The boy's voice was somewhat cold, but his tone was earnest—"Uncle Yun, no one can guarantee the future. But at least, as long as I, Yan Xi, am here, no one will bully Wen Heng. I will treat her like my own sister, so please don't worry."
"But what if our Ah Heng falls in love with you?" Yun's father asked seriously.
The boy smiled faintly, his eyes hidden behind his black hair, his expression unreadable.
"Then I will marry her."
Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Wushui Town can be considered a typical water town.
Having withstood the test of over a thousand years of history, the river still flows, its waters clear and serene. The houses on both sides of the river are extremely simple and rustic, with black tiles and blue bricks, openwork window frames, and strings of red lanterns hanging from the eaves, swaying gracefully in the wind, much like the tassels in the hair of a Jiangnan woman walking into an alley with an oil-paper umbrella, beautiful in an ethereal and unadorned way.
Ah Heng was used to all of this, but Yan hope found it as novel as a newborn baby seeing the world for the first time.
Yun's father gave Aheng some money and told her to take Yanxi to the market for a good stroll. He smiled very kindly.
Ah Heng accepted the money. Although she didn't know why her father's attitude towards Yan hope had changed so quickly, she still obediently listened to him.
With two days left until the Little New Year, the market must be bustling with activity.
Ever since Yan hope left the Yun family, he has been restless, wandering around aimlessly with his camera. He takes pictures of every passerby he sees, like he's a monkey in a circus, showing off to the extreme.
Ah Heng followed behind him, running breathlessly, but felt ashamed. She lowered her head and pretended not to know the boy.
You see people as a circus performer, but people see you as a zookeeper!
At the market, people carrying their goods hurried along.
The crowd was bustling and lively.
The men in the water towns are generally kind and gentle, rarely sharp-edged, as gentle and kind as water; and the girls are beautiful and gentle, their batik skirts swaying gently with charm, needless to say, they are already the epitome of the beauty of Jiangnan.
The children, mostly wearing tiger-head hats, were held in their parents' arms, holding white sugar cakes in their hands, drool and snot dripping from their noses, chubby and very cute.
Yan hope, at this moment... also held a piece of white sugar cake, and like throwing a peanut, tore off a corner, tilted his head back, and threw it into his mouth, laughing so hard that his big eyes were almost invisible.
Ah Heng, holding her camera, stared longingly at the white sugar cake.
Just now, Yan hope asked her to buy two pieces of white sugar cake. When she ran back, the boy had his camera hanging around her neck, and with one piece of white sugar cake in each hand, he took bites from both sides, leaving her not even a crumb.
"I want to eat it too," Ah Heng sniffed, clearly unhappy.
"You've lived here for so many years, haven't you had enough to eat yet?" The boy didn't even look up, his cheeks bulging, still eating with both hands.
He'll choke to death!
Ah Heng was depressed.
Yan hope deliberately provoked Aheng. After finishing his meal, he stuck out his tongue and licked his fingers vigorously, glancing sideways at the girl.
Ah Heng was speechless.
"What other good food is there in Wushui Town?" the boy asked her with a smile.
Ah Heng thought for a moment and then said, "Stinky tofu."
"It's also in City B, it's not rare." The boy said dismissively.
“It’s from Jiangnan, made with tofu,” Aheng explained.
Yan hope curled his lip – “Tch! We still use tofu from the north where we're from.”
Ah Heng chuckled – “Try it and you’ll see.”
She led Yan hope along the riverbank, into the alley, and after a few turns, they arrived at a small shop with a wooden sign that read "Lin Family Tofu Shop" in five strong yet elegant calligraphy characters.
Under the eaves of the small shop, a string of dusty red lanterns swayed gently in the breeze.
Inside the shop, there were only a few wooden tables, and a few scattered diners were quietly eating their food.
It had a completely different atmosphere from the bustling market, but it was very cozy.
"Uncle Sangzi, two bowls of tofu pudding and a plate of fried tofu!" Aheng called out.
"Alright!" A middle-aged man's honest and loud voice came from behind the blue curtain.
Yan hope looked at the little house, her big eyes darting around a few times, and suddenly she smiled—"This place is quite amusing."
"What's wrong?"
"There are gaps left in all four corners of the roof. Isn't it cold in winter?"
"Leave a gap for drying tofu at night," Aheng explained to the boy. "Boss, I don't want to stay here."
Yan hope nodded, picked up the camera, squinted, and snapped several pictures.
Yan hope is a very easygoing person.
Therefore, many of the things he does seem to require no reason and still make people feel that it is only right and proper.
A short while later, a smiling, short man came out carrying a square wooden table painted red. On the bank were several rough porcelain bowls.
Ah Heng exchanged a few pleasantries with the man.
"Where is Yun Zai? Are you feeling better?" The man glanced at Yan hope, and when he realized it wasn't the familiar Yun Zai, he greeted her gently.
“Zai Zai is now seeing a doctor at a big hospital. My mother said the surgery was very successful.” Aheng smiled, her face gentle and sincere, her eyes filled with a sense of relief.
The shop owner, whom Aheng called "Uncle Sang," was also delighted to hear the girl's words—"That's great, Zai Zai can go back to school now. Before he dropped out, his grades were excellent, and you two siblings are both very promising."
Ah Heng smiled broadly, her eyebrows curving like distant mountains.
The customers at the next table urged him on, so the owner went back into the kitchen behind the blue curtain.
Ah Heng placed a steaming bowl of tofu pudding in front of Yan hope, and the boy gently tapped the table with his slender, fair fingers.
He raised his eyebrows slightly, but said nothing.
Although, in his opinion, this Jiangnan-style tofu pudding looked no different from the one he drank every morning.
Ah Heng smiled faintly.
Yan hope took a spoon, scooped up a spoonful, and put it in his mouth.
Ah Heng smiled at the boy—"Is it delicious?"
"Is this still tofu?" He stared wide-eyed, his dark pupils filled with a naive and innocent bewilderment.
Aheng nodded.
"It has no astringent taste. When it enters your mouth, it's smooth and tender, somewhat like egg pudding." The boy squinted slightly, his face rosy, and his expression satisfied.
Egg pudding, um, is it delicious?
Ah Heng was stunned for a moment, but eventually she smiled, looking satisfied, her thin lips turned up, and there were small, fine smile lines at the corners of her lips.
"Try this," Ah Heng said, handing the fried tofu to the boy.
The boy picked up a piece, put it in his mouth, chewed it, but then frowned and spat it out.
"Why is it bitter?"
Ah Heng frowned, then suddenly remembered something and said apologetically, "Uncle Sang, there was no sauce. I used to eat with Zai Zai, and we didn't like seasonings."
Immediately, he ran to the kitchen, asked for a plate of sauce, and poured it over the dried tofu.
Yan hope picked up another small piece, tasted it, and felt the crispness of the tofu and the sweetness of the sauce on her tongue, which masked the bitterness. The aroma was fully released, and the taste was rich.
Ah Heng saw the boy's brows relax and secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
She grew up in Wushui and instinctively protects this land, unwilling to let others harbor even the slightest dislike for it.
When this kind of thinking is applied to people, it is usually called—protecting one's own.
"In the east of the town, inside the City God Temple, there is a sweet well. The tofu is all made with well water."
Yan hope nodded slightly, taking small bites of food, gazing at it with a look of appreciation.
Uncle Sang brought out a small dish of dried bamboo shoots from the kitchen for Yan hope to eat with his rice.
The dried bamboo shoots were sweet and sour, very appetizing, and Yan hope ate a lot of them.
"Ah Heng, the signboard in Uncle Sang's shop is old. Your aunt asked me to ask you to write another one." The man looked at the girl with a simple and honest expression.
"Mm." Ah Heng nodded with a smile.
Yan hope asked in surprise, "Did you write the words on the sign?"
Ah Heng nodded again, feeling embarrassed.
"You wrote too fast, the pressure was uneven, the ink wasn't mixed evenly, and the last stroke was abrupt and not coherent enough," the boy said calmly.
Ah Heng swallowed hard.
“Our Aheng started practicing calligraphy in elementary school and is one of the best in town. His handwriting is even better than Doctor Yun’s,” Uncle Sang said, his tone somewhat disliked by the boy’s voice.
"That depends on talent," the young man said with a faint smile.
The implication is that no matter how many years you practice, it's useless without talent.
Ah Heng knew he was telling the truth, but she was still somewhat disappointed.
She had been practicing calligraphy with her father since she was a child, without missing a single day, regardless of the weather. Now, the boy's words that she had no talent had really hurt her.
"This kid's got quite the nerve. Write a few words and let me see them," Uncle Sang said, somewhat angrily.
The boy shrugged, unconcerned, looking lazy.
Uncle Sang took out paper and pen and placed them in front of Yan hope with a disgruntled expression.
The young man sat upright, holding a brush. He casually poured ink into the inkstone, the fine bristles of the brush tip soaking into the ink. He slightly raised his wrist, turned the brush tip, and slowly wiped away the excess ink at the end of the inkstone. He lifted his hand, his fingernails glistening and round, reflecting the bamboo-colored brush handle, making him quite a sight.
"When writing the character '林' (lin), the '木' (mu) on the left should show strength and the '木' (mu) on the right should show charm. When you wrote it, you lifted the brush too quickly, and the ink was uneven, which is a big no-no. The character '家' (jia), although written with grandeur, did not pay attention to the exquisite details between each stroke. The character '豆' (dou), was written well, but the ink was not evenly distributed. The character '腐' (fu), is more difficult to write. You wrote it with more care than the previous characters, but you lost the previous free and easy style. As for the character '店' (dian), when you wrote it, the ink probably dried, so you had to turn back the brush." The boy wrote while lowering his head and speaking calmly.
It was completed in one go, with a natural and elegant style, and its brilliance was fully revealed.
A piece of calligraphy amazed Aheng.
Each stroke is free and vigorous, written casually, yet full of heartfelt intention, brimming with vitality.
"Am I right?" The boy put down his pen, rested his chin on his hand, and asked her lazily.