06

Zhang Qinghe stood frozen at the doorway like a statue.

Zai Ye could understand how she felt and remained silent as well.

Only Qian was blissfully unaware of how cruel she had been to her young and inexperienced mother. Just like every year, after delivering the flowers, she felt she deserved a reward.

Smelling the aroma wafting from inside, she jumped up and clung to Zhang Qinghe’s leg. “Mom’s making Zhajiangmian! I want some too!”

Zhang Qinghe had a special talent—her Zhajiangmian was phenomenal, especially the fried meat sauce. Qian could eat a whole bowl of just the sauce and never get tired of it.

But Vice President Zhang rarely set foot in the kitchen. During the years Zai Ye had known her, he’d never once tasted her cooking. It wasn’t until their daughter was born—thanks to Qian—that he discovered how delicious his wife’s Zhajiangmian was.

When he first found out, Zai Ye felt seriously unbalanced. But Vice President Zhang had calmly asked, “I was with you, working overtime every day, exhausted. And you expected me to cook noodles for you?”

The fact that she even remembered to order him a portion when they got takeout was already a sign of deep affection.

Boss Zai had no comeback, mouth full of noodles, while Qian, her face smeared with sauce, shouted gleefully from the side, “Heartless boss! Heartless boss!”

Ever since Vice President Zhang’s hidden talent was exposed, both Zai Ye and Qian would always ask for her signature Zhajiangmian whenever they did something deserving of a reward.

So she could already make it back then—no wonder it tasted so good after all those years of practice.

Qian kicked off her shoes and ran inside. Zai Ye followed suit, handing the large bouquet of tulips to Zhang Qinghe.

With both of them inside, Zhang Qinghe had no choice but to close the door, clutching the flowers, and fetch them some slippers.

Her apartment wasn’t big—an old two-bedroom unit in a dated residential complex. The room with better lighting was hers; the darker one belonged to her brother. But since he was always traveling for work, he rarely came home, and that door was usually closed.

The place was sparsely furnished but spotless. The ceramic floor gleamed, and the balcony door was open, with freshly laundered sheets and pillowcases hanging out to dry, carrying the scent of detergent.

Combined with the smell of food from the kitchen, the whole home felt warm and bright, full of life.

Qian treated the place like her own, wandering around and checking everything out. The only sound in the room was her little footsteps pattering on the floor.

Zai Ye, on the other hand, was much more reserved, as if he were back at that first visit, nervously carrying a gift to Vice President Zhang’s house.

But at least this time, there was no sharp-eyed brother-in-law around, so he relaxed quickly and sat down on the sofa.

Qian had already run into the kitchen to check on the sauce. Zhang Qinghe hurried after her, worried she might touch something hot and get burned.

“No touching the pot or the stove. And don’t go near the knives.”

“Okay, Mommy, I know. I’ll be good. I’ll just stand here. Can I help you wash the veggies?”

Zai Ye wandered over to the kitchen doorway, dragged over a dining chair, and sat down.

Listening to the conversation between Zhang Qinghe and Qian gave him a deep sense of peace.

When Zhang Qinghe turned around and saw him smiling, she sighed inwardly.

She had to be honest. “If you two plan on eating here, I should tell you—I only made one serving of Zhajiangmian. I’m out of vegetables and noodles.”

In other words, time to leave after your little visit.

Qian immediately piped up, “Mommy, my tummy is tiny. I’ll just eat a little bit.”

“Don’t believe her. She always eats more than you,” Zai Ye said, getting up. “I’ll go buy groceries. Thin noodles, pork belly, tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes, right? What else? Shiitake mushrooms, fermented soybean paste?”

He was clearly familiar with the ingredients. This wasn’t his first time shopping for the secret recipe of the Zhang family’s Zhajiangmian.

He was no longer the clueless rookie who used to panic taking a kid to the mall. Now, no matter what he was buying, he handled it with ease.

Zhang Qinghe was surprised to hear him list the ingredients so accurately. But then she thought, so what if he knows the recipe? Maybe he just got lucky this time.

Noticing her conflicted expression, Zai Ye grinned to himself, hands in his pockets as he strolled downstairs to the nearby market.

Ten minutes later, Zhang Qinghe got a call for help.

Zai Ye had gone to the market without any cash and couldn’t pay.

Speechless, Zhang Qinghe changed clothes and took Qian with her to “bail him out.”

Zai Ye stood in front of the meat stall with a plastic bag in hand. When he saw her, he explained, “I thought they accepted mobile payments here, but I guess this market hasn’t caught up yet…”

Coming from over a decade in the future, he’d forgotten that in this time, many small markets still didn’t use digital payments and only accepted cash.

“There’s nowhere nearby to get change either,” he added, voice trailing off, growing more embarrassed by the second until he just shut up with a stiff face.

He’d even tried to exchange money at a nearby newsstand, but the elderly owner thought he was a scammer running some kind of mobile fraud.

“Uncle Li, how much for the meat?” Zhang Qinghe greeted the butcher and pulled out some cash from her little piggy wallet.

“Oh, it’s Xiao He! If I’d known it was for you, I’d have just let him take it. You could’ve paid next time!” the butcher said with a laugh, eyeing Zai Ye. “Is this your friend?”

“He’s my classmate,” Zhang Qinghe replied, offering no further explanation. Their relationship was too complicated to sum up.

Zai Ye carried the plastic bag in one hand and held the invisible Qian in the other, following behind Zhang Qinghe through the market. After she picked out the rest of the groceries and paid, he stepped up to carry the bags.

This was Zhang Qinghe’s regular market, and most of the vendors knew her. As they greeted her warmly, they couldn’t help but ask about Zai Ye.

Zhang Qinghe could only comfort herself with the thought that at least they couldn’t see Qian—otherwise, the questions would’ve been even harder to dodge.

After their market trip, Qian and Zai Ye finally got to enjoy the long-awaited Zhajiangmian. Each of them had two bowls, completely wiping out the noodles Zhang Qinghe had planned to eat for dinner.

Watching the two of them sitting there with their bellies bulging, Zhang Qinghe stood by the sofa and glanced at the clock—twice.

“You’re done eating. Isn’t it time for you to leave?” She had no idea how things had escalated to this point.

Did she ever say they could stay for dinner?

“Mommy, I want to take a nap,” Qian said with a yawn.

Zhang Qinghe turned to Zai Ye. “You heard her. Take her home for her nap.”

Zai Ye replied, “She means she wants to nap here.”

Zhang Qinghe: “I figured.”

With no other choice, Zai Ye picked up his stubborn daughter and carried her out, with Zhang Qinghe seeing them to the door.

"Mom, can I come back tonight for noodles?"

"Nope. I’m tutoring someone this afternoon, and I’ll be eating dinner at their place."

The family Zhang Qinghe tutored used to be her neighbors. She still called them Uncle and Aunt, so they often invited her to stay for meals.

But she didn’t really enjoy eating at other people’s homes, and usually turned them down.

On the way home, Zai Ye fiddled with his phone and sent Zhang Qinghe a red envelope.

“You eat so much, you're going to bankrupt your mom,” he said, ruffling Qian’s hair.

He’d known before that Vice President Zhang had grown up with her older brother, scraping by with little to their name. Seeing it firsthand now still tugged at his heart.

If it weren’t for the fact that a large, unexplained transfer would make her suspicious and likely refuse it, he would’ve preferred to just send her a big sum outright.

His phone chimed with a notification—Zhang Qinghe had accepted the money and sent a message in return.

She listed out last week’s snack expenses for Qian at school, plus today’s extra cost for meat and vegetables.

At the end, she wrote: “You still owe me twenty-four yuan and fifty cents. I won’t charge for the cooking labor.”

Zai Ye: “……”

Yep, that familiar flavor. Vice President Zhang had always been honest when it came to money.

Zai Ye ruffled Qian’s hair again and sighed, “Your mom really does love you—she didn’t even charge us for her cooking.”