Meng Luodi saw that the person entering was Meng Jingnian and immediately grabbed her phone to text her young boyfriend to retreat, but it was already too late.
With a "ding," the elevator doors slid open, and Lin Qin, standing at the entrance, heard the sound and looked out.
A young boy in a school uniform with a backpack came out of the elevator, holding a huge shopping bag with both hands, struggling step by step.
It was a bit comical.
The backpack strap slipped off his shoulder, so he set the shopping bag on the ground and reached up to adjust it, then casually looked up.
He met two pairs of curious, appraising eyes.
His expression froze.
But he was quick-witted and immediately said, "I'm the class monitor of Melody's class, here on behalf of the classmates to check on Melody."
Lin Qin couldn't help but smile. "Come on in."
The boy had met Lin Qin before, so he greeted her directly: "Sister."
Meng Jingnian had been halfway through changing his shoes, but he put them back on, stepped out the door, and helped the kid lift his heavy shopping bag.
The boy's fair face flushed slightly red. "…Thank you."
"What did you buy that's so heavy?" Meng Jingnian asked in a gentle voice.
"Snacks for Melody."
"She has gastroenteritis, so she probably can't eat them for now."
"Yeah… she can eat them once she's better. They're all her favorite snacks."
The boy's name was Ye Jiali, and he truly lived up to his name—polite and well-mannered.
He clearly wasn't used to being around Meng Luodi under the watchful eyes of adults. After entering the house, he sat stiffly on the sofa, not knowing where to put his hands.
Meng Jingnian exchanged a few pleasantries with him, then said, "Melody, entertain your classmate. I'll go make dinner."
As he stood up, he asked Ye Jiali, "Any dishes you like?"
Ye Jiali said, "Thank you, Uncle. I like everything. I'm not picky."
Meng Jingnian casually patted Meng Luodi's head. "Hear that, picky eater?"
Meng Luodi stuck out her tongue.
This apartment had been bought in the seventh year of Lin Zhengjun and Meng Yingnian's marriage. Considering their future living needs, they'd directly purchased a four-bedroom unit. Even under a tight budget, Meng Yingnian had insisted on getting one with a larger kitchen because Lin Zhengjun loved to cook.
The kitchen was equipped for both Chinese and Western cooking, with every appliance imaginable. The sink faced a window that overlooked the community courtyard—by this season, the view was already lush and green.
Meng Jingnian put the rinsed rice into the rice cooker to make congee and began preparing the ingredients.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Lin Qin walking over.
"Need anything?" Meng Jingnian asked.
"I feel a bit like a third wheel in the living room. Mind if I hang out here for a bit?" Lin Qin rolled up her sleeves. "I'll help."
She was wearing a white top with an irregular cut, adorned with intricate roses twisted from the same-colored fabric. Given the color and design, it would probably be a nightmare to clean if it got dirty.
"No need to help," Meng Jingnian said. "Just stand here and keep me company."
"Okay."
Lin Qin walked over and stood to his left.
There was a piece of fresh lean meat on the cutting board. He held a knife in one hand and sliced it into even pieces with practiced, fluid movements. The knuckles of his fingers gripping the knife were sharp and defined, making even the act of cutting vegetables a pleasure to watch.
"Making stir-fried pork?"
"Bitter melon stuffed with meat."
Lin Qin froze.
Back when she was a freshman in high school, she'd caught the flu and run a fever. Her uncle and aunt had an important dinner they couldn't skip, so they'd asked Meng Jingnian to come look after her for a while.
Her fever had just broken, and she was listless with no appetite. When Meng Jingnian asked what she wanted for dinner, she blurted out, "Bitter melon stuffed with meat." It was a dish her mother used to make—her absolute favorite.
Meng Yingnian and Meng Jingnian had done housework since childhood and could cook fine, but only simple home-style dishes like shredded pork with peppers or scrambled eggs with tomatoes. Bitter melon stuffed with meat was somewhat beyond their repertoire.
At the time, she'd realized that too and quickly said, "Anything's fine, just stir-fry a vegetable."
But Meng Jingnian said he'd give it a try.
There was a vegetable stall nearby. He went down, bought bitter melon and lean meat, pulled up a tutorial video on his phone, and learned on the spot.
It was his first attempt, and he had no experience seasoning the minced meat, so it came out a bit bland. Other than that, everything was perfect. The presentation especially—nine neatly arranged pieces of bitter melon on a plate, with a clean, fresh color.
She'd taken a photo of that dish that day, and the picture was still saved in her cloud drive.
That day, she'd also stood in the kitchen like this, watching closely to see whether his first attempt would succeed or fail. When he was marinating the minced meat, he'd asked her to hold up his phone and play the video so he could watch it again, checking whether there was anything else to add besides cornstarch, light soy sauce, dark soy sauce, and oyster sauce.
She'd held the phone up with both hands, facing him, and he'd leaned in slightly to look.
That moment had passed in a flash, and he'd smelled faintly of soap.
Back then, she'd still thought of him purely as an elder, so it hadn't felt like anything. But at this moment, that memory surged up in her heart like a long-brewing storm, reckless and unstoppable.
Not everyone was qualified to receive Meng Jingnian's gentle treatment. She had always known this, which was why she treasured the friendship between them so deeply.
But at this moment, she inexplicably felt a hint of resentment toward him.
Meng Jingnian turned to glance at her. Lin Qin stood silently by the sink, looking somewhat dazed.
"What's wrong?" he asked with a smile.
Lin Qin snapped back to attention and said, "…Didi can't eat this."
"The two of us will eat it. Let her watch."
People are sometimes inexplicably drawn to a negative impulse, like standing on a rooftop and looking down, with a voice in your head urging you to jump.
When spending time with Meng Jingnian, Lin Qin occasionally felt an extreme urge to destroy the seemingly harmonious relationship between them.
The two of us.
At this moment, she particularly wanted to ask: Meng Jingnian, do you know what I'm thinking when you say those four words? I bet you wouldn't dare to know.
The cut meat was placed into the meat grinder, minced, and put into a bowl for later use. She rinsed the cutting board and knife designated for raw food, set them aside, and proceeded to handle the other ingredients.
Meng Jingnian opened the refrigerator and looked inside. There were quite a few leftover roasted wings from lunch; reheating them would make another meat dish.
There were apples in the fresh drawer below. He took out two, washed them, and handed one to Lin Qin: "Yiyi, could you deliver this to Melody's classmate?"
Lin Qin walked out with the apple. The two children had already huddled together to look at a comic book.
Ye Jiali took the apple and said, "Thank you, sister." Meng Luodi stared longingly at the apple in his hand.
Lin Qin instructed, "It just came out of the fridge, so don't give it to her. She can only have congee right now."
Ye Jiali nodded solemnly, his expression more resolute than a party oath.
Lin Qin returned to the kitchen and saw Meng Jingnian peeling an apple. A long strip of apple peel hung down into the sink, not once breaking.
She stared at his hands, momentarily lost in thought.
Once the apple was peeled, Meng Jingnian handed it to her.
"…Thank you."
Meng Jingnian turned on the tap to wash his hands and began rinsing the vegetables.
Lin Qin took a bite of the apple, producing a crisp crunch.
"Crisp?" Meng Jingnian asked.
"Yeah."
"You like the mealy kind, right? If you don't want this one, just leave it."
"…You know I like the mealy kind?"
"You're the only one in the family who does." Meng Jingnian said with a laugh. "Didn't your brother-in-law say you're the special one."
Lin Qin gave a small smile.
She took another bite, her expression somewhat forced.
Meng Jingnian glanced at her. "Just leave it."
"…Throwing it away would be a waste."
"No need to throw it away. I'll…" Meng Jingnian paused mid-sentence, unconsciously glancing at Lin Qin.
The apple in her hand had a crescent-shaped bite taken out of it.
He remembered once when Meng Luodi was eating a pear, she took a bite, said it wasn't sweet, and refused to eat it anymore. She leaned against his shoulder, turned the pear around, and brought it to his lips, coaxing, "Little uncle, help me eat it." He bit into it without a second thought.
The same situation now, the words were on the tip of his tongue, but he realized it wouldn't be appropriate.
"I'll cut up the rest and make candied apples." Meng Jingnian said calmly.
Lin Qin immediately stopped eating. She suddenly moved close to him, reached out, and from in front of him, picked up the fruit knife on the cutting board to his right.
In an instant, a fragrance enveloped him, then swiftly receded.
The scent was like a fresh grapefruit.
Lin Qin cut off the part she had bitten, rinsed the rest under water, and placed it on a plate, asking, "Will it oxidize?"
"It's fine. I'll handle it in a bit."
Lin Qin returned to her idle state. She rummaged through the fridge, found two leftover tomatoes, took one, and went back to the sink.
Meng Jingnian was washing bitter melon. When he saw her hand reach over, he pulled his arms back slightly.
She focused on washing the tomato. The bright red flesh made her fingers under the running water look slender and fair, with an unusual fragility.
The grapefruit fragrance drifted over again.
Meng Jingnian subtly averted his gaze.
After washing the tomato, Lin Qin shook off the water, bit into it with the skin on, and stepped aside.
"…Little uncle."
"Hmm?"
"What have you been busy with lately?"
"Staying in the lab, working for Dean Jiang." Meng Jingnian continued washing the vegetables without distraction. "…When is your provincial competition?"
"It seems to be three days before your formal defense."
"How's the revision going?"
"My part is fine. The guy from the computer science department in our group had to revise more, because we redefined the product positioning." Lin Qin took a bite of the tomato. "Your doing."
Meng Jingnian let out a laugh.
He scooped up the washed bitter melon, cut it into sections, and removed the pulp. As he worked, he said, "I'm surprised you're interested in this competition. From what my sister said, you didn't even join any clubs in college."
"Yeah…" Lin Qin said vaguely, "Because I heard it could help with graduate school recommendation."
"Your grades are more than enough for that."
Lin Qin took another bite of the tomato. Juice got on her hands, and she immediately said, "…I'll go grab a napkin."
With that, she walked out of the kitchen and hurried back to the living room.
Meng Jingnian followed her gaze for a moment, then glanced at the roll of kitchen paper towels sitting within arm's reach on the counter beside him.
After a while, Lin Qin returned to the kitchen, carrying a Bluetooth speaker, and set it down on the island counter.
"Some music to keep you company."
Meng Jingnian smiled and said, "No need, go enjoy yourself outside. I'll be done soon."
Lin Qin left, leaving the Bluetooth speaker to dutifully play its music.
It was a rather quiet song, and the atmosphere suddenly felt a bit lonely.
He worked on the ingredients, not paying much attention to the lyrics, until the song finished playing, paused for a moment, and the same melody started up again.
Just let me fall
In your arms like I'm a leaf
This rain is cold
Upon your own warmth
I wish I could say
Everything that's on my mind
But some words
Are hard to speak
(*Note)
(Just let me / fall into your arms like a leaf / the rain is cold / but with you / I feel warm / I wish I could say everything on my mind / but some words are hard to say)
Someone had forgotten to turn off the single-loop repeat.
Was this a song she listened to many times in her daily life?
The more he listened, the more bitter and melancholy it felt.
Someone like Chi Yi seemed hardly worthy of such delicate sensibilities.