Fu Xiaotang checked the kitchen for ingredients; everything she needed was mostly there, and what wasn’t could be substituted. She also found a special purple clay pot, which, although not as good as a custom-made red clay pot, would suffice. Preparing for five people, she selected vegetables, meat, seafood, and mushrooms, washing, chopping, and preparing them efficiently. Then she started on the crucial base for the hot pot. As the kitchen filled with the fresh, spicy, sour, and fragrant smells, Fu Xiaotang set up a board to make some small flatbreads as side dishes.
When Fang Junjie came looking for her, he saw this scene. Fu Xiaotang, in a casual sweater, a red apron with small flowers tied around her waist, highlighting her slender figure; her sleeves rolled up revealing delicate, fair arms; her shoulder-length hair tied back with a handkerchief, though a few strands rebelliously fell down, swinging by her cheek like a brush against white jade. Perhaps from the effort of kneading dough, her face was flushed and beaded with sweat, looking like a piece of art glowing softly in the setting sun.
Fang Junjie felt a stir in his heart. Although he usually only dreamt of expanding his territory, now, watching Fu Xiaotang cook like a little wife, busy yet composed, he began to look forward to their married life.
Fu Xiaotang, flipping the scallion oil flatbread in the pan until both sides turned golden, suddenly looked up and saw Fang Junjie leaning against the door frame, watching her with interest. She called out with delight, “You’re here!” but then remembered something and glared at him before lowering her head again.
Fang Junjie chuckled softly, walked over to her, and after observing her for a while, asked in a slightly hoarse voice, “Missed me?”
Fu Xiaotang tried not to laugh, shaking her head, “No.”
“Oh, really?” Fang Junjie dragged out his words, then sighed dramatically, “I’ve been thinking of you all the time.”
