Memories (4)

"Hungry..." she whispered, the word slurred and barely audible, like a dream-mumble or the most primal of pleas. All her manners, her reserve, and her fear of this strange environment were crumbling under the weight of a hunger so raw and urgent. She wanted to eat; she wanted to shove that steaming, soft char siu bao into her mouth this very instant.

Yun Lan had already taken his seat, taking in the entire scene. He didn't speak, simply picking up the serving chopsticks to place a plump char siu bao onto the empty small plate in front of Yi Xuan.

"Eat while it's hot. Treat this place like your own home; since I picked you up, I'll take responsibility." My voice was low and calm as usual, yet it acted like a permission, instantly shattering the little girl's final shred of restraint.

Yi Xuan jerked her head up, looking from the bun to Yun Lan, her eyes erupting with a light of disbelief, mixed with ecstasy and gratitude. She practically lunged into the chair, cradling the bun—which was still hot enough to sting—and, casting all else aside, took a big, eager bite.

Yi Jiang sat upright at the dining table, her back straight as a board, attempting to maintain the last vestiges of the reserve befitting a "big sister." Yet, the corner of her golden eyes was uncontrollably glued to the opposite side—her younger sister, Yi Xuan, was cradling a steaming char siu bao, nibbling through the soft, fluffy dough to reveal the rich, savory, and perfectly marbled meat filling inside. Oily juices dripped down her fair fingers, and she didn't mind at all, sticking out her tongue to lick them clean, her crimson eyes squinting in satisfaction as she let out a muffled, happy whimper.

(Her table manners are just too unsightly...) Yi Jiang muttered to herself, her small face tightening further. She told herself she had to have rules; at the very least, she shouldn't look like a starving ghost in front of this strange young man who had picked them up from the snow. They might be destitute, but... but they should still have some dignity, shouldn't they?

However, the aroma was too overbearing.

The richness of the pork, the sweet and salty sauce, and the unique wheat fragrance of the fermented, steamed dough, all mixed with the scalding steam, surged into her nasal cavity, teasing a stomach that had been empty for who knows how long. Her stomach let out a distinct, near-spasmodic growl, reminding her that her last proper meal was a distant and blurred memory. Saliva flooded her mouth uncontrollably, and she swallowed quietly, though the subtle movement of her throat sounded deafeningly loud to her own ears.

She stole a glance at Yun Lan, who sat silently in the chair nearby. His expression was calm, his gaze fixed on the heavy snow still falling outside the window, seemingly not paying them any particular attention. Yet, the more he acted this way, the more Yi Jiang felt that his calm gaze could pierce through everything, seeing right through the intense internal struggle she was currently facing.

The high wall built by her reason began to crack in the face of her body's most primal desire. Her sister took another large bite, the sound of her chewing ringing in her ears like a drumbeat. That golden, glistening filling, that soft, snow-white dough... she had never encountered such warm, substantial food in her memories. The freezing streets, the biting cold wind, the endless hunger and fear... the darkness that had almost swallowed them whole seemed to be pushed back an inch by the heat of this simple food.

(Just... just eat one.) A faint voice whispered in the depths of her heart. (He made so much, eating one shouldn't matter, right? He... he doesn't look like the type of person to get angry over a little food.)

(But...)

(It smells so good... I'm really so hungry...)

Desire, like a vine, coiled around her final resistance, tightening with every passing second. Her straight back slumped almost imperceptibly, and her fingers, which had been neatly placed on her knees, curled and uncurled unconsciously. Her fingertips lifted a few millimeters, pointing toward the plate of buns that radiated a fatal temptation.

Yi Xuan finished one, licked her fingers, and reached out to grab a second, her crimson eyes shining as she looked at her sister, saying with a mouthful of food: "Sis... eat! So good!" That lack of guile, that pure enjoyment of the delicious meal, became the final straw that broke Yi Jiang.

Whatever reserve, whatever dignity, whatever image she tried to maintain in front of a stranger... in the face of the instinct to survive and the warmth within her reach, it all collapsed into a rout.

In the end, desire triumphed over reason.

The last glimmer of struggle in Yi Jiang's typically vigilant and restrained golden eyes extinguished, replaced by a sense of reckless determination and an urgency ignited by hunger. She no longer hesitated, thrusting her hand out—the movement even appearing somewhat crude due to her haste—and swiftly "grabbed" the largest char siu bao from the still-warm steamer.

The warm sensation traveled through the dough to her icy fingertips, making her whole body tremble slightly. She could no longer care about anything else; mimicking her sister, she lowered her head, opened her mouth, and took a fierce bite into the soft, white dough—

The rich juices exploded in her mouth, the sweet, salty, and savory flavors instantly sweeping across her taste buds. The warm, substantial meat filling packed her mouth, and the soft dough carried the unique sweetness of grain. This bite was more than just food; it was like a warm current that caught her off guard, crashing through all her defenses and soothing the very depths of her cold, rigid soul.

She kept her head down, her golden eyelashes fluttering rapidly, her chewing slowing from its initial ferocity to something delicate and cherished. Her shoulders and back, previously held so straight, relaxed completely without her noticing, curling slightly into a posture of self-protection and total immersion. She didn't make happy hums like her sister; she simply ate in silence and focus, one bite after another, as if trying to lock this sudden warmth and satiety firmly within her body.

I watched them.

Yi Xuan went without saying; her entire face was almost buried in the bowl, her crimson eyes squinting in bliss, occasionally letting out little animal-like whimpers, her cheeks bulging and glistening with oil. Even Yi Jiang, who had been forcing herself to stay composed and sitting upright, had now abandoned that fragile pretense, her small hands clutching the bun as she focused on gnawing at it. Her golden eyelashes hung low, trembling gently with each chew, and the corners of her mouth, stained with a bit of oil, puffed out slightly. Despite her efforts to eat with refinement, the speed at which she wolfed down the food betrayed the hunger she had been suppressing for so long.

This appearance, stripped of the vigilance and unease they had when they first entered, left only the most primal and direct satisfaction. Once their dirty little faces were washed, they revealed fair complexions, and their wet white hair, wrapped in towels, made them look like two small beasts that had finally found a shelter and dared to relax enough to lick their fur.

(They're actually quite cute.)

This thought emerged naturally, devoid of any calculation, merely a simple observation. They did indeed possess unique appearances—golden eyes and crimson eyes, hair as white as snow—and even in such a wretched plight, they could not hide a peculiar, otherworldly delicacy. Seeing them now, completely unguarded and immersed in their food, they possessed a childishness that was truly endearing.