuying, had strong and delicate tempers—they definitely couldn’t live under the same roof.

Walking behind the three siblings, Xie Yan pondered how to find another opportunity to be alone with Xue Qingdai.

“Shuying, isn’t that your son?” One of Zhang Shuying’s “plastic” friends clutched her thick black coat and gawked while stroking the luxurious fabric.

Zhang Shuying replied, her red lips full of sass, “He’s a grown man. He can go wherever he wants.”

“Don’t tag along with me if you’ve got no money. I’m not paying for your stuff. If I lend money again, my husband will scold me.”

With that, Zhang Shuying ruthlessly exposed everyone’s hidden thoughts in one sentence.

Whether she was joking or not… who could say?

Who didn’t know that Xie Songshan—Commander Xie himself—practically owed his life to Zhang Shuying? As an older man with a younger wife, he spoiled her endlessly. He even cashed in on old favors to get her a courtyard house in the capital. At every major event, he insisted on bringing her along. Their loving relationship was the stuff of legends.

Unlike their own marriages, which were a mess of constant squabbles—where buying a single article of clothing required endless overthinking. Feeling a bit embarrassed in comparison, the women around Zhang Shuying quickly made excuses and dispersed.

Zhang Shuying let her permed curls fall over her shoulders, a bright red silk scarf wrapped elegantly around her neck. She sighed, “So boring,” and headed in the direction her “friend” had pointed, planning to have a little fun teasing her son.

The street vendors bustled with noise and color, shouting through the cold in their padded jackets, rubbing their hands and exhaling warm breaths into the air.

Xue Qingdai bought another stick of bingtang hulu (candied hawthorn), along with two large oranges stuck together with a single hawthorn on top—an oddly shaped but adorable candy skewer. She couldn’t help but laugh as she said to the vendor, “Uncle, this is the most creative design I’ve seen yet!”

The creativity of the common people truly had no limits.

The elderly vendor’s kindly face broke into a crooked grin beneath his beard. “With these skills of mine, give me any fruit, and I can coat it in sugar.”

Xue Qingdai gave him a thumbs-up. She loved this kind of down-to-earth, lively atmosphere.

“Daidai, don’t move! Let me take a picture of you,” Xie Yan called out.

Xue Qingdai didn’t usually take pictures, but naturally, she held up a peace sign and stood beside the candied hawthorn stall. This pure and innocent era was worth preserving.

Her two brothers, not knowing how to use a camera themselves, softened a bit toward Xie Yan upon seeing their sister so happy.

“I want one with my brothers too. Is that okay?” Xue Qingdai asked, knowing that photos were expensive in this era and preserving one was even harder.

“Of course!” Xie Yan replied immediately.

He actually wanted to join the photo as well—getting a picture with Daidai would be even better. But the way her two brothers were staring at him… he thought better of it.

Zhang Shuying, who didn’t look her age, could easily pass for someone in her early thirties with the way she dressed. She valued beauty above all else and had only one child so she could maintain her figure. But now it seemed like her son had his eyes on another woman. Had Xie Yan really forgotten about his fiancée…?