The summer solstice had arrived—a time when one should eat what is in season.
In the hot and humid early summer of southern China, it's not wise to indulge in heavy meals; instead, it's better to have a light and simple diet, avoiding heavy or strongly flavored foods.
A morning shower had washed away the oppressive heat of the season, leaving the air refreshingly crisp. Outside the park, streams of commuters bustled past, while just beyond the wall, the rhythmic beat of music filled the air as elderly men and women danced energetically, accompanied by the occasional, intermittent chorus of cicadas.
Cheng Yi strolled along the path through the park, her fingers brushing lightly against the weathered red brick wall, and her thoughts drifted back to her university days. She knew that just ahead lay the south gate of the park, across from an obscure university where she had spent four years. Ironically, she felt little attachment to her alma mater. The few close friends she had made had scattered after graduation, and they had lost touch.
Her true youth was spent at Z University, the pride of the city, situated directly opposite the park's north gate. Her university life largely revolved around attending classes, sleeping, and either staying at Z University or walking this very path on her way there.
In those days, she had always hurried along, never stopping to appreciate the beauty of her surroundings.
Today, however, she had no intention of visiting her alma mater or Z University. She was heading to the small market near the park's east gate. On market days, it would be filled with fresh produce from nearby farms, along with some rare wild vegetables. She needed to prepare a sumptuous dinner to welcome a guest with a hearty appetite.
The star of tonight's meal would be seasonal lotus root.
Freshly shelled lotus seeds, ground with a bit of sweet almond and slow-cooked into a fragrant soup, made for the perfect summer dessert. Chicken covered in lotus leaves would be steamed, and when the leaves were unwrapped, the fragrance would fill the room. As for the lotus root, she would prepare it two ways: the older parts would be slow-braised with duck and spices until tender and flavorful; and the tender slices pickled with cucumber, chilled for two hours to create a crisp and refreshing dish—her personal favourite.
She would also buy a couple of lotus pods to stew with winter melon, barley, and pork shank, a perfect remedy for the slight hoarseness in Minglang's voice the night before.
Late last night, Cheng Yi had finally drifted off to sleep, the doorbell had jolted her awake.
Who could it be at this hour? She had just moved in. Maybe someone rang the wrong door? Groggy with sleep, she debated whether to ignore it. It was the middle of the night, and as a girl living alone, it was too risky to answer. But the bell kept ringing, growing more insistent by the second. Worried that it might be something serious, like a fire. she got up and cautiously opened the door a crack, with the chain still on.
The hallway was dim, and before she could make out who it was, a bouquet of white roses was thrust through the gap, filling the air with their fragrance. Before she could react, a familiar face appeared in the doorway, a mischievous smile spreading across it. What had initially been a surprise quickly turned into startle.
She yelped, unable to believe her eyes, frozen in place.
"Yi... open the door..."
The familiar voice, struggling with the Chinese language, brought her back to her senses. In a daze, she unlatched the door. As soon as it opened, she was enveloped in a tight embrace.
"How... how did you find me?" Cheng Yi asked, bewildered.
There was no direct answer. Minglang slowly released her, straightened his T-shirt and ripped jeans with exaggerated care, then playfully waved his phone in front of her, grinning triumphantly. A seasoned hacker—there was no need to ask how he had tracked her phone.
"Yi, I'm hungry."
Minglang's hunger was a serious matter. Cheng Yi rushed to the kitchen, turning on the light to quickly whip up some egg-fried rice.
"Yi, I need to sleep."
Of course, he had still been in the UK during their call yesterday. Seven hours of time difference plus a long flight meant he needed a good rest. Cheng Yi quickly prepared the small guest room, and as soon as she finished, Minglang collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep instantly.
His steady breathing soon filled the room, and Cheng Yi didn't have the heart to wake him to wash up first.
So early this morning, Cheng Yi set out to buy ingredients.
---------------------------------------
After eating a simple bowl of noodles for lunch, Cheng Yi began the slow, methodical preparation for dinner.
Two hours later, the table was set with various lotus root dishes. She was thoroughly exhausted and hadn't woken Minglang. Jet lag would be sorted out in a day, but adjusting his stomach to the new meal schedule would take a bit longer. Perhaps it was the empty stomach or the enticing aroma of food, but by 3 p.m., which was breakfast time in Europe, Minglang awoke.
The timing was perfect. She placed a bouquet of white lotus flowers in a vase at the centre of the table, pleased with the finishing touch. Minglang shuffled over to the table, groggily reaching for a warm piece of lotus root and stuffing it into his mouth.
"Go freshen up first."
Cheng Yi handed him a towel with a look of resignation, pushing him towards the bathroom.
When necessary, Minglang could be just as fast at washing up as he was at eating. Of course, he could also take his sweet time, as he did with this meal, which lasted from four until well past six. Meals always came with conversation, and between bites, he boasted endlessly about his recent trip to Europe. As the evening sunlight streamed through the window, he suddenly changed the subject.
"Why are you living in this dump?"
It was the second time she'd been asked the same question, and as she gazed at the pristine lotus flowers, she smiled without answering.
This was a peaceful old neighbourhood, and her flat was on the third floor. A white champaca tree stood outside the balcony, filling the air with its fragrance whenever she opened the doors. The flat was well-maintained, but what she loved most was the kitchen, which had retained its old-fashioned design and was spotless. It reminded her of her childhood home.
Cheng Yi wasn't just a skilled cook; she also had a knack for home décor. She hadn't made any major renovations—just had the walls repainted and kept the original furniture, adding a few decorative touches. Take the old dining table, for example. She had simply covered it with a coffee-coloured tablecloth, added chair covers, place mats, and placed a bouquet of flowers in the centre, instantly elevating the room's style.
In the living room, she had merely polished the old Ming and Qing dynasty furniture and added a few Chinese-style cushions and paintings, giving the entire space a fresh new look.
A house is not a home; a home is a place where the soul finds rest, or else it's no different from a hotel.
Wherever she went, she would carefully arrange her living space. She wanted a place that belonged to her, a space where, no matter how fierce the storm outside, she could find shelter. A place where she could let go of everything and be herself.
"I like it here."
Yes, she truly did—because it carried the taste of memories.