Chapter 18

Xi Mi didn’t know why Ying Quhe suddenly asked this. After thinking for a moment, she shook her head and said, “No, I haven’t.”

“Liar.” Ying Quhe released her, withdrew his hand, and stuffed it back into his trouser pocket.

Embarrassed, Xi Mi scratched the back of her head. “Does an online friend count?”

Ying Quhe’s expression turned stern. “So you got into an online friend’s car today?”

Holding the ingredients, Xi Mi was a bit shocked. “Mr. Ying, how did you know?”

“Lao Qu,” Ying Quhe corrected her with a touch of severity.

“Um… Lao Qu.” Calling him that for the first time felt really awkward, and she felt quite embarrassed the moment it left her mouth. She said, “Mr. Yi- You go sit on the sofa for a bit. I’ll make something to eat.”

Ying Quhe nodded with a quiet “Mm.”

Only after walking into the kitchen did Xi Mi breathe a slight sigh of relief. She opened the plastic bag and pulled out the pork, only to find there were no vegetables to go with it.

Aside from the pork, all that remained was a small handful of sweet potato leaves and two lemons.

She remembered that tender celtuce leaf porridge was still simmering in the pot, and making some lion’s head meatballs^[1] seemed like a good match for it.

Xi Mi took out the pork, half fat and half lean, finely slicing it before roughly chopping it to the size of rice grains. With no vegetables to pair with it, she chopped up the water chestnuts she had bought that afternoon, mixed them into the minced meat, shaped the mixture into round balls, and dropped them into the hot oil to fry.

She fried them until a thin, crispy crust formed on the outside of the lion’s head meatballs, then scooped them out. Adding soy sauce and sugar to the pot, she simmered them over low heat until fully cooked, then thickened the sweet glaze and plated them.

In the living room, Ying Quhe was watching a rerun of the Influencer Group’s segment on 《China’s Supreme Taste》.

Xi Mi set out the bowls and chopsticks, sat down on the sofa, reached for the remote, and turned up the TV volume.

The camera happened to focus on her face. Under the lights, her face was palely drained of color, looking completely washed out next to the host.

Nibbling on her wooden chopsticks, Xi Mi sighed. “No wonder so many people on Weibo call me ugly. Turns out I really am uglier than I thought.”

Ying Quhe picked up his chopsticks and lifted a braised lion’s head meatball. Taking a bite, his teeth met the crispy outer shell with a satisfying crunch. Crispy on the outside, tender and soft inside, the delicate minced meat blended with the savory-sweet sauce, filling his mouth with rich aroma.

Only deep-frying could make the crust this crispy, but late at night, a heavy, oily dish usually felt unappealing. Fortunately, Xi Mi understood a diner’s mindset very well; a bowl of bright green celtuce leaf porridge cut through the richness while providing a refreshing, cooling touch.

The warm bowl of porridge brought a sense of coolness both visually and on the palate, while also giving him the cozy warmth of a small home.

Ying Quhe greatly appreciated Xi Mi’s mastery over food. When she cooked, she catered not only to a person’s appetite but also to their feelings, drawing them into an indescribable, subtle state of emotion.

Her dishes seemed to be endowed with life, deeply evocative and resonant.

Take this combination of braised lion’s head meatballs and green vegetable porridge, for instance: it was like a traditional Chinese couple, treating each other with mutual respect and balancing out each other’s flaws. The meatball cut through the plainness of the porridge, while the porridge washed away the oiliness of the meatball. Two dishes that seemed mismatched were surprisingly harmonious.

Holding her bowl, the girl stared attentively at the screen, took a sip of the green leaf porridge, and remarked, “Nan Qing is really talented.”

The living room window was open. As a gentle breeze blew in, a stray lock of hair on her head fluttered up, standing straight on end.

Ying Quhe set down his utensils and extended his long arm, stopping right above her head.

Sensing a shadow fall over her, Xi Mi looked up, only to be flicked on the forehead before she could react.

“Ow…” She cried out in pain, clutching her forehead with a look of resentment. “What did you do that for?”

“Don’t stare at the TV while eating. Please do not let the deliciousness of these dishes go to waste; they want to be respected too.” Ying Quhe spoke with complete seriousness, even when talking utter nonsense.

Xi Mi reached to pick up some food, but looking down, she found that not a single one of the four braised lion’s head meatballs remained – only a drizzle of sauce at the bottom of the plate.

She glared at Ying Quhe and swallowed a large gulp of porridge to suppress her anger.

Having eaten and drunk his fill, Ying Quhe showed no sign of leaving, remaining seated in the living room watching the show.

Ying Quhe sat with a very upright posture, unlike her, who loved curling up on the sofa in a half-reclined slump, wishing she could melt into it completely.

It seemed Ying Quhe wouldn’t leave until the show ended.

Xi Mi had no interest in watching the show. She leaned back against the sofa and scrolled through Weibo, coming across a private message from Culinary Dao.

Ever since she stopped posting recipes on Weibo, Culinary Dao hadn’t posted any updates either.

– Culinary Dao: “Congratulations on advancing to the next match. Add me on WeChat.”

Attached was a QR code.

Xi Mi found his WeChat, sent a friend request with a verification message, and waited for approval. Meanwhile, she tapped on his profile picture to enlarge it. To her disappointment, the profile picture wasn’t him, but Hollywood actor Al Pacino.

Sitting with his phone tucked in his trouser pocket, Ying Quhe felt a light vibration when the verification message arrived.

He took out his phone and accepted it, casting a side glance at Xi Mi, seeing a slight curve curl the little girl’s lips.

– Xi Xi Xi Mi: “Ahhh, Bastard Dao!”

– Culinary Dao: “So excited?”

– Xi Xi Xi Mi: “Yeah yeah! Did you watch my match? How was my performance?”

– Culinary Dao: “You made one fatal mistake. Based on that alone, you won’t make it into the top fifty in the next match.”

– Xi Xi Xi Mi: “(⊙v⊙) Huh??”

– Culinary Dao: “You must strictly match the color of the cutting board to the type of ingredient. That is the most basic rule. Once you enter a competition, give it your all. Don’t rely on luck.”

Having typed out these words, Ying Quhe looked up to observe Xi Mi’s expression.

The girl pouted slightly and muttered, “I wasn’t relying on luck…”

Ying Quhe couldn’t help but curl his lips into a faint smile. He had only meant to remind her, yet the girl had actually gotten all aggrieved.

As Xi Mi was tapping away on her phone, Ying Quhe suddenly stood up, his voice drifting down from above her. “There are still four days until the competition. Practice hard over the next few days. Watch more videos of past matches to see what common mistakes those chefs make.”

She nodded hastily, ushering him out as if seeing off a plague god.

Having received no reply from Culinary Dao for quite a while, Xi Mi locked her phone. Suddenly, the dark screen lit up with a WeChat message from him.

– Culinary Dao: “Good luck with the competition.”

Xi Mi smiled at the screen, her eyes curving into sweet crescents.

– Xi Xi Xi Mi: “Don’t worry, Bastard Dao. I’ll definitely win the championship, and as soon as I get the prize money, I’ll pay you right back.”

– Culinary Dao: “No need to pay it back. That money was the royalty fee for your recipe. I am a chef who respects copyright. :)”

– Xi Xi Xi Mi: “Pfft, giving me money doesn’t give you the right to alter my recipe without permission! I don’t want this money! I’ll pay you back sooner or later, so I can stand tall and keep cursing your tongue to turn sweet and your cooking to lack salt. :)”

– Culinary Dao: “Suit yourself. Get some rest early.”

– Xi Xi Xi Mi: “Good night.”

Xi Mi turned on the bedroom ceiling fan, lay on the bed, and pulled up a thin blanket to enjoy the cool breeze. Staring at the ceiling, her mind wandered to Ying Quhe, to Bastard Dao, to the competition…

Her eyelids were heavy with sleep when the bed suddenly began to shake. The ceiling light swayed violently, and bits of white paint flaked off the old walls, falling onto Xi Mi’s face and making her cough.

Was this… an earthquake?

Beichuan, under the jurisdiction of Jinyang, had once been hit hard by a disastrous earthquake, and news footage of the tragedy remained vivid in her memory.

Jinyang was situated on a fault line, experiencing earthquakes every couple of months, so the locals had long grown accustomed to them.

But Xi Mi was an outsider. Experiencing an earthquake for the very first time, even the slight shaking triggered an intense sense of panic, sending her bolting downstairs while clutching her pillow.

Down in the compound, a group of older residents was sitting calmly under a grapevine trellis, fanning themselves with cattail-leaf fans to cool off. Seeing her rush out barefoot, they teased good-naturedly, “Little girl, you must’ve just moved in, huh? Scared you half to death?”

“Where are you from, girl? Not a local, are you?”

“We get earthquakes every other day around here. You’ll get used to it.”

Get used to it…

So the locals were really this unfazed by earthquakes? Xi Mi wiped a cold sweat in embarrassment.

She stood outside barefoot for half an hour. Returning to her room, she found that paint had flaked off the wall, revealing a crack.

Holding her phone, she squatted in the corner, measured the size of the crack, and called Ying Quhe with an extraordinarily grave expression.

*

Ying Quhe drove over to pick her up. After tossing her toiletries and extra clothes into the trunk, he climbed back into the car and reminded her, “Seatbelt.”

Xi Mi obediently buckled her seatbelt, lamenting how dangerous Jinyang was. She was literally risking her life for this competition!

Reversing out of the compound and onto the wide main road, Ying Quhe explained, “There was a magnitude 4.5 aftershock in Beichuan just now, which affected Jinyang. The buildings in that old neighborhood are quite dated and long overdue for demolition. You shouldn’t have moved in to begin with.”

“Netizens really can’t be trusted,” Xi Mi lamented, wanting to weep. “I wonder if I can get my three hundred Yuan rent back. I’m going to cry my eyes out.”

“Trusting a netizen on top of that—you’ve got nerve.” While waiting at a red light at an intersection, Ying Quhe pulled out a paper contract and handed it to her. “Take a look at this lease agreement. If there are no issues, sign it.”

Xi Mi took the 《House Lease Contract》 and carefully scanned the terms, which were roughly as follows:

1. Party B (Ying Quhe) shall rent a bedroom to Party A (Xi Mi) free of charge, with no fees collected. Party A must prepare Party B’s three daily meals and acknowledge Party B as her master to offset the rent.

2. The kitchen may be used freely by Party A (Xi Mi). Without Party A’s permission, Party B (Ying Quhe) is not allowed to enter the kitchen at will.

3. Party A (Xi Mi) shall not move out without cause without Party B’s (Ying Quhe) consent; otherwise, it will be treated as a breach of contract. Party B shall not drive Party A away; otherwise, it will be treated as a breach of contract.

4. Once signed by both parties, this contract shall take effect immediately and remain valid for six months. If either Party A or Party B breaches the contract, the defaulting party shall compensate the other party one million Yuan RMB.

Xi Mi read through the terms several times. Did this mean Ying Quhe was giving her free housing, but in return she had to take care of his three daily meals and call him Master?

Right now, nothing else mattered to Xi Mi: having a place to live was the absolute top priority!!

She wasn’t losing out with these terms, and neither was Ying Quhe. Without a second thought, she fished a pen out of her bag, signed her name with a flourish, and handed the contract to Ying Quhe. “Master, the contract is signed.”