Xia Jiao took the coin, hesitated for two seconds under Wen Chongyue’s gaze, then placed it on the table, standing it upright to spin.

The coin rubbed against the marble countertop, creating a crisp and clear sound, reminiscent of jade shattering. After ten seconds, the coin landed firmly on the surface with a soft thud.

Wen Chongyue said, “It seems this is God’s will.”

Xia Jiao replied, “I think this is called cheating.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wen Chongyue laughed. He washed his hands and skillfully began deveining the shrimp. “What’s your goal in working?”

Xia Jiao cautiously answered, “To create GDP for the country?”

Wen Chongyue paused for a moment and said, “Can you provide a more personal answer?”

Xia Jiao replied, “To make money.”

“Making money for what?” he pressed.

“Buying virtual items and supporting my beloved fictional characters… and contributing to the country’s GDP,” Xia Jiao said.

Wen Chongyue’s long fingers placed the shrimp into a clean porcelain dish as he summarized, “Work is about improving your quality of life. Can I say it that way?”

Xia Jiao sincerely added, “And helping the CEO of the game company live better too.”

Wen Chongyue couldn’t help but laugh. “Then why turn things upside down? If the purpose of working is to make yourself happy, why force yourself to accept a job that affects your quality of life?”

Xia Jiao replied blankly, “Well… it makes sense, but I need money to survive.”

“Perhaps there’s a more suitable job for you,” Wen Chongyue suggested. “There’s no rush, we can take our time.”

Take our time.

This was the phrase Wen Chongyue repeated most often to Xia Jiao. His calm and steady personality meant that, despite living together for so long, Xia Jiao had never seen him angry or flustered over anything.

Xia Jiao really appreciated stable emotions in people.

This preference might relate to her not-so-great childhood experiences. Her parents both had fiery tempers and often argued over trivial matters. Such conflicts were common, and children depend on their parents while fearing their discord. Even as an adult, Xia Jiao still felt a twinge of fear when someone suddenly got angry.

Emotional stability and a peaceful mindset.

These were also key points she mentioned to Jiang Wanju during her discussions about ideal partners. She felt sensitive and knew she wasn’t suited for relationships with hot-headed individuals.

However, such stable men were rare. More often, she encountered those who, upon disagreement, would resort to phrases like, “You women are all XXX” or “Try saying that again,” displaying an immature demeanor despite being physically adult. They acted like loud, petulant boys, thinking that raising their voices would prevent them from being dismissed. Some men seemed mentally stuck at eight or nine years old, believing that throwing tantrums would get them what they wanted.

Xia Jiao had not expected much from this marriage.

She merely wanted someone to deal with her family or, simply put, it felt too lonely and cold in this city. She longed for companionship, to share a bowl of congee or a dish, to lean on each other, and find warmth together.

Xia Jiao agreed with Wen Chongyue’s perspective; some things had indeed become reversed.

Just like work and life, it also resembles marriage—

Marriage should be a natural progression for two people whose feelings have deepened, rather than a muddled decision made just for the sake of getting married.

It’s similar to a math problem, where one should follow a step-by-step approach to reach the solution. However, Xia Jiao has skipped the problem-solving process and jumped straight to the result.

Fortunately, this outcome doesn’t seem too far from being right.

She doesn’t expect love to develop between them. In fact, mutual respect and support is pretty good, isn’t it?

Xia Jiao feels grateful to be that lucky person.

Her good fortune doesn’t stop there. Within a week, Xia Jiao had interviews with four companies and received job offers from all of them. However, none were perfect, and after further communication, she politely declined each one.

Perhaps sensing her exhaustion, Wen Chongyue didn’t get too close during her time of rest.

Xia Jiao felt a bit anxious, but with her menstrual cycle arriving as scheduled, she set those thoughts aside.

On the second weekend after that, Wen Chongyue suddenly suggested, “How about we take a trip to Suzhou for a couple of days?”

At that moment, Xia Jiao was focused on replying to messages from headhunters. She looked up in surprise and asked, “Suzhou?!”

“Yes,” Wen Chongyue nodded, “Let’s relax and visit your parents.”

Xia Jiao immediately agreed.

It’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but despite reciting “Han Mountain Temple outside Gusu City” since elementary school and living in the same province, Xia Jiao had never properly explored Suzhou; she had only passed through. When choosing travel destinations, she usually prioritized places different from her upbringing. Now, when she thought of Suzhou, all that came to mind was the sound of the boat bell at midnight and a line from the poem “Gusu Lin Daiyu.”

Wen Chongyue happened to have business in Suzhou and took a few days off work, bringing Xia Jiao to another apartment he owned there.

This place was indeed larger than their home in Beijing, with a wider view. Located on the third floor, it had two balconies. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows on the shady side stood a massive ginkgo tree. Although it was only early spring, Xia Jiao could already imagine its beauty throughout the seasons.

The sunny balcony was filled with various plants, lush and vibrant. Xia Jiao exclaimed in surprise and turned to ask, “Did you hire someone to take care of these plants?”

Wen Chongyue slid a new access card into Xia Jiao’s keychain, which had a Shiba Inu pendant. The keychain was tight, and the card was freshly registered in his name. He said, “I paid a florist to help.”

Xia Jiao absolutely loved Wen Chongyue’s apartment in Suzhou. Lying in a lounge chair on the balcony, sipping tea and looking out at the nearby avenue lined with cherry blossom trees, she couldn’t help but anticipate the beautiful pink and white blossoms that would soon explode in a sea of color.

On their first day in Suzhou, Wen Chongyue prepared a dish of pickled freshness and a plate of “Kou San Si” (Braised Three Shreds)^[1]Kou San Si” (Braised Three Shreds) is a Chinese stir-fry dish made with three shredded ingredients, usually a mix of meat (like pork), vegetables (like carrots or bamboo shoots), and mushrooms … Continue reading.

Suzhou cuisine and Wuxi cuisine tend to be on the sweeter side, while Hangzhou cuisine is known for its lightness and freshness. Shanghai cuisine combines both styles, being delicate and sophisticated. Unfortunately, authentic “Benbang cuisine” is rarely found nowadays, and even the simplest pan-fried buns often rely on meat jelly for juiciness.

Wen Chongyue is a meticulous person. Although he is not from Jiangnan, he prepared an exquisite meal for his wife on their first day in Suzhou.

Xia Jiao, being from Yangzhou, had some knowledge of Huaiyang cuisine. They had agreed that Wen Chongyue would call her when it was time to cook, but unfortunately, she was so exhausted that she took a comfortable nap in the air-conditioned bedroom and woke up to find dinner ready.

Wen Chongyue took off his apron and called out with a smile, “Dinner’s ready.”

Spring in Jiangnan wouldn’t be complete without pickled freshness. It features three main ingredients: cured meat, fresh meat, and fresh bamboo shoots. There’s now a popular upgraded version of pickled freshness made with ham, bamboo shoots, and chicken, but Wen Chongyue preferred the traditional method. Knowing that Xia Jiao couldn’t handle salty food, he specifically chose “Nanfeng” pork from Jiangnan. He selected the right cut of fatty pork belly, and the bamboo shoots were fresh from this year’s harvest, carefully chosen to ensure they were tender without being overcooked.

Xia Jiao took a small bite.

After being slowly simmered in rice wine and scallions, the Nanfeng pork and pork belly had fully absorbed the flavors. She was unsure how Wen Chongyue had prepared it, but the soup wasn’t overly salty, and the Nanfeng pork maintained its unique light saltiness. The fresh bamboo shoots added an extra layer of freshness, making it delightfully crisp.

Xia Jiao’s eyes lit up. “This is a thousand times better than what my mom makes!”

Wen Chongyue modestly replied, “You don’t have to exaggerate when you compliment me.”

Xia Jiao insisted, “Really, you will know when you try it.”

Her attention shifted to another dish—Kou San Si, a Yangzhou specialty that had been featured on the show A Bite of China and later included in Shanghai’s “Old Eight Dishes.”

Nowadays, when people mention Kou San Si, they primarily think of the old Shanghai style, rarely considering Yangzhou, which is known for more than just lion’s head meatballs and Yangzhou fried rice.

Wen Chongyue lifted the lid from a white porcelain bowl, revealing an elegant dish inside: Jinhua ham, shiitake mushrooms, winter bamboo shoots, and chicken breast, all cut into fine shreds. The bowl was filled with a milky broth made from simmering large bones, mixed in just the right proportions with pumpkin soup and thickened with starch. The colors were vibrant, and the aroma was enticing, striking a balance between lightness and flavor.

Xia Jiao happily ate her fill.

She praised Wen Chongyue’s culinary skills: “Teacher Wen, it’s a real loss for food lovers that you’re not opening a restaurant. You know, if you had been born a few hundred years earlier, you might have been titled a culinary saint or something…”

Wen Chongyue gestured for her to stop. “Don’t flatter me. I’m just a half-baked cook.”

Xia Jiao was surprised. “How can you say that? For someone like me, half-baked means I’m barely even at the level of well water. If your cooking were really just water, it would be divine water!”

Wen Chongyue poured a cup of barley tea.

He pushed it toward Xia Jiao. Under the light, his features were elegant, and the small mole on his jawline was hidden in the shadows.

The mole on his middle finger, resting on the joint, is quite captivating.

Wen Chongyue asked, “Jiao Jiao, today, would you be willing to let the divine water fill the entire cup of well water?”