Recently, he had me make tea for him, though he used to only drink coffee. I use coffee only for desserts, and instant coffee is all I’m good for, but when I brought it to him, he wouldn’t even glance at it and called me clumsy, teaching me several times hands-on. I can make many complex dishes, almost replicating them after tasting once, and I’m adept with all sorts of kitchen gadgets, even innovating new uses for them. However, I could never master that German-made idiot-proof coffee machine; the coffee it produced was either not aromatic enough or had an off acidity, at least that’s what he said, I couldn’t tell the difference. After a few outbursts, he banned me from touching it, and when he wanted coffee, he’d have Secretary Zhao prepare it. That girl, Qi Qi, who couldn’t even use a microwave, made excellent coffee, which was quite a marvel. I was relieved, enjoying my tea leisurely, my own blend with a few Chinese medicinal ingredients added for flavor, though I couldn’t say what benefits it had, just that I was accustomed to it. But one day, after kissing me, he suddenly took an interest in the taste and asked me to make it for him. Over time, this tea became a post-meal necessity. He took a sip, his voice slightly hoarse, “Come here.” I put down what I was doing and slowly approached him. He watched me, a faint smile playing on his lips, “Sit.” I sat beside him, and he placed the tea on a nearby table. One arm rested behind me on the sofa, and with the other hand, he took mine, playing with my fingers one by one, “You and Ying, have you been getting along well recently?” “Yes,” I nodded. “The birthday earrings you gave her, they’re quite unique. She loved them.” “It’s nothing, I hardly spent anything.” “No, it’s the thought that counts,” he pulled me closer, resting my head on his shoulder, and kissed my hair, “Ying wasn’t very friendly to you at first, so I want to thank you.” I felt a bit overwhelmed by the unexpected gratitude, “Actually, I really like her, really. She’s straightforward, expressing exactly what she thinks, good or bad. Being with her is simple, direct, not tiring.” He listened with a hint of what could be called indulgence, then smiled slowly, “And what about me? Is being with me simple? Direct? Tiring?” His voice grew softer, almost inaudible as he leaned in to kiss me, his last words lost in the kiss, “How is it? …You must… think carefully before answering…” How could I think when held in his arms like this? My brain was blank, my heart pounding as if it might leap out of my chest. My hands were still greasy from cooking, and I struggled not to touch him. After a while, my arms ached, my legs went numb, and I was sweating. He seemed completely detached, effortlessly controlling the situation, keeping me comfortably trapped. “How is it?” He glanced at the time casually, “We’ve got half an hour today, I don’t mind taking our time.” “What should I say?” I mumbled. “Just say,” he pondered, “how does it feel being with me?” “Oh,” I sighed, realizing he had been teasing me daily, perhaps for fun, but this was driving me crazy. “Don’t torture me,” I surrendered pitifully, words I had buried deep inside spilling out uncontrollably, “I like you, so much, so please, don’t torture me!” “You like me?” He paused, as if contemplating the truth of this statement. I stared at him blankly, suddenly realizing what I had said. He slowly pulled me into his embrace, his lips close to my ear, gently touching my earlobe, his voice husky, “That’s a nice line, if you say it often, I’ll be completely at your mercy.” I turned to look at him, silently watching for a moment before slowly kissing his lips. His mouth curved into a smile, holding me tightly, deepening the kiss… The door banged open, and Song Ying called out, “Brother, where’s Tangtang, we’re going to…” She froze at the sight of us. I quickly pushed Song Li away, adjusting my collar. Song Li, with a slow reprimand, said, “Ying, knock before you enter, can’t you change that rash habit of yours?” Song Ying’s face flushed slightly, “How was I supposed to know… in broad daylight!” Song Li gave her a sideways glance, smoothed my hair, and said indifferently, “What’s up? Another amusement park? Roller coasters?” Song Ying laughed awkwardly, admitting it. I silently pleaded for help, looking at Song Li. I was sore, tense, and really not up for more adventures with the young lady. Song Li looked at me with pity, “Don’t look at me, you got her hooked, you’ve got to handle it.” Song Ying grabbed me, dragging me out without a word, “Brother, I’m borrowing her. We’ll be back for dinner. Bye!” I begged her to let me wash up and change, staring at the skylight in the bathroom for a few seconds, contemplating an escape from the 30th floor. She was already impatiently knocking on the door, “Hurry up, Tian Tian is waiting downstairs, we have a big day ahead!” I glanced at the haggard woman in the mirror, opened the door with the resolve of a soldier cutting off his arm, and was dragged downstairs by Song Ying at a brisk pace.
Chapter 22: Family Banquet
Tian Tian leaned against a flashy red convertible, smiling happily as he saw us, “Ying Ying, you always know how to get things done.” I shot him a glare and muttered, “You guys can go crazy, why drag me along, an old bone?” Song Ying scoffed, “You’re barely a year older than me, are you already acting like an old lady?” I was momentarily taken aback, feeling quite pleased with the term “sister-in-law.” Tian Tian, seeing me in a daze, didn’t hesitate to open the car door, stuff me into the back seat, and then stylishly vaulted over the door into the driver’s seat, muttering, “You’re always like this, only fierce towards me.” “Alright, enough chit-chat, let’s get going!” Song Ying urged excitedly. “Sure thing! Ladies, please sit tight, we’re off!” Tian Tian floored the accelerator, and we sped away, leaving dust in our wake.
At the amusement park, after several rounds, I was dizzy, my legs felt weak, and they were cramping. Seeing Song Ying’s flushed cheeks and her increasingly brave demeanor, I decided to save myself before I could vomit blood. While Song Ying went to the restroom, I racked my brains to promise a series of desserts to lure Tian Tian to my side. After he finally agreed, and with our combined efforts of persuasion, Song Ying reluctantly agreed to stop after two more rides. To make amends and soothe her excited nerves, we left the amusement park and stormed into a supermarket, purchasing enough food for a grand feast. Tian Tian was tired of Western cuisine, and Song Ying suddenly wanted to try Suzhou and Hangzhou dishes. I was delighted and eagerly cooked beggar’s chicken, lotus root with pork kidney, shrimp in Longjing tea, Dongpo pork, West Lake water shield soup, and also prepared small steamed buns, sweet-stuffed buns, vegetarian goose in sticky rice, and opened a jar of ten-year-old Huadiao wine. The table was set with an impressive spread, leaving Song Ying and Tian Tian staring in awe.
