An old, thin man stood at the door—around sixty years old, with a crew cut and buck teeth. He wore a wrinkled gray plaid short-sleeved shirt, its hem all tucked into a pair of oversized, cheap suit pants hitched up to his chest, and a pair of faux leather slippers on his feet. He looked both trendy and tacky at the same time.
Taotao’s eyes darted around as she greeted him cheerfully, “Grandpa Zhang!”
Grandpa Zhang gave a grunt in reply and walked right in as if he owned the place.
Left with no choice, Tao Guangzhi forced a smile and came out carrying two or three freshly baked Portuguese egg tarts on a plate. “Grandpa Zhang! You’re early. We haven’t really made much—this is something my daughter Grape learned from watching TV, some kind of Macau-style egg tart from some ‘O City’ or other. Take these home and give them a try.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you!” Grandpa Zhang took them without any pretense, looked down at them for a moment, then looked up at Taotao. “Your daughter Taotao made these? No way, right?”
“They’re really hers. I just realized this girl takes after me—she saw it on TV once and remembered how to make it.” Tao Guangzhi puffed out his chest with an expression that pretended not to care but was clearly waiting for praise.
But Grandpa Zhang shot back, “Being good at stuff like this doesn’t count for much. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but your Taotao really shouldn’t be wasting time on these side pursuits. She already doesn’t do well in school—you don’t want her stuck here making pastries her whole life, do you? Take my Xiaoming, for example—he went straight to Teacher Luo’s house first thing this morning to ask about homework. Now that’s what I call doing things right.”
On South Street, if you wanted to name the stingiest, loudest-mouthed, meanest-talking, and least-liked person in the whole alley, it was definitely Zhang Jiaming’s grandpa—no question about it.
Tao Guangzhi’s face instantly darkened, and he was so mad he almost wanted to snatch the egg tarts back.
Taotao blinked calmly. Grandpa Zhang was a jerk with his mouth, sure, but he wasn’t exactly a bad person at heart. Plus, he was bored enough to wander around all day visiting neighbors for tea and chess. If he took this box of Portuguese egg tarts home, within two hours, the whole Shengli Street would know her family’s bakery had a new product.
And then they’d sell like hotcakes.
Taotao had absolute confidence in the Portuguese egg tarts. They were a dessert that had stood the test of the national market for twenty or thirty years—just like toast, sandwiches, and coconut buns—a staple sold in every bakery. Almost every bakery carried them.
“Grandpa, I’m going to study later too. I’m just helping my dad out first.” Taotao glanced at Tao Guangzhi’s expression and quickly grabbed his hand. “I already talked it over with Lili yesterday.”
“Alright, alright, good girl. Make sure you focus on your homework and learn from our Xiaoming, you hear?” Grandpa Zhang chuckled, not taking the egg tarts seriously at all. He figured Tao Guangzhi was just bragging. Macau-style egg tarts? He probably hadn’t even been to Bincheng!
He waved his hand, said “Thanks” again, and swaggered out with the bag of tarts.
Only after he turned the corner of the alley did Tao Guangzhi grit his teeth and mutter under his breath, “That old geezer! Takes my stuff and still dares to badmouth my daughter—mind your own damn business! His precious Xiaoming doesn’t get first place on every test either. Stingy and foul-mouthed—no wonder nobody on this whole street respects him!”
He cursed quietly, clearly not wanting Taotao to hear, and stood there for a moment to calm down. But his good mood was already ruined. He turned back, looking deflated, and said to Taotao, “Aren’t you going to Lili’s to do homework? Take a few more of these—you like them. Eat them when you get tired of writing. I’ll pack some for your grandpa, grandma, and your uncle’s family later and bring them over for them to try.”
Taotao’s grandpa and grandma lived with her uncle, Tao Guangfa, who was a small supervisor at the Shengli Coal Yard east of town. Their place was near the railway tracks—a suite allocated by the state, about two streets away from Shengli Street. Not far at all.
The family still owed money to her uncle’s household…
Taotao thought about the debt again and grew quieter.
Tao Guangzhi turned to fold a cardboard box for the egg tarts, still reminding her, “I’ll head out soon. Remember to bring your keys.”
“Is it embarrassing for you,” Taotao suddenly asked, “that I’m bad at school?”
Her younger self had never considered whether Tao Guangzhi—a divorced father raising a kid on his own—had ever suffered under the weight of gossip and judgment from the neighbors in an era where there was no distance between households. Had her own thoughtlessness added to that burden?
Tao Guangzhi’s hands paused. He looked up, startled, and stared at Taotao for a second or two before snapping out of it. He waved his hand quickly. “Nonsense. That old man’s talking out of his ass. What does he know?”
He packed as he spoke. “You just go do your homework. Don’t overthink things. I’ve only got you—no one in this world could ever top your place in your dad’s heart. You hear me? Ah, you probably don’t get it now, but anyway… as long as you’re happy and healthy, that’s all I need to be happy.”
Taotao lowered her head, let out an “oh,” and turned her face away, her eyes feeling hot.
She tried hard to act as if nothing was wrong.
Tao Guangzhi had said it so casually, as if he had thought those very words a thousand times over in his heart. Had he said things like that to her when she was little? She couldn’t remember at all.
Maybe she had heard them as a child, but she was too clueless to grasp their meaning and forgot them the moment she turned around.
“Alright, alright, go on now!” He gave her shoulder a gentle push.
So Taotao picked up her bag of egg tarts and slung her backpack over her shoulder, heading upstairs to climb over the wall to Rao Lili’s house.
Meanwhile, Grandpa Zhang had also made it home with his egg tarts.
The Zhang family lived in the third house from the end of the alley—also a three-story self-built home. There was a loquat tree in front of their door, lush with leaves, and the cicadas were singing loudly from its branches.
Zhang Jiaming’s mother, Zhou Hui, was mopping the floor in the first-floor living room. She was surprised to see her father-in-law actually bring something back. “Dad, did you buy that?”
Her father-in-law was a legendary cheapskate—he went out mooching tea and snacks from neighbors, never bringing a single bite or sip home. How come today… had the sun risen from the west?
“Tao Guangzhi from the bakery at the end of the street gave it to me. He said his daughter learned to make egg tarts, and he was bragging about how they’re Macau-style or something. I said I didn’t want any, but he insisted on shoving them into my hands.”
Grandpa Zhang said this with absolutely no shame, setting the cardboard box on the dining table and plopping himself down onto the rattan chair next to it. “You want some? Where’s Guodong? At work?”
“He left for work ages ago—look at the time.” Zhou Hui’s mouth twitched when she heard they were freebies. Figures… She leaned her mop against the wall and came over to take a look.
She opened the box to reveal three golden, plump egg tarts, still warm. The rich, sweet aroma of milk and eggs immediately wafted out. She wiped her hands, picked one up, and couldn’t help but pause for a moment.
Puff pastry? She’d never seen egg tarts with this kind of flaky crust before.
Zhou Hui frowned. “Did Taotao really make these? Since when does that little troublemaker know how to bake?”
Grandpa Zhang waved his hand and took a sip of cold tea from his enamel mug. “Who knows? But dragons beget dragons, phoenixes beget phoenixes, and a rat’s son knows how to dig holes. A baker’s kid knowing how to bake isn’t that surprising.”
He mused for a moment, then casually grabbed an egg tart from the table and continued, “Maybe they’ve given up on her academics and decided to teach her baking instead. Eight years old is a good time to start, actually. Back in the old days, apprentices in big restaurants started learning at six… Hmm?”
As he spoke, he took a bite. But after just that one bite, his eyes went wide and he sat bolt upright. “Wow, wow, wow—this flavor… It’s delicious! The crust is so flaky, and the custard is fragrant and silky smooth. Oh man, this is really good.”
For all his faults, Grandpa Zhang was a true foodie with a refined palate. If he said it was good, it was definitely good. Zhou Hui couldn’t resist taking a bite herself—and promptly bit off half of it in one go.
The crust was so crisp it crumbled at the first bite, flaking down in showers. Zhou Hui quickly caught the crumbs with her hand, but soon she was tasting the warm custard center—sweet, silky, but not cloying. The aroma of milk blended with egg, with a hint of buttery richness that tied it all together. It was so good it left her momentarily stunned.
Even if someone told her Tao Guangzhi had made these, she wouldn’t have believed it! His baking was the kind you tried once and never went back for seconds.
Could they be bought wholesale from somewhere?
Zhou Hui grumbled inwardly, but her body was honest—she polished off the tart in three bites.
“…It is good.” She swallowed, the sweetness still lingering on her tongue, and felt a twinge of regret that it was gone. “It’s different from the egg tarts they serve at the teahouse.”
Grandpa Zhang had finished his too, smacking his lips in satisfaction. He wanted another one, but there was only one left. His son Guodong didn’t have a sweet tooth anyway, but he had to save one for his grandson. So he settled for picking the crumbs off his clothes and popping them into his mouth.
Zhou Hui noticed and was a little put off by her father-in-law’s stingy mannerism. She thought for a moment, then went into the inner room, pulled a ten-yuan note from her wallet, and handed it to Grandpa Zhang. “Dad, why don’t you take the trouble to go back to Tao Guangzhi’s and buy a few more? Xiaoming loves sweets, and he’s working hard on his homework. One won’t be enough when he gets back.”
She didn’t know that Taotao had already taken a whole bag over to Rao Lili’s house, and the kids had long since started eating. She thought to herself: I’m strict with Xiaoming about his studies, but I’ve never skimped on food—I always make sure he eats well!
If he wants to eat, they’d buy. She lifted her chin slightly, looking down with an air of superiority as she instructed Grandpa Zhang: “Dad, don’t worry about the money. Get plenty.”