Winter Melon and Lotus Seed Soup

Xia Jiao said, “Actually, I can cook quite well.”

Wen Chongyue agreed, “Yes, you cook delicious dishes and keep the kitchen in good shape.”

Xia Jiao: “…”

This topic was temporarily over. Wen Chongyue rolled up his sleeves and cleaned up the “mess” left by Xia Jiao.

In fact, it was easy to clean up, and Wen Chongyue found out the reason for the black smoke. It was because the bottom of the pot was not clean. This was a new pot. After taking it home, Xia Jiao used it before Wen Chongyue had time to clean it up.

Xia Jiao was careless and hadn’t noticed this detail.

Wen Chongyue calmly organized everything and asked Xia Jiao, “What do you want to eat today?”

—”What do you want to eat today?”

This might be the question Wen Chongyue asked Xia Jiao the most. If we ranked their daily conversations, his most frequent phrases would likely be “What do you want to eat today?” and “Relax and don’t be so nervous” while Xia Jiao’s would probably be “Teacher Wen, please!”

Usually, while Wen Chongyue prepared dinner, Xia Jiao would go to the living room to take care of their two cats.

The two cats were now inseparable. Perhaps because of their age difference, Xia Mi always loved to nestle under the belly of Wen Quan to sleep. The proud and fastidious chinchilla, who needed a bath three times a month, couldn’t tolerate being close to the “trash bin foraging” tabby. Despite repeated meows of warning, it eventually gave up and allowed Xia Mi to snuggle against its elegant, long fur.

Unfortunately, this balance was disrupted when Xia Mi decided to mate with Wen Quan. Although he had been neutered, the chinchilla still maintained a noble demeanor. The scuffle between the two cats ended with Wen Quan conceding.

Although the two cats had a good relationship, they absolutely would not share the same food bowl, water bowl, or litter box. Even their beds were separate. However, Xia Mi rarely used its own bed. It preferred to sleep on Wen Quan’s belly or back.

Xia Jiao washed the little porcelain bowls for the cats, opened a fresh can of cat food, and refilled their water. Xia Mi rubbed against her leg and meowed softly.

Wen Quan swayed its fluffy tail and elegantly began to eat.

Today, Xia Jiao didn’t play with the cats. She washed her hands and noticed that the birthday cake had just arrived. She quickly hid it before sneaking into the kitchen.

In the small stew pot, as usual, a snowfrog and fish maw soup was simmering for Xia Jiao, bubbling and releasing a rich, fragrant steam. Even with her eyes closed, she could imagine the steam making the snowfrog and fish maw plump, creating a thick, flavorful broth. In a small steamer, dried clams were being steam. Wen Chongyue was cutting crisp celery into neat, diamond-shaped pieces, his fingers carrying the fresh scent of vegetables. Without looking up, he asked, “Are you hungry?”

“No, not at all,” Xia Jiao shook her head, “I’m just checking to see if I can help.”

Wen Chongyue thought for a moment, “Could you hold a little flag and stand by my side, cheering ‘Go, Teacher Wen!’?”

Xia Jiao replied, “A gentleman uses his hands, not his mouth.”

Wen Chongyue chuckled, “Could you please help me pick some rosemary, thyme, and sweet basil? I brought home some fresh lamb chops today; we can make roasted lamb chops.”

Xia Jiao responded, “Got it, Teacher Wen.”

Wen Chongyue wasn’t very good at caring for plants. The balcony was filled with many common herbs, which had previously been sickly and small. After Xia Jiao arrived, she revived Wen Chongyue’s balcony, organizing everything neatly and making each plant flourish vibrantly.

As late spring approached, the plants were the first to sense changes in temperature and humidity before the people did. Xia Jiao noticed that the jasmine had formed small white buds. She squatted down and leaned closer to smell it; the jasmine had a subtle fragrance, and the buds were tender. The scent was not yet strong, one had to be close to detect it.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the rain fell softly, creating a misty scene. In a landscaped basin, the lotus leaves were round like coins, and a few tiny red fish, less than five centimeters long, swam below. Xia Jiao had bought them from a night market for one yuan each, bringing back five. She was surprised they not only survived but also swam happily.

Xia Jiao eagerly volunteered to help. Wen Chongyue explained the recipe while she personally roasted the lamb chops. The method was not complicated; she first mixed the freshly picked rosemary, basil leaves, and thyme, chopping them finely. Then, she combined them with black pepper, olive oil, and coarse salt to create a marinade for the meat.

The crushed herbs released an enticing aroma, especially the sweet basil, whose delicate sweetness blended perfectly with a gentle floral scent, effectively masking the meat’s odor.

The lamb chops were ready, evenly coated with several layers of marinade. After letting them sit for thirty minutes to absorb the flavors, Xia Jiao wiped off the mixed spices and placed them in the hot oil, frying both sides for a few minutes until they turned golden. Then, she took them out, sliced some onions to pair with them, and placed everything in the oven at a high temperature to roast.

This method wasn’t difficult. Xia Jiao also made some stir-fried water spinach and tossed together a fruit salad.

Wen Chongyue finally noticed Xia Jiao’s diligence today. He put the clams and celery on a plate and simmered winter melon and lotus seed soup in the pot. The soup was simple to make, but Wen Chongyue had his own unique recipe to improve it. He added mushroom stems to it – these were the ones left over from the fresh mushrooms he usually ate. After drying them, they were put into soups, braised dishes, or stews to naturally enhance the flavor and relieve greasiness.

The winter melon in the pot took on a translucent hue, infused with the rich aroma of bay leaves and dried mushroom stems. The fragrance of the lotus seeds mixed with the unique taste of winter melon wafted through the slightly ajar lid.

Wen Chongyue squeezed Xia Jiao’s shoulder and asked her to look at him.

“Speak up,” Wen Chongyue said.

“What?” Xia Jiao replied, her eyes wide.

“Is there something you want help with, or did you do something to upset me?” he inquired.

Xia Jiao blinked in surprise. “No, what are you thinking about?”

“Then why are you being so attentive today?” Wen Chongyue speculated. “Did you run into some trouble? You can talk to me about it—except for reducing the frequency.”

He pretended to be all ears.

“It’s because today is your birthday,” Xia Jiao said. “On your birthday, I should make a little food for the birthday star… That’s not a crime, right?”

She said it lightly, but Wen Chongyue was taken aback.

The kitchen was filled with delightful aromas, and all the ingredients in the pots, bowls, steamers, and salad bowls seemed to dance together in a joyful rhythm.

Wen Chongyue’s hand rested on Xia Jiao’s shoulder. He said nothing, his dark eyes reflecting the serene beauty of a spring snow-covered valley.

Xia Jiao suddenly felt something was off and confirmed, “…Did you forget? Did you really forget that today is your birthday?”

Wen Chongyue snapped back to reality, smiled lightly, and said, “I might have been too busy lately.”

He lifted Xia Jiao into his arms, gently pressing his lips against her cheek. “Thank you.”

Xia Jiao was still in disbelief.

How could anyone forget their own birthday?

But Wen Chongyue truly had forgotten. He hadn’t even bought longevity noodles or prepared dumplings—things that were traditional in certain northern cities, where making dumplings is considered the highest form of etiquette for holidays and birthdays.

Wen Chongyue blew out the candles that Xia Jiao had lit, listened to her sing the birthday song, and happily accepted the carefully chosen bouquet she presented, complimenting her taste.

The two of them separated the flowers into three vases: one for the living room, one for the study, and one for the bedroom.

Xia Jiao had bought Wen Chongyue a beautiful tea set as a birthday gift, perfect for leisurely brewing tea for two.

The rain had been falling all day, a steady drizzle, reminiscent of the plum rain season. The East Mountain white jade loquats from Suzhou were now in season, sweet and juicy, while the Yangshan peaches still needed some time to ripen. However, Xia Jiao’s peaches were perfectly ripe, bursting with sweetness at the slightest bite, which Wen Chongyue adored.

On one’s birthday, the birthday person holds the most power, even making Wen Chongyue, who usually adhered strictly to his health routine of exercising just twice a day, let loose for once. Xia Jiao struggled to crawl away, but he held her ankle and pulled her back. Xia Jiao quietly reminded him that it was enough.

“Not enough,” Wen Chongyue insisted. “Today is my birthday.”

Xia Jiao said: “Even if it’s your birthday, you can’t kill the goose that lays the eggs.”

Wen Chongyue held her hair, covered it, and corrected her wording: “It’s not killing the goose that lays the golden eggs, it’s an inspection.”^[1]In Chinese culture, “killing the goose that lays the golden eggs” means sacrificing long-term benefits for immediate gain. It warns against being short-sighted and losing future value by … Continue reading

Lowering his voice, he added, “You haven’t checked the eggs yet.”

With her kind-hearted nature, Xia Jiao decided to indulge the birthday star, feeling she was living up to the saying of sacrificing oneself for a gentleman.

The gentleman was satisfied, but Xia Jiao felt like she was about to faint.

Despite Wen Chongyue’s lovingly prepared nourishing soup, it didn’t bring any glow to Xia Jiao’s complexion. She drank all the soup, but it seemed to come back up as soon as it nourished her. Before Wen Chongyue’s birthday ended, Xia Jiao felt sympathy for him for forgetting his own birthday, but once it was over, she sadly felt pity for herself for not being celebrated.

This mood lasted until the early morning. Xia Jiao woke up at night and did not see Wen Chongyue. She was thirsty and the water in the bedroom was empty. She got out of bed in her slippers and wanted to go outside to drink water.

Only a dim nightlight illuminated the room, its glow soft like a candle.

Wen Chongyue sat on the balcony in a wicker chair, a tea set on the table—the only gift he received for his birthday.

Xia Mi hopped onto his knee. Wen Chongyue silently smoked, the hazy night enveloping him, with rain continuing to fall outside. His silhouette appeared lonely and desolate, as if a heavy stroke of ink had accidentally splashed onto a traditional Chinese landscape painting, reminiscent of jade mountains and ancient pines.

Xia Jiao retreated her head and quietly returned to bed.

Just this once.

That night, Xia Jiao caught a glimpse of Wen Chongyue’s quiet side, wrapped in thick darkness. The only light came from the glow of the cigarette between his fingers, just this once.

The plum rain had not yet ended, and the weather was gradually warming up. Business at the flower shop continued as usual, with flowers blooming and wilting daily. Flowers that missed their peak blooming period were dried and turned into various dried floral products, which were packaged and sold again.

It wasn’t just large floral orders they handled. They also catered to everyday customers. Although she couldn’t avoid interacting with people, Xia Jiao genuinely loved her work.

She adored flowers, plants, and the customers who came to buy them.

What exactly is a luxury item?

Xia Jiao had worked in a leading luxury brand for a long time, receiving training and attending lectures. Many people defined luxury items as the everyday goods of the wealthy and middle class, enjoying the exquisite products crafted by others. The money customers paid didn’t assign a luxury status to an item; what made something luxurious was the time and skill the artisan invested in creating it.

Xia Jiao’s perspective had changed.

Beyond merely satisfying hunger, the true luxury in life lies in the daily pleasures we create for ourselves.

Take buying flowers, for example.

Xia Jiao’s first customer was an elderly man, around sixty years old, standing outside the glass window with his hands behind his back. He wore a slightly oversized jacket that seemed too youthful and outdated, as if it had been discarded by his son.

That day, the flower display was arranged by Sister Lan herself, featuring spring jasmine as the main theme, complemented by pearl acacia, eucalyptus leaves, ivy, and more.

During the drizzly plum rain season, when there were no major orders or holidays, the shop was usually quiet.

Sister Lan and Gao Chan had gone to the studio to discuss an upcoming large order, and Sister Lan had taken a liking to Gao Chan, often inviting her to join in on various activities.

Yu Qingzhen was bored, repeatedly cutting the floral foam with a small knife while chatting aimlessly with Xia Jiao. “Sister Lan really appreciates Gao Chan.”

“Yeah,” Xia Jiao replied.

“I saw Gao Chan bringing Sister Lan Starbucks yesterday,” Yu Qingzhen continued.

“Uh-huh,” Xia Jiao said.

“It seems like flattering the boss is definitely more effective than just working hard,” Yu Qingzhen commented.

Xia Jiao stopped responding. She carefully cut the fresh rose stems at an angle and arranged them in a slender-necked vase.

Yu Qingzhen turned to her and asked, “Why aren’t you removing the thorns?”

Xia Jiao replied, “I think the thorns are part of the rose. Keeping them makes it feel more natural.”

Yu Qingzhen scoffed, “Well, when a customer gets pricked and complains about you, don’t come crying.”

Xia Jiao focused on adjusting the roses’ angle. “It’s okay. This vase is just for display. Customers won’t touch it.”

Yu Qingzhen glanced outside the glass window. The elderly man was still lingering, his hair gray, resembling an old jujube tree dusted with snow.

Yu Qingzhen complained, “Why is he just standing there? It’s affecting our brand image. I need to get Xiao Liu to shoo him away. He’s scaring off potential customers.”

Before Xia Jiao could respond, the old man pushed open the glass door and entered. Yu Qingzhen was too lazy to move, knowing that such elderly customers would pick up a penny from the street and put it in their pocket. At the market, they would haggle for a few cents over a pound of vegetables and even expect a garlic bulb for free with a cucumber. They were clearly not the target customers for the flower shop.

Xia Jiao approached him.

She didn’t have high expectations, merely smiling politely at the old man.

He asked, “Do you have any roses here?”

Xia Jiao explained the types of roses available in the shop. After listening to her long description, he ended up buying just one.

After he left, Yu Qingzhen nudged Xia Jiao with her elbow. “I told you these people are stingy. You didn’t need to explain so much.”

Xia Jiao smiled. “It’s fine. I was just passing the time anyway.”

Yu Qingzhen said, “How about we go to KTV after work?”

Xia Jiao declined. “No, I want to go home and feed the cats.”

— In fact, for someone with social anxiety, KTV was a nightmare. Listening to songs was fine, but being urged to sing felt like torture. It was as if they were passing a bomb instead of a microphone.

Yu Qingzhen sighed. “Look at you, has marriage made you this bored? Are there no night activities left for you?”

For some reason, Yu Qingzhen saw Xia Jiao as a pitiful person trapped in the “grave of marriage.” However, Xia Jiao didn’t find her married life boring.

Her nighttime activities were quite rich.

Of course, she wouldn’t say that. Xia Jiao wasn’t the type to expose too much of herself for the sake of casual conversation. Everyone understands their own circumstances. After work, Xia Jiao routinely blocked the 17th phone number of Song Zhaocong trying to contact her and took a bouquet of flowers home to give to Wen Chongyue.

Tonight, Wen Chongyue was making braised pork with preserved vegetables. After feeding the two kittens, Xia Jiao hurried to the kitchen to excitedly talk about the first rose she sold that day. After finishing her story, Wen Chongyue smiled and said, “I have an interesting story to share with you too.”

Xia Jiao guessed, “Did you find money on your way home?”

Wen Chongyue reminded her, “I drive, Jiao Jiao.”

Xia Jiao replied, “Did you find money that fell from an armored truck?”

Wen Chongyue laughed. “Jiao Jiao, although I understand that you are resentful about the high frequency, there is no need to fantasize about me going to jail.”

Xia Jiao: “…”

Wen Chongyue cut a piece of meat and showed it to Xia Jiao. “Look, what is this?”

Xia Jiao replied, “It’s the meat of the second brother.”

Wen Chongyue chuckled. “This is ‘Huai Black Pig,’ a local breed from Jiangsu.”

Xia Jiao fell silent for a moment and then cautiously asked, “So tonight, am I eating a fellow villager?”

Wen Chongyue: “…”

“Jiao Jiao, your empathy astounds me,” Wen Chongyue praised her highly. He then lowered his head and sincerely apologized to the pork on the cutting board. “Sorry, Huai Black Pig, but I might have to eat your fellow villager tonight.”

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