Sesame Pancakes with Fried Dough Sticks

… What can’t you hold back?

Xia Jiao didn’t quite hear him clearly. She opened her arms, leaning affectionately against Wen Chongyue’s cheek. He had only had a little wine that evening, mostly Sangria, a light mix of orange juice and other fruits. The scent was intoxicating, and Xia Jiao stood on tiptoe, tasting his lips, a hint of grape, strawberry… snake fruit…

It was snake fruit, not snake skin fruit.

Xia Jiao had first seen snake fruit and was shocked by its strange appearance, its skin resembling snake scales.

Tropical fruits often have unique tastes that people either love or hate. Those who love them adore them, while those who don’t will cover their noses and leave, like durian, jackfruit, or snake fruit.

Actually, the tropical flavor of snake fruit isn’t very strong. It’s at least “fresher” than durian or jackfruit. The fruit basket that Wen Chongyue gave her had many fruits that people liked, but Xia Jiao only cautiously tasted this strange fruit that seemed somewhat dangerous.

The skin of the snake fruit is easy to peel off, like the scales of a snake. The fruit’s flesh is slightly dry and not very juicy, with only sporadic, subtle sweetness. In the hot, humid room, the sounds of the space creaked under pressure. Outside, Uncle and Aunt were busy selling steamed buns, chatting and laughing with customers. On the attic floor, her cousin chatted with her boyfriend, occasionally laughing and stomping her foot on the floor, making a distinct thumping sound.

Xia Jiao stood in the narrow bathroom, quietly sharing the fruit basket that Teacher Wen had given her with her uncle, aunt, and sister. She secretly kept a few snake fruit hidden away — her sister was afraid of snakes, so she disliked the fruit’s skin as well.

Xia Jiao secretly ate one of the fruits. It wasn’t particularly sweet, but she liked it. She even kept the seed, which started off soft. There was something natural inside that she could poke out with a needle, leaving a hole in the seed. Xia Jiao threaded a red string through the hole and quietly kept the seed, watching it dry out and harden over time.

The snake fruit had an odd, forbidden taste, much like Teacher Wen.

It seemed that all of Xia Jiao’s summer memories were linked to rain, whether in movies or in real life. The popular film The Garden of Words had a scene of “foggy skies, distant thunder,” and the rain seemed to extend from the screen to the viewers’ hearts. In youth movies, there’s always a scene of running in the rain, confessing love, or kissing… It’s said that spring brings new life, but summer storms can awaken tender sprouts breaking through the earth.

For example, Xia Jiao once woke up in class with her arms numb from sleeping on her desk, her elbow and cheek covered in ink marks from the test papers. A classmate, sitting a row away, kindly reminded her. Xia Jiao took out a small mirror and looked at her cheek. The first time, she didn’t align the mirror properly, and through the reflection, she saw Wen Chongyue standing at the back door. He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, with a clean, refreshing hairstyle, chatting with Li Lian. Sunlight fell on him, making him seem like the very embodiment of the sun.

Xia Jiao’s hand shook slightly as she adjusted the mirror. She absentmindedly wiped the ink marks from her cheek. The mirror kept tilting, and sunlight appeared and disappeared. Xia Jiao blushed as she cleaned her cheek and finally got rid of the ink marks. After a moment, she quietly moved the mirror to secretly watch the sunlight.

Her heart was pounding, nervous and unsettled, like a sudden wind.

Xia Jiao had always been a good student. She never contradicted her teachers, always quietly listened to whatever they said. She was the most obedient and the least likely to cause trouble or draw attention to herself.

She began to enjoy arriving at class early because Teacher Wen always arrived at the tutoring center at 7:30. When he didn’t have classes, he would sit in the office, typing on the keyboard.

The more times Xia Jiao passed by the office, the more she became aware of it. For other students, walking through the office and emptying the tutoring center’s trash was a chore. Xia Jiao willingly took on this responsibility, often carrying a bag of trash past the office. Through the window, she could hear Teacher Wen chatting with the other teachers. The journey from the front to the back of the office took about a minute, and during that brief walk, the occasional sounds she overheard made it seem magical.

Xia Jiao came to like almond tofu, though no matter how many places she went, she couldn’t find the delicious one that Wen Chongyue had given her.

At the beginning of their teaching, every tutor kept their contact information so students could reach out with questions. Xia Jiao had carefully written down Teacher Wen’s phone number in her notebook, though she never texted or called him. She had searched the number on Baidu, but found no trace. She paid attention to the brands of clothes Wen Chongyue wore, looked for the brands of pens he used, and noted down the books he had read.

Xia Jiao didn’t have any other thoughts. She never initiated a greeting with Wen Chongyue, nor did she ever send him a message.

She simply wanted to understand another world.

She admired him, looked up to him, and hoped for something more.

The brightest moment in her memory was one evening when the sunset spread across the sky. Xia Jiao won a prize: a notebook from Shanghai, which she carefully packed into her bag. She carried her bag through the warm wind of late summer and ran into Wen Chongyue, holding a basketball. He rarely wore sports clothes, but today he was in a gray-white outfit with wristbands.

Wen Chongyue smiled and said, “Xia Jiao, be careful on your way home.”

Xia Jiao said, “Thank you, Teacher Wen.”

That was the last time they spoke privately. Wen Chongyue left with the basketball, and Xia Jiao, clutching the notebook he had given her, ran quickly ahead.

The summer tutoring classes lasted only a few weeks, but after the rain, the skies cleared. Before she left the capital, Xia Jiao gave five-star ratings to all the teachers on the education feedback form, but for Wen Chongyue, her five stars were filled in the most carefully, every corner of the stars shaded in neatly and fully.

This was Xia Jiao’s hot summer, starting with a trapped rainstorm and a snake fruit with a strange taste.

Wen Chongyue probably never knew, because Xia Jiao hid it well and never let anyone see any clues.

In keeping her secret, Xia Jiao was more skilled than anyone.

Drowsy, she felt thirsty. She murmured softly about wanting water, raised her face, and cupped her hands. Xia Jiao blankly watched the water fall, feeling like the rain that fell in the summer in her memories. She opened her mouth to catch it, tasting the faint warmth of the rainwater on her tongue. But she heard a helpless voice beside her: “Jiao Jiao, this is bathwater, you can’t drink it.”

Xia Jiao said, “Teacher Wen?”

He sighed. “After getting drunk, you only remember Teacher Wen?”

Xia Jiao, of course, only remembered him. The faucet was turned off, and a soft bath towel wrapped her up. She leaned against his shoulder, swaying slightly, and called out, “Teacher Wen.”

“Mm.”

The sound of the hairdryer wasn’t loud, but even when labeled as silent, it still made some noise. Warm air blew, and Xia Jiao’s hair was gently combed, the water dripping down was dried. Her ears and neck were flushed with redness. It was hard to tell if it was from the warm air of the hairdryer, the warmth of the bathwater, or the touch of Wen Chongyue’s fingers.

Xia Jiao obediently let Wen Chongyue dry her hair. She missed the evening sunsets from back then, when she would come up with many excuses to pass by the office window, when she would wake up early, take the bus to class, recite vocabulary while looking out the window, waiting for Teacher Wen to arrive at work… So many memories. Xia Jiao wasn’t greedy. She never worried about what she might lose, and she never thought about what kind of result she wanted. She just quietly passed by. This was her own bittersweet secret, the reason she got into an excellent school, the reason she came to understand a new city… She had never had flowers, but she was lucky enough to secretly take a picture of one and keep it to herself.

She had never been greedy.

Xia Jiao brought the cup to her lips and drank the water seriously. After finishing the entire cup, the cup was taken away.

“You’re supposed to sleep now,” Teacher Wen said.

Xia Jiao nodded, obediently took off her slippers, climbed into bed, and curled up under the covers.

Teacher Wen didn’t come over. His phone rang, and he answered a call. Xia Jiao couldn’t tell who it was, but he spoke calmly, responding politely to the other person. It was different from how he used to speak in her memory.

Xia Jiao lay there, dazed. After the call ended, Wen Chongyue asked if she still wanted more water. His tone was impeccable, perfect, as though he had been trained to speak this way.

Xia Jiao shook her head, lost in her jumbled yet entangled memories. She couldn’t understand what had happened in the years they had been apart. Why, when they met again, Wen Chongyue remained polite and warm as always, but it seemed as though he had removed all emotion, like a polite, distant robot. It was as if all his emotions had been sealed away, leaving only a flawless shell on display.

“This isn’t right,” Xia Jiao murmured softly, “You should be angry.”

Why didn’t Teacher Wen ever get angry? Why did he hide his real feelings?

Wen Chongyue couldn’t hear her clearly. “What?”

Xia Jiao said, “Teacher Wen, please don’t be so gentle.”

Wen Chongyue understood.

He asked, “Today, do you want me to be rough?”

Xia Jiao felt something was off with the way he phrased it, but it seemed these words didn’t matter much—they were just the opposite of what she had said.

Xia Jiao stretched out her finger and gestured seriously in the air. “You should be full of emotions, full of impulses. Don’t think so much. I’m your wife, your student. You can do anything you want to do.”

Wen Chongyue carefully extracted the useful information. “Do anything I want?”

Xia Jiao nodded vigorously. The movement was so big it made her wobble. Wen Chongyue caught her and gently settled her back.

“Thank you for the treat,” Wen Chongyue said, “Now I’ll begin.”

Xia Jiao: “Hmm?”

Her mind couldn’t process what he said. What did “treat” mean? Wasn’t that something said before or after a meal? Did Teacher Wen want to eat something? Her little brain couldn’t handle so much information, but indeed, he had started eating. It was like having an appetizer before the meal—popping a cherry into his mouth, then using his tongue to taste the cut strawberry, not forgetting to squeeze open a peach. A nutritious dinner could never be without fruit, including fresh-squeezed strawberry juice. In spring, the cherries grew firmer, the strawberry juice in summer was sweet, and the peaches in autumn ripened with the wind. Wen Chongyue was very particular about eating in season, enjoying the fruit platter, and a full meal at the same time.

Especially in a situation where Xia Jiao took the initiative to entertain.

Wen Chongyue had endured many years of restraint. The incident from his university days still affected him. The humiliation from that day was deeply etched in his memory. Wen Qiming had never said much, but throughout his life, he had taught Wen Chongyue many lessons, and this one was silent—teaching him to endure.

Endurance didn’t mean forgetting the shame.

Xia Jiao didn’t think so.

Everyone liked Wen Chongyue’s polite exterior, except for Xia Jiao. She would ask him, why did he have to be like a robot? Why not express his true emotions—his joy, anger, sadness, and happiness? Why did he hide his real self? Wasn’t it exhausting?

Wen Chongyue looked at his wife, his lips parted slightly, his brows furrowed. His nails dug into his arm, his knee pressed against her shoulder. She seemed as fragile as a spring willow, too delicate to bend, like winter snow that couldn’t bear to be touched. Sweat slowly trickled from her temples. Xia Jiao’s eyes were confused, as if she didn’t understand why she was being treated this way.

It was this kind of gaze.

Wen Chongyue sank into it, indulging without restraint.

Xia Jiao’s thoughts were like almond tofu—pure white, gently swaying. No matter how much it swayed, it remained clear and pure. Not just her soul, but her body felt like almond tofu, deeply carved by a rough spoon, stirred and broken inside, and the eater sipped the sweet water. The tofu was so soft it seemed like the tongue could melt it; one bite, and the taste of milk and almonds slid down her throat.

Wen Chongyue also loved almond tofu the most.

The food was so delicate, so tender, that even biting into it felt wasteful. Yet, there were people who wanted to pair it with eggplant, smashing the tofu, ruining the taste entirely.

Xia Jiao was confused too.

Confused people did confused things. In the chaos, they drank to their heart’s content until the morning came with the sound of meows and flowers blooming. Xia Jiao woke up, her hand resting on her head, trying to remember. She only recalled the feeling of a hand pressing hard against her lips, the sound of a crisp slap against a firm bottom, the sensation of a taut back that wouldn’t move no matter how hard it was pinched, and the sensation of having her breath controlled.

Wait?

Xia Jiao tried to remember. Didn’t she cry and say she needed to go to the bathroom? What did Teacher Wen say? She couldn’t recall. She had blacked out and couldn’t remember anything.

Xia Jiao sat up, confused. She noticed the bedding had been changed, including the mattress.

“Good morning,” Wen Chongyue pushed open the bedroom door and greeted her cheerfully. “What would you like to eat?”

On the table were breakfast items often seen in Taiwanese dramas: radish cakes cut into neat squares, pan-fried until slightly crispy; fresh soy milk made without sugar, only the rich aroma of soybeans; crispy baked pastries from an old iron stove, with a slight char on top, rectangular with fried dough sticks in the middle; a soft-boiled egg and a poached egg; a corn sweet bowl mixed with cherry tomatoes, carrots, avocado, corn, oats, and more; a cauliflower scallop salad marinated in orange juice; baked chickpeas; crispy bacon; and freshly baked tomato bread.

Xia Jiao moved slowly to the table. Wen Chongyue thoughtfully placed a soft cushion on her little chair.

Wen Chongyue said, “Thank you for the treat.”

Xia Jiao didn’t move. She sat in the chair, feeling like a soft bean in lemon sauce.

She tried to recall the lost memories. “How did I treat you last night?”

Wen Chongyue was surprised. “You don’t remember?”

Xia Jiao shook her head.

Wen Chongyue pondered for two seconds, then smiled and replied, “Alright, I think you probably don’t want to remember.”

Xia Jiao said, “… You can go ahead and say it first. Tell me, then I’ll decide whether to selectively forget.”

Wen Chongyue pointed to his cheek. “Alright then, please, Jiao Jiao, pay for a kiss to become a member and unlock yesterday’s recap.”

He said it so seriously that Xia Jiao had no choice but to stand up and, with her two lemon-yellow legs, move over and kiss his cheek.

Wen Chongyue’s cheek had a faint scent of aftershave, with a refreshing mint fragrance.

He shaved every day.

After kissing him, Xia Jiao asked, “Can I watch now?”

Wen Chongyue said, “Congratulations, Xia Jiao, for becoming a member and getting access to the viewing. As for yesterday’s matter, I can clearly tell you that Teacher Wen and Classmate Xia did it.”

Xia Jiao waited for two seconds but didn’t hear him continue.

She said, “Of course, I know that! I just want to know, uh, was it too much?”

“Oh,” Wen Chongyue said calmly, “You want the details? Well, that might require more.”

Xia Jiao: “…”

Wen Chongyue pointed to his right cheek again. “Please pay for another kiss; the detailed content requires advanced membership access.”