Due to the limited amount of seasonings, Qiao Moyu only planned to cook three kinds of dishes; two fishes were used for frying, two were used in a stew, and the last two will be grilled over the fire. She found a branch and prepared to grill the fish.
On the other side, Qiao Ruohuan’s group caught nothing, so the three members each had a green peach to snack on.
Meanwhile, Xing Wanshuang’s group also lit a fire. A palm-sized fish and two green onions floated on their pot, nothing else.
Qiao Moyu had frequently cooked for her brother in her previous life. Both brother and sister loved to eat fish, so they were very skilled at preparing these into dishes.
She took the fishes that she marinated and fried all four sides until it turned yellow.
Afterwards, she sprinkled the stewed fish with some spring onions. The meat had already begun to whiten.
On the other side, Xing Yichen hadn’t eaten since he wasn’t used to airplane meals. Now that he smelled the scent of fish soup, his Adam’s Apple couldn’t help but roll in his throat.
He stared at the girl who was less than ten meters away from him, and felt absent-minded all of a sudden when he saw her focused gaze while cooking.
For some reason, a certain memory entered his mind from long ago.
At that time, Qiao Moyu was only sixteen years old and was the only daughter of the Qiao family. Even though her fingers have never touched dishwater, she invited him one time to her house and insisted on cooking sweet and sour pork ribs for him.
At that time, the pot was accidentally overturned and she was scalded by oil that splashed on her hand. He was about to leave, but she forcefully kept him there. Finally, she completed cooking a pot of Sweet ‘n Sour Ribs.
He gave it a taste, but it was only mediocre. After two bites, he didn’t want to eat it anymore.
Perhaps she failed to understand his refusal, because ever since then, she would always bring a lunch box to see him, saying that she had made it herself. She insisted that he taste it, and that it must be better than last time.
But there was one thing she didn’t know; everytime, he would tell her to put down the lunch box beside him, but as soon as she leaves the room, he dumps it in the trash.
Xing Yichen didn’t know why he recalled such a memory right now. He looked up and saw Qiao Moyu holding up a spoon as she handed it over to Ye Peicheng.
She smiled at him, her bright eyes reflecting the firelight: “Film Emperor Ye, would you like to check if it tastes okay?”
Ye Peicheng took the spoon and took a sip. His lips curved up into a faint smile, and his eyes were filled with gentleness: “Yes, it tastes good.”
“Then we can start cooking with it!” after saying so, Qiao Moyu was about to raise the pot of fish when Ye Peicheng suddenly stood up and said: “That pot is too heavy. Let me do it.”
He picked up the pot, took the large bowl that Qiao Moyu passed to him, then poured the fish soup into it.
“The grilled fish over there is almost done!” Qiao Moyu said before heading over to the grill.
She took a look and noticed that each of the fish had already browned on both sides. She then sprinkled some salt and cumin, which caused a fragrant aroma to waft into the air.
“Oh my god, that’s making me so hungry!” Qin Qianqian’s eyes lit up. Except for Xin Wanshuang, all of the guests shifted their gazes this direction, their eyes turning green with envy.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Qiao Moyu turned around and asked Qin Qianqian and Ye Peicheng: “Do you eat chilies?”
“Yes,” the two of them answered simultaneously.
Qiao Moyu began to sprinkle her chili concoction all over the dish. At that moment, a breeze blew from behind her, causing her long hair to sweep towards the bonfire!
Startled, she was about to jump back when in that split second, a pair of long, slender hands with distinct joints reached over. Ye Peicheng’s hands bundled up Qiao Moyu’s long hair to prevent it from sweeping towards the fire.
At the same time, he turned to Qin Qianqian beside him and asked, “Do you have a hairband?”
“Oh, yes.” Qin Qianqian quickly removed one that she wore herself.
Ye Peicheng took in and ran his fingers through Qiao Moyu’s long hair, then tied it up into a ponytail.
On the opposite side, Xing Yichen’s gaze narrowed. For some reason, there was a poem that came into his mind–
“A habit only stays a happy memory until you lose the means to do it again.” ***
(**T/N: the actual poem was 赌书消得泼茶香，只道当时是寻常。
To explain the first part 赌书消得泼茶香, normally a husband and wife would boil tea after a meal, and to determine who drinks first, they agree to quiz each other on an excerpt…whoever can say which book and page it’s from correctly wins and gets to drink the tea first….However, when someone wins, that person gets so happy that the person accidentally tips the tea over, splashing it all over themselves….
the second part, 只道当时是寻常, says that the event is still a happy memory. The poet sighs and laments that is was a common occurrence back in the day, and that he’s sad, perhaps because those times are now long gone.) P.S. the poem was so deep that I had to use an English idiom to replace it.
Comments