When You Tire of Sultry, Enchanting Scenery
To fry an egg properly, you must use high heat and, most importantly, lard. Only then will the egg have a light crispness with a tender, soft white under a creamy syrup. Many noodle stalls add eggs that are more like deep-fried eggs than fried eggs; they are oily, bitter, and unappetizing.
Many people are used to adding a fried egg, often just to recapture the memories of a bowl of noodles from their childhood.
It's difficult to persuade many children to eat a bowl of noodles, so we add an egg, fry it until it's fragrant, and it's tastier than noodles. They'll eat it reluctantly, and might even peel off the yolk.
As I've grown up, the eggs my mother fried still evoke a taste in my memories that I long to reminisce about.
Liu Chang'an placed two bowls of noodles with eggs in front of Third Mistress and Zhong Qing. There's no reason not to do business when there's business to be had. The two bowls of noodles with fried eggs cost twenty-four yuan. Liu Chang'an took out the payment code and had Zhong Qing scan it.
After putting down the noodles, Liu Chang'an didn't leave immediately. He moved a small stool over and sat down. "Since there's not much business now, you two can speak first. I'll be very busy later."
Liu Chang'an knew very well that there would definitely be repeat customers today, and business would be even busier than yesterday. A famous chef can attract people from far and wide, but repeat customers are more convincing than those who come specifically because of their reputation.
"I just came to eat some noodles." The Third Mistress turned her head, revealing a fair and smooth neck, the most age-revealing part of a woman's body, which was still as warm and smooth as a young girl's.
Liu Chang'an looked at Zhong Qing. He had never expected anything from this woman who was arrogant and aloof from who-knows-where.
Zhong Qing was wearing a light white summer shirt, and you could see a white lace choker around her neck with an off-the-shoulder bra underneath. She glanced at the Third Mistress, a brief look of doubt in her eyes, and then took a photo out of her bag and handed it to Liu Chang'an.
The photo is an old black and white picture, quite old. Apart from Liu Chang'an, the people in the photo are probably older than everyone around here, and older than the buildings in this area. The newly built Junsha City after the fire doesn't have many old buildings that can rival the age of this photo.
People in that era didn't have as many fancy ways of taking photos as they do now, nor were they as lively. They took photos more seriously, which often revealed a person's true spirit and energy.
It was a very simple and traditional pose: a young man sat upright with his hands on his knees, and a woman in a long Western-style dress and a white top hat stood beside him.
"Please give this photo to Mr. Ye," Zhong Qing said.
"Mr. Ye?" Liu Chang'an was also somewhat puzzled.
The Third Mistress turned her head, a hint of doubt in her eyes, "Ye Chenyu."
Liu Chang'an nodded to indicate that he understood. His only question was that normally, he would address him as "Old Mr. Ye."
Liu Chang'an casually picked up the photo and put it into the cash box of the breakfast stall, where he saw a poem written on the back of the photo.
The Final Wind howled fiercely, yet he smiled at me, his laughter mocking and carefree, but his heart was filled with sorrow.
The Final Wind and the haze hangs heavy, yet you have come so kindly. Neither come nor go, my thoughts linger on.
The Final Wind, unable to sleep, wishing to speak but finding only despair.
The sky is overcast and the thunder rumbles; I lie awake, unable to sleep, longing to speak my heart.
This is "The Wind of the Final Wind" (邶风·终风), which tells the story of a woman's feelings of sorrow, longing, and tenderness in the face of a man who is romantic and amorous.
The photos are well-preserved, seemingly taken out of a safe or sealed place recently. The handwriting, however, shows signs of age, and the delicate and elegant script is clearly from a woman's hand.
Photos are more intuitive and easier to evoke memories, but words have a more powerful impact. Liu Chang'an picked up the photo again and carefully tucked it into a picture book. Zhou Dongdong sometimes accompanies her mother to her stall, and her book is kept here.
Turning around, I saw that the Third Mistress and Zhong Qing had already left.
Zhong Qing didn't eat the noodles. It wasn't that she regretted spending the twenty-four yuan; it was just that they were really delicious. She usually didn't need to eat breakfast, but now she felt a little hungry.
"Mrs..."
Zhong Qing turned his head and saw the Third Mistress sitting at the very edge of the carriage, pressed tightly against the window, her cheek against the glass. She looked limp and powerless, as if someone hidden in a shell had suddenly had their strongest outer shell taken away, revealing their inner vulnerability.
A line of water trickled down the glass, the clean window making the water appear crystal clear, flowing with a sorrowful light in the slanting sunlight.
There were tears in the corners of her eyes.
"Madam, what happened?" Zhong Qing was extremely flustered. She had never seen the Third Mistress like this before. In her eyes, the Third Mistress was proud and powerful, capable of doing anything without restraint, but definitely not shedding tears.
Zhong Qing even suspected that even if a close relative died in front of her, the Third Mistress might not have much of an emotional reaction. Zhong Qing had never imagined that the Third Mistress would shed tears.
Sand got in.
The Third Mistress used the most meaningless excuse, but Zhong Qing dared not ask any further questions.
"Do you think the more remarkable a man is, the more likely he is to be a womanizer?" The Third Mistress turned to look at Zhong Qing.
Her eyes were moist, not like they had sand in them, but like newly opened springs, clear and bright.
Is the Third Mistress referring to that old Mr. Ye Chenyu? Zhong Qing does know a bit about him. This old gentleman was dashing and charming back in the day, the dream man of countless young ladies in the Republic of China era. Is the Third Mistress reminiscing about the old lady? And then thinking about her own marriage and fate? I haven't heard of how the Third Young Master was a playboy back then, and he died in a car accident many years ago, yet the Third Mistress hasn't seemed particularly sad. This sentimentality is hard for Zhong Qing to understand.
"No matter what, all men are fickle, right?" Zhong Qing said uncertainly. She had seen many fickle men, but she didn't know if there were any who weren't. After all, whether a man was fickle or not wasn't obvious on the surface; either she didn't know, or she just didn't have the opportunity. Zhong Qing didn't care.
"A phrase came to mind."
What did you say?
"Once you tire of my alluring and seductive charm, I'll spend a long and peaceful life with you."
Zhong Qing cautiously observed the Third Mistress's expression, "But why do you seem so tired of looking at her?"
"Yes, a slow and steady life is ultimately boring; a seductive and alluring scene is far more exciting." The Third Mistress scoffed. "Women's thoughts are ultimately too naive. Men never tire of seductive women outside; they have plenty of tricks up their sleeves. At worst, they'll just switch to another one after a while. They've long forgotten about the one at home. Even if they occasionally think of her and come back for a glance, it's just a fleeting whim. For a woman to think that he'll change his mind and live a slow and steady life with her is utterly ridiculous."
"That's probably it," Zhong Qing said uncertainly.
"But... but I still want to see him."
The Third Mistress raised her hands and covered her face.
I had insomnia last night and I'm not in the mood today. I'll write a lot tomorrow at 5 AM to try and get monthly votes. As for some people thinking I'm not writing a lot, that's not wrong. I just write as much as I can and less when I don't have time or energy.