Aunt Feng saw that it was already past ten, so she said to Liang Xiyue, “Xiyue, I’m going to start cooking. Go home and tell your mom the clothes fit well. Thank you. The roads are slippery with snow—be careful on your way back.”
Liang Xiyue watched Aunt Feng turn around and take a big slab of pork from the Haier refrigerator. One look and she could tell that amount wasn’t meant for just one person. She paused, then deliberately asked in an offhand tone, “Aunt Feng, is Baozhu really going to eat all that meat by herself at noon?”
Aunt Feng turned on the tap and washed the pork. “It’s not all for Baozhu,” she replied. “Once I finish cooking, I still have to bring a meal over to Xiao Zhou.”
“Oh, I see.”With the snow outside, you going out alone with a lunch box is too dangerous, Xiyue thought. She quickly said aloud, “Aunt Feng, I’m free this afternoon anyway. I’ll go with you.”
Aunt Feng hesitated. “This… isn’t that inconvenient? Aren’t you going home to make lunch?”
Xiyue cheerfully rolled up her sleeves and picked up a head of cabbage from a plastic bag. “My brother is home. Besides, I wouldn’t feel safe letting you go out alone.”
Hearing that, Aunt Feng felt touched. She gave Xiyue an extra glance and smiled. “I guess all that love I gave you when you were little wasn’t wasted.”
Xiyue chuckled and walked over to wash the cabbage.
When the food was ready, Aunt Feng went upstairs to call Qin Baozhu for lunch.
From inside the bedroom came the sound of the TV. Aunt Feng knocked and entered. She saw Baozhu curled up on the sofa, hugging her slender, fair legs, staring intently at the screen.
That Changhong color TV was something Zhou Fuguang had personally carried back from Hucheng half a year ago. It was the only color TV in all of Dejing Town. People said it cost several thousand—a whole year’s wages for the villagers.
Baozhu was so focused she didn’t hear Aunt Feng come in, not until she spoke: “Baozhu, lunch is ready. Should I bring it up to you?”
Baozhu turned around, her pale little face looking slightly bored and sleepy. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head. “No need, I’ll come down.”
She picked up the remote and switched off the drama.
When Aunt Feng came downstairs, Xiyue was already standing by the door holding a large red insulated food container.
Seeing Baozhu coming down, Xiyue deliberately raised her voice and said with a bright smile, “Aunt Feng, I’m all set! Let’s go deliver Brother Zhou’s lunch!”
Baozhu, wrapped in a genuine mink coat, descended slowly behind Aunt Feng. Her posture was a bit languid, as if she were still sleepy. Her long, shiny black hair swayed gently, falling across her delicate white cheeks.
She had just eaten earlier and wasn’t very hungry, but since someone had made lunch for her, it felt rude not to come down and eat a little.
After speaking, Xiyue watched Baozhu closely. When she saw Baozhu reach the bottom of the stairs and instinctively pull her coat tighter against the cold before turning toward the kitchen, Xiyue pressed her lips together, feeling an inexplicable twinge of resentment.
Aunt Feng wasn’t aware of Xiyue’s subtle feelings. She wrapped her scarf tightly around her head and face, leaving only her eyes exposed.
Then she picked up the insulated food container holding the braised pork with vermicelli, grabbed the baby bottle filled with prepared formula, and headed out with Xiyue.
The kindergarten where Zhou Jingrui studied provided lunch, so Aunt Feng only needed to prepare meals for Zhou Fuguang and Lu Sheng.
The snow had stopped.
But the air was still freezing—minus seven or eight degrees. The cold made people shiver uncontrollably.
Because of the scarf wrapped around her face, the warm breath she exhaled made the knitted fabric damp around her mouth and nose.
Aunt Feng let out a breath and glanced at Xiyue, walking beside her and carrying the red food container.
Young people really handled the cold better. Xiyue, wearing a blue floral cotton jacket with no hat or scarf, looked far more energetic. Aunt Feng’s face was pale from the cold, while Xiyue’s cheeks were flushed a faint pink, as if she were perfectly warm.
Perhaps feeling annoyed at the slow pace, Xiyue even came over to support Aunt Feng by the arm, helping her walk faster.
“Aunt Feng, it’s almost twelve. The pig farm will be on lunch break soon. If we don’t hurry and bring Brother Zhou his meal, he’ll go hungry.”
The pig farm was far from home. Usually, Zhou Fuguang arranged a three–wheeled cart for her, and it only took about twenty minutes to get there.
But with the heavy snow, she couldn’t drive the cart and had to walk. They had been walking for over half an hour and were only a little past halfway.
Xiyue grew more anxious—she didn’t want Fuguang to finish work and still have nothing to eat.
Aunt Feng knew she was right. She mustered her strength, hurried forward, and finally reached the pig farm just before lunch break.
In the employees’ rest area, the workers were eating at stainless steel tables. The farm didn’t provide meals or housing, so every day the families of the dozens of employees brought lunch over.
When they entered, the male workers were chatting and laughing with their wives who had come to deliver meals. As soon as Xiyue stepped inside, she caught sight of Zhou Fuguang standing by a window, talking with Jiang Canran.
Jiang Canran was tall—yet even he was slightly shorter than Fuguang. The two handsome men stood facing each other, smoking, engrossed in conversation.
A beam of sunlight shone through the window onto Fuguang’s face, outlining the sharp bone structure of his brow and making his already striking features stand out even more. Xiyue took one look at his profile and felt her heart race, too shy to look again.
“Teacher Liang, what brings you here?”
Jiang Canran noticed them first. He stubbed out his cigarette and greeted them with a roguish grin, exposing a row of neat white teeth.
Fuguang looked over too.
Xiyue kept her head down as she approached. Aunt Feng placed the insulated food container on a stainless steel table and said with a smile to the two men, “Xiyue came to bring Baozhu some clothes. She was worried about me walking alone to deliver lunch in this weather, so she stayed to help me cook and escorted me over.”
“Here.” Aunt Feng opened the container. “This braised pork with vermicelli—Xiyue made it.”
“Wow,” Jiang Canran exclaimed exaggeratedly. “Teacher Liang’s cooking is impressive! Fuguang, you’re eating well today. My sister’s gone off somewhere and hasn’t brought my lunch yet. Can I steal a bit of your vermicelli later?”
A tall, shadowy figure approached. Xiyue raised her head—it was Zhou Fuguang walking over from the window.
The closer he came, the clearer his handsome features became.
Unlike the rough men in the countryside, Fuguang’s skin was pale. Wearing a black cotton jacket with the sleeves rolled up for work, he revealed firm, fair forearms and sharply defined wrists.
“Thank you,” he said.
He stopped in front of Xiyue and gave her a slight nod. Meeting his deep, ink–black eyes, she immediately lowered her head, too flustered to look at him.
“N–no, you’re welcome,” she stammered.
But Fuguang’s attention wasn’t on her. After the brief courtesy, he asked Aunt Feng:
“Aunt Feng, has Baozhu been behaving at home?”