When Xiangyang passed by the kitchen while getting water, he glanced over: Jing Xin was bent over the sink washing vegetables, looking focused. A small patch of snow-white skin was exposed on her back. Steam rose from the clay pot beside her. A strand of hair slid to her forehead, and she raised her wet hand to brush it away, only for it to fall again. Jing Xin shook the water from her hand, turning slightly as her blue-black hair cascaded down. She gathered her hair behind her, unaware of the thoughtful gaze behind her.
Suddenly, a line of poetry popped into Jiang Xiangyang’s mind, startling him.
When Mrs. Jiang woke up, Jing Xin had already prepared the meal,. She was bringing a bowl of fish soup to the table. The soup was perfectly cooked, with fragrant broth filling the air. Mrs. Jiang looked at her lovingly, noting that most young girls nowadays were pampered and rarely knew how to do housework.
Jing Xin poured the boiling soup into a small bowl and carefully removed the fish bones. When she looked up, she found Mrs. Jiang looking at her in surprise.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, she explained, “I saw that Xiangyang’s hand is inconvenient, so I helped remove the bones for him.”
She brought the de-boned soup to him: “Xiangyang, this fish soup should be drunk hot. It will smell fishy if it gets cold.”
Mrs. Jiang studied this steady girl, liking her from the bottom of her heart. “Miss Tian is truly considerate, making soup for Xiangyang when he’s injured. Whoever marries you will be so lucky.”
In her heart, she felt pity for Jing Xin. If only Xiangyang wasn’t so unruly and focused on troublemakers.
Jing Xin served her rice: “Auntie, don’t call me Miss Tian. Call me Jingxin. You haven’t kept me, but I’m eating here anyway.”
Mrs. Jiang laughed heartily: “I’m retired and alone at home, very lonely. I’d be happy if you could keep me company. If you’re free, please come often. Look at the flowers my husband left in the yard; many have died. He loved taking care of them, but I can’t manage.”
