Braised Fish

A little tabby cat is spinning around, meowing at Xia Jiao’s feet.

Since cats can’t eat salty food, Wen Chongyue specially cooked a portion of shrimp for it.

After finishing the shrimp with its tail held high, Xia Mi rubbed its claws on Xia Jiao’s pajama pants, naturally climbing up until it reached her lap. It found a cozy spot to lie down, licking its fur contentedly.

Xia Jiao’s menstrual cycle had just ended, and it was now seven in the evening. The spring night was long, and a layer of soft curtains hung down, shielding the glass window from the tranquil night outside.

She whispered, “If you want to, then you can.”

Wen Chongyue observed her expression and asked, “Do you want to drink some wine?”

Xia Jiao inquired, “White wine or beer?”

Wen Chongyue replied, “Let’s have some wine that’s suitable for you.”

This house is larger, with ample space. Wen Chongyue has an entire glass cabinet filled with various wines, occupying an entire wall. Some wines that require special storage, like ice wine, are kept in a dedicated freezer.

Xia Jiao isn’t well-versed in wine. She dislikes drinking at social gatherings and rarely consumes alcohol herself. Well, occasionally, when she hangs out with friends, she might drink a bit, like when they go to Wanjing for barbecue, where ice-cold draft beer is a must.

The wine Wen Chongyue brought out was ice wine. He apologized to Xia Jiao, saying, “I’m sorry, I didn’t consider that we’d be getting married so soon when I was choosing the wines. These wines are actually better suited for summer evenings—however, the only wines suitable for girls I have are these few bottles. Is that alright?”

Xia Jiao nodded, “Anything is fine.”

Wen Chongyue enjoys seeking Xia Jiao’s opinion, even on seemingly trivial matters that might not matter much to her. When he’s feeling playful, he likes to ask her for feedback, such as whether she feels uncomfortable with what he’s doing or if he’s too heavy on top of her, or whether she prefers things as they were or in a different way, and so on.

However, the latter is usually just a query rather than something he would act on. Unlike his gentle exterior, his behavior in certain situations can hardly be described as gentlemanly.

This is also where Xia Jiao’s slight apprehension comes from. She knows that things are normal. Discussions on the internet can be blunt, with phrases like “XX all night long, hehe,” often accompanied by emojis like little red-faced, tongue-sticking-out characters or red circles with 18+ labels and drooling faces.

The regrettable reality and the internet ultimately differ, with the most direct difference being that the paper doll images of mismatched heights and sizes only make Xia Jiao cringe at the screen. In real life, she would push Wen Chongyue’s shoulder and say they might burst from too much pressure.

Wen Chongyue asked Xia Jiao, “Do you want to drink white ice wine or red ice wine?”

Xia Jiao, unfamiliar with this type of wine, asked, “What’s the difference?”

Wen Chongyue patiently explained, “White ice wine is usually golden-yellow and is generally fresher. Red ice wine has a deeper color and a richer taste.”

Xia Jiao replied, “Let’s go with red ice wine.”

She thought the dishes tonight weren’t too strong in flavor; perhaps white ice wine would be more suitable for summer.

Similar to noble rot^[1]Noble rot is a type of mold that affects grapes, making them sweeter and perfect for making dessert wines. Instead of ruining the grapes, this mold causes them to dry out, concentrating their sugars … Continue reading, the production of ice wine is also a more complex process—the grapes are not harvested when they ripen but are left on the vine to experience freezing at the right natural temperature.

To obtain ice wine, one has to wait until December or January to pick the frost-covered grapes from the vine, sort and press them, filter, patiently wait for fermentation, then age and freeze them…

Ice wine cannot be produced every year. It requires very specific temperature conditions. If it’s too cold, the grapes will freeze, if it’s too warm, they won’t freeze properly.

It’s a gift from nature.

Wen Chongyue poured Xia Jiao a glass. Curiously, she swirled it around; the ruby-red liquid in the glass had a translucent quality, and the berry aroma was rich. After taking a sip, she was surprised by the complex and intense flavors of cranberry and strawberry dancing on her palate. Her eyes lit up, and she exclaimed, “It’s delicious.”

Wen Chongyue said, “The alcohol content isn’t high, you can drink it slowly.”

Xia Jiao took him at his word.

But even wines with low alcohol content can make one tipsy if consumed in excess.

Wine has the ability to open one’s heart. Xia Jiao initially didn’t believe this saying; she had always been good with her alcohol tolerance, rarely getting drunk. Regardless of the situation, she would keep her mouth shut and never let alcohol lead her to say something regrettable. But today was different. As Wen Chongyue chatted with her about some trivial matters, Xia Jiao didn’t feel the need to hide anything from him and shared everything.

She talked about her loneliness when she lived with her grandparents as a “left-behind child,” how she felt out of place when her parents brought her to the city to attend middle and high school, and how grateful she was to Wen Chongyue for his casual comment that helped her rediscover her purpose in life and studies…

Wen Chongyue, having forgotten, asked, “What?”

Xia Jiao fell silent. She finished her drink and, feeling a bit tired, cupped her face and looked at him, “That was the first time I tried snake skin fruit. It looked terrifying, but it actually tasted quite good.”

Wen Chongyue understood; he walked over and supported Xia Jiao, saying, “You’ve had too much to drink.”

Xia Jiao leaned against him. The ice wine was only ten degrees below zero, and as she drank, she felt lightheaded. The cool grape wine fragrance, accompanied by berry aromas, smoothly flowed down her throat. Wen Chongyue leaned down and pressed his lips against Xia Jiao’s, who was still trying to retort.

Teacher Wen tasted fragrant. He didn’t smoke, and just now he had shared the red ice wine with Xia Jiao. Unbeknownst to her, the contact of their lips and teeth under the influence of alcohol sparked a magic that completely soothed her fears and anxieties.

She didn’t resist Wen Chongyue’s touch. The little tabby cat meowed softly, and Xia Jiao looked down, “Xia Mi.”

“It’s fine,” Wen Chongyue lifted her onto the dining table, “I’ll take care of it.”

Xia Jiao didn’t know how he planned to take care of Xia Mi. She propped herself up on her hands and watched as Wen Chongyue sat in the chair and leaned over.

She let one hand drop, gently touching Wen Chongyue’s hair, her brow slightly furrowing. The effects of the alcohol began to take hold, and Xia Jiao’s world felt like a water surface shattered by a stone, its reflection gradually devoured by ripples, reminiscent of a Monet painting, where the lotus flowers swayed on the water’s surface.

She felt like a red ice wine, with grapes that had endured the frost being picked, pressed, and painstakingly brewed into a glass of ruby-red liquid, consumed entirely by Wen Chongyue.

She was indeed drunk, drunk to the point that no matter how excessive Wen Chongyue was, she merely widened her eyes in response. Whether embraced or having her hands pinned behind her back, Xia Jiao did not resist. She was like a frosted grape, gradually melting in the warmth.

Wen Chongyue was the one who had taken her away from the withered branches of winter.

Xia Jiao confirmed this point.

For the first time in her life, after a hangover, she did not have a splitting headache.

Instead, it was Wen Chongyue who paid the price, with blood drawn. Xia Mi, protective of its owner and friendly with Xia Jiao, inexplicably scratched three marks on Wen Chongyue’s leg in its anger.

Wen Chongyue was too caught up in the moment to care about Xia Mi. Just earlier that day, she had begun to sternly educate it, warning that it shouldn’t show its claws indiscriminately.

The little cat, oblivious, happily devoured the canned food, contently shaking its body and stretching out on the floor.

They had also brought home the promised chinchilla. Wen Chongyue’s friend had flown in specifically for this, and Wen Chongyue had driven to pick up the cat.

The chinchilla, a handsome seven-month-old with blue-green eyes, possessed an aura that straddled the line between daftness and melancholy.

Xia Mi didn’t seem to mind the new family member. After just an afternoon of separation, it excitedly hopped over the barrier to find the new arrival—Wen Chongyue had indulged Xia Jiao’s naming desire, and the chinchilla was named Wen Quan.

Wen Quan was a clean freak. Its dedicated food bowl shone brightly, and it would never lower its elegant neck to touch any cat food that had fallen outside of it.

Xia Mi was the complete opposite, determined to knock over the trash can, dive in, and rummage for something to play with. Anything edible was fair game. Even if it fell under the table, it would adeptly retrieve it.

As Xia Mi joyfully dashed toward Wen Quan after rummaging through the trash can, the cleanliness-obsessed Wen Quan dodged out of the way, finally letting out its first hoarse meow in its new home: “Ah~ woo~”

Xia Jiao didn’t engage in the competition between the two cats. She was too nervous about meeting Wen Chongyue’s aunt.

Wen Chongyue’s aunt takes her mother’s surname Yu, and her given name is Tan. She was ten years younger than Wen Chongyue’s father, unmarried, and currently dating a boyfriend. During the introduction, it was mentioned that he was around Xia Jiao’s age, still in graduate school, with a thin frame and a tendency to blush while speaking. His name was interesting too: Zhang Baolin, but Aunt Yu called him Xiao Lin.

Aunt Yu lived in a nearby neighborhood. A true flower enthusiast, her ground-floor apartment resembled a plant greenhouse. Not to mention the few cherry blossom trees she had planted; the arrangement of flowers in her yard was quite meticulous. Purple bamboo mingled with bronze-colored street lamps, and on either side of the white gravel path, the colorful sugar cane grass shone beautifully. The gentian flowers had yet to bloom, while the large hydrangeas complemented the snake plants, weeping daisies, and bougainvilleas. The small, intentionally sloped garden featured bold golden star jasmine and iron winter green standing tall.

Wen Chongyue came to visit and brought fresh catfish. Yangtze River fish are the freshest in March and April, which is the best time to taste them.

Yu Tan had eyes similar to Wen Chongyue’s but appeared more aloof. Her tone was slow and polite, not at all imposing, as she sent Xiao Lin to assist Wen Chongyue while she chatted and drank tea with Xia Jiao.

Feeling somewhat shy during their first meeting, Xia Jiao answered quietly. However, Yu Tan didn’t mind, discussing some family matters.

Yu Tan wasn’t much for smiling. Despite having similar eyes to Wen Chongyue, she was a standard cold beauty.

Xia Jiao felt a bit anxious, pondering for a long time before bringing up Yu Tan’s little garden: “Aunt, your garden is managed so well. Did you do it all yourself?”

When it came to talking about plants, Yu Tan’s sincere smile appeared: “Yes, it took a lot of my effort.”

After a moment, she asked, “Chongyue mentioned you like plants too?”

In the kitchen, Wen Chongyue was preparing the catfish. The fish was large, grayish-white, and scaleless, with a swollen belly that resembled a giant catfish. It was one that Wen Chongyue had specially sought from a friend, freshly caught, its belly snow-white and its sides tinged with pale crimson.

Wen Chongyue moved with efficiency and skill as she handled the fish, deftly removing the bones and cutting into its belly while Zhang Baolin watched in awe, clearly unaccustomed to such tasks.

Considering the large size of the catfish and knowing how difficult it was to catch just one, Wen Chongyue planned to make several dishes. However, seeing Zhang Baolin’s hesitant demeanor, he smiled and said, “You can head out and rest. I can handle this by myself.”

Zhang Baolin politely protested a few times before leaving.

Wen Chongyue cut the fish into pieces, already thinking about how to prepare it. Not only could the fish meat be enjoyed, but the head was also quite delectable. The soft, fatty, gelatinous flesh of the catfish’s snout paired perfectly with ham and winter bamboo shoots…

Lost in thought, she heard footsteps at the kitchen door, and assuming it was Zhang Baolin returning, he looked down and said, “You don’t need to be here. Go rest.”

However, the footsteps were light, and after a moment, Xia Jiao peeked her little head in, softly responding, “But I think you might need me.”

With his hands still covered in fishy smells, Wen Chongyue couldn’t touch her. He chuckled, “A student helping a teacher?”

“Yesterday you… um,” Xia Jiao began, “taught me so much. I think I could help now.”

She was still shy, stumbling over her words and failing to directly express herself, which made Wen Chongyue laugh.

“Being this shy now, unable to finish a single sentence,” Wen Chongyue looked down at her and asked, “What happened to the boldness of posting ‘Husband, let’s fly our pants!’ on Weibo?”

**

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