Chen Qing's days in Gaolin County were like deep currents beneath still water—steady and peaceful.
That morning, dawn had barely broken. Light filtered through the lattice window, scattering mottled shadows across the room.
Chen Qing pushed open the door, and the fragrance of rice mingled with the familiar scent of pickled vegetables rushed over him.
Madam Han was busy by the stove, steam bubbling up from the pot.
"Mother, didn't I say Xiao Cui and the others could handle this?"
Chen Qing stepped forward and took the bowl from her hands.
Xiao Cui was the maid Wu Manqing had arranged to attend to them.
Madam Han wiped her hands on her apron. A smile she could not hide spread across her face, and even the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes seemed to smooth out. "You rarely come home. Your mother can still move around—what does it matter if I make you a few hot meals? How could you get this flavor outside?"
She meant the braised pork with dried bamboo shoots simmering in the pot, accompanied by a dish of crisp pickled cucumbers and several pieces of fermented tofu drizzled with sesame oil.
It could not compare to delicacies from mountain and sea, but it was Madam Han's finest home cooking—and a feast beyond imagining back when they had lived aboard the Lian Boat at Yazi Bay.
Chen Qing said nothing more and quietly served the rice.
Mother and son sat across from one another at the small table, eating their lunch in silence.
The bowl of glossy, red-braised pork and dried bamboo shoots filled the little house with its rich, familiar aroma.
"Eat more!"
Madam Han kept placing large chunks of meat into Chen Qing's bowl, her gaze overflowing with motherly affection. "You've been exposed to wind