Water spinach Soup with Shredded Chicken

After a brief silence, Xia Jiao said, “Teacher Wen, if I had known what would happen today, I would never have signed up for your tutoring class.”

“Oh?”

Wen Chongyue raised his eyebrows, smiling. “Xia Jiao, if I had known this would happen, I would have put all my effort into tutoring you.”

Xia Jiao asked, “Didn’t you give your all when you taught me?”

Wen Chongyue replied, “After all, who could have known that one of the students I taught back then would eventually become my wife?”

Xia Jiao suddenly realized that, when it came to relationships involving teacher and student, she was probably the only one who hesitated about the moral aspect. Or rather, it was her morals that made her wary of teacher-student relationships.

In fact, Wen Chongyue didn’t care about that distinction at all.

Early in the morning, the market was full of elderly people buying ingredients. As the crowd grew, Wen Chongyue naturally reached out and took Xia Jiao’s hand. Xia Jiao, lost in thought, hesitated for a moment before slowly placing her hand in his.

Although they were already married, Xia Jiao felt that the times they had held hands like this were not many. She turned her head to look at the items on the nearby vegetable stands. Thanks to Suzhou’s advantageous location, there were plenty of seasonal vegetables and fruits available—water bamboo, water spinach, arrowhead bulbs… and something that looked like tiny radishes. Curious, Xia Jiao glanced at it a few more times and asked, “Is this the cherry radish you mentioned?”

After briefly glancing at it, Wen Chongyue shook his head. “No, this is called wu jing (Turnip).”

“Wu jing?” Xia Jiao repeated, puzzled. “Is it the Wu Jing^[1]In Chinese, “wu jing” can refer to different things depending on the context: 芜菁 (wú jīng): Turnip, a type of root vegetable. 吴京 (Wú Jīng): The name of a famous Chinese … Continue reading from Wolf Warrior? Or is it the centipede demon?”

Wen Chongyue took her hand and brought it closer, bending down to write the characters for wu jing (芜菁) in her palm with his finger.

He asked, “Do you remember when we went to Miedu Bridge last time?”

Xia Jiao nodded.

“There’s a place there called Fengmen, and a street called Fengmen Cross Street,” Wen Chongyue said. “Feng refers to turnips. The freshest ones come in winter. After March, they’re out of season.”

He glanced at the turnips on the vendor’s table, pinched one to test it, and chatted briefly with the vendor before buying some.

Xia Jiao whispered, “But didn’t you say they’re out of season? I’m not that craving it that much. It looks just like a radish, and it might not even taste good.”

“Although it’s out of season, it’s good for pickling,” Wen Chongyue said, tapping her forehead lightly with his knuckles. “Xia Jiao, being picky with food is not a good habit.”

Xia Jiao knew full well that being picky was not ideal.

But some scientific studies suggest that some people’s genes are simply not suited for certain vegetables. For example, she had a roommate who could eat cilantro raw or cooked in hotpot, while another roommate would gag at just the smell of it.

And then there was lamb—some people loved the strong smell, while others couldn’t tolerate it at all. Some people loved vinegar in their meals, but others couldn’t bear it.

Xia Jiao didn’t mind most things, but she simply hated radishes.

She also disliked turnip, which looked like a radish’s cousin.

But Wen Chongyue always had a way of turning things she didn’t like into something useful.

He peeled the small turnip, cut it into chunks, and set it out on the balcony to dry. According to his method, on sunny days, it should take a few days to dry it out enough for pickling. However, Wen Chongyue used a little trick: he placed the chopped turnip in the oven at low heat before taking it outside to finish drying.

“Though the flavor might lose a bit,” Wen Chongyue sighed after checking the weather forecast, “the weather right now makes it hard to dry anything properly.”

Xia Jiao agreed.

Wen Chongyue carefully selected a pork front elbow and cooked it, letting the fat solidify into a jelly after cooling. Good food always required patience, but Xia Jiao’s stomach couldn’t wait. It was growling loudly as if a rock band was playing inside her.

To save his hungry wife, Wen Chongyue quickly made a dish of braised pork with arrowhead bulbs, serving it with rice made from a mix of Thai jasmine rice and Northeast Chinese rice. He served her a bowl to eat first, to settle her stomach.

Xia Jiao didn’t go to the dining room but sat in the kitchen and ate a few bites. The arrowhead bulbs had a special flavor, a bit like tea or herbs. When you really tasted it, there was a slight sweetness on the tongue. This dish required skill, as poorly cooked arrowhead bulbs could turn bitter and overpower its natural fragrance. Wen Chongyue’s technique was perfect, preserving the subtle sweetness and fragrance of the arrowhead bulbs, and the braised pork was cooked to perfection. Xia Jiao ate two large pieces of pork but suddenly sighed with a look of concern.

Wen Chongyue said, “Wait a little longer, the water bamboo will be ready soon.”

He was stir-frying green and red peppers with water bamboo, cutting them into similarly sized thin strips. This dish cooked quickly—just a few minutes on high heat and it was done. Wen Chongyue was subtle with his seasonings, only using oyster sauce, soy sauce, and salt. Nothing else.

Meanwhile, a small pot on the stove simmered soup with water spinach and shredded chicken. The savory scent slowly seeped out of the pot. Xia Jiao commented, “I’ve just realized I’ve been eating a lot of pork lately.”

Wen Chongyue asked, “Are you tired of it?”

“No,” Xia Jiao shook her head, cupping her face with both hands, thinking for a moment. She seriously told him, “I feel like, if this goes on, the pigs might start hating me.”

Wen Chongyue laughed at her words. He turned off the heat and served the stir-fried peppers and water bamboo on a plate.

He said, “No, they won’t.”

Xia Jiao tilted her head back.

Wen Chongyue placed the lightly flavored stir-fried water bamboo beside her plate. “It’s honored to satisfy your appetite.”

On this rare weekend, Xia Jiao didn’t have to rush through a meal.

The table couldn’t do without a dish of Chinese cabbage. Today, it was stir-fried. It seemed simple, but it was rare to get it just right. If it was too raw, it would taste too grassy. If it was too overcooked, it would be too soft. Wen Chongyue had a special knack for stir-frying Chinese cabbage. He always used a wok, adding a few drops of Shaoxing wine to the pork fat, without any salt or oyster sauce, only fish sauce.

The result was perfect—green, tender, with a balanced texture, neither too crisp nor too soft, bursting with freshness.

Interestingly enough, although Wen Chongyue could make great Cantonese dishes and delicious soups, his parents were both from the North.

Unable to resist, Xia Jiao quietly asked him, “I never asked before—did you study in Hong Kong?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Wen Chongyue replied. “I did my graduate studies in Hong Kong, with Zhou Ren.”

Zhou Ren’s name sounded familiar, and Xia Jiao realized, “Zhou Ren, isn’t that the ex-boyfriend of Wanju?”

Wen Chongyue nodded.

Xia Jiao didn’t know much about Wen Chongyue’s past. They mostly talked about food, drinks, and work. Most of the time, Xia Jiao was the one talking, and Wen Chongyue listened quietly, offering advice when needed.

In fact, Wen Chongyue rarely spoke about his past.

Before today, Xia Jiao hadn’t realized this. She had just felt comfortable around him. After today, she suddenly realized that Wen Chongyue seemed to know everything about her life and present situation, while she knew very little about his.

Wen Chongyue was easy to get along with. He didn’t have any particular hobbies, and if it weren’t for his bedroom performance, he could easily be described as a perfect gentleman. His emotional stability and restraint made it hard for Xia Jiao to understand his preferences.

He was like a calm, quiet pool of water. He seemed gentle, but only after stepping into it would you realize how deep it was.

Xia Jiao quietly chewed a piece of braised pork, thinking hard.

But it didn’t matter. After all, this was the kind of relationship she had always wanted.

She wasn’t being greedy.

That was enough.

In the afternoon, Xia Jiao lay on the balcony, holding the cat and basking in the sun for a nap. Wen Chongyue practiced calligraphy for a while. This should have been a leisurely afternoon, but unfortunately, a call from the company came in, and Wen Chongyue had to rush over.

Xia Jiao was half-asleep, hearing the sounds, with Wen Quan curled up in her arms, soundly asleep, his little belly rising and falling. Xia Mi was running around, circling Wen Chongyue’s legs. He had already put on his shirt and was getting into his suit jacket. He said to Xia Jiao, “There’s an urgent matter with the project, I need to go—I’ll be back in the evening.”

Xia Jiao muttered a response, still very sleepy, curled up and continued to nap while holding Wen Quan. She didn’t wake up until the sun quietly slid to the edge of the balcony, pulling her out of the peaceful dream.

There wasn’t much to do on the weekend. Wen Chongyue had tidied everything up, but since he left in a hurry, he hadn’t cleaned up the papers on the table. Xia Jiao noticed a piece of calligraphy he’d written.

“Today, I return as if from the same dream, hoeing the bright moon to plant plum blossoms.”

Wen Chongyue’s cursive handwriting was beautiful, firm yet with a gentle grace, like a cold glacier. Xia Jiao stared at the writing for a long time, and then remembered—it was from the couplet at the Chumo Pavilion.

She had briefly seen it last time and liked it, so she had written it down. She knew that Wen Chongyue usually rolled up the things he wrote, but since he left in a hurry, she helped him tidy up. She carefully rolled it up and placed it in the special white porcelain pot where he kept his writings.

Xia Jiao thought Wen Chongyue would be back by dinner, so she didn’t bother with the meat jelly drying in the kitchen and just stir-fried some vegetables, waiting quietly for him. However, as the food began to cool down and the two cats started fighting and making up again, Wen Chongyue still hadn’t returned.

She rested her chin in her hands, hesitated for a long time, and decided to call him.

The first time, no one answered. Just as she was about to call again, the doorbell rang.

She jumped up, happily opened the door, and saw a woman standing there, bright and lively, like peonies in bloom. The woman smiled sweetly at her with grace.

Before Xia Jiao could clearly see her face, she smelled the woman’s strong fragrance, a sweet, slightly mature scent like a field of flowers under the sun.

“Xia Jiao, right?” the woman introduced herself. “I’m Song Xiao, Chongyue’s new colleague.”

Xia Jiao politely replied, “Hello.”

Her attention, however, wasn’t on Song Xiao. She glanced slightly behind her, over her shoulder, and saw Wen Chongyue, being supported by a male colleague.

Wen Chongyue was drunk.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, his frame bigger than most, especially considering his regular exercise. The colleague, who was under 180 cm, was clearly struggling to support him. Xia Jiao immediately leaned forward—she could smell the alcohol on Wen Chongyue, but no cigarettes.

Xia Jiao was much smaller and braced herself to support him, hoping she wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of his colleague and that she wouldn’t get knocked over by him.

Fortunately, when she helped him, Wen Chongyue, who seemed utterly drunk a moment ago, steadied himself and silently leaned on her.

Song Xiao didn’t leave immediately. She seemed unaware that Xia Jiao was struggling to hold up Wen Chongyue, still smiling and explaining that they had all had a meal together as a project team, and everyone had been so happy that they drank too much…

Xia Jiao just nodded, thanked Song Xiao, and asked them to close the door before carefully supporting Wen Chongyue into the bedroom.

Thankfully, Wen Chongyue was a gentleman even when drunk, and his drinking etiquette was good. He allowed Xia Jiao to support him and walked with her without resistance.

Xia Jiao had no experience with taking care of a drunk person. It was hard work getting him onto the bed, and she started to worry about what to do next. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of where to start, when suddenly Wen Chongyue mumbled, “Water.”

Xia Jiao quickly fetched a glass of cold water for him. He drank slowly, keeping his eyes shut, lying still on the bed afterward.

Xia Jiao wasn’t sure how drunk he was. She leaned over slightly, half-lying on the edge of the bed, and cautiously asked, “Teacher Wen, do you know where you are right now?”

Wen Chongyue didn’t open his eyes, and his voice sounded hazy. “Home.”

Xia Jiao breathed a sigh of relief.

Curious about how drunk he really was, she decided to tease him.

She asked a slightly bolder question, “What’s your mobile payment password?”

Wen Chongyue gave her six numbers.

Emboldened, Xia Jiao asked several more questions, and he answered each one.

He kept his eyes shut the whole time, looking as if he might fall asleep any moment.

Finally, Xia Jiao relaxed completely. She poked his face, enjoying the soft sensation, and couldn’t resist doing it a few more times.

She asked, “Do you know who I am?”

Wen Chongyue mumbled, “Who?”

Xia Jiao secretly turned on her phone, positioning the front camera just right, and once she was sure she could clearly capture both of them, she returned to her position and gently poked his cheek. With a serious tone, she said, “I’m your boss, and you’re my subordinate. Now, you have to say, ‘Good evening, boss,’ understand?”

After speaking, she happily lowered her head and saw Wen Chongyue’s eyes, which were smiling.

He didn’t look drunk at all.

Xia Jiao froze for a second.

Her first instinct was to jump back.

Before she could escape, Wen Chongyue, with impeccable precision, grabbed her wrist. His voice was clear, without a hint of drunkenness. “Where are you going?”

Xia Jiao’s mind was in a daze. “To feed the cat.”

Wen Chongyue replied, “Feed it later. I have something important here.”

Xia Jiao asked, “What’s the matter?”

Wen Chongyue grabbed her wrist and gently tugged her.

Losing her balance, Xia Jiao fell into him and smelled the faint scent of alcohol, but it was clean, not unpleasant.

There was no trace of perfume.

Wen Chongyue looked at the mobile phone next to him that was recording a video. It was Xia Jiao’s. A spot of red on Xia Jiao’s elbow joint was clearly reflected on the screen.

“My little brother,” Wen Chongyue said, “wants to say hello to Jia Jiao.”

His voice was soft and calm. “Don’t worry, we have all night to figure out who’s the boss.”