Sister Tang is Fragrant

Shen Mo had never encountered someone so shamelessly bold before. For a moment, she didn't know how to respond, but she vaguely sensed that he was finding new ways to compliment her, which made her even more embarrassed. With a pout, she shot him a sidelong glance, a mixture of shyness and annoyance, making her irresistibly adorable.

Fang Chang'an asked again, "Do you celebrate your birthday according to the lunar calendar?"

"Yes, doesn't everyone?" Shen Mo replied, a bit puzzled.

"I thought all the kids picked up by your Second Hospital celebrated their birthdays by the solar calendar," Fang Chang'an shrugged. The young girl caught his jest and couldn't help but laugh, "Of course not, I've always celebrated my birthday by the lunar calendar since I was little."

"I thought I started school early, but you beat me to it. How old were you when you started?" he asked.

Shen Mo pondered seriously, "Four or five, I can't really remember."

"Did you go to kindergarten?"

"Yeah, didn't you?"

"We didn't have kindergarten in our village, just a preschool class. After one year, you could go straight to first grade."

"Oh," the girl nodded, "Is it just like kindergarten?"

"More or less. Do you move up to middle school in fifth grade too?"

"Yes. Don't you?"

"Yes, I thought you had a sixth grade."

"Is there a sixth grade?"

"There is. In a couple of years, elementary school will probably become six grades."

"How come I never knew?"

"You just never paid attention."

"You know so much!" The girl's expression was one of surprise, clearly impressed by her handsome desk mate.

"You know plenty of things I don't. We're complementary," Fang Chang'an said.

He wanted to keep chatting, but the bell signaling the end of class rang at an inopportune moment. The girl seemed a little reluctant to leave, but said, "Class is over. I need to go home for lunch."

Fang Chang'an smiled and waved, "Alright, go ahead. I need to eat too."

"Okay."

Shen Mo gathered her books, stood up, and waved at him once more before leaving the classroom. Fang Chang'an followed her out, stretching lazily.

Wang Hao let Zheng Lili out from the inside, then stood up and asked, "Are you going to eat?"

"I'm heading out. You go eat first," Fang Chang'an replied.

Wang Hao didn't ask where he was going, but Wang Ke glanced at Fang Chang'an with a somewhat odd expression. She didn't ask either, and instead linked arms with Zheng Lili as they walked past him.

Fang Chang'an grinned, "You're going to eat too?"

"Yeah!" Wang Ke was still a bit annoyed with him but couldn't bring herself to ignore him completely. She raised her chin slightly, answering with a hint of reluctance.

Fang Chang'an waved again, "Eat plenty. We've got five classes this morning."

Wang Ke, not wanting to respond further, left the classroom with Zheng Lili.

Fang Chang'an took the carton of milk Shen Mo had given him yesterday from his desk and slipped it into his pocket, then walked out of the classroom. He didn't head for the cafeteria, instead blending in with the day students or the eighth and ninth graders heading outside the school gates to eat.

There were several private eateries outside the school: one served simple rice bowls, another cooked instant noodles, and a third sold rolled pancakes from a tricycle cart. Fang Chang'an passed them all, following the crowd before turning at the bookstore where he'd read yesterday, and continued onward.

He walked quickly, but it still took more than fifteen minutes before he found the food stall he was searching for at a relatively secluded street corner. A large sun umbrella shaded several old tables and stools, and the stall owners—a husband and wife, both wearing aprons—stood by their stove watching the empty street.

"It's really here!"

Fang Chang'an felt a hint of delight. The town's water-fried buns supposedly originated from historic Tokyo Bianliang and are a common snack across North China. The name comes from the method: aside from adding a bit of oil to the pan before placing the buns, the entire frying process uses water—though not plain water, but a flour slurry.

The buns come out golden on both sides, and because flour slurry is poured over them, a thin crispy skin connects the centers, also golden, fragrant, and crunchy. Not only do town residents love them, but villagers nearby also buy them to satisfy their cravings.

Most bun stalls are near the town's central lighthouse, where crowds gather. This particular stall was too out-of-the-way to attract much business, and Fang Chang'an had never been here in his previous life. He remembered it only because his sister, Fang Yanran, had mentioned it.

When Fang Yanran was in middle school, Fang Chang'an was repeating his studies, costing the family considerable money, and their lives remained frugal. She often went hungry at school and found this stall, claiming that for the same fifty cents, buying five buns here was better than eating at the school cafeteria. Not only was there meat, but the buns were bigger than those sold on the main street.

Moreover, she said that after eating here for a while, she once noticed the owner gave her fifty cents too much in change—essentially not charging her. She returned it at once, but the next day received twenty cents too much again and returned it as well.

The third day, the same happened; she returned the extra change. At that time, she was the only customer eating buns, and finally, the owner's wife told her to keep it—five buns for thirty cents was enough.

From then on, Fang Yanran ate five buns for thirty cents here, for two years.

When Fang Yanran graduated from college, Fang Chang'an was starting his own business. She followed him, riding the wave of mobile internet, and earned quite a bit in their first year. The day after returning home for New Year's, the three siblings drove over to repay the stall owners, but the couple—still selling buns there—refused to take the money.

"Want some buns?"

Seeing Fang Chang'an approach, the owner's wife greeted him. Fang Chang'an didn't respond at first, but, coming closer, said, "I'd like five meat buns, to eat here."

"Alright!" The owner welcomed him without fuss. "You go ahead, I'll serve you. They're just out of the pan—still hot!"

This area had less foot traffic but also less competition. Local residents wanting fried buns wouldn't go all the way to the town center. Fang Chang'an sat at a table, and nearby, a mother and son—probably local residents—had a large plate of buns and two bowls of spicy soup, making Fang Chang'an swallow hard.

This spicy soup originated in Xuzhou, made by stewing pork bones and hen, adding eel and wheat gluten, and most stalls in Huangnanji would also add shredded seaweed and crushed peanuts. It was a staple at bun stalls.

In modern terms, fried buns without spicy soup have no soul!

Unfortunately, Fang Chang'an couldn't afford it now.

As soon as he sat down, the owner brought out five buns, noticeably bigger than those sold on the main street. Fang Chang'an took out his milk, pierced the straw, grabbed a pair of chopsticks, unconcerned about cleanliness, picked up a bun, took a big bite, and drank some milk.

"Ten buns and a bowl of spicy soup with egg!"

Another middle-aged man approached and sat nearby. The owner acknowledged, the wife served the buns, and the husband took out a large enamel bowl, cracked an egg into it, lifted the lid of a stainless steel barrel warming atop a coal stove, ladled in spicy soup, replaced the lid, and carefully served it to the customer.

The enticing aroma lingered in the air, and Fang Chang'an couldn't help but sneak a glance at the spicy soup, then took a fierce bite of his bun and another sip of milk.

"I'm not tempted, not at all. It's just spicy soup. I have milk, and it's from a girl, too. However aromatic the soup is, can it be sweeter than a girl's gift?"

He mentally dramatized the moment, but then thought, "Actually, the soup probably smells better..."

After finishing his buns, Fang Chang'an paid fifty cents, then walked back to the classroom. He ate slowly, and the round trip took time; by the time he got back, it was already past 7:40, only a few minutes before the bell.

Most classmates had already arrived, and Shen Mo was already seated. When she saw him come in, she stood up again to let him pass.

"You got here pretty quickly," Fang Chang'an remarked as he squeezed past, and Shen Mo softly replied, "Mm," sitting back down. Before they could talk more, Cheng Mengfei walked in, holding the class schedule, and used glue to stick it on the wall beside the podium.

"The schedule is here. If you have a moment, come take a look. This morning's five classes are English, Math, History, Politics, and Chinese," Cheng Mengfei instructed, then turned and left the classroom.

Several students rushed over to look at the schedule and copy it down. Shen Mo glanced at Fang Chang'an; seeing he hadn't moved, she prepared to go copy it herself. Fang Chang'an reached out, briefly grasped her wrist, and let go.

"No rush, wait a bit," he said, gesturing toward the front. Shen Mo saw the crowd gathered around, and though she'd intended to queue up, she followed his advice and stayed seated. After all, she already knew the morning's classes and could copy the schedule later.

Fang Chang'an pulled out his English book and opened it. Noticing Shen Mo doing the same, he asked, "Did you study English in elementary school?"

"Mm," Shen Mo nodded.

"We didn't. Only Chinese and Math. I'll have to ask you about English from now on, is that alright?"

"Of course," the girl replied immediately.

"Are you busy right now?"

She shook her head.

Fang Chang'an pointed to the letters on the page. "Could you teach me how to pronounce these?"

"Sure."

Shen Mo knew the alphabet by heart and agreed confidently. "This one is A, that one is B. A, B. Repeat after me."

"A, B, right?"

"Mm, that's basically correct, but not quite precise. Watch my mouth—A—"

The girl taught with care, and Fang Chang'an learned with equal diligence, watching her rosy lips for the shape, following along: "A—"

"No, not A, it's A."

"A—"

The two traded teaching and learning. Wang Hao returned with the copied schedule; Fang Chang'an paused his alphabet practice and said, "Let me copy it."

"Okay," Wang Hao handed over his notes.

Fang Chang'an looked at Shen Mo, "Should I copy or you?"

Shen Mo thought for a moment, "I'll copy. My handwriting is a bit neater."

Fang Chang'an's lips twitched. For someone as thick-skinned as he, he still couldn't bring himself to boast that her handwriting was better than his.

Though Shen Mo had practiced penmanship, she wasn't quite at the level of calligraphy appreciation, but she did feel her writing was more tidy and attractive than Fang Chang'an's. Noticing his expression, she thought she'd hurt his feelings and hurried to explain, "I'm not saying your writing is bad, I just... I've practiced writing since I was little."

She meant, it's not that you're bad, it's just that I'm really good.

A little embarrassed to praise herself, she hastily added, "I'll teach you to practice writing from now on, shall I?"

Fang Chang'an gave her a genuine smile. "Alright, I'll study hard. Next semester, I'll copy the schedule!"

"Mm-hmm." Seeing that he wasn't upset by her slip of the tongue, the girl nodded happily.