15. Pig Trotter Noodle Soup

Tang Yiyi took a bite of the braised pig’s trotter, let out a satisfied “mm,” and nodded enthusiastically at Xiao Xie. Xiao Xie grinned with pride. “Told you, didn’t I? It’s really delicious.” Tang Yiyi was too busy eating to reply, only continuing to nod. With that, Liu Xin and Xiao Xie got up to tend to their work, leaving her to focus on her noodles.

The pig’s trotter was cooked to perfection, tender enough to slip off the bone but still pleasantly chewy. The broth was clear, without a trace of oil, carrying only the pure taste of umami. The noodles were springy, and the addition of chives cut through the richness of the meat. Tang Yiyi was so hungry she finished both the noodles and the soup, leaving the bowl spotless. She looked up with a contented sigh and set her chopsticks across the bowl.

Xiao Xie came over. “Want another bowl?”

“No, this is just right.” Tang Yiyi patted her stomach and pulled out some cash. “How much is it?”

“The boss said, since it’s your first time here, the meal’s on the house.” Xiao Xie nodded toward Qin Baike.

“When did he say that?” From the moment Tang Yiyi sat down, that “Wu Yanzu of Magnolia Alley” had been buried in his accounts, not saying a word.

“This afternoon, after you left. The boss told me then.”

“Oh.” Tang Yiyi walked over to Qin Baike’s table. “Baige, thank you!”

Qin Baike looked up at her and nodded, giving a quiet “mm.”

“It was really, really delicious!”

“Mm.”

“Next time, you have to let me pay. Otherwise, I’ll feel too embarrassed to come back.”

“Mm.”

“Well, I’ll be off then.”

“Mm.”

“… ”

Tang Yiyi turned to see his two employees behind her. She slipped outside and asked them quietly, “Does Baige always talk like that?”

“Like what?” The two of them stared at her, wide-eyed and clueless.

“Never mind.” Tang Yiyi decided to drop it. To them, Qin Baike’s reticence was the most normal thing in the world—she was the odd one for making a fuss.

“Liu Xin, I haven’t checked your pulse yet.”

“Another day. It’s not urgent.” He touched his face.

“Alright, I’m so full I feel like sleeping. Another day, then! Oh, and from now on, avoid spicy, greasy, or overly sweet foods. No supplements or seafood either, or it’ll only get worse.”

“So what can he eat?” Xiao Xie asked curiously.

“Mushrooms, wood ear, chives, carrots, spinach, eggs, milk—they’re all fine.”

“Oh, so whatever a rabbit eats, he can eat, right?”

“And all kinds of gourds—bitter melon, cucumber, winter melon, watermelon. They’re all good.”

“So it really is rabbit food!” Xiao Xie covered his face with his hand and stepped away from Liu Xin. “Xin-ge, don’t let your acne spread to me. I want to eat meat!”

Tang Yiyi tiptoed back to her room, washed up, and lay in bed utterly satisfied. She took out her phone and sent a message to Wang Yufeng: Today I had the best pig trotter noodles. I really wish you could try them too.

Wang Yufeng quickly replied: Out eating noodles so late? With whom?

Tang Yiyi: Just next door, went by myself. Back in my room now, about to sleep.

Wang Yufeng: Don’t eat too much, or you’ll get indigestion.

Tang Yiyi: Mm, the people at the noodle shop are all so interesting.

Wang Yufeng: Go to bed early, I’m going to play some ranked games.

Tang Yiyi: Don’t stay up too late.

She waited a while, but no more messages came.

Any trace of melancholy Tang Yiyi had felt earlier vanished with Wang Yufeng’s simple “With whom?” He still cared about her.

Qin Baike propped his head in his hand and continued tapping away at his calculator. The accounts weren’t complicated; he simply enjoyed the slow, methodical process.

From twenty-one to twenty-seven, he’d spent seven years as a firefighter. Aside from sleep, his days were split between intense training and answering calls, always with his comrades. The variety and unpredictability of emergencies made every day tense yet exhilarating.

Truly dangerous calls were rare. After a few brushes with death, his youthful heart grew complacent, believing danger was just that—a passing thrill—and that such days would go on forever.

Until that day, when Shi Tou shoved him to the ground, and he watched helplessly as Shi Tou was flung out the window by the blast wave. They were on the eleventh floor.

It had been over two years now, but he still couldn’t sleep soundly. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Shi Tou grinning at him, felt himself trapped in the searing blaze.

Qin Baike rubbed his eyes and pulled out another ledger, flipping it open to continue his calculations.

“Baige,” Liu Xin called softly. Qin Baike looked up. Liu Xin nodded toward the door, where an elderly man stood, his height and features not unlike Qin Baike’s own.

Qin Baike stood, walked to the kitchen, and took a plastic bottle from a cabinet—inside was a powdered seasoning. He turned and stepped outside.

When Xiang Shengli saw him approach, he drifted towards the shadows. Neither spoke in the darkness. Xiang Shengli opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Qin Baike turned his head away, and the words went unsaid.

Qin Baike handed him the plastic bottle. Xiang Shengli pulled a roll of bills—two thousand yuan—from his pocket, handing it over. “Baike, she manages the money, I…”

“I know.”

“Your mother’s illness…”

“I can take care of her.”

“That’s good, I…”

“I’m going inside.” Without waiting for his father to finish, Qin Baike turned and went back into the shop.

He washed his hands in the kitchen. Uncle Chen came over and patted his shoulder. “Your father has it tough too.”

“Mm,” he answered quietly. He was no longer the fifteen-year-old Qin Baike—though unmarried, he now understood feelings. But understanding them didn’t mean the wounds of being fifteen had vanished.