Grilled Ribs with Peach Sauce

Xia Jiao’s words didn’t comfort Wen Chongyue. He kindly informed her that he would try to keep the little fatty carp alive until she returned from Kunming.

But the timing of the return was not something Xia Jiao could decide.

There were only two fresh flower supply bases in China: one in Kunming’s Dounan Flower Market and the other in Guangzhou’s Fangcun Lingnan Flower Market. If a statistic was made, it would be found that 90% of the fresh-cut flowers in the domestic market came from these two wholesale locations.

Having worked with Yu Tan for so long, and with previous discussions at the store, Xia Jiao understood a bit about the flower wholesale process. For small flower shops with low flower demand, their flowers usually came from local secondary wholesalers. However, for flower shops like Yu Tan’s, which frequently placed six-figure orders, their flowers were directly ordered from Kunming Dounan or Guangzhou Lingnan.

And providing flowers to these two markets were the flower farmers—flower industry companies at the production bases.

Yu Tan cared greatly about flower quality and “exclusivity.” She had high standards and was very picky. It wasn’t until the last three days of the trip that they were finally able to finalize the contract. A supply contract wasn’t something that could be signed casually. Yu Tan took Xia Jiao along, checking and verifying each clause. Especially the purchase orders—every detail had to be clearly stated, from the flower’s scientific name in both Chinese and English, to the photos, color, flower stalk length, flower crown diameter, and so on. There couldn’t be any room for mistakes from the supplier.

Xia Jiao diligently took notes.

Compared to her, Zhang Yunhe was obviously much more familiar with the process. He was experienced and had a tacit understanding with Yu Tan. Sometimes, if Yu Tan looked at the flowers for a little longer, Zhang Yunhe would understand and would spontaneously chat with the supplier and ask questions.

Xia Jiao had heard that Zhang Yunhe had once been Yu Tan’s prized disciple. He managed the store in Suzhou at first, but for some unknown reason, the two had fallen out, and Zhang Yunhe was sent to Beijing. They hadn’t been in contact for a long time, but only recently had they started reconnecting.

Now, it was the rainy season in Kunming, and it rained almost every day. But it didn’t matter; as long as there was no need to worry about drying clothes, the misty atmosphere of Kunming had its own charm. No wonder the mushrooms here grew so fat and lush.

The day before they were supposed to return, it rained lightly again. Xia Jiao didn’t go out. She had ordered “Old Milk Potato” a dish similar to mashed potatoes, soft and fluffy. She ate while slowly reading a book. After a while, feeling a bit hungry, she decided to head to the administrative floor for a snack.

Of course, Kunming was famous for its rice noodles, but the braised pork rice noodles from this place tasted amazing. Xia Jiao sat on a blue couch with lush greenery outside the window. She had planned to quietly wait for her rice noodles. But suddenly, she heard a loud slap from the back seat.

Startled, Xia Jiao quickly ducked her head. Unlike others who liked to watch drama, Xia Jiao preferred to quickly leave when awkward situations occurred in public, no matter whether it had anything to do with her or not.

She was terrified of causing trouble.

Today was no different.

She heard a familiar voice from behind—it was Zhang Yunhe, but his tone was different from his usual serious manner. His voice even sounded a bit angry. “Teacher, why is it okay for Lin Xing to be embraced, but not for me?”

Xia Jiao felt the hairs on her arms stand on end. She had a strange feeling and rubbed her goosebumps, almost as if someone had poured a bowl of curdled soup on her skin.

She heard the indifferent, calm voice of Aunt Yu: “Still haven’t learned your lesson after getting hit?”

Zhang Yunhe retorted, “What lesson? What law did I break?”

Xia Jiao felt like curling up into a shrimp. She tried to lower her head, using the menu to hide her face. Fortunately, she heard Aunt Yu stand up, and then she heard the rustling of her leaving through the other door. Less than a minute later, Zhang Yunhe followed her out.

Thankfully, neither of them noticed Xia Jiao. She nervously finished her braised pork rice noodles.

The next day, on the way back to Suzhou from Kunming, Xia Jiao didn’t see Zhang Yunhe. She hesitated for a long time, but before she could ask, Aunt Yu spoke first: “There’s something in Beijing, so he went back directly.”

Xia Jiao replied honestly, “Okay.”

This small incident didn’t bring too much discomfort. Aunt Yu’s expression remained unchanged, and Zhang Yunhe still sent Xia Jiao messages about classes and exhibitions in the evening.

If there was something that made Xia Jiao worried, it was Teacher Wen who was left alone in an empty nest.

And also the fact that Teacher Wen had tried his best to care for the little carp but it didn’t survive until Xia Jiao’s return.

Teacher Wen and the two little cats had to eat the carp alone.

Xia Jiao didn’t want to think too much about the details of her return home and her time with Wen Chongyue.

She arrived in Suzhou at 5 p.m., had dinner at 6 p.m., went to her bedroom at 6:30, and woke up the next morning at 10 a.m., feeling as though she had just woken from a different life.

It was Saturday.

Wen Chongyue smiled and asked Xia Jiao, “How about trying brunch?”

Brunch.

It was a term from the UK, meaning a combination of breakfast and lunch. Although it sounded elegant, in Xia Jiao’s university days or work life, she often merged breakfast and lunch into one. For example, on weekends in college (not during exam weeks or intense study periods), she would sleep until 10 a.m. and slowly go to the school canteen to buy a steaming hot clay pot. After she started working, she would sleep in until 10 a.m., then lazily order breakfast through a delivery app, getting a cup of hot coffee or milk with a Caesar chicken wrap or a buckwheat salad.

But having a proper brunch like this was a first.

Wen Chongyue had already made a reservation. He had rented a small, clean courtyard, a real Suzhou-style garden, surrounded by a pool with pavilions built all around. In early spring, one could enjoy peonies. In autumn, there were ginkgos and in winter, the white snow and wax plums. Now it was early summer, with half the pool filled with lotus flowers, the other half with round leaves, and koi fish swimming beneath the surface. The air was filled with a gentle fragrance, and the sight of the artificial mountain rocks and small bridges with tiled roofs added to the tranquility.

This small courtyard came with a kitchen and ingredients, so Wen Chongyue prepared lunch himself. He made a perfect eggs Benedict by creating a whirlpool in a pot of vinegar-water and gently adding eggs, letting them slowly cook into poached eggs. He rinsed off the outer layer of the eggs and paired them with smoked salmon, avocado slices, and English scones. Then he poured a homemade Hollandaise sauce made with lime juice, egg yolks, and white pepper over the eggs. It was a perfect meal.

Brunch was meant to be eaten slowly, so Wen Chongyue prepared a variety of dishes, but each one in small portions: peach-glazed grilled ribs, potato pancakes with sour cream, thick slices of multigrain bread with thyme sautéed mushrooms, freshly baked croissants, creamy corn soup, vegetable salad, red kiwi yogurt, and a cup of homemade milk tea with just a pinch of salt, which had a strong tea flavor and a great texture.

Xia Jiao sat in the pavilion with windows open on all four sides. A light breeze carried the scent of lotus flowers. The windows were made with silk paper and could be opened in pairs to let the breeze pass through, while the other two windows were closed, their view outside appearing like a blurred, artistic painting, full of a deep, serene ambiance.

Wen Chongyue asked Xia Jiao about her experiences recently, and she spoke with excitement, gesturing animatedly. She told him about the always-bustling South Gate of Cuihu, the beautiful Luhan Mansion, and the many small restaurants, cafés, and quirky little shops along Wenlin Street… She had so many interesting things to share with Wen Chongyue—except for the odd atmosphere with Aunt Yu and Zhang Yunhe.

Wen Chongyue didn’t ask about it. He smiled and listened as Xia Jiao spoke. But when she mentioned the bars, he asked, “Did you go to any?”

“No, no,” Xia Jiao quickly shook her head, “I’m not really used to such noisy places.”

Wen Chongyue said, “Next time, I’ll go with you.”

Next time?

Xia Jiao couldn’t picture Wen Chongyue at a bar with wandering singers and underground bands. In her mind, Wen Chongyue was just Teacher Wen. He didn’t seem like someone who would visit places filled with drunkards and blaring rock music.

Regardless, Xia Jiao spent a peaceful and leisurely weekend at the small courtyard that Wen Chongyue rented. The only thing she felt guilty about was leaving the two cats at home. They were both waiting for her with sad eyes, demanding extra snacks, so Xia Jiao had to give them both some quail jerky.

The next day, Xia Jiao went to work as usual. When she arrived at the flower shop, she immediately felt something was off. After asking around, she found out—

Gao Chan and Yu Qingzhen had a fight.

The exact reason was unclear. The staff couldn’t explain it, but they knew the two had fallen out badly. Coincidentally, it was the day the shop manager was coming, and Yu Qingzhen had cried and complained to the manager. As a result, Gao Chan’s bonus for the month was canceled.

Xia Jiao wasn’t about to get involved in this mess. She remained detached, keeping her focus on her work. At lunch, Yu Qingzhen invited her to join, but Xia Jiao politely declined. She ate her meal alone in the dining room, while Gao Chan entered with takeout and sat across from her.

Gao Chan warned her, “Don’t get too close to Yu Qingzhen. Who knows, one day, she might secretly report you to the manager.”

Xia Jiao smiled, “Thank you.”

Even without Gao Chan’s warning, Xia Jiao wouldn’t have gotten too close to Yu Qingzhen. Their views were too different, and they were never going to be friends.

Yu Qingzhen didn’t like serving casual customers and secretly complained about those who bought only one flower. Xia Jiao, on the other hand, quietly wrapped each flower with care, even when it was for the old man with a bad temper. Every time he chose roses, Xia Jiao would thoughtfully select the appropriate wrapping paper based on the color he picked.

If there was anything troubling Xia Jiao recently, it was Song Zhaocong’s persistent pestering.

She wasn’t sure if it was the last drinking party that had rekindled his rebellious spirit, but even after Xia Jiao had left Beijing, he still sent messages from time to time. When she blocked him, he would switch to a different number, either from a friend or someone else.

Xia Jiao was fed up with it.

To make things worse, Bai Ruolang had placed another flower order, and at the shop, when Yu Qingzhen was chatting with others, she often mentioned this “Mr. Song” with a tone of admiration.

“Ms. Bai has such good genes,” Yu Qingzhen said enviously, “and she has good taste too. I wonder what kind of girl she will like.”

Gao Chan rolled her eyes. “Definitely not someone who talks behind people’s backs.”

Yu Qingzhen was momentarily stunned, then replied casually, “And not someone who only knows how to sweet-talk her superiors either.”

Seeing Xia Jiao organizing some daisies, Yu Qingzhen asked, “Xia Jiao, what do you think, am I right?”

Xia Jiao looked up blankly: “Ah?”

Gao Chan quickly repeated the conversation.

Xia Jiao smiled awkwardly. “Well… Ms. Bai is already married. So of course, she likes men, not women. None of us have any hope of marrying Ms. Bai, so it really doesn’t matter what kind of girl she likes.”

Gao Chan paused, then laughed out loud. Yu Qingzhen turned away, adjusting her hair in the mirror, and muttered, “Idiot.”

Xia Jiao didn’t care about what kind of girl Bai Ruolang liked.

She knew Bai Ruolang would never be interested in her, and frankly, she wasn’t good at pleasing people anyway.

The weekend came around again, and Xia Jiao struggled to get up early, going with Wen Chongyue to buy fresh ingredients.

Choosing meat, though it sounds simple, was actually a skill. For example, when choosing beef for steak, one had to distinguish between different types. Even within the category of Wagyu, there were several kinds, such as the more tender and fatty Kobe beef, Omi beef, and Matsusaka beef, while the Bairou Wagyu had leaner meat with a wilder taste. Then there was the Short Horn beef, which had a strong, rich fat flavor but lower meat yield…

When it came to pork, the varieties were even more numerous—Hanjiang black pork, Yimeng black pork, Guangdong black pork, Dian Nan small-eared pigs, Jinhua pigs, Wuyi black pigs…

China was vast, and from North to South, East to West, there were different breeds of pigs, each with different meat textures and tastes.

Xia Jiao felt dizzy listening to all of this and looked at Wen Chongyue in awe. “That’s amazing, I can’t even tell the difference between different kinds of pork. I can only tell the difference between people and pigs.”

Wen Chongyue accepted her compliment and said, “If you can tell the difference between people and pigs, you’re already smarter than many little pigs.”

Xia Jiao thought for a moment before realizing what he meant and angrily slapped his backside. Wen Chongyue was stunned for a second before reaching out to rub her head, sighing in surprise, “Are you planning to rebel?”

Xia Jiao straightened up seriously. “Teacher Wen, you should mind your words and actions. Otherwise, I might have to shout, ‘Teacher, what are you doing?’ As a teacher, please be careful with your behavior and don’t do anything strange to the flower of the country.”

Wen Chongyue laughed at her.

Though she was speaking seriously, she still had to gather the courage to ask for the prices. Wen Chongyue didn’t believe she would actually say it out loud.

He leaned in, pinched Xia Jiao’s cheek, and asked teasingly, “The flower of the country?”

Xia Jiao nodded seriously.

Wen Chongyue smiled and said, “Then I’ll just secretly pick one.”

Xia Jiao whispered, “You’re a teacher, aren’t you? You want to lay hands on your own student? Don’t you feel guilty as a teacher?”

—A normal person wouldn’t date one of their former students, right?

Although she knew Wen Chongyue had been very eager to get married back then, Xia Jiao still wanted to confirm this point.

Did he really not care about the teacher-student relationship?

Xia Jiao had secretly wrestled with this question for a long time.

About the teacher-student relationship.

Out of nowhere, Xia Jiao remembered that day in the administrative lounge when she heard Zhang Yunhe, with a suppressed voice, calling Aunt Yu “Teacher.”

As a student, she could understand how Zhang Yunhe felt; but as a teacher? How did teachers view this kind of “fake teacher-student relationship”?

More and more people were coming in, so Wen Chongyue grabbed Xia Jiao’s hand and gently pulled her closer.

He agreed with Xia Jiao. “A normal person would feel guilty.”

Xia Jiao’s eyes brightened. “So today, will the guilty teacher let the student go?”

Wen Chongyue replied calmly, “Then I must be a pervert.”