Stewed Soybean Sprouts with Tofu

Xia Jiao protested, “I didn’t touch fish at work.”

Wen Chongyue thought for a moment, “Do you need a little reward, like a small red flower from your teacher?”

Xia Jiao quickly refused, “No!”

Wen Chongyue chuckled and then continued to cut the crabs. This was quite a tricky task. First, stand the whole crab up. Then, precisely insert the knife between the second and third crab legs. You need to be quick and accurate. If you’re too slow, the meat could squeeze out. Since Wen Chongyue was planning to stir-fry several swimming crabs, she wasn’t going to stir-fry the crab shells and instead just scooped out the crab roe.

True to her word, she seriously taught Xia Jiao. The crab’s stomach shouldn’t be eaten, and Wen Chongyue showed her the difference between a hairy crab’s firm stomach and the swimming crab’s softer one, which felt like a sandbag. When removing the stomach, you had to be careful not to break it.

The crabs’ claws had to be placed with the colored side facing up and smashed with the back of the knife. You couldn’t put your hand on the claws or the soft bone might trap your fingers. The saying “Dead crab claws kill people” wasn’t just a random phrase.

Xia Jiao’s stomach growled as she eagerly watched, no longer interested in snacks. She followed Wen Chongyue like a little tail and offered to help. While she wasn’t good at handling crabs, she could chop ginger, onions, and prepare simple side dishes.

Stir-frying crabs is best done in a big pot over high heat, but since they didn’t have a restaurant-sized wok at home, Wen Chongyue had to use a smaller pan and slow-cooked it for a while to ensure the crabs cooked through. Crabs have a lot of moisture, so adding just a bit of salt will release juices that mix with the crab roe, creating a fragrant broth.

Wen Chongyue cracked open the crab meat, heated the oil in the pan, and once it was hot, she cracked in three eggs. The egg whites turned into threads while the yolks were cut into chunks. Then, she added the crab meat, a little rice vinegar, ginger, sugar, and some soy sauce, stirring everything well before taking it off the heat.

Xia Jiao’s mouth watered at the sight. Wen Chongyue, trying not to laugh, handed her chopsticks. “Little glutton, are you starving? Eat slowly while I prepare the rest.”

Wen Chongyue had a big appetite, and three dishes weren’t enough for her. Xia Jiao picked up a piece of crab leg with scrambled egg. The eggs were soft, and the crab meat used for stir-frying was picked by Wen Chongyue herself. Together, they were fluffy, tender, and rich. As Xia Jiao happily ate, she suddenly heard Wen Chongyue ask, “What does ‘crab leg’ mean in Shanghai dialect?”

Xia Jiao raised her hand. “It’s like a bootlicker.”

Wen Chongyue praised her, “Smart—now open your mouth.”

Xia Jiao, who had seen Wen Chongyue cutting tomatoes, was ready for more food, but instead, Wen Chongyue leaned over and kissed her lips.

It was sweet, a bit fragrant, and very comforting.

Xia Jiao blinked, feeling like she had fallen onto a soft, fluffy cat belly.

Wen Chongyue said, “I’ll reward you with a kiss.”

Xia Jiao paused for a moment, then asked, “Isn’t that a reward for yourself?”

“Exactly,” Wen Chongyue replied with a smile, “It’s a reward for how excellently I’ve taught my student.”

Xia Jiao muttered, “You only manage to lead people astray.”

Despite this, Teacher Wen’s teaching skills were still impressive at dinner. His obsessive-compulsive tendencies showed when he carefully picked out the yellow bean sprouts. Unlike the ones Xia Jiao usually ate at school, which still had roots, Wen Chongyue ensured each bean sprout was thoroughly cleaned and rootless. Every bean was neat, plump, and full of moisture. When stir-fried with tofu, the dish was both flavorful and visually appealing.

The beautifully cooked bean sprouts were tender and free of any bean-like odor. A bit of sugar brought out their fresh flavor.

A dish of stir-fried water spinach with olive vegetables sounded simple, but Xia Jiao and Wen Chongyue had a slight disagreement about how it should be prepared. Xia Jiao’s family typically only ate the leaves of water spinach, occasionally adding a few stems for decoration. However, Wen Chongyue preferred just the stems, without the leaves. In the end, they reached a compromise and stir-fried both the leaves and the stems together. People from Shanghai call water spinach “ong cai,” and at first, Xia Jiao thought it was just a dialect. To her surprise, Wen Chongyue patiently taught her how to write it step by step, revealing that it was actually “weng cai.” Wen Chongyue explained the origin of this pronunciation, mentioning that the proper name should be “weng cai.” In Shanghai, people refer to it as “weng cai,” and some even shorten it to “weng cai,” where “weng” is pronounced as “ong” in the Shanghai dialect.

Xia Jiao, still unsure, asked, “Is that really true?”

Wen Chongyue replied, “When have I ever lied to you?”

He always knew so many quirky bits of knowledge, even something as simple as a vegetable name could lead to fascinating discussions. People from Sichuan often used repetitive phrases like “ni dong ge chan chan” or “xiaren ban ban,” and water spinach was also known as “teng teng cai” in Sichuan. In Chaoshan, it was called “ying cai,” while people from Guangdong and Hong Kong referred to it as “tong cai.”

Cantonese and Hong Kong cuisine had a lot of famous dishes. For instance, olive vegetables were made by salting and oiling mustard greens and olives, and then seasoning them. People from Chaozhou liked to eat it with porridge. Wen Chongyue didn’t make this dish, but it was available for purchase in glass jars from Guangdong. Olive vegetables were oily, so no extra oil was needed when stir-frying them with water spinach, resulting in a fragrant and flavorful dish.

Not to mention the steamed Yangcheng Lake hairy crabs, which were sweet and tender, with rich crab roe and firm meat. When paired with a dipping sauce Wen Chongyue had prepared, the flavor lingered long after eating.

Crabs are cold in nature, so overeating them is not beneficial. To balance things out, Wen Chongyue had prepared a bowl of warm, soft, and comforting five-grain porridge. Xia Jiao drank an entire bowl of it.

During dinner, they casually discussed their work. Wen Chongyue mentioned that their company was working on an app targeting the fanbase of boy band enthusiasts. Unfortunately, after its development, the project was put on hold due to a ban on talent shows, meaning some contestants couldn’t continue with their fan-driven projects.

At that point, Wen Chongyue turned to Xia Jiao and asked, “I remember when you were attending tutoring classes, boy bands seemed to be really popular, right?”

Xia Jiao, focused on eating the water spinach stems, hesitated for a moment. Although her family rarely ate this dish, she had to admit that Wen Chongyue’s cooking truly worked magic. She paused before replying, “What? Oh, boy bands, you mean?”

Xia Jiao added, “Compared to boy bands, I prefer Meituan.”

Wen Chongyue said, “Unfortunately, Xiao Jiaojiao, you’ll soon have to say goodbye to Meituan for now.”

Xia Jiao: “…”

In fact, at work, Xia Jiao and her colleagues still happily ordered delivery. Usually, it was milk tea or coffee, and sometimes, for something healthier, they ordered fruit tea with less sugar.

The work at the flower shop was relatively relaxed compared to her previous strict work environment. There were fewer mistakes allowed, and no excessive demands for overtime or extra tasks. If there was anything that weighed on her mind, it was Yu Qingzhen’s financial struggles.

Yu Qingzhen’s boyfriend still hadn’t paid her back.

“He said the money is temporarily in a cryptocurrency exchange,” Yu Qingzhen explained. “Do you guys know about virtual currencies? Things like Bitcoin and Dogecoin… He gave me a link and said he used that part of the money to buy virtual currencies. It’s in that account now, and it’s been rising recently. He suggested I wait a few more days before withdrawing.”

The straw was blocked by pearls, and Xia Jiao struggled to get any liquid through. After a couple of attempts, she gave up and asked Yu Qingzhen, “Have you ever bought any yourself?”

Yu Qingzhen shrugged. “I’ve bought mutual funds. This seems similar. I checked the app, and he didn’t lie. He really bought a lot for me… Last night, he even taught me how to trade. This morning, I sold some. Guess what, I made almost two thousand.”

Gao Chan gasped, “Wow!”

Xia Jiao, still unconvinced about easy money falling from the sky, asked carefully, “Can you withdraw it?”

“Of course,” Yu Qingzhen said. “I withdrew the two thousand, and he said he’d teach me how to build my portfolio and set up funds…”

“Stop!” Xia Jiao interrupted. “Do you remember what you said at the beginning? When you get the money, withdraw it right away. Don’t hesitate.”

Yu Qingzhen lowered her voice. “But I made two thousand in just one morning.”

“This cryptocurrency stuff…” Xia Jiao pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I just feel like something’s off.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Yu Qingzhen chuckled, patting her shoulder and winking. “I’ve already withdrawn the money. What’s there to worry about? Besides, the money wasn’t sent to him. It’s all on a legitimate platform. I’ll just try this for a couple more days. Once I’ve earned enough, I’ll stop. After all, we’ve been dating for so long, I should get some benefit, don’t you think?”

Xia Jiao reluctantly nodded. She wanted to say more, but something about the situation didn’t sit right with her. No matter how convincing Yu Qingzhen sounded, Xia Jiao clearly remembered that the money hadn’t even been transferred to Yu Qingzhen’s account yet.

That was important.

But Yu Qingzhen was completely unconcerned. She was determined to seize this opportunity. Most of the people she knew didn’t understand finance like this guy did. Even though he was a bit crafty, if he could help her make money, Yu Qingzhen was willing to keep the relationship going for a while longer.

Anyway, Yu Qingzhen would no longer secretly meet the other party, at most just chatting a bit. The other party seemed quite busy, and their conversation was a casual back-and-forth, which suited Yu Qingzhen perfectly.

Xia Jiao shook her head, silently hoping that she was just overthinking things. It would be best if she was simply imagining things.

Early November.

The wild geese fly south, orchids bloom, and cannas open.

Recently, the red hair boy had stopped coming around the flower shop, and Yu Qingzhen breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps after earning some money, his mood improved. She shared this with Xia Jiao, who murmured a quiet “Mm,” not paying it much mind. However, on her way home from work, she accidentally ran into a familiar head of red hair.

But this time, the red hair was much shorter, and the roots had started to darken. He hadn’t dyed it again. Instead, he was lowering his head, talking to a male student who looked to be in high school. Both of them had a cigarette, smoking it skillfully. Perhaps noticing her gaze, the red hair boy suddenly looked up. When he saw Xia Jiao, he quickly lowered his head again and pulled down the brim of his cap to cover his face. But in that brief moment, Xia Jiao still saw the bruises and dark circles under his eyes, as if he had been badly beaten.

Xia Jiao said nothing. Having been a victim of school bullying herself, she knew how unpleasant it could be and how it could ruin someone’s life. Xia Jiao had never liked those so-called school bullies, and she turned her head with a hint of disgust, not wanting to look.

Yet, she still had a nightmare that night.

In her dream, she found herself back in middle school, eating alone, going to class, using the restroom, and heading home after school. She was always left out during group discussions, and she never received notices for class activities.

Very few people played with her in class. The boy who led the group in isolating her would go out to play and come back to hand out postcards and snacks to everyone, but never to her. Xia Jiao would hand her homework to the class representative, and the representative would immediately wipe their hands with tissues, as if they had touched something unclean.

Occasionally, a classmate might show her kindness, but they would immediately be lectured by their friends. Soon, under the weight of gossip, they would distance themselves from her.

Middle school students were most prone to forming cliques. They were innocent and couldn’t distinguish between good and evil. They didn’t care if something was right or wrong; they only cared whether they fit in, whether they were accepted by the group, and whether they could keep up with the latest “trends.”

Just like when the “non-mainstream” style was popular, many people decorated their QQ spaces with various black themes, skulls, and images of smoking in despair. They were fascinated by so-called death, by betrayal and quarrels, and the so-called “life-giving” friendship, tearing up over such stories. Later, when the “fresh” style became popular, everyone quickly bought cotton skirts, pursued a “forest” style, and worshipped a literary vibe.

They could easily switch trends like this. One day, they isolated Xia Jiao because “she reported the teacher, so gross,” and the next day, when the boy who had led the isolation was caught stealing, everyone tacitly isolated him, calling him “a thief” and “disgusting.” Throughout it all, neither the instigator nor the followers ever apologized to Xia Jiao.

In high school, when she occasionally ran into former middle school classmates, they would smile at her and greet her warmly, as if nothing had happened.

How could they pretend nothing had happened?

Wasn’t it true that anyone who didn’t throw the first stone at her wasn’t just as guilty?

…

Xia Jiao woke up abruptly in the middle of the night, hearing Wen Chongyue calling her name, “Jiao Jiao, Jiao Jiao?”

She responded vaguely, and in her haze, she felt someone wiping her eyes, like with a wet tissue. She wasn’t comfortable but held onto him tightly, resting her head on his chest, murmuring, “Teacher Wen.”

“Mm, I’m here with you,” Wen Chongyue said. “Sleep now, Xiao Jiaojiao.”

He didn’t tease Xia Jiao any further, just gently patted her back, slow and soothing. Wen Chongyue wasn’t good at singing, but he knew one lullaby and hummed it in a calming way: “Kitty, you don’t leave, sweet sleep you’ll receive; kitty, you don’t come…”

Xia Jiao hugged his right arm, and with his soothing patting, she finally fell asleep.

The next morning, she vaguely remembered doing something significant last night. She couldn’t quite recall the details, but as she slowly drank the blueberry oatmeal milk Wen Chongyue had made, with fragrant hazelnut spread on her bread, taking a bite, it was rich and flavorful.

Delicious!

Today’s work went fairly smoothly, but Xia Jiao’s eyelids kept twitching. There’s a saying that the left eye twitching means wealth and the right eye twitching means disaster, but Xia Jiao didn’t believe in this and just took it as a joke.

Then, around noon, she received some terrible news.

Father Wen’s heart disease had flared up again. The caregiver noticed it in time, called for an ambulance, and immediately notified both Wen Chongyue and Xia Jiao.

Xia Jiao hurriedly asked Sister Lan for leave, and she easily approved it. Despite Wen Chongyue quickly booking tickets, by the time they reached the hospital, it was already evening.

The emergency treatment had been timely, and Father Wen was fine, resting in the observation room. As Wen Chongyue was quietly talking with the doctor and head nurse, Xia Jiao stood behind him, looking at Bai Ruolang sitting on the hospital bench nearby.

This was the first time Xia Jiao had seen this elegant woman looking so worn-out and disheveled. The makeup on her face had been on for too long and wasn’t touched up. The exhaustion and signs of aging couldn’t be concealed, and her lipstick was smudged. Perhaps because of the urgency, her complexion wasn’t good. Only when she saw Wen Chongyue and Xia Jiao did her eyes, like a fish in a net, show a glimmer of light.

After Wen Chongyue thanked the doctors and saw them off, he finally walked over to Bai Ruolang.

“Mom, we need to talk,” he said.

The two of them went out to talk, while Xia Jiao stayed by Father Wen’s bedside. The elderly man was still unconscious. As a highly respected professor, the hospital treated him well, arranging for a single-patient room. Xia Jiao couldn’t understand the machines, so she sat quietly by his side, waiting.

The doctor came in to check on the room, and Xia Jiao wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but the doctor seemed to glance at her a few times. Everyone was wearing masks, and Xia Jiao’s mind was in a frenzy, so she didn’t think much of it.

However, Wen Chongyue still hadn’t returned. When the caregiver came in to tend to Father Wen, Xia Jiao stepped out and looked down from the window at the end of the hallway. She saw Bai Ruolang walking out in a daze, but there was no sign of Wen Chongyue. Xia Jiao felt a chill run down her spine. She knew that Wen Chongyue and Bai Ruolang didn’t get along well. Now, with Father Wen’s heart condition worsening, she couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with Bai Ruolang…

She anxiously ran down the stairs, heading in the direction where Bai Ruolang had just left. Today, Xia Jiao was wearing a pair of small leather shoes with brogue detailing, which were nice but not suitable for running. As she was going down the stairs, she twisted her ankle slightly, but fortunately, it wasn’t too painful. At this moment, her mind was preoccupied with Wen Chongyue. She didn’t care much about the pain and nervously looked around, hoping to spot Teacher Wen’s figure as soon as possible—then, she saw him.

Xia Jiao found Wen Chongyue behind the stone garden.

He was sitting on a rock, not smoking, with his head lowered. The streetlights didn’t reach this area, and it was quite cold. Wen Chongyue sat quietly, seemingly lost in thought. Hearing the sound, he lifted his head.

Xia Jiao saw a momentary look of confusion on Wen Chongyue’s face, but it lasted only for a second.

In the next moment, he switched to the smile she was familiar with—a calm, serene smile with no hint of flaw or hesitation.

Wen Chongyue asked, “Jiao Jiao, what’s wrong?”

Xia Jiao walked over. Her ankle hurt a bit, but she no longer cared. She passed through the sunlight and stepped into the shade of the stone, walking up to Wen Chongyue. She reached out, pressing her hand on his shoulder to stop him from standing.

Xia Jiao stretched out her arms and gently hugged Wen Chongyue’s head. This was the first time she allowed him, who was sitting, to lean on her. Though her body was relatively slender, she awkwardly, yet earnestly, tried to comfort him in the way she had seen him comfort her before, gently patting his back.

One hand rested on his back, while the other quietly brushed against the back of his head. His hair was thick, and the roots were firm, offering a touch that could be envied.

Xia Jiao wasn’t good at comforting others, but at this moment, she acted entirely on what she felt in her heart. These were the words she wanted to say to Teacher Wen.

She whispered, “Chongyue, if you’re feeling unwell, quietly rest here with me for a while. Take it easy, okay? Don’t stay so composed.”

After a moment, she heard Wen Chongyue’s calm voice, “Jiao Jiao, if you really want me to stay so close to you, frankly, as a healthy adult male, I’m finding it hard to stay calm.”