“Should I chase after him? He’s bound to marry a fellow female cop from the academy and create a family of police officers.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
But I knew Meng Meng had feelings for Tie Han. She couldn’t fool me.
That day, just before leaving work, I received a call from Gao Hai Ming.
“Are you free tonight?” he asked. “Shall we have dinner?”
“Sure! I actually have something to tell you,” I said.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you in person.”
Gao Hai Ming took me to a restaurant located in an upstairs loft in Wan Chai for dinner.
“This place has the best salted fish and chicken claypot rice in all of Hong Kong,” he said eagerly.
“Really?” I responded, noticing his anticipation.
“This place has been around for decades. My father used to bring me here when I was a kid. By the way, what was it you wanted to tell me?”
“I’ve found the flaw in that fighter jet model,” I said with feigned confidence.
He looked surprised.
“It’s in the left engine,” I added.
Gao Hai Ming smiled. “How did you discover it?”
“I used a magnifying glass,” I replied.
“Liar,” he said with a smirk. “That jet doesn’t have any flaws.”
I laughed. “You’re right—it doesn’t. I only said that to get you to admit you were lying.”
“You’re clever,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said smugly. “But I think we’re evenly matched.”
“Since the jet has no flaws, how did you recognize it was yours? This time, don’t try to fool me,” I warned.
“I just had a feeling,” he replied. “Besides, I could see from the way your eyes avoided mine that you were hiding something. And that day in my office, when you saw me working on the jet, you had this smug look on your face—you don’t normally look like that.”
So, I’d given myself away.
The claypot rice was served last, brought out from the kitchen with its fragrant aroma wafting ahead of it.
“It smells amazing,” I said.
“It tastes even better.”
I took a bite and was blown away. I had never eaten such delicious salted fish and chicken claypot rice before.
I ended up eating three bowls.
“You’ve got quite the appetite,” Gao Hai Ming remarked, clearly impressed.
“Thank you for treating me to this delicious meal,” I said.
“If you like it, I can bring you here often. I don’t have many friends,” he offered.
“That sounds great! If it means having good food often, I wouldn’t mind being your friend,” I said playfully.
After dinner, Gao Hai Ming drove me home. As I watched his car disappear down the road, an idea struck me—Xiao Jue loves salted fish. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he could taste this claypot rice? Why not?
I grabbed a food thermos from home and took a taxi back to the restaurant, asking them to prepare another claypot rice for me.
“Didn’t you just eat?” the waiter asked, puzzled.
Twenty-five minutes later, the rice was ready, its aroma irresistible. I filled the thermos with the rice and took another taxi to a 24-hour courier service center in Shiguan Bay.
“I’d like to send this to Bristol, England,” I told the male staff member, who had an earring in his left ear.
“What is it?” he asked, catching a whiff of the fragrance.
“Food,” I replied.
“Sorry, miss, but you can’t courier food,” he explained. “Besides, shipping to Bristol will take two business days. By the time it arrives, it’ll be inedible.”
I hadn’t realized food couldn’t be shipped.
“You should offer that service,” I suggested.
“You mean food delivery to another country?” he asked.
“Yes! Imagine if someone tastes something amazing and wants to share it with someone far away. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” I said, hugging the thermos.
“I’ll bring it up with the company,” the staff member said with a smile.
When Christmas arrived, I went to a department store to pick out a gift for Xiao Jue.
As I was leaving, a brand-new light blue Mercedes pulled up outside. Stepping out was none other than Gao Hai Ming, who was helping an elegant woman, about fifty years old, out of the car. She was slender and dressed conservatively, with an air of sophistication.
“Miss Qiu. Is that you?” Gao Hai Ming greeted me.
“Fancy running into you here,” I said.
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