Chef Uncle Li chuckled. “No problem. Manager Shen, if you like them, take them to go. There’s still plenty left, and we can make more. Ah, Manager Xu, should we make celery dumplings or fennel ones now?”
Shen Xi Fan answered on Xu Xiang Ya’s behalf, “Celery ones, for Mr. Yan. Add a bit more sugar—he likes them sweeter. And use aged vinegar, not aromatic vinegar; he doesn’t like that. As for the fennel dumplings, pack them all together, and make some cabbage dumplings too. Distribute them among the departments as a thank-you for everyone’s hard work. Winter Solstice is coming; let’s celebrate a little.”
A young assistant from the kitchen swiftly packed the dumplings, adding a bowl of noodle soup and placing it beside Shen Xi Fan.
Xu Xiang Ya sighed deeply. “I must be the most useless dining manager ever. Should we switch jobs?”
Shen Xi Fan shook her head vehemently. “No way. I’d be the first to lead us into corruption. You know I can’t resist Uncle Li’s amazing cooking. If I took your position, I’d eat the hotel into bankruptcy!”
Everyone burst out laughing, except Yan Heng, who stood not far away, his expression tinged with loneliness.
He still remembered that Shen Xi Fan had a love for food—she wasn’t as picky as he was, but she had a hearty appetite.
The first time he met her was during a second-year elective law class. Winter mornings tested everyone’s willpower, and most students arrived at the last minute, clutching milk and bread, openly eating in class. Since it was an elective, the teachers typically turned a blind eye, some even jokingly borrowing money from students during breaks to buy their own breakfast. Yan Heng had lent money a few times himself, and once, the teacher even repaid him double. Winter was, in many ways, a season of indulgence.
Shen Xi Fan had slipped into class ten minutes late through the back door, carrying a lunchbox. She casually plopped down in the second-to-last row by the window—right in front of him. Opening the box, she released a puff of steam and the distinct aroma of rice and dough.
He was astonished. She was audacious enough to bring the dining hall’s steamed dumplings to class.
The dumplings alone would have been fine, but she added vinegar. The sharp scent wafted through the air, prompting nearby classmates to glance around in search of its source before chuckling and turning back to their books. Her breakfast seemed to have been tacitly approved.
To her credit, she was considerate enough to lift her chair, crouch by the window, and eat quietly. As she took her first bite, the unmistakable aroma of fennel dumplings hit him.
At that moment, Yan Heng was enduring an intense internal struggle. His empty stomach rebelled against him, and the tantalizing scent of the dumplings wreaked havoc on his focus. He could barely think straight, his blood sugar plummeting. All he wanted was to tell her: Could you please stop eating? The smell is too distracting.
When she sat up to drink water, he lightly tapped her shoulder with his pen and whispered, “Classmate, could you eat your dumplings outside?”
But somehow, she misunderstood. She froze for a moment, then picked up her lunchbox and shook her head. Pulling out half a pack of digestive biscuits from her bag, she handed it to him. “I only have half a dumpling left. If you’re hungry, take this instead.”
He was speechless. Left holding the biscuits, he decided to return them after class. But before he could, she suddenly sprang up, announcing, “Lunch break! Go grab food before it’s gone!”
There he sat, clutching half a pack of biscuits, utterly bewildered. Only much later did he learn that she had misheard his request, thinking he had said, “Classmate, could you give me your dumplings to eat?”
Yan Heng thought to himself: She hasn’t changed. She still loves dumplings, douses them in vinegar until her lips turn pale, and gulps down water afterward.
He realized that the past three years felt like they had passed in three seconds. His memories remained unchanged, unaltered by time. Yet, those youthful, reckless days were gone, and there was no way to go back and fix his mistakes.
Did she hate him now? He wondered. She must.
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