Chapter Fifteen
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A table was laden with dishes: shredded pork in garlic sauce, twice-cooked pork, mapo tofu, fish in pickled vegetables—Yuqian’s favorite—and white-cut chicken, her mother’s preferred, as well as her father’s specialty soup—crispy pork broth. The air was fragrant; Yuqian inhaled deeply, washed her hands, and, unable to wait, grabbed a piece of white-cut chicken to gnaw before even picking up her chopsticks.
Yuwen, half exasperated, tapped her hand. “You aren’t even using chopsticks—what does that look like?”
Yuqian only giggled, saying nothing.
The family sat around the meal, laughing and chatting. Now that she was home, her parents finally asked in detail about Yuqian’s semester. There was nothing she couldn’t share with them, so Yuqian recounted everything that had happened.
Some events Wen Yu had already heard when she came home earlier, but now, listening to her daughter tell her husband, she was happy to hear it all again. Her daughter was so outstanding; hearing her stories ten times would never be tiresome.
After clearing the dishes, Yuqian set her instrument aside, preparing to play for her parents. They knew she was learning the guzheng, but as for the guqin, Yuqian had taught herself from books and recordings, unbeknownst to them that she was following lessons from people online.
Gao Jianli had given her many scores, but her talent wasn’t exceptional. After half a year’s practice, the only pieces that truly satisfied Gao Jianli were “Three Variations on Yangguan” and “Longing,” and she was preparing to perform “Longing.”
Her parents had assumed that, at best, her self-study would be tolerable, certainly not unpleasant. Yet not a minute into her playing, they were immersed in the world she conjured.
At first, a plaintive sorrow, followed by yearning and hope, then a sense of frustration at dreams just out of reach, and finally a return to melancholy and grief.
When the piece ended, tears clung to the corners of Yuwen and Wen Yu’s eyes, their hearts heavy and stifled.
A soft laugh startled them.
Looking up, they saw Yuqian tilting her head, smiling at them.
“You played so beautifully, my dear—I was moved to tears,” Yuwen said, embarrassed as he wiped his eyes.
“Yes, it was wonderful, truly wonderful,” Wen Yu chimed in, searching for words to praise her.
“That’s all? I’ve only learned two pieces this semester, and they’re not nearly as beautiful as those on the recordings.”
“It’s beautiful—how could it not be? If it weren’t, your mother and I wouldn’t be crying.”
Chuckling, Yuqian carefully packed up her instrument, then linked arms with them, leading them into the living room. “Alright, alright, I still have a lot to learn. Let’s not talk about that—let’s watch TV together!”
She turned on the television, which happened to be airing the wildly popular idol drama from that year, “Full House” from Korea.
Even with the hindsight of a decade, the show’s sweetness remained; the chemistry between the lead actors, Song and Rain, was palpable, and the humor abundant, making Wen Yu and Yuqian laugh so hard they tumbled together.
Yuwen wasn’t fond of idol dramas, but he loved seeing his wife and daughter so happy and carefree.
...
Yuqian spent a week in the provincial city. By day, Yuwen tended the shop while Yuqian practiced her instrument, read, and kept Wen Yu company as she drew. Evenings were spent dining together, sometimes at home, sometimes out.
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When Wen Yu went to the shop, Yuqian would sneak out to buy snacks.
The snack shop was constantly running out of stock—not only did the online group from the Six Realms love these treats, but the sages in the chat group did as well.
As a result, the shop’s goods were never enough to meet demand.
Hearing she was in the provincial city, Nuwa, who adored snacks, and the God of Food, who loved experimenting with cuisine, had been urging her for days to restock. They wanted to try local specialties.
[Nuwa]: “Egg sponge cakes!”
[Wielder of the Spatula]: “Hotpot dishes!”
[Nuwa]: “Hotpot!”
[Wielder of the Spatula]: “Skewers!”
...
Nuwa and the God of Food bantered endlessly, and Yuqian’s phone never stopped vibrating with their requests.
Once things quieted down, she checked her phone—it was full of food messages. Even Jingwei and Longjiu chimed in, asking for snacks.
Yuqian was a bit helpless. Many requests made sense, but hotpot was baffling—how was she supposed to send that? In her previous life, it would have been easy; instant hotpot was everywhere.
[Shallow Water Fish]: “I can’t send hotpot, but I’ll buy some soup base for you. You can cook your own ingredients.”
[Wielder of the Spatula]: “Fine, soup base works.”
[Nuwa]: “Ah, I don’t know how to cook, and neither does Fuxi...”
[Wielder of the Spatula]: “If you can’t cook, give it to me; I’ll make it for you.”
[Nuwa]: “Alright!”
“Auntie, I’d like two hundred egg sponge cakes—please pack them separately. You can mix up the toppings, just not the usual two.”
Auntie was dumbfounded. “Two hundred? Can you eat all that?”
Yuqian laughed. “Auntie, they’re not for me—they’re for others.”
“Oh, oh, then take a seat and wait.”
Egg sponge cakes were a local specialty here, one and a half yuan apiece. A ladleful of batter would be poured onto a special small pan, swirled into a round cake, covered for two minutes, then topped with various fillings. Folded hot, the aroma of the batter mingled with the unique flavors of each topping.
Yuqian’s favorites were cream with pork floss, and sour cowpea with shredded potato—one sweet, one spicy and numbing, both delicious.
Auntie sped up, working two pans at once, packing each cake in a paper bag and then into a small pouch to keep it warm.
Meanwhile, Yuqian packed them in batches of ten in a large bag, saying she’d take them home soon so they wouldn’t get cold.
Once she reached a quiet spot, she stashed them in her phone.
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Even so, preparing two hundred egg sponge cakes took Auntie nearly two hours, leaving her hands weak.
Afterward, Yuqian bought hotpot bread, then sesame balls...
At every shop, the quantities she ordered startled the owners.
Only when her phone’s storage slots were full did she stop and head home, picking up a portion of duck blood on the way for dinner.
At home, she checked her account. In this period, she’d spent without earning, leaving only two hundred forty thousand yuan. In half a year, she had spent over thirty thousand; Yuqian felt a twinge of distress. If she didn’t earn more soon, she’d be left with nothing.
She wondered what someone her age could do, but found nothing—the age restrictions were everywhere. Finally, she realized writing was the least age-limited pursuit, but she had no computer or time.
She listed all the food items one by one. After half a year’s accumulation, her merit had nearly reached a thousand. After renewing her parents’ lives that night, there would still be plenty left.
[Shallow Water Fish]: “Your Highness, besides renewing life, what else can merit be used for?”
[Nuwa]: “You can exchange them for treasures or talismans—like peace charms or pendants, which your family could use right now.”
[Nuwa]: “You can also trade with people in the chat group for musical scores, calligraphy, or fine instruments.”
[Shallow Water Fish]: “Okay, thank you, Your Highness, mwah~”
[Nuwa]: “Mwah?”
Nuwa was baffled by ‘mwah,’ and asked Fuxi if he knew what it meant. He didn’t either.
[Shallow Water Fish]: “It means a kiss, mwah~”
[Shallow Water Fish] sent a red envelope: Lao Matou hotpot soup base.
[Shallow Water Fish] sent a red envelope: Juntun hotpot bread.
[Shallow Water Fish] sent a red envelope: Cold cake.
...
She sent all the remaining snacks in her inventory to Nuwa.
Nuwa loved food so much that even her swift hands couldn’t snatch enough from the snack shop. Moreover, she felt sorry for Fuxi and wanted to share delicacies with him, making it even harder to satisfy her appetite.
Thus, Yuqian often made special batches for Nuwa, sending her items not available in the shop so she could try something new.
For example, hotpot—Yuqi had previously prepared it bit by bit in a private room at a hotpot restaurant and sent it to her; otherwise, Nuwa would never have known such a complicated dish.