Upon hearing this, Tao Guangzhi was absolutely stunned.
“You finished it?”
To think—Taotao’s winter homework hadn’t even been remembered until two days before school started last time!
Her homework had nearly driven Tao Guangzhi to exhaustion before.
Homework had always been a headache for him too. Back when Taotao first started first grade and had hardly any assignments, Tao Guangzhi thought it was a breeze. But right before winter break, the school suddenly got a new principal who eagerly wanted to introduce “quality education” in line with big cities like Hong Kong and Bincheng, complete with all sorts of creative assignments.
So for first grade winter break, not only did they get the standard workbook, but they also had to make handmade Spring Festival lanterns, handwritten posters, and vocabulary and pinyin flashcards…
The worst part? These crafts were going to be judged by the class.
First graders were so young—what could they possibly make? He didn’t know if these assignments were meant for him or for his child, but he had no choice—they had to get turned in somehow. So he cursed under his breath and helped her do them.
The father-daughter duo had stayed up two whole nights, in tears, fighting through it all.
By summer break, Tao Guangzhi had decided he wasn’t going to repeat that disaster. He’d been nagging Taotao to do her homework whenever he remembered, but her mind was already running wild—his words went in one ear and out the other. Half the summer had passed, and she hadn’t even written her name on the workbook!
And now, today of all days, she’d taken the initiative to do homework.
Tao Guangzhi almost wanted to step outside and check if the sun was rising from the west.
After flipping through Taotao’s character workbook, he was even more shocked! She had actually written every single character neatly and properly, unlike before, where her handwriting got messier and messier until it turned into some kind of hieroglyphics that he couldn’t even read by the end.
He finished reading in a daze, closed the notebook, then couldn’t help opening it again and staring with wide eyes—his daughter had actually thought to do her homework on her own!
Taotao looked at him, puzzled.
“My good girl—you’ve finally woken up. This is incredible.” Tao Guangzhi’s hands trembled slightly as he held the workbook, his voice choked with emotion.
You couldn’t blame him for getting so worked up—anyone who’s ever had to help their kid with homework knows the pain!
Taotao noticed Tao Guangzhi was actually about to cry. That’s way too dramatic! She quickly changed the subject. “Dad, I’m hungry.”
“Right, right, it’s past twelve. I’ll cook for you now. Your Aunt Yu and Xiao Luan probably aren’t coming home for lunch, so we’ll just throw together some instant noodles—just a quick meal.”
Taotao nodded excitedly. “Yes! I want Three Delicacies Instant Noodles!”
It seemed like no kid could resist instant noodles. Maybe it was the nostalgia of childhood memories, but Taotao always felt that instant noodles tasted so much better when she was little. After she grew up, even when she bought the same old brands, they never seemed to taste quite the same…
Whether it was Three Delicacies noodles, Braised Pork Ribs noodles, Lobster Seafood noodles, Scallion Braised Ribs noodles, Super Q noodles, Lucky Crab King noodles, and so many more—they’d all been her favorites at some point.
Seeing her so happy, Tao Guangzhi grinned and gave an OK sign, heading toward the kitchen as he talked. “No problem. But plain instant noodles aren’t nutritious—I’ll cook them for you. I’ll fry two sunny-side-up eggs, pan-fry some ham sausage, and blanch some greens, fish balls, and lean meat. We’ll keep lunch simple.”
Taotao: “…” This is “simple”? Can we be a little less generous with ourselves?
She followed him in and turned the dining room fan so it blew directly at Tao Guangzhi.
Cooking in the summer heat was brutal.
“Oh, right—did you say Teacher Luo wanted a dozen egg tarts? Let me get the water boiling first, and I’ll knead the dough while I’m at it.” Tao Guangzhi suddenly remembered, turning to ask Taotao.
Taotao leaned against the wall and hummed in affirmation.
“A dozen…” Tao Guangzhi mused, turning on the faucet to wash his hands and the pot, then opening the fridge to rummage around, muttering to himself. “Teacher Luo wants twelve… The oven fits about thirty or forty per tray, and it’s still early—we can sell more in the afternoon. Since the oven’s going to use that much gas anyway, it’s more cost-effective to bake a full tray of forty… Should be doable.”
Taotao immediately raised her hand. “I’ll help you.”
“No need—you worked hard on your homework. Go grab a popsicle and sit down to watch TV.” Tao Guangzhi waved his hand breezily. “It’s just boiling some noodles and baking a tray of tarts—I can handle it easily.”
Taotao didn’t leave, of course. Watching Tao Guangzhi measure out the flour and cut the butter, she immediately put on gloves and squeezed in. “Let me mix the dough—I love mixing dough for fun!”
“Alright, alright, but be careful—don’t fling it all over the outside of the bowl.” Since she said she liked it, Tao Guangzhi stepped aside and even pushed the bowl toward her.
Later, while Tao Guangzhi was boiling the noodles, Taotao neatly wrapped the dough in plastic wrap, stuck it in the freezer, and even helped mix the custard filling.
But she only made it as far as putting the tart shells in the freezer before Tao Guangzhi shooed her out to eat her super-deluxe instant noodles.
He filled her bowl to the brim—two sunny-side-up eggs perched on top, ham sausage sliced and arranged in a ring around them, glossy green vegetables piled in one corner, tender slices of lean meat coated in sweet potato starch floating in the broth, and three plump, white fish balls.
It smelled amazing!
Taotao was hungry too. She grabbed two pairs of chopsticks and called out for Tao Guangzhi to come eat first.
“You eat first—don’t worry about me.” He responded, but he was still in the kitchen scrubbing pots and wiping down the counter, busy for a long while without coming out.
After calling him a few times, she gave up and let him be. That was just how Tao Guangzhi was—whether he’d finished cooking or baking, he wouldn’t come out until the kitchen was clean.
Just then, Rao Lili brought over a bowl of braised ribs—rich, glossy, and so fragrant it made your head spin. Taotao quickly opened the freezer and packed up a bag of Snowman popsicles and Crush Ice bars for her to take back.
After that, the father and daughter enjoyed a pretty hearty lunch with the ribs.
Once they’d finished eating, they were drenched in sweat from the heat. Tao Guangzhi absolutely wouldn’t let her into the kitchen. With the oven on, the summer kitchen was like a furnace—the fan was useless, the air itself seemed to warp with heat, and waves of hot air rolled outward.
Taotao had no choice but to watch TV. She happened to catch Fang Tai’s Life Plaza from Hong Kong, which was teaching how to make pineapple buns.
She actually watched it quite intently.
Tao Guangzhi, after putting the egg tarts in the oven, came out carrying a stainless steel bowl and slurping down the last bits of overcooked instant noodles. When he saw Taotao actually enjoying a cooking show like that, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Girl, you’ve really been putting in the effort these past couple of days. I’m truly impressed.”
You bet! Taotao thought, but didn’t say it out loud. She just held her face in her hands and pretended to be absorbed in the show. This was a perfect opportunity—she could subtly get her dad used to her changes.
From now on, whenever she said she learned something from TV, he’d have no reason to doubt her.
“I never expected you to actually like baking…” Tao Guangzhi chuckled and shook his head, slurped the last of his noodles, and went back to the kitchen to keep an eye on the tarts, calling back over his shoulder: “Don’t watch too close—you’ll hurt your eyes!”
About twenty minutes later, another batch of freshly baked egg tarts came out of the oven. The house was instantly filled with heat and an incredible aroma.
This batch turned out even better—the crust flaked up around the edges of the tart molds like flower petals, perfectly puffed. The custard centers had risen and settled back down, and the tops were dotted with beautiful caramelized spots.
Tao Guangzhi, the recipe-follower, had clearly gotten better with practice.
Taotao sniffed the air greedily. Tao Guangzhi was pretty pleased with himself too, his lips curling into a smile. He was so motivated that he didn’t even take a nap—he opened the shop early.
The rich, hot aroma of egg tarts rolled out along with the summer heat, drifting through the narrow South Street alley, carried by the wind and lingering for a long time.
Outside, the harsh afternoon sunlight spilled across the ground, making the pavement scorching hot. The alley was quiet, with hardly anyone around. But around four o’clock, when people started heading out to buy groceries, business would pick up.
Tao Guangzhi put on his apron and gloves, set aside Teacher Luo’s order and kept it warm in the residual heat of the oven, and placed the rest in the most prominent glass display case by the door.
Finally, he carefully and neatly stuck Taotao’s hand-drawn sign at the entrance. After sticking it up, he didn’t move—just stood there, hands on his hips, admiring it with a blissful expression.
Ah, my girl is really something.
Just as he was feeling proud, a noisy commotion came from behind—Grandpa Zhang’s voice the loudest of all:
“See! See! You all didn’t believe me. Come on, come over—if you don’t believe me, just try one!”
·
At the dock, Yu Meizhen led Yu Luan off the boat and paid twenty cents to retrieve her parked bicycle from the old lady at the bike shed.
The sun was brutal.
There wasn’t a shred of shade on the dock, and the concrete was scorching underfoot. Yu Meizhen put a hat on Yu Luan, and the mother and son braved the hottest part of the afternoon—around two or three o’clock—riding south along the dock for half an hour before finally making it back to Shengli Street.
The sea receded beside them, its waves glittering blindingly in the sunlight. A few small fishing boats bobbed in the distance, swaying gently with the tide.
Yu Luan watched for a while, then looked away. He wrapped his arms around his mother’s waist, squinting against the hot wind blowing in his face.
By the time they turned into South Street alley, Yu Meizhen was drenched in sweat.
Usually at this hour, the alley was deserted, with only cicadas screeching in the trees. It was too hot—everyone preferred to stay indoors with fans and cold sweet soup. But today was different.
In front of the South Street bakery, a crowd had gathered at this hour.
The shopfront wasn’t very wide, and the people completely blocked the entrance. Confused, Yu Meizhen got off her bike, steadied Yu Luan who was still sitting on the back, and squeezed her way through with difficulty to see what was going on.
“There, there! Look for yourselves—even the presentation is different!”
“And smell that aroma! It’ll knock you off your feet!”
As Yu Meizhen and Yu Luan pushed through, they saw Grandpa Zhang standing right in the center in front of the counter, talking a mile a minute, arguing with a group of old neighbors as if debating a room full of scholars.
The circle of old folks, who’d woken from their naps and had nothing better to do, fanning themselves lazily with palm-leaf fans, had all been dragged over by him.
“You don’t have to believe Tao Guangzhi, but you should believe me. If I say it’s delicious, then it’s absolutely delicious!” Grandpa Zhang’s voice was loud and coarse as he leaned on the counter, going on and on.
But no one responded to him.
Aunt Ying, standing near the door in a floral short-sleeved shirt, even curled her lip.
Grandpa Zhang was famous for having more words than tea—not only was he talkative, but eight out of ten things he said were pure bragging nonsense. So when he started going on about how amazing Tao Guangzhi’s so-called Portuguese egg tarts were, none of the old neighbors could be bothered to believe him.
Tao Guangzhi’s shop had only been open for two or three years, and they were all frequent customers. Everyone knew his skills pretty well.
Of all the pastries he made, the mung bean pies were about the only decent ones.
But even those got old after a while—it seemed like he used sugar like it was free, adding way too much. They were cloyingly sweet.
Last year, a new bakery called Happy Western Pastry had opened on Dongshan Street, and they made excellent stuff—flaky crust, soft filling. Lots of neighbors would rather walk an extra ten minutes to go there instead.
Now Tao Guangzhi was suddenly making “Portuguese egg tarts”?
His South Street bakery had never sold egg tarts before. If he were buying them wholesale, that’d be one thing, but he was baking them himself—something he’d never done before. They’d probably be terrible!
These old folks were all idle retirees. Back at the mahjong parlor, they’d been teasing Grandpa Zhang, one after another, leaving him completely tongue-tied.
“Never seen the world—making a big deal over a puff pastry tart.”
“Made by Guangzhi? You’re old—your tongue must be numb and you can’t even taste anything anymore!”
Someone else laughed across the mahjong table. “Take it easy, old man—watch out for diabetes!”
In short, no one believed a word he said, and it made him red in the face with anger.
In the morning, Tao Guangzhi had only baked a small batch and hadn’t opened the shop. Everyone was busy making breakfast, and the alley was filled with a mix of cooking fumes—many people hadn’t noticed the aroma at all.
But this time was different.
The alley was quiet, and the freshly baked egg tarts gave off an incredibly rich fragrance that drifted on the wind, wafting half a street away and into every open door.
From far off, Grandpa Zhang—who’d been frantically arguing, spraying spittle everywhere—caught the scent immediately. He dragged the whole group over, determined to make them try one for themselves and prove that he hadn’t been blowing hot air.
These old folks had endured hardship for most of their lives—they’d all known poverty. But after more than a decade of reform and opening-up, their children were either working or running businesses, and life had eased up a bit. Though they were thrifty, they weren’t as stingy as Grandpa Zhang—the type who haggled over a scallion and waited for the market to close to buy discounted vegetables.
Every day, these elderly folks spent a little money on mahjong, chess, tea, and snacks.
A morning at a regular little teahouse, with one pot of tea and two dim sum dishes, could easily cost eight or ten yuan. And since many had grandchildren, they were frequent customers at bakeries and tea houses.
They’d already caught the scent of the egg tarts and were a little tempted. So when Grandpa Zhang dragged them over, they came along half-heartedly. Sure enough, quite a few of them were already showing interest.
When Grandpa Zhang had been showing off the egg tarts earlier, they’d already gone cold—just a faint smell of cooled oil and sweetness. Plus, he’d already bitten into one, leaving it jagged and messy, with crumbs all over his hands and mouth. It looked sloppy and unappetizing.
Who’d want to eat that?
But these ones in Tao Guangzhi’s display case—fresh out of the oven, neatly arranged, each one round and plump, golden and crispy—were an immediate feast for the eyes.
The crowd buzzed and examined them for a long time. Finally, someone couldn’t resist and asked tentatively, “Guangzhi, are these really three yuan each?”
With Grandpa Zhang standing right there, Tao Guangzhi couldn’t contradict himself. He repeated, in a more genial tone, what he’d said about the quality ingredients and high costs, then reluctantly offered, “Tell you what—we’ve been neighbors for years, I won’t make a profit off you. Same price as Grandpa Zhang—two-fifty each. Deal?”
Two-fifty wasn’t cheap either—that was the price of a mid-tier dim sum item at a teahouse, and those at least had shrimp and meat.
At the market stalls, bulk egg tarts went for eighty cents or a yuan apiece—much cheaper.
The old folks fanned themselves, hesitating.
“You should all thank me! If it weren’t for my bargaining, you’d never get a taste of Macau-style tarts for two-fifty!” Grandpa Zhang suddenly puffed out his chest and chimed in. “Dream on!”
Fair enough—it was a Macau-style recipe, worth trying for the novelty.
“Alright, alright.” Just then, someone pushed through from the back of the crowd. She was of medium build, wearing a floral short-sleeved shirt and black trousers, clean and neat, with short hair cut to her ears and stray strands pinned back with black clips. Even at her age, she looked sharp.
It was Granny Ying! After retiring with her husband, she’d opened a small convenience store. She was generous and warm, the most popular person among the kids on this street.
Taotao had been secretly peeking from inside, craning her neck to see how the egg tarts were selling, and recognized her immediately.
She also caught a glimpse of Yu Luan, who’d just squeezed in with Aunt Yu. With his short stature, he was getting sandwiched between adult backsides, looking dizzy and disoriented in the crowd.
She quickly waved at him. “Taro! Come over here, to your sister!”
Yu Luan, still upset from what had happened in Lipu, heard Taotao’s voice and spun around twice in panic before spotting where she was.
He ran over, threw himself into her arms, and refused to lift his head.
Taotao asked, “What’s wrong?”
“…Sister, hold me.”
“Oh, okay, I’ll hold you.” Taotao was still focused on the shop outside, hugging him absently while standing on tiptoe to see what was happening.
Granny Ying was buying egg tarts with a smile: “It’s not easy running a shop with a kid. Here, Granny Ying will support you—give me two.”
She used to be a model worker at the lumber mill, where she’d accidentally cut off a finger while operating machinery. But she had a pension and her little store—she never had to ask her children for money for basic needs. Of all the old folks in the alley, she was the most generous.
She pulled a folded handkerchief from her waistband, fished out a few yuan and change, counted out exactly five yuan, and handed it to Tao Guangzhi.
Tao Guangzhi quickly handed her the tarts, grinning. “Thanks, Granny Ying! I really appreciate your support.”
“If Granny Ying’s buying, I’ll take one too.”
“Guangzhi, I’ll take one as well.”
With someone taking the lead, the tarts started selling fast. One by one, the old neighbors tossed their change straight into the iron box on the counter, and Tao Guangzhi could barely keep up with the money.
Before long, he’d sold over a dozen.
Grandpa Zhang stood off to the side, looking even busier than Tao Guangzhi. He’d lean in to inspect every tart someone bought, stretching his neck out long, more excited than anyone, urging them on: “Eat it already! You’ll know once you try it! I wasn’t bragging!”
“Alright, alright, I really can’t stand you…” Granny Ying actually took a bite right at the shop entrance.
One bite in, her eyes went wide. Her dismissive attitude toward Grandpa Zhang vanished instantly. She took another bite, and her eyes grew even wider.
Grandpa Zhang was practically hopping with impatience. “Say something! Say something!”