Making the tart shells from scratch was a bit of a hassle, but Tao Tao was used to it. Even though she was small now—her hands tiny and her height lacking, forcing her to constantly drag a stool around—and her strength insufficient, leaving her arms sore from rolling out the dough, the kitchen was well-equipped, so she managed fairly smoothly.
While waiting for the dough to rest during the second and third rounds of chilling, she also prepared the egg custard.
Making the custard was simpler than making the shells. First, separate the egg yolks from the whites, add white sugar, and whisk with a manual egg beater until combined. No need to whip the custard until frothy—bubbles would make the surface uneven after baking. Then, add whipped cream, milk, and condensed milk one by one, stirring well after each addition. Otherwise, the custard would separate and wouldn’t taste as good.
Add custard powder and low-gluten flour to the mixed milk-egg liquid, continue stirring until smooth. Finally, strain through a coarse-mesh sieve twice. This would make the custard exceptionally smooth and improve the texture.
Let the custard sit on the counter for a while. By then, the tart shells would be ready to take out. Based on the size of each foil cup, fill each to about 80% full. Adding too much would definitely cause overflow during baking—and that would mean all that work for nothing.
Turn the household gas oven to medium heat and preheat it. Tao Tao even stuck her hand in to test the temperature. When it felt about right, she placed the baking tray with the ten egg tarts on the middle rack.
She carefully adjusted their positions a few times, making sure they were centered, terrified of uneven baking.
The oven door was made of brown-tinted thick glass, allowing her to see inside.
The blue flames were burning strongly.
After ten minutes of baking, the tart shells began to puff up in layers, the edges slowly rising. The rich aroma of egg, milk, and butter characteristic of Portuguese egg tarts started to fill the kitchen.
Tao Tao inhaled deeply, savoring it.
Not bad! That was the smell!
Rich, mellow, sweet without being cloying, with a hint of caramelized fragrance.
This was, after all, her first time showcasing her skills in this life. She stayed right in front of the oven, watching intently.
At the eighteen-minute mark, the custard looked set, and caramelized spots began to appear on the surface. Tao Tao had a nose like a dog—as soon as she sensed a change in the smell, she quickly opened the oven door for a closer look, then promptly turned the knob back one notch. Otherwise, the bottoms of the egg tarts would burn.
After a little over 20 minutes of baking, Tao Tao put on oven mitts and pulled out the baking tray. One look at the finished product, and she was satisfied.
The tart shells were golden brown, the layers beautifully puffed. Among the ten, two had foil cups that were folded a bit larger; those might not have baked quite enough, as the bottoms were slightly soft. Two or three of the smallest foil cups were slightly overdone—the custard had cracked, and the bottoms were a little burnt.
Temperature control on this old-fashioned oven was indeed tricky. Tao Tao had relied entirely on experience from her previous life to judge the temperature and baking time. It seemed she still wasn’t fully accustomed to this type of oven—she’d need more practice.
She picked out the imperfect ones, took the burnt one, and bit into it.
The taste was acceptable. She hadn’t been generous enough with the butter, so the milky flavor was weaker than what she used to make. The addition of lard and shortening made it slightly greasier, but it was still warm, so it didn’t feel heavy.
Overall, it turned out better than she had expected.
But… she set aside one that had the most caramelized spots and the best shape, and deliberately crushed all the others.
She placed the one she’d saved on a small plate, grabbed a little spoon, and happily carried it over to Yu Luan.
He was still kneeling on the floor, completely absorbed in fitting together the last few puzzle pieces.
Tao Tao leaned over for a look and was startled. He’d finished another puzzle so quickly? She’d been searching for ages earlier and hadn’t found a single matching piece. Regardless of everything else, he was truly impressive at this kind of task.
No wonder, in her previous life, not long after Auntie Yu took him to Hong Kong, Tao Tao had heard from Yu Luan’s aunt that he was going to participate in some international LEGO competition, and that he’d be the youngest contestant.
Back then, Tao Tao had no idea what LEGO was. She only knew that Gao Legao (a brand of chocolate malt drink) tasted pretty good.
“Taro, here, have a taste first.” Tao Tao crouched down and held the fragrant egg tart in front of him. “I made this for the first time. Try it and see how it tastes?”
Yu Luan was still doing his puzzle.
“Taro? Taro! Time to eat egg tarts!”
Tao Tao called him two or three times, getting louder each time. Only then did Yu Luan look up blankly, as if just hearing her.
When he raised his head, he saw Tao Tao looking at him with sparkling eyes. He slowly lowered his lashes, averted his gaze, and stared at the still-warm egg tart. He didn’t move for a long time.
Thinking he was afraid to try a new food, Tao Tao was about to encourage him when he slowly lifted his head again, cautiously shifted his gaze back, eyes fixed on the floor, and suddenly said something strange to her: “Sister, my mom is a human.”
“Huh?”
“Sister, Mom is my mom. Mom is a human.”
He pointed at himself.
“Mom gave birth to me. I’m also a human. I’m not food.”
He clenched his little fists, mustered his courage, and looked straight at her with round, bright eyes, completely serious:
“Sister, why do you call me Taro?”
Yu Luan, Yu Luan… pronounced in the local dialect, it sounded like “yu nai” (taro). Plus, he was a child born in Lipu Village. Even though their Lipu Village wasn’t the one famous for Lipu taro, still… Lipu taro!
What a coincidence.
Of course, this was the nickname she’d given Yu Luan in her previous life. She’d called him that for years… After coming back, she hadn’t even realized when she’d started saying it again.
Tao Tao scratched her head, then had a sudden flash of inspiration. “It’s totally normal to use food as a name. All kids have nicknames. My nickname is Grape. Now I’m giving you the nickname Taro. That way, we’re both food. Isn’t that perfect?”
Yu Luan was stunned. His mouth fell slightly open.
He even furrowed his little brow, deep in thought over whether or not he wanted to “be food” together with Tao Tao.
Her bluff had worked… Tao Tao had no idea what he was thinking, so she simply scooped up a tiny bit of egg custard with the small spoon, blew on it to cool it, and popped it into his mouth.
Yu Luan flinched. With the warm, smooth custard in his mouth, his eyes widened, completely at a loss.
“Swallow it. It’s egg tart.” That was just Tao Tao’s personality—she couldn’t always be overly cautious with Yu Luan. She reached out and gently pressed his mouth shut. “Eat it! It’s good!”
Yu Luan jerked back in fright. His throat bobbed nervously.
Ah. He swallowed it.
Yu Luan’s entire body went stiff.
Oh no, oh no, oh no… His body was panicking, but the sweet, milky, eggy fragrance still lingered in his mouth… This left him frozen in a panic for a good while, then he unconsciously licked his lips.
It was like feeding a stray cat… Tao Tao shook her head helplessly, then quickly stuffed another spoonful into his mouth. “Well? Is it good? Here, eat it yourself!”
She held the plate out to him. Yu Luan didn’t take it. He swallowed, opened his mouth as if to speak, but seemed to trip over his tongue. His mouth opened and closed, struggling for a long moment, before he suddenly blurted out, a little aggrieved:
“Sister.”
“Hmm?”
“Can we not be humans anymore?”
“…” His brain was still processing the previous question?
Tao Tao, who had worked so hard for so long without receiving a single compliment, kept a deadpan expression. “No!”
Yu Luan looked even more upset. The corners of his mouth turned down, and he pouted as he lowered his head.
His eyelashes were long and thick, not curly but straight and long, fanning downward. Right now, he seemed to be trying hard not to be sad, his lashes trembling for a long time. Tao Tao actually started to feel a little guilty. She’d forgotten—Yu Luan couldn’t take a joke.
Feeling remorseful, she was about to comfort him gently.
But then Yu Luan unexpectedly reached out on his own and took hold of Tao Tao’s wrist, saying softly:
“Okay, Sister…”
Even though it was sad that he couldn’t be human.
But since only his sister wasn’t human, wasn’t she the pitiful one?
Tao Tao thought that topic was over. She went to the kitchen, grabbed an egg tart for herself, then directly stuffed the one from earlier into his hand, pretending to glare fiercely as she threatened him: “Eat up. This is the first time I’ve made something for you. I want you to finish every last bite!”
Yu Luan shrank back at her glare, then held the little plate in both hands and examined it from all angles.
Round. Golden yellow. It smelled fragrant—not stinky, not spicy, not sour… Edible.
Sister said to finish every last bite.
Well, okay then.
Yu Luan sat back down on his little plastic stool, pinched the small spoon, and dug out a piece from the edge. He meticulously scooped clockwise along the tart shell’s rim, ate all the custard filling, and then lowered his head to obediently nibble on the shell in small bites. Naturally, he ate that clockwise too, nibbling a ring of scalloped edges.
Though his eating method was peculiar, Tao Tao smiled in relief.
It seemed egg tarts were on his safe foods list.
After eating, Tao Tao took Yu Luan to wash his hands.
“Look, this is how you wash your hands. First, rub your palms with soap, then the backs of your hands, then between your fingers.”
A seven-year-old’s self-care skills weren’t great to begin with, let alone Yu Luan’s.
Tao Tao taught him extra carefully.
After rinsing, you had to feel if your hands were still slippery. If your skin felt dry and you couldn’t work up a lather, that meant they were clean.
Yu Luan obediently mimicked Tao Tao—rubbing palm over back, back over palm. He washed his hands several times with interest, and each time, he would hold up his dripping-wet hands for Tao Tao to inspect.
With that earnest little face clearly hoping for praise, Tao Tao couldn’t help but laugh. She took a towel, dried his hands for him, and casually praised, “Our Taro is so good!”
Yu Luan felt shy at Tao Tao’s exaggerated compliment. The corners of his mouth twitched upward, but he tried to hold it in, pursing his lips and lowering his head.
He instinctively looked away, paused, then made an effort to turn his gaze back.
He looked at Tao Tao again and suddenly said, “Sister.”
Tao Tao: “Hmm?”
“I’ll stay with you.”
“?”
Yu Luan took her hand, as if he had just made some monumental decision. His expression was tragic, his eyes brimming with tears.
“Sister isn’t being human, so I won’t be human either.”
“From now on, neither of us is human.”
“…”
Tao Tao closed her eyes in despair and raised a hand to slap her own mouth.
Serves her right for running her mouth!
Tao Guangzhi and Yu Meizhen were packed into the crowd at the People’s Square open-air dance floor, swaying wildly to the driving beat of disco blasting from the square’s speakers. A large colorful light—just a simple string of bulbs tied to a tree—spun in circles, showering down red, green, and golden spots of light like rain, dazzling everyone’s eyes.
They bobbed their heads and shook their necks, having a blast competing in a dance-off with others. It wasn’t until nearly nine o’clock that they suddenly remembered there were two kids at home who didn’t exactly get along. They quickly packed up and hurried back.
Both of them were only in their early thirties. Having married and had children young had robbed them of many hobbies. If it weren’t for the kids, they probably could’ve danced all night long.
The streetlights on Shengli Road cast a dim yellow glow. The mango trees on either side rustled in the night breeze. Tao Guangzhi’s face was slick with sweat as he pedaled hard uphill. Dangling from the front crossbar were Yu Meizhen’s little red purse and a bag of popsicles they’d bought earlier at the corner shop.
On the back seat sat Yu Meizhen, her long hair flowing in the wind.
Both were drenched in hot sweat, the baby hairs on their foreheads still damp, but their hearts were overflowing with joy. Yu Meizhen wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed her face against his sweaty back, and squinted happily as the wind blew.
She hadn’t had days like this in years.
The bike turned into the alley, the front wheel rolling over a loose cement tile. Yu Meizhen jolted up from her seat with a clatter and laughed, smacking his back. “Slow down!”
Tao Guangzhi chuckled, deliberately pedaling even harder. Going downhill, he even let go of the handlebars, making Yu Meizhen cling tightly to his waist and shriek as the bike wobbled.
Tao Guangzhi yelled and laughed too.
“Tonight was so much fun.” After the downhill stretch, Tao Guangzhi finally settled down and rode properly, adding with feeling, “Wifey, did you notice? No one paged us!”
If this had been not long ago, they wouldn’t have been dancing for even half an hour before some neighbor would’ve called the small shop near the square to page them, summoning them back.
But today—complete silence. That meant the two kids were getting along well. So not only had Tao Guangzhi and Yu Meizhen enjoyed themselves for the first time, but they also felt relieved at Tao Tao’s sudden softening attitude.
When they got home, Tao Guangzhi parked the bike. Yu Meizhen hopped off first to smooth her skirt and hair. He grabbed Yu Meizhen’s purse and the popsicles and went to unlock the door.
“Don’t come in yet—you’re in heels, I don’t want you to trip. Let me turn on the light first… Hmm? What’s that smell?” The moment the rolling shutter door opened, Tao Guangzhi turned back to warn Yu Meizhen but stopped as a whiff of fragrance drifted out.
He paused, then couldn’t help but take a deep breath.
A rich aroma of baked egg and milk.
Tao Guangzhi recognized it immediately. “Huh? Who made egg tarts this late?”
And the smell… it seemed quite different from the usual.
Yu Meizhen had just finished fixing her hair and skirt and was walking to the door when she heard his words and added, “There are only two kids at home. Who else could it be?”
But soon she smelled it too and said in surprise, “Did the kids go out and buy something good? Where from? It smells so good!”
“Not bought,” Tao Guangzhi said, frowning.
His skills were only average, but he was still a pastry chef. After so many years in the business, he could tell—the oven at home had definitely been used. The whole house was filled with this warm, freshly baked aroma. This wasn’t the smell of something bought from a store. Store-bought items didn’t have that hot, fresh-baked fragrance.
“Then surely the kids didn’t bake it themselves?” Yu Meizhen found it hard to believe.
Tao Tao was only eight. Sure, occasionally when Tao Guangzhi was making pastries, he’d let the kids help hand him things, pour water, knead a little dough to make small buns, and so on. But she’d never really seen her independently make anything like this.
And Yu Luan—forget it. That child was a real worry. He learned everything slower than other kids his age. It was only this year that he’d gotten somewhat more capable, learning to dress himself, put on socks and shoes.
Using the oven? He probably didn’t even know what an oven looked like. How could he possibly bake?
Tao Guangzhi and Yu Meizhen exchanged a look, utterly baffled. He pulled the light cord and couldn’t help but hurry inside.