Crab Shell Yellow and Wine-Raised Cake

Tender grass, thin-skinned.

Tender grass looked around.

Tender grass sat at the table waiting for food.

Xia Jiao realized that she was really easily embarrassed.

In comparison, Wen Chongyue seemed to have stolen her shyness. He could casually make remarks about “kissing tender grass” with such seriousness. Even when the lights were turned off, leaving only ambient lighting, he confidently ate shrimp dumplings without showing any hesitation, whether with his mouth, hands, or utensils. He never showed any signs of bashfulness.

Getting him embarrassed was probably harder than getting a chicken to dance the Four Little Swans.

Was this what time gave people—a thick skin?

Xia Jiao was so triggered by Wen Chongyue’s words that she could only lower her head and drink tea. According to the shopkeeper, this was Biluochun tea that he had personally picked and roasted. Though not as famous as other varieties, it was special because of the thought put into it. She couldn’t really taste much difference but sipped it slowly.

The food took some time to prepare, so some small snacks were brought out first: a plate of crab shell yellow. This wasn’t really related to crabs but was a type of small pastry covered with sesame seeds—two salty ones and two sweet ones. Biting into one, the crispy skin easily broke off, releasing a delicious aroma. There was also a plate of wine-raised cakes. They looked like mooncakes, but they weren’t. Steaming hot, they were best eaten while warm. Once they cooled, they lost their flavor. Xia Jiao chose the red bean paste filling, which was homemade and had a rich, sweet taste that filled her mouth.

Wen Chongyue couldn’t drink alcohol as he was driving, but he did get a small cup for Xia Jiao.

In Suzhou, some families still made their own wine, storing it in small jars. The cup of wine he had for Xia Jiao was homemade rice wine. However, since Xia Jiao wasn’t good with alcohol, she only took a small sip and saved the rest for later to go with the crab.

Taking a bite of the pastry and another sip of tea, Xia Jiao sighed contentedly.

“People in Suzhou like these cakes,” Wen Chongyue said. “Next time we should go to Mudu. They make good sesame cakes there.”

Xia Jiao patted her stomach. “I think my stomach is about to burst.”

Wen Chongyue didn’t flinch, peeling fresh lotus seeds and placing them in a porcelain dish. “I think it’s better to be filled with something else rather than just food.”

Xia Jiao thought he made a very good point.

One after another, other dishes were brought out. They had ordered light, mainly vegetarian dishes, so as not to overpower the delicate taste of the crab that would come later.

There was stir-fried water spinach with fermented bean curd, eggplant stuffed with minced pork and green chili, pickled mustard greens with edamame, and dry-fried bitter melon. Xia Jiao wasn’t fond of bitter food, but this dish wasn’t too bitter. She reluctantly picked up a few pieces and ate them.

Wen Chongyue explained that after cutting the bitter melon, it was salted for a short while, rinsed, and then blanched in boiling water.

Of course, this method helped reduce the bitterness but also took away the original flavor of the bitter melon.

Finally, the star dish—June Yellow crabs—arrived. This dish was prepared simply, with homemade soy sauce and a touch of Huadiao wine to remove the fishy smell. The crabs were a vibrant red, their shells thin and the meat rich. Though small, the crab roe was full, and the meat was tender. Xia Jiao ate two crabs in a row, her eyes sparkling as she said, “I didn’t expect small crabs to taste this good.”

Eating crabs was a messy business. Wen Chongyue handed her a napkin, indicating that she should wipe the crab juice from her lips.

Wen Chongyue said, “Have you forgotten what you taught me before? ‘Moss flowers are as small as rice, yet they still learn to bloom like peonies.’ The big hairy crab has its own deliciousness, and small crabs have their own unique qualities.”

Xia Jiao asked, “So, do you prefer the big ones or the small ones?”

Wen Chongyue replied, “As long as it’s suitable, that’s good.”

It really was suitable.

Xia Jiao thought, just like marriage, living arrangements, and work… These things, Wen Chongyue must prioritize suitability.

Perhaps within the realm of “suitability,” there could be some room to desire something more?

Could liking something fit into suitability?

She couldn’t say for sure, couldn’t grasp it completely, so she just thought for a moment, then shook her head to clear it all away.

Forget it.

Xia Jiao, greedy for the taste, knew that crabs were cold and not suitable to eat too much, even if there was wine to warm them. Thankfully, the other vegetable dishes tasted great and really suited her taste.

Halfway through the meal, Wen Chongyue’s friend, who had taken off his apron, came over. Xia Jiao was nearly full, so she tasted the cloud slices cake that he brought, quietly listening to their conversation.

People who aren’t good at speaking are often great listeners.

Xia Jiao listened as they talked about funny college stories and guessed that this person was probably Wen Chongyue’s college roommate. The “college version” of Teacher Wen was almost a “familiar stranger” to Xia Jiao. She quietly pieced together an image of Wen Chongyue from that time in her mind, but it still felt a bit fuzzy and unclear.

It was like when Xia Jiao heard them talk, she learned that Wen Chongyue had organized a team to travel around for competitions during his university years.

Incredible.

Xia Jiao’s college life was rather ordinary, compared to theirs, their university years seemed vibrant, like something out of a drama.

This was a version of Wen Chongyue that Xia Jiao didn’t know, but it fit the real him perfectly.

Xia Jiao admitted that she wasn’t very good at doing this, just like when she was in middle school, she only dared to quietly observe Wen Chongyue but never spoke to him, not even to ask a question.

The shop owner, who had come to catch up, was so enthusiastic that Xia Jiao almost couldn’t resist, especially when he called her “sister-in-law” with such familiarity, leaving her utterly flustered. He jokingly said, “I didn’t expect you to find a sister-in-law younger than us.”

Wen Chongyue laughed and scolded him for being ridiculous.

The meal was enjoyable, with everyone in high spirits. When the owner learned it was Xia Jiao’s first time eating the June yellow crab, he became quite excited and proudly shared tips on selecting them. The crab pincers should be soft and brownish-yellow. If they’re hard and black, forget it—they’re definitely from the previous year. Also, check if the belly shell is bulging out, as only those prove the crab meat is full…

Xia Jiao listened attentively.

Though she wasn’t sure how useful this information would be, she decided to remember it just in case.

In fact, Wen Chongyue usually handled the grocery shopping at home since he was the “chef,” and he typically decided what to eat. Xia Jiao still wasn’t great at picking out vegetables, but she was in charge of the fruits and flowers because there was a lovely fruit shop near the flower store. The owner, who always ordered flowers from the shop, gave Xia Jiao a great discount.

Recently, with a bit of free time at work, Wen Chongyue made “Grandmother’s pickled vegetables.” These small pickles, made from amaranth, tasted much more flavorful than snow vegetables, and were finely chopped, fresher than dried vegetables. He would take a little and adjust the seasoning, perfect for pairing with alcohol or porridge as a homey side dish.

Xia Jiao preferred to have it cold in salads or stir-fried, and it tasted great that way too.

However, Xia Jiao soon became busy.

The cause was not complicated. It was Yu Qingzhen’s mouth that caused the trouble. She often complained about the old-young couple in private. Maybe she talked too much and was inevitably a little rude when serving them. The picky woman directly asked for a replacement and rejected all the proposals proposed by Yu Qingzhen.

It was a big order.

The manager, who rarely showed up, came by, and Sister Lan, who valued Gao Chan, held a brief internal meeting and reprimanded Yu Qingzhen for her attitude. Yu Qingzhen was hired by the store manager at a high salary, left with a sullen face and took three days off, claiming she needed to rest due to illness and would return when she felt better.

Now, it was the busy season, and with one person short, Xia Jiao had no choice but to step in.

It wasn’t that bad, though. She mostly served casual customers, and while their orders were low in price, they were rarely picky. Most of the time, they would agree to the first or second proposal and leave a deposit.

Gao Chan, overwhelmed with work, had a natural talent for flower arrangement, and that created a certain type of person—those who liked her style found her works artistic and unique, while those who didn’t felt her arrangements were random, saying they could do better themselves.

Unfortunately, the picky customer fell into the latter category.

This older but still beautiful woman arrived with a young companion, criticizing the first proposal Gao Chan submitted. From the number of flowers to the colors, she berated Gao Chan so much that the latter cried for an entire afternoon in the shop. By the time it was almost closing, Gao Chan was still feeling down.

“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have worked here. What kind of people are they…” Gao Chan squatted by a glass jar filled with dahlias and parsley, crying. “What did I do wrong to deserve this torment? Don’t flower artists have any dignity…”

She had run out of tissues, and her nose was red and peeling. She pulled out the last tissue, and Xia Jiao handed her a new box of wet wipes. “Here.”

Gao Chan looked at Xia Jiao, her eyes nearly swollen from crying. “Jiao Jiao.”

Xia Jiao sat down beside her. It was quiet, the shop was about to close, and the sign was hung up. The floor was cold, but the corner smelled sweet with flowers. The soft light from the windows cast reflections on the two girls’ figures in various glass vases.

Gao Chan’s head lowered, pressing against Xia Jiao’s chest, and she began to sob. “Work is so hard! I want to go home and rely on my family. Why are they doing this to me…”

After crying her heart out, Gao Chan finally stopped, and Xia Jiao gently patted her back, just as Wen Chongyue would do when comforting her in times of sadness.

“It’s okay,” Xia Jiao said. “Once you’ve cried enough, we can take our time to think about it. No rush.”

Gao Chan managed to stop crying, choking up, “Okay, Jiao Jiao, your chest is so soft…”

Gao Chan murmured: “Why am I not that big?”

Xia Jiao: “…”

This was a question that couldn’t really be answered.

Gao Chan quietly said some other things to Xia Jiao. She couldn’t vent her frustrations aloud, so she tried to shift her attention by chatting about random topics. But she couldn’t help thinking about the scolding she received in the afternoon, and the uncomfortable feeling came back.

Xia Jiao understood her. Work wasn’t always equated with happiness.

It was meant to make you happy enough to work.

Hearing the wind chime hanging on the door ring, Xia Jiao stood up and signaled Gao Chan not to move. She needed to go out and see a guest.

At this moment, Gao Chan was crying messily, and it wasn’t suitable for her to meet anyone.

The guest who came to visit was the younger man from the older-younger couple. Dressed in a suit, he looked a bit embarrassed and introduced himself, “Hello, my surname is Tang. I heard that Ms. Tang came by this afternoon?”

“Yes,” Xia Jiao replied, “She came to see our flowers.”

Mr. Tang asked, “Did she make things difficult for the florist?”

Xia Jiao hesitated.

“I’ve already been told about the situation,” Mr. Tang said, pointing to his head, “She has some… uh, brain shrinkage, and her temper isn’t great. We hope you can understand.”

What could Xia Jiao say? Of course, she could only smile and say it was fine.

The customer is always right.

“The nurse was negligent in letting her out this afternoon,” Mr. Tang continued. “Don’t worry, she won’t be allowed to go out alone again. As for the flower order and design plan… I’ll talk to her and the designer this Sunday—of course, something like this won’t happen again.”

Xia Jiao politely saw him off and turned to find Gao Chan peeking out from behind the flowers.

Gao Chan said, “It seems that rich women’s money is really hard to earn.”

Xia Jiao didn’t comment.

She just felt a slight suspicion.

Tang? Mr. Tang? Ms. Tang?

A couple with the same surname? What a coincidence.

Xia Jiao wasn’t a particularly curious person, and although she felt something odd about the couple, she simply thought about it briefly. She was a florist, not a detective, and didn’t need to know her clients’ private lives. She only needed to fulfill their requests.

That night, Wen Chongyue tried making bubble wontons, and to his surprise, they turned out to be a huge success.

Things from Jiangnan, like the Suzhou-style wontons, are delicate, with wrappers so thin they’re almost translucent. The filling is minimal, just enough to give a tiny puff, almost like blowing air into a balloon, and the little wontons puffed up beautifully, both lovely and cute.

The wontons themselves didn’t have much flavor; they were made with fresh ground meat and boiled in a rich bone broth to enhance the taste. The soup was fragrant and tender, and with a little carelessness, a wonton would slip right down into the stomach.

Wen Chongyue then took out the sugar and vinegar pickled ginger, which should have been refrigerated but was now placed on ice. It tasted cool and refreshing. The young gourds were tender, with no seeds inside, perfect for stir-frying with tofu. Xia Jiao, concerned about her figure, suggested frying the tofu first. The sides were crispy and golden. When the tofu was taken out and the oil blotted off with a paper towel, it was stir-fried with the young gourd, fragrant without being greasy.

On a summer evening, it was a pleasant meal.

Xia Jiao lay on the couch, using a cat toy to play with Xia Mi. The TV was on, showing an animal documentary. The air conditioner was set to 27°C, while Wen Chongyue used a pet brush to groom Wen Quan. On the coffee table was half a watermelon. After playing with Xia Mi for a while, Xia Mi ran to drink some water, and Xia Jiao washed her hands and took the watermelon to the balcony to see how many jasmine flowers had bloomed.

Looking up at the distant sky, Xia Jiao called, “Teacher Wen!”

Wen Chongyue wiped his hands with a wet wipe and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Xia Jiao, holding the watermelon in one hand, scooped some with the other and raised her hand—Wen Chongyue leaned in and ate the watermelon from her spoon.

Xia Jiao sighed, “Look at the moon, it’s so round. Doesn’t it look like the sweet rice dumplings you’re going to buy me tomorrow?”

Wen Chongyue looked up at the moon, “It does, but I’m not sure if it looks more like a red bean paste sesame-filled dumpling or a coconut and soybean powder-filled one.”

Without hesitation, Xia Jiao answered, “Red bean paste sesame-filled dumpling!”

Wen Chongyue nodded in agreement, “I think so too.”

The two stood side by side, looking at the moon, happily deciding on tomorrow’s dessert. Xia Jiao ate the rest of the watermelon, feeling a little too full. Wen Chongyue, in good spirits, suggested they move around on the balcony. But with that, it wasn’t just her stomach that couldn’t take it anymore. The moonlight was soft and the summer night peaceful. Xia Jiao clung to his neck and waist like a koala, leaning against the glass. The balcony was fragrant with flowers, and the air was fresh and pleasant. The abundant azaleas were in bloom, and snow-white peach blossoms lay scattered on the ground.

On Friday night, Yu Tan invited Xia Jiao and Wen Chongyue over for dinner. She had just received a good eel from her uncle and had the chef cook it for them. Since Xiao Lin wasn’t home, she couldn’t finish it alone and had it delivered, asking them to come over and eat.

By the time they arrived, it was already 6 p.m., and the evening glow was weaving through the sky. Yu Tan had set up an outdoor dining table in her courtyard. The wisteria had finished blooming, but the vines were still there. The roses and rainbow vine roses were in full bloom. Most of their conversation revolved around family matters. Yu Tan was particularly concerned about Wen’s father’s health and even had a video call to remind him to take his medicine on time.

Xia Jiao secretly tried a bite of horseradish, which Yu Tan’s Shandong student had brought as a hometown dish. Everyone knew that Yu Tan loved it, and bringing local specialties was better than any other gift.

Xia Jiao took a small bite, and the spiciness made her eyes water. Wen Chongyue couldn’t help but laugh and fetched some cool tea for her to rinse her mouth.

The horseradish that had her bite marks was slowly eaten by him without a change in expression.

He never seemed to mind Xia Jiao leaving food behind. He ate it naturally, without hesitation. Xia Jiao felt like her stomach had become more particular over time, maybe because it’s easier to go from frugality to luxury than the other way around. Now, if there was something that didn’t suit her taste, she wouldn’t eat it.

Wen Chongyue had a big appetite; he loved food but wasn’t picky. For things he didn’t like, or leftovers from Xia Jiao, he would always finish them off cleanly.

Xia Jiao greatly admired this about him.

The only downside was that their dinner was interrupted by uninvited guests.

Bai Ruolang and Song Xiao.

At first, Bai Ruolang called Wen Chongyue twice to ask where he was, but Wen Chongyue refused to say. Perhaps she had contacted Father Wen, and that’s how she ended up knocking on Yu Tan’s door.

When she came in, Xia Jiao was just replying to a message from a friend. She looked up and saw Bai Ruolang—still the same elegant, distinguished lady. She wore a little black dress, draped a large silk scarf around her shoulders, and had two teardrop-shaped jade earrings that glistened with a soft, shiny glow.

Song Xiao stood beside her in a black outfit with a white skirt, looking neat and polished.

Xia Jiao said, “Hello, Auntie.”

This time, Bai Ruolang didn’t object to the title and smiled at Yu Tan, saying, “I brought you some pastries, all made by a skilled master. They’re better than—”

Yu Tan interrupted, “I have high blood sugar, the doctor told me to avoid sweets.”

Bai Ruolang, unbothered by the slight, maintained her calm composure. “What a pity. But it’s fine, Jiao Jiao, you eat sweets, don’t you?”

Suddenly being called out, Xia Jiao froze for a moment, then responded with a simple, “Oh.”

Wen Chongyue grabbed her hand, signaling her not to stand up.

He said, “I’ve been reminding her lately—too many sweets aren’t good for you.”

Bai Ruolang said, “It’s fine to have a little, girls are young, eating sweets now doesn’t hurt.”

She was here for business with Yu Tan and didn’t exchange much pleasantries. She went straight to the room with Yu Tan for a private chat. The yard was left with only Wen Chongyue, Xia Jiao, and Song Xiao. Wen Chongyue picked up a piece of fish and carefully made sure there were no bones before placing it in Xia Jiao’s bowl.

Song Xiao sat on the opposite bench, tapping her fingers on the table. She said, “The pastries Aunt Bai brought are still in the car. I wanted to get them, but I don’t know the way. Director Wen, could you come with me?”

According to their seniority, she should have called Bai Ruolang “Auntie,” but Bai Ruolang found the term unflattering. She insisted that the younger generation call her “Aunt Bai.”

Xia Jiao remained silent, nibbling on the eel and rice, mixing them together so the sauce, rice, and fish all blended in one bite. She liked it this way.

Wen Chongyue said, “There are security guards by the door; they’ll gladly help.”

Song Xiao persisted, “But those pastries and gifts are heavy. You know, I can’t carry them alone.”

Wen Chongyue responded, “Ask a couple of security guards to help.”

“What if they don’t want to help?” Song Xiao said, turning to Xia Jiao with a smile. “Sister-in-law, could you lend me Brother Wen for a moment? He can help me carry the gifts. You’re so generous, I’m sure you won’t mind, right?”

The request was out in the open.

Xia Jiao, who dreaded such situations, couldn’t escape.

What could she do? She wasn’t familiar with Song Xiao, so she forced herself to say, “I don’t mind.”

To cover up her awkwardness, Xia Jiao picked up her chopsticks to grab another piece of fish—

But suddenly, a pair of chopsticks clamped down on hers, pressing them down.

Xia Jiao looked at the owner of those chopsticks.

Wen Chongyue didn’t look pleased.

He said, “I mind.”