Abalone Rice with Sauce
In early January, the weather was sunny and cold, with a clear blue sky.
The last exam ended that morning, and Hu Tong went back to his dormitory to catch up on a long sleep, sleeping until the sun was setting before wrapping himself in a down jacket and going out to find something to eat.
After thinking it over, Hu Tong bought a roasted sweet potato, held it in his hands, and ate it as he walked.
It was her favorite kind of dry roasted sweet potato, with a fibrous texture in every bite. The sweet potato flesh was piping hot, soft yet chewy. It would choke you, and when you swallowed it down, it would soothe and relax all the knots in your body.
Since starting school, Hu Tong has rarely had such a leisurely time as today. He wandered around and ended up in front of a classical-style office building on campus.
The pinkish-purple rays of the sunset slanted across the vermilion gate, radiating brilliance, and slowly flowed across the bluish-green stone brick floor.
The scenery is beautiful, and the people in it are equally stunning.
Cheng Zhou's hair must have been recently touched up; it was bright white like snow, piled up on top of his head, swaying gently in the wind.
He slightly bent his knees, holding up a rather bulky camera, and focused intently on taking pictures of a woman dressed in a bright red Hanfu. The bulging veins on the back of his hand snaked down to the cuffs of his tight dark gray down jacket.
With a heavy academic workload, Hu Tong barely contacted Cheng Zhou after the sports meet. At most, they would nod when they met and have some online exchanges about elective courses for the next semester, which was no different from what they did with netizens.
But from Cheng Zhou's perspective, his connection with Hu Tong goes beyond that.
He often ran into Hu Tong at school—in the library, the study room, and at the round stone table under the tree…
Each time, Cheng Zhou would place a small item near her elbow—two mints, a piece of chocolate, or even an unopened pen refill—whatever was available, and then quietly leave.
Hu Tong was very focused on his studies and was completely unaware of these things, let alone sending him a polite message—Cheng Zhou assumed this was a tacit understanding between him and Hu Tong.
One day, Cheng Zhou bought Hu Tong a cup of coffee and placed it on the small stone table. That evening, he checked his phone and saw that Hu Tong had posted a photo on her WeChat Moments—a photo of her sleeve stained with coffee, with the caption:
[Who was so rude as to litter and leave their unfinished coffee on the stone table outside the Third Teaching Building!]
Cheng Zhou left nothing more in Hu Tong's possession.
As his thoughts returned, Cheng Zhou pressed the shutter, but the photo was out of focus.
Hu Tong was still embarrassed by the unexpected handshake and her own overreaction, and didn't really want to see Cheng Zhou.
But when she saw the woman changing poses in front of the camera, an inexplicable impulse compelled Hu Tong to walk over.
"What a coincidence, Honghong."
She walked up to Cheng Zhou, gave Jiao Yuhong, who was dressed impeccably, a warm but fake smile, without looking at him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Cheng Zhou remained in the same position as before, without looking at her.
Hu Tong was a little angry.
"Awake?" Jiao Yuhong slightly raised her eyes, her upturned fox-like eyes sparkling, and her orange-gold eyeshadow shimmered like the surface of a lake under the sunset.
"Wait for me, I'll take you out for dinner."
"Um!"
With a childish desire to compete with Cheng Zhou, Hu Tong made small talk, trying to show off her close relationship with Jiao Yuhong, "Shall we go eat at that private restaurant again? The abalone rice with sauce is really delicious."
The "last time" that Hu Tong mentioned was far too long ago, dating back to the third day after the school sports meet ended. In early November, she reluctantly treated Jiao Yuhong to a big meal.
The restaurant, costing 600 yuan per person, boasted a tranquil ambiance and exquisite dishes. The entire meal, from appetizers and soups to the main course and dessert, was meticulously prepared and impeccably presented. Hu Tong wondered whether the restaurant's failure to make her only eat at the cafeteria for the next two weeks was a flaw, or a flaw in her own character.
All Hu Tong knew was that Jiao Yuhong was so angry that she said she would never ask her to treat her to a meal again—that was Jiao Yuhong's good point!
Jiao Yuhong frowned and thought for a moment before remembering which restaurant Hu Tong had mentioned. It was something from eight hundred years ago, but whenever she thought of Hu Tong's stingy manner, she still felt a surge of anger.
Hu Tong feels heartbroken if she treats others to a meal costing 600 yuan per person, but when she has a craving for pork, she can eat her way through the entire Peking University campus. She even wants to tear off the grass by the roadside and suck on it. She eats braised pork, which is sold by weight in the school cafeteria, by the pound!
According to Zhang Xianyu, Hu Tong spent nearly 500 yuan on food one day. And yet, she still had the nerve to boast about how frugal she was by eating in the school cafeteria for a month—not all places that sell food on campus are called cafeterias, okay!
Jiao Yuhong snorted, which was her response.
Hu Tong quieted down and watched the two of them, one taking pictures and the other posing. A strange feeling welled up in her heart again, a sour and itchy feeling, when suddenly someone touched her arm.
Cheng Zhou handed her a small, round black bag with one hand and said softly, "Do me a favor."
Hu Tong crossed his arms: "By—"
"Ten minutes, three hundred yuan."
"With our friendship, why talk about money!" Hu Tong grinned, devouring the remaining roasted sweet potato, took the small bag, took out the reflector, unfolded it, and humbly asked, "How about holding it here? Or here?"
She was quick-witted and agile; sometimes, before Cheng Zhou could even speak, she would be heading in the right place with the huge reflector on her.
Behind the camera, Cheng Zhou silently curled the corners of his lips, his profile bathed in the deep winter sunlight, his lines smooth, bright and refreshing.
After filming ended, Hu Tong looked at the extra three hundred yuan in his account and was overjoyed.
Jiao Yuhong linked arms with her and teased Cheng Zhou, "How come you make money more easily than me, Cheng the great photographer?"
"It's just a part-time job, I'm not really a photographer." Cheng Zhou slowly tidied up his equipment and followed behind the two.
Hu Tong frowned in confusion: "What are you doing?"
"I'll treat you to a meal."
Cheng Zhou answered succinctly, carrying his camera bag over one shoulder, and walked past Hu Tong like a cool breeze, "Abalone Rice with Sauce."
Hu Tong stood there in a daze, a few strands of hair by her temples fluttering slightly in the wind, tickling her cheeks.
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