Wen Shiqing followed him into the courtyard. This was a private inn run by an elderly couple, with guest rooms on both sides of the small yard. Though the simple adobe houses were humble in environment, the couple kept everything meticulously clean and tidy. A makeshift shower stall stood in the corner of the courtyard for lodging guests.
The Old Madam, dressed neatly and efficiently, led them to one of the rooms and opened the door with a smile. “This is the last room left. You’re quite lucky—anyone coming after you truly won’t find a room.”
Inside, the bed was a traditional heated kang, covered with a large cooling mat and a folded thin quilt. Beside the kang stood an old wooden table with two worn stools.
“We use mountain spring water for drinking and bathing, so you can rest assured. We raise free-range chickens ourselves, and there are fish and shrimp ponds behind the house. Just let us know what you’d like to eat—we can prepare home-style dishes.”
“Thank you. Please go ahead with your work; we’ll rest for a bit.”
“Alright.” The Old Madam lit an oil lamp for them and closed the door behind her as she left.
Wen Shiqing sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed. “Brother, have you stayed here before?”
No wonder Sister Chen had said that long-haul truckers had it tough, eating and sleeping poorly on the road. In conditions like these, how could anyone sleep well? There might be rats or cockroaches scurrying about in the middle of the night.
“No.” Xie Yucheng usually drove fixed routes before, staying at factory-designated guesthouses along the way where he could present relevant vouchers. The accommodation conditions were decent, thanks to the good benefits of state-owned factories.
Now that he was working independently, it was different. Most independent drivers slept in their trucks or at large communal inns to save money, sharing a single large bed with over a dozen men.
He had heard from a colleague that this inn was privately run by a kind elderly couple and wasn’t too expensive. That’s why he had rushed to get here before dark.
He could make do sleeping in the truck, but with Wen Shiqing along, he had to find proper lodging for her whenever possible, avoiding the truck if he could.
Wen Shiqing eyed the kang that took up half the room. It was more than enough space for her and her brother to sleep.
The central row of rooms in the inn served as the old couple’s living quarters, dining area, and kitchen.
Without electricity, candles and oil lamps lit up the place, casting a bright glow.
Several truck drivers lodging there were eating their meals—some alone, others with their spouses.
When Wen Shiqing and Xie Yucheng entered, others assumed they were a young married couple.
They found an empty table and sat down. Xie Yucheng waved to the owner. “Do you have shrimp?”
“Yes.”
“One portion of oil-braised shrimp with extra sugar, one stir-fried greens, tomato egg soup, and two bowls of rice.”
The Old Madam asked, “Any dietary restrictions?”
“Less salt in all the dishes.”
The Old Madam acknowledged and went to inform the kitchen.
Wen Shiqing asked, “Brother, don’t you like fish?”
He rinsed her bowl and chopsticks with hot tea. “Not in the mood for it today.”
Wen Shiqing lowered her gaze, her long eyelashes casting shadows in the dim light. She quietly felt that the dishes seemed entirely chosen according to her preferences.
She loved shrimp and, like Yang Ying, preferred sweeter dishes, especially meat dishes with extra sugar.
She had a light palate and often found restaurant dishes here slightly too salty for her taste.
Moreover, she didn’t like eating fish. Having been pricked by fish bones several times as a child, she’d learned her lesson and never dared touch fish again.
Picking out bones was too troublesome. She wasn’t good at it—every time she tried to remove the bones, she’d end up spitting out the fish flesh along with them, leaving little meat to actually eat. So she simply gave up on fish altogether.
These small details were usually only known to her mother, Yang Ying.
Soon, two dishes and a soup were served on the table, each portion generous—crisp green vegetables, fragrant oil-braised shrimp, and tomato egg soup sprinkled with chopped scallions.
The aroma wafted through the air, and Wen Shiqing’s stomach growled in response, making her awkwardly rub her nose.
The man’s thin lips parted: “Eat.”
The rice grains were distinct and steaming, topped with a layer of golden, crispy crust.
Wen Shiqing buried her head in eating, finishing half the rice first before soaking the remainder in the tomato egg soup.
“Aren’t you going to eat the shrimp?” Xie Yucheng asked, noticing she’d taken only two pieces before setting down her chopsticks.
Wen Shiqing shook her head, her beautiful eyes resembling mountain streams—clear and pure with a touch of lazy charm.
“I don’t want to peel them,” she said.
The man across from her froze, then furrowed his handsome brows and grumbled: “So fussy.”
Wen Shiqing glanced at his gloomy expression, pursed her lips, and lowered her head to pick up some vegetables.
In the courtyard, Xie Yucheng washed his hands. Moments later, he resignedly returned to the table, peeled a shrimp, and placed it by her bowl.
Before long, the entire plate of shrimp was neatly peeled—some found their way into the girl’s mouth, while others were arranged tidily on the plate’s edge.
The plump, translucent shrimp meat dipped in sauce tasted savory with a hint of sweetness, rich with umami flavor.
His slender, well-defined fingers glistened with oil and bore a small piece of shrimp shell. Under the room’s lighting, his sharp facial features appeared softened and strikingly handsome.
At the neighboring table sat a married couple. The woman had been watching Xie Yucheng throughout—rinsing chopsticks for Wen Shiqing, pouring water, peeling shrimp, attending to her as if she were royalty. She shot an annoyed glance at her own husband and said, “Look at him, spoiling his wife like she’s heaven-sent. When will I ever get that kind of treatment?”
The woman happened to be sitting behind Wen Shiqing. Just as she spoke, Wen Shiqing was holding her bowl and scooping up rice. Upon hearing this, her ears burned hot and her neck flushed crimson.
Uncertain whether Xie Yucheng had heard, she quickly stole a glance at his expression, only to find him completely composed—probably unaware.
The man at the other table looked over at them and told his wife, “We didn’t order shrimp. See, if we order some, I’ll peel them for you too?”
“Go on, it’s not about the shrimp!” the woman retorted dismissively.
The couple began bickering back and forth.
Wen Shiqing couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the dimples on her cheeks deepening, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
“What are you laughing at?” a cool voice cut through.
She coughed, her eyes curving into smiles. “No, nothing.”
Xie Yucheng tilted his chin, signaling her to eat the shrimp. Wen Shiqing picked up several pieces and stuffed them into her mouth all at once, hearing him murmur quietly: “Just this once. Don’t expect it again.”
Don’t expect him to peel shrimp for her anymore.
By the time they finished dinner, the sky had darkened completely.
Wen Shiqing and Xie Yucheng returned to the room together. She asked somewhat awkwardly, “Brother, should you shower first or should I?”
After asking, she felt the question carried an inexplicable hint of intimacy and added, “Maybe you should go first.”
The dim yellow kerosene lamp cast flickering shadows in the modest room where one sat and the other stood.
Xie Yucheng walked to the bedside in a few steps, took out a set of clean clothes from his bag, and said, “Alright, I’ll go take a shower first.”