Chapter 51: Let's Just Embrace

In adolescent relationships, boys never suffer any real disadvantage.

Therefore, both Xia Kangning and Wei Xiaofang not only fell asleep easily, but slept soundly as well.

It was quite different for Zuo Dashu and his wife.

In the sprawling city of Beijing, there were millions of transient visitors like Zuo Dashu and Wu Sufan.

Most of them congregated in modest little budget inns.

Ever since the summer vacation began and Zuo You arrived to participate in the competition, they had rented this room on a long-term basis, located just two bus stops away from the west gate of the Dance Academy.

The family of three huddled together here, paying one hundred and five yuan per day, settled weekly.

Such a price could secure a four-star hotel during the off-season in Dongshan, but here it bought only the smallest suite.

The couple lived in the inner room, while little Youzi stayed in the living room because the space allowed her to practice her movements.

With accommodation expenses so high, they economized on food and drink.

Zuo Dashu used only a single rice cooker, cooking the dishes first and then steaming the rice. Over the course of a month, neither his wife nor his daughter dropped a single pound, a testament to his extraordinary culinary skill.

At forty-seven, Zuo Dashu had been a chef for over twenty years.

Running a restaurant was grueling work. Operating it single-handedly meant he had to rise at three or four in the morning to prepare the ingredients.

From time to time, when neighborhood regulars stayed late drinking heavily, he would be kept busy until the middle of the night.

The toll on his mind and body, combined with being day-and-night companions to kitchen fumes, made him look much older than his actual age.

At one-thirty in the morning, it started raining in Beijing too.

Zuo Dashu leaned against the window to smoke. Whenever his daughter was present, he never smoked inside the room.

His suit jacket and shirt were of an old-fashioned cut, yet they were his most presentable outfit.

It was fortunate that the father trusted his daughter and had a premonition that the girl would win an award, bringing the clothes along with him; otherwise, he would have had to rush out and buy them at a mall.

That morning, the couple had been invited for media interviews, and Wu Sufan had filled the rice cooker's inner pot with hot water to serve as a makeshift, rudimentary iron.

This was a clever little trick for impoverished living that Wu Sufan had invented.

As the relative of one of the eleven finalists, Zuo Dashu felt he had maintained a solemn and dignified demeanor while successfully finishing his speech. Yet, as soon as it ended, his wife and daughter had laughed endlessly, teasing him for putting on a stern and overly serious act.

Later, when his daughter went off to take group photos with the other contestants, Zuo Dashu recalled feeling somewhat awkward himself.

Especially when a reporter instantly recognized Wu Sufan—who happened to fit into their daughter's dress—as Zuo You's mother, but upon looking at him, remarked, "You must be Zuo You's grandfather, right?"

Zuo Dashu had been utterly depressed by that, but upon second thought, he felt immensely gratified.

Though his wife had gained some white hairs, she still looked youthful, and his daughter had matured early, now growing up to become a successful little star.

He was a man with a limp. He was a cook.

He was a husband and father who looked like an old grandfather.

So what?

Zuo Dashu felt immensely proud.

On the way back by bus after the second interview, the couple discussed what their next major family milestone would be—probably their daughter's marriage, right?

And then...

Upon entering the room, they discovered that Zuo You, who rarely had two days of vacation, had left a note and slipped back to their hometown.

[Mom and Dad, I'll be back tomorrow.]

[I need to give an account for the next stage.]

The next stage.

An account.

The couple had silently exchanged glances at that moment, sighing helplessly.

This was Zuo You, this was their daughter.

To make her father happy, she secretly planned to learn dance at age five.

To keep her parents from working too hard, she rose early to quietly peel scallions and garlic at age six.

To save on tuition fees for tutoring, she never fell behind in any academic subject starting from junior high school.

To earn money to supplement the household income, she began taking on theater performances at the Children's Palace in high school.

During her two years in college, she earned both her tuition and living expenses through part-time jobs, and even managed to save a considerable sum.

And now, she had reached the finals of the most prestigious Taoli Cup.

She had secured three advertising contracts, earning tens of thousands of yuan.

Yes, it was indeed time to give an account for the next stage.

"Don't you know what kind of temperament our daughter has? Why are you wearing such a gloomy face?"

Sitting on the edge of the bed and sewing her daughter's dance tights, Wu Sufan said with a faint smile.

Wu Sufan wore reading glasses, her eye corners etched with deep wrinkles, yet her features remained gentle, completely lacking the shrewd disposition typical of an accountant.

Along with Wei Xiaofang, she was known as one of the two simpletons of the factory.

Yet in her youth, she too had been one of the factory's two reigning beauties.

Zuo Dashu sighed, saying he just felt a hollow emptiness in his heart.

Wu Sufan smiled faintly, lifting her gaze to shoot him a sidelong glance. "Don't you like little Xia An?"

Zuo Dashu smacked his lips. "It's not that I don't like him; he's just a bit slow, not as clever as our daughter."

Wu Sufan bit off the thread with her teeth, took off her glasses, and said, "Did you want Youzi to marry some ultra-wealthy tycoon in the future?"

Zuo Dashu remained silent, though naturally in his heart he hoped his daughter would marry into better circumstances. Yet, having watched the flashing lights of the stage these past few months and learned of the gossip within the entertainment industry...

"Definitely not that. If our backgrounds don't match, our daughter will end up being bullied."

"There you go, then."

Wu Sufan struck her shoulder once, and Zuo Dashu immediately stepped over to help massage it.

"We know the Xia family inside and out, and they're childhood sweethearts. As long as young Xia An doesn't bully Youzi, I approve of this match."

Seeing his wife give her official verdict, Zuo Dashu muttered, "Why couldn't he have come over himself? Why make our daughter rush back and forth? A single round trip takes over twenty hours."

Wu Sufan smiled. "How could someone Xia An's age think of that? You men all mature slowly in your minds."

Zuo Dashu offered no further opinions until the night lights were turned off, and the couple began talking about other matters.

"Did Youzi's Best Photogenic Award mean she's considered the prettiest?"

"Yes."

"No wonder quite a few media outlets said she has the look of a star, and mentioned some company wanting to sign her. What do you think, should we let her sign?"

"I don't understand these things either. Let our daughter decide for herself; she has a good head on her shoulders."

At two-thirty, someone in the neighboring room clattered open their door and headed down the stairs.

They were getting ready to watch the flag-raising ceremony, braving the rain.

Rainwater streamed down the glass panes bearing the printed words [Breakfast], [Stir-fry], and [Large-filling Dumplings].

Xia An stood outside the door, quietly gazing at the figure illuminated by the dim, warm light inside the restaurant.

The blurred window and the person within gradually merged with hazy memories.

And through those memories, frame by frame, everything grew clear.

Xia An, who had imagined romantic reunions countless times, suddenly felt...

Felt that when this moment truly arrived, it didn't seem quite so emotionally overwhelming.

With a soft swish, he pulled open the plastic-steel door, stepping into the enclosed space he dreaded and avoided the most since his rebirth.

The sizzling sound of fried rice instantly drowned out the pattering of the rain.

The fragrance of fried rice instantly dispelled the damp, earthy smell of the foliage.

There were six small square tables in the hall, and behind a screen stood two large round tables.

At the very back was a partitioned, semi-open kitchen.

It was onions.

Youzi-brand egg fried rice always included onions and green beans.

Zuo You was tossing the wok.

Zuo You knew how to toss a wok—a skill entirely inconsistent with her slender figure, purely a family genetic trait.

Tongues of fire leaped upward.

Zuo You saw Xia An walking in and turned her head with a smile.

Those peach-blossom eyes, almost identical to Tang Wan's, looked like two burning crescent moons amid the flames.

"Your portion is already done. Eat if you're hungry."

Her slightly elevated voice drifted out.

Dainty, crisp, and tinged with a weary hoarseness.

Sweet, yet rendered all the more sensual by that touch of hoarseness.

On the round table closest to the kitchen, a plate of golden fried rice was steaming.

At least three eggs had been used—this had been Xia An's standard configuration for years.

Whenever Zuo You manned the stove, his ingredients never included fewer than three eggs.

When they were young, Sister Youzi frequently fed him.

There were carrots, onions, ham sausages, and tender green scallions, but no green beans.

Ah, right, green beans needed to be soaked in advance, and there weren't any in the restaurant at the moment.

There was Lao Gan Ma chili sauce.

Zuo You didn't eat Lao Gan Ma or ham sausage; her own portion had to be stir-fried separately.

On a chair sat a cross-body canvas bag, bulging full.

Zuo You's voice sounded again: "There's a gift for you in the bag. Take it out and look."

Xia An didn't touch it.

He bent down to inhale the fragrance of the egg fried rice, then gently stroked that canvas bag.

Step by step, he walked into the back kitchen.

The standing electric fan wasn't turned on, but the range hood was humming loudly.

Outside, the autumn rain fell, carrying a crisp chill; in here, the temperature was easily over forty degrees Celsius.

Zuo You tilted her head to glance at him, added salt and MSG.

Stir-fried.

It was the final step.

In Xia An's eyes, Zuo You wore her hair loose, her white T-shirt cinched at the waist by an apron.

Was she thinner than Le Ning? Probably her.

Her legs were so long.

Regular-sized jeans looked like cropped trousers on her.

Yet if she bought a size with a suitable leg length, the waist would be far too baggy.

Ever since she was a child, Zuo You's pants always seemed shorter than everyone else's.

Xia An remembered her standard height measured during the competition was 168 centimeters, though due to her fine proportions, she looked even taller.

Thus, she disliked wearing high heels, reserving her affection exclusively for sneakers.

Step by step, he walked over.

Two meters, one meter, half a meter.

Zuo You didn't turn back again, gently biting the corner of her lower lip.

It was done, she turned off the stove, lifted the wok, and dished it onto a plate.

"All done..."

Zuo You said, but Xia An remained silent.

As soon as she put down the spatula, Xia An wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

Zuo You's body trembled slightly, and she froze.

After a long moment, she covered Xia An's hands with her own, letting him bury his face in her hair and inhale deeply.

She let out a soft, gentle, understated laugh:

"Little brat."

This was her exclusive moniker for Xia An in her QQ journal and text messages, though she had never actually called him that face-to-face.

"Don't you need any preamble at all?"

She asked. Xia An pressed his chin against the top of her head and shook it gently.

To let her understand that he was saying: No.

Zuo You asked with amusement, "Do you even know why I came back?"

Xia An: "I can guess."

Zuo You asked with curiosity, "Huh? Have you gotten smarter?"

Xia An: "I've always been smart. Otherwise, how could I have set my heart on you when I was so young?"

Zuo You let out a soft snort of amusement and said nothing more.

She felt a strange sensation; the entire journey back she had been pondering how to initiate the conversation with a rebellious nineteen- or twenty-year-old boy, yet it turned out to be completely unnecessary. Her active approach had instantly been turned into a passive one.

When one could afford to be passive, who wouldn't prefer it?

Enfolded in Xia An's tall embrace, Zuo You leaned herself backward.

After a long while, she smiled and remarked, "So this is what falling in love feels like."

Xia An gave a soft hum, lowered his face, and pressed it against her cheek.

Zuo You quickly said, "No kissing allowed, we can't progress this fast."

Xia An rubbed his cheek against her smooth skin and hummed once more.

From childhood to adulthood, they had never actually shared such ambiguous, intimate gestures.

Yet...

Oddly enough, Zuo You didn't find it abrupt or repulsive; she didn't even feel awkward or shy.

It seemed as though everything was simply meant to happen so naturally.

"Kissing my cheek is okay, but you have to call me sister,"

Zuo You said on her own accord, her face flushed with a rosy blush.

Without the slightest hesitation, Xia An planted a soft kiss with a gentle pop.

Then he kept his lips pressed there, remaining motionless for a long time.

The texture was like egg white, and the scent of shampoo filled his nostrils.

Xia An took a deep breath.

"Long time no see."