Winter Solstice Dumplings

December.

The dawn redwoods of Tiger Hill turned crimson, and the chill in Gusu City deepened.

As the saying goes, spring brings drowsiness, autumn brings fatigue, summer makes one sleepy, and winter drains energy. With the temperature dropping, even going outside became a challenge.

Xia Jiao swapped her coat for a down jacket, layering it over a sweater, and began wearing thick, fleece-lined pants. As a native of the South, she was accustomed to the region’s damp and chilly winters. However, at her shop, a girl from Harbin was nearly brought to tears by the cold. During lunch, her eyes glistened as she described the damp chill outside, “It feels like someone dumped a bucket of icy water over my head while I was walking.”

The lack of central heating south of the Yangtze River made it hard for northerners to adapt. Xia Jiao fared better but still missed the centralized heating she enjoyed while living in Beijing. The heated floors and warm rooms allowed her to walk barefoot on wooden floors or curl up to watch TV or read a book.

Here, however, things were different. Once her down jacket got damp, it seemed to lose its ability to keep out the cold.

The little red haired boy outside still showed up after class as usual—Yu Qingzhen slowly explained the backstory to Xia Jiao. The red haired, oh no, Zhu Mengcheng, had always been grateful to Yu Qingzhen for something that happened years ago. Now, his frequent visits felt like a way of repaying her kindness—”a drop of kindness must be repaid in full,” perhaps even bordering on surveillance.

To put it simply, Zhu Mengcheng had been a sickly and short boy when he was younger, often mistaken for a girl and bullied. Now that he had grown stronger, he felt he could repay the favor, so he showed up daily to see if Yu Qingzhen needed help.

When discussing this, Yu Qingzhen complained, “Tell me, what can a high school boy—a kid—possibly help with? He dreams of me encountering a bully or a robber on the street so he can step in and save the day to settle the score. Come on, what era are we living in? How likely is that to happen?”

Xia Jiao remained skeptical. She admitted to holding a bias against students who looked like delinquents. However, that bias wavered slightly when she witnessed Yu Qingzhen scolding Zhu Mengcheng, who was wearing nothing but his school uniform in the freezing weather.

“Why are you wearing so little in this cold? Trying to act cool?” Yu Qingzhen scolded angrily. “What if your hands get frostbitten? Didn’t you say you wanted to study hard and go to college?”

The scolding went on like a lecture to an unmotivated younger brother. Xia Jiao watched Zhu Mengcheng, who stood obediently despite his height, bowing his head like a massive crocodile being lectured by a tiny chick.

The lecture seemed to work. The next day, Zhu Mengcheng returned wearing warm clothes and gloves.

Zhu Mengcheng lived nearby and would accompany Yu Qingzhen to the subway station before quietly heading back. Xia Jiao bumped into him twice and noticed that, while he hadn’t entirely turned over a new leaf, hanging out with his rowdy friends, he maintained his well-behaved image in front of Yu Qingzhen.

Before they knew it, the Winter Solstice was near.

Wen Chongyue bought some winter-brewed wine, a seasonal treat available only in the weeks leading up to the Winter Solstice. His company gave some out as gifts, and Xia Jiao’s flower shop received a few fancy bottles too, but those were also available at the supermarket.

Wen Chongyue, however, brought home loose wine purchased from an old liquor shop on Guanqian Street. Xia Jiao tasted it but found it no different from the bottled version. It was all the same golden yellow rice wine, with a layer of osmanthus blossoms floating on top.

Puzzled, she asked, “The taste is pretty much the same, so why bother queuing up for loose wine?”

Wen Chongyue explained, “In the past, loose wine was cheaper, so people lined up for it. Now, most young people queue up because they think it’s more… uh, what’s the word?”

Xia Jiao guessed, “Trendy? Popular? Or do they think the loose wine has more character because the wait gives it meaning?”

Wen Chongyue nodded. “Something like that.”

Still puzzled, Xia Jiao asked, “Then why did you queue for it?”

Wen Chongyue answered succinctly, “Probably to burn off some extra energy and let my Jiao Jiao taste the ‘authentic’ version.”

Xia Jiao leaned closer and gave him a comforting kiss.

She had been quite busy these past few days, juggling studies and business trips, and admittedly, she had neglected her husband a little.

In Suzhou, winter begins with the pickling of snow mustard greens. The elderly in Suzhou enjoy pickling some crisp snow mustard greens to eat. Since Wen Chongyue didn’t know how to pickle them, he bought some instead. He also got some Cangshu mutton. Cangshu is the name of a town known for its mutton, processed using a unique method involving wooden barrels, which gives it the name.

The mutton raised in the mountains of Cangshu Town isn’t enough to meet demand, so sheep are brought in from Shandong and Henan provinces. Once prepared, the mutton has no gamey smell. Wen Chongyue and Xia Jiao had lamb leg meat with added lamb tripe and lamb blood, along with napa cabbage and fried tofu. The broth simmered into a milky white color, tender and flavorful, with a sprinkle of finely chopped green onions on top. The restaurant even provided a small dish of garlic chili sauce for dipping.

Eating too much mutton can cause heat in the body. That night, under the moonlight, Wen Chongyue couldn’t resist hugging Xia Jiao for kisses and cuddles. She had just taken a bath, and her arms and neck were soft and smooth. The warm air from the heater made her feel like a freshly cooked, fragrant, and slippery rice dumpling. Wen Chongyue kissed her cheeks and savored the sweetness, but Xia Jiao raised her hand and pushed him away.

“Too sleepy,” Xia Jiao murmured incoherently. “Let’s wait until the weekend.”

Wen Chongyue sighed silently, stroked her hair, and reluctantly moved away, suppressing his dissatisfaction.

“Go to sleep,” he said softly. “My little Jiao Jiao, oh my little Jiao Jiao.”

The nickname was spot on—she truly was delicate. Wen Chongyue understood that if he were more assertive or persistent, she wouldn’t refuse. But seeing how busy she had been lately, he couldn’t bring himself to push her.

Though Xia Jiao had been busy, she hadn’t missed out on any of the seasonal winter dishes. Stir-fried edamame, shredded pork with bamboo shoots, and mixed stew dishes filled their meals. In the blink of an eye, the winter solstice arrived.

On the day of the winter solstice, Xia Jiao finally had a day off.

To celebrate, they ate winter solstice dumplings made with water-milled rice flour. The dumplings came in two varieties—white ones stuffed with Suzhou’s local white radish and pork, and green ones filled with sesame and sweet red bean paste. They also had savory Laba porridge, which included vegetables, red beans, soybeans, fried tofu, taro, and tofu sheets. Following a colleague’s suggestion, Wen Chongyue added water chestnuts and ginkgo nuts, letting everything simmer together.

On the winter solstice morning, as soon as Xia Jiao opened her eyes, she energetically sought out Wen Chongyue to greet him and reached out her hand for a red envelope. Wen Chongyue was prepared and handed her one, kissed her cheek and eyes, and then let her go wash up before they enjoyed their dumplings, porridge, and winter-brewed wine.

Their boss, Yu Qingzhen, had given them the day off, and Wen Chongyue also took annual leave. Since it was just a one-day break, they couldn’t travel far, so they stayed in Suzhou. It was time to pick up the custom-made qipao, but they unexpectedly ran into an acquaintance at the qipao shop.

It was Song Zhaocong.

The other person didn’t look in great shape—when the father suffers, the son inevitably gets dragged into it as well. Bai Ruolang didn’t care much about him, or rather, Bai Ruolang only cared about himself and ignored everything else. His father, Song Liangzhou, spoiled him excessively, turning him into a complete playboy.

Now that Song Liangzhou was in trouble, he wanted to send Song Zhaocong abroad to avoid the storm and perhaps learn something useful. Unfortunately, his planning came too late. The opportunity to act had passed. Bai Ruolang failed to transfer their assets in time, and Song Zhaocong couldn’t leave the country.

Over the past two months, Song Zhaocong had been down and out, cutting ties with his usual crowd of friends. To make matters worse, he learned from Bai Ruolang that the girl he had been pursuing for years was now his sister-in-law. Ashamed and embarrassed, he couldn’t face Wen Chongyue. Though Song Zhaocong had his flaws, he still abided by certain principles, and pining for his brother’s wife was utterly disgraceful. Now, upon seeing Wen Chongyue and Xia Jiao, he avoided eye contact and seemed uneasy.

He had come to Suzhou to pick up some clothes Bai Ruolang had ordered from this shop and to collect money she had left in a few Suzhou stores.

Xia Jiao didn’t speak much to Song Zhaocong, but Wen Chongyue remained calm and exchanged a few words with him. Before leaving, Wen Chongyue asked, “How’s Mom?”

Song Zhaocong froze for a moment before replying, “She’s fine, nothing serious. Grandma took her back to her place. She’s staying there to recover, though she was a bit shaken.”

Wen Chongyue nodded. “Spend more time with her these days.”

Song Zhaocong agreed.

Wen Chongyue added, “If you face any difficulties, call me. After all, I’m still your brother.”

“Okay!” Song Zhaocong replied.

Xia Jiao glanced at Wen Chongyue in surprise.

She hadn’t expected him to treat Song Zhaocong so well or to inquire about Bai Ruolang’s situation.

Wen Chongyue remained composed, holding Xia Jiao’s hand as they walked into the shop.

The new qipao fit perfectly. It was a light purple color, though it would have to wait until spring to be worn. The shop had introduced a new type of fabric—silk with unique, clean patterns. Wen Chongyue asked the master tailor to make another qipao for Xia Jiao. He also had a tie made from the leftover fabric of Xia Jiao’s qipao. Thin and elegant, it matched perfectly.

A couple’s set—it was perfect.

If there was one thing that made Wen Chongyue unhappy, it was Xia Jiao’s high school classmate—a tall, dark-skinned man who recently changed jobs and, by coincidence, ended up in Suzhou.

Even more coincidentally, he worked in the same building as Wen Chongyue.

Wen Chongyue disliked this kind of “fate.” Like a territorial animal, he couldn’t tolerate another potential rival in his domain, especially one with the label of “high school classmate.”

He controlled his curiosity about the man.

The tall man, oblivious to Wen Chongyue’s hostility, greeted him loudly and cheerfully every time they met, like a happy gorilla. Wen Chongyue responded politely but secretly hoped his wife wouldn’t encounter him again.

Sometimes, the more you fear something, the more likely it is to happen.

On the third day after the Winter Solstice, Xia Jiao got off work early in the afternoon. She went to find Wen Chongyue, intending to surprise him. Unexpectedly, before she could meet Wen Chongyue, she ran into Yang Ye downstairs.

It was Yang Ye who noticed her first, smiling as he walked over. Seeing an old classmate was naturally special, so Xia Jiao was both surprised and delighted. They started chatting, with Xia Jiao asking why he was here and how he had changed jobs.

While they were in the middle of their conversation, Yang Ye invited her for coffee. Before Xia Jiao could respond, a familiar voice called out.

“Jiao Jiao.”

Xia Jiao’s eyes lit up as she turned around happily. “Wen Chongyue!”

Following the voice, Xia Jiao saw her husband.

He had just finished work, dressed in a black down jacket. Normally wearing glasses, he had taken them off and was wiping them with a tissue he carried, squinting slightly as if his vision was unclear.

Wen Chongyue smiled warmly and asked, “Jiao Jiao, who’s the person next to you?”

Xia Jiao froze for a moment.

Huh.

When did Wen Chongyue’s eyesight become so bad?