SG 10

The windows in the room were all open, and the cool air from the recently turned-off air conditioner still lingered. The mung bean soup was just the right temperature to drink, so he must have washed the beans before bed and set the rice cooker timer to make it overnight.

Chu Baiyan took a sip. The texture was grainy and a little sweet. He stirred the porcelain spoon in his hand. It matched the bowl, obviously made by Yan Anqing himself. His own bowl was “Everything Persimmon,” while the one across from him was “No Berry Troubles.” But he hadn’t seen spoons like these in the shop. They were personal use. The white spoon decorated with bright red persimmons was dipped in the green soup, and Chu Baiyan thought that eating with this kind of tableware really did make the day start in a good mood.

“Where did you live before you opened the shop?” He rephrased the question.

“At Grandma’s.” Yan Anqing chewed quickly and swallowed the bun before answering. His grandma always said it was rude to speak while eating, because food might spray out. He had learned from a young age to wait until his mouth was empty before talking.

Thinking about that reply, Chu Baiyan guessed maybe Yan Anqing’s parents lived together with his grandparents, so that home was also his own.

“After I opened the shop, I stopped living with Grandma. I have to learn to live by myself.”

At first, his grandparents were worried and would often come to check on him. They brought him dumplings and buns they made, pancakes they fried, or big pots of braised ribs and roasted chicken. But later, when his grandfather’s illness worsened and he couldn’t go out, their visits became rare. But Aunt Zhou still came twice a week.

Chu Baiyan didn’t want to pry, so he changed the subject. “You cook lunch yourself too?”

Yan Anqing finished one bun and drank a spoon of soup. “Yes. I cook myself. I order delivery once or twice a week. Too many people outside. I don’t like it.”

For him, eating in crowded places was painful, especially when someone brushed against him by accident. As a child, when Grandma tried to take him out for breakfast, he was always in a state of panic. If anyone touched him while he waited for food or ate, it felt like a nightmare. Every time they ate out, he would eat only a few bites and ask to go home. He never finished a meal.

As he grew older, the problem got better, but eating among crowds was still something he avoided. At school, he always skipped the rush hours and sat in a corner when there were fewer people. Now that he didn’t have to attend school, he naturally chose what made him comfortable.

When he entered college, Grandma taught him to cook simple meals. Cooking for one person was easy. He reheated breakfast in the steamer or on an electric griddle. Eggs went in the egg cooker and needed no attention. If he wanted porridge or mung bean soup or snow fungus soup, he put the ingredients in the rice cooker before bed and set the timer. It would be ready when he woke up.

He always made extra soup or porridge. If he didn’t finish it in the morning, he kept it in the fridge and drank it at noon or in the evening. If he cooked, he made enough at lunch to last for dinner. When he didn’t want to cook, he ordered delivery.

Chu Baiyan was a little surprised. He could cook too, but only at night or on days off. He couldn’t imagine running a shop and still cooking three meals a day.

The steamer beeped. Yan Anqing stood and carried the empty plate to the kitchen. Chu Baiyan felt awkward just sitting there, so he set down his chopsticks and followed to see if he could help.

The kitchen was barely two square meters, but everything was tidy. These days together, Chu Baiyan had noticed that Yan Anqing had a strong sense of order. From the shop to the workspace and now to his room, every item had a fixed position and sequence.

“It’s hot.” Steam rose and touched his hand. Yan Anqing dropped the lid and grabbed his earlobe.

“Did it burn?” Chu Baiyan stepped forward. “I’ll take the buns. Put your hand under cold water.”

Yan Anqing pinched his ear and watched as Chu Baiyan used chopsticks to lift two plump white buns onto the plate. The warmth of his fingers still lingered on his ear, and he released it. “It’s fine.”

The buns on the table still steamed. Yan Anqing picked up an egg from the porcelain bowl and tapped it against the table before carefully peeling the shell.

Chu Baiyan looked away from the movement of his hands. It seemed the burn wasn’t bad. But when he caught sight of the redness on his ear, his fingers tightened unconsciously around the spoon.

“Egg.” Yan Anqing peeled it, left a bit of shell at the bottom, and held it out to him.

“Why leave some shell?” Chu Baiyan reached to take it, and their fingers brushed, then separated quickly.

“Clean.” Yan Anqing pulled his hand back. His grandma taught him that. Holding the last piece of shell made it easy to press and eat the whole egg at once.

Chu Baiyan laughed and took a bite. For someone who looked so young, Yan Anqing had many small rules.

When they finished the simple meal, Yan Anqing stood to clear the table.

“I’ll wash them. You burned your hand.” Chu Baiyan stacked the dishes and carried them into the kitchen. With only a few bowls, he finished quickly. It didn’t feel right to eat a free meal and let the injured host wash up.

Downstairs in the workspace, Yan Anqing took the apron from the chair and slipped it on. He wasn’t good at tying bows, especially behind his back where he couldn’t see. Usually, he fumbled with it until it held, but since breakfast had delayed him, he was in a hurry and struggled more.

Chu Baiyan pulled the tangled strings from his hands and tied the knot behind his waist. When the strings tightened and the ends fell against his fingers, something seemed to scratch at his chest.

Yan Anqing took out the plate and figure he had made yesterday and placed them on the worktable.

“The clay dried on the surface overnight. I finished sculpting the figure. I’ll color it today.” Normally, the piece needed several days to dry, but because Chu Baiyan was coming, he had baked it in the kiln at low heat the day before.

The shelves on the table were full of small bottles of underglaze in every color. There were over ten shades of red alone that Chu Baiyan couldn’t even name. The rack by the wall held square ceramic tiles in various hues, like sample palettes.

The clay figure on the table looked completely different from yesterday, now fine and detailed. Even the layers of scales on the tail had been carved one by one. Chu Baiyan regretted that he hadn’t seen the whole process.

The coloring stage was just as intricate. Chu Baiyan leaned on the table and watched as Yan Anqing dipped a fine brush in pigment and traced the lines of the face. Every stroke was fluid. The features came alive bit by bit, carrying a faint melancholy between the brows.

“Do I really look unhappy?”

“Feeling.” Yan Anqing changed brushes and looked at him. He had seen Chu Baiyan smile before, but the expression on the figure was closer to what he usually showed. The last version had missed that depth because he hadn’t observed him up close.

His soft hair brushed against Chu Baiyan’s lips when he lifted his head. The citrus scent filled his nose again. What Yan Anqing said was true, he didn’t have much to be happy about. But meeting Yan Anqing counted as one thing. It was like a still pond suddenly disturbed by a small fish, breaking the calm surface.

He thought it was strange too. Yan Anqing had that kind of pull. Even though they had known each other only briefly, their familiarity felt natural, as if it had always been there.

He didn’t say anything more. He just watched him paint. The man in front of him bent over, working with the tip of his brush, and from where he stood, Chu Baiyan could see two whorls in the crown of his hair.

The rest of the street was still closed, and no customers came in. The only sounds were birds calling outside and the clink of brushes against the holder.

When his phone reminder went off, Chu Baiyan was startled. Two hours had passed. Normally, when he went home and scrolled through his phone, time crawled, but now two hours had vanished.

“I’ll bring breakfast tomorrow. What do you want?” he asked at the door. Since Yan Anqing didn’t like crowded places, bringing it here was safest.

“Tofu pudding, fried dough sticks, rice cakes.” He didn’t even look up as he listed them. Those were his favorites, the kind his grandma used to bring when he lived with her.

Once he was sure the other would come again, saying goodbye became easier. Yan Anqing liked everything to be certain.

Chu Baiyan arrived at the break room right on time. His coworkers were already there.

Seeing him rush in, one joked, “You used to be the first one here. What’s with you coming at the last minute these days?”