In the kitchen, Chen Chunhua took out the marinated ribs from the refrigerator. When her fingertips touched the cold meat, she seemed to be touching the time eleven years ago.
The ribs at that time were similar to those now. She always chose parts with fewer bones because six-year-old Hua Jinyue would always get stuck by the small broken bones.
With a click, she turned on the range hood. The oil in the wok began to smoke faintly. Chen Chunhua took a deep breath and slid the starch-coated ribs into the wok one by one. The hot oil immediately began to sizzle, making a sizzling sound like some long-awaited welcome ceremony.
"Young Master likes it crispy on the outside and tender on the inside..." Chen Chunhua muttered softly, gently stirring the ribs in the pot with her chopsticks. Eleven years had passed, and she wondered if his taste had changed.
There were footsteps in the living room, and Chen Chunhua's hand trembled, and a drop of hot oil splashed on the back of her hand. She didn't care about the pain, and quickly wiped her hand with her apron, turning her head to look at the kitchen door.
"Need help?"
Ye Qingliu stood at the door, his school uniform jacket already taken off, revealing the meticulously ironed white shirt underneath.
The seventeen-year-old boy was much taller than Chen Chunhua remembered. His shoulders already supported the outline of an adult, and only his gray-blue eyes were exceptionally calm.
"No, that's all right, young master." Chen Chunhua rubbed her hands awkwardly. "It will be ready soon. You can go and rest first."
Ye Qingliu's eyes swept across the prepared side dishes on the cooking table and lingered for a moment on the small bowl of sweet and sour sauce.
"Is the ratio of sugar to vinegar still 4:3?"
Chen Chunhua nearly dropped the spatula in her hand into the frying pan. She looked at Ye Qingliu with wide eyes, but the boy had already turned and walked towards the restaurant, leaving only a sentence: "Jinyue said she wanted to eat cola chicken wings."
Chen Chunhua stood there in a daze, her mind still racing until the ribs in the pan began to turn a golden brown. She frantically fished them out, her heart beating wildly. Eleven years later, he still remembered that ratio.
"Auntie Chen, where are my chicken wings?"
Hua Jinyue's voice floated down from the second floor, with the tone that was unique to a seventeen-year-old girl, somewhere between coquettishness and impatience.
Chen Chunhua looked up towards the stairs, but only saw a school uniform skirt flash by quickly.
"It will be right away!" she answered in a louder voice, speeding up her movements.
Cola chicken wings were Hua Jinyue's favorite dish when she was six years old. Back then, the little girl would always sit on a small stool in the kitchen, staring intently at the cola bubbling in the pot, and would ask, "Is it ready?" from time to time.
Chen Chunhua would always dip the tip of her chopsticks into the sauce and let her taste it. The little girl would squint her eyes like a satisfied kitten. The cola in the pot began to reduce its juice, and the sweet and salty aroma filled the entire kitchen.
Chen Chunhua carefully flipped the chicken wings, ensuring that each side was coated with a beautiful caramel color.
She deliberately added more ginger slices because she remembered that Hua Jinyue always said that Coke was too sweet when she was a child and needed the spiciness of ginger to balance it out.
"Dinner is ready."
Chen Chunhua plated the last of the stir-fried seasonal vegetables and called out toward the dining room. Her voice trembled, perhaps from nervousness or the heat of the kitchen.
Ye Qingliu was already sitting in his usual seat, a thick reference book open before him. Hearing the shout, he closed the book, his movements as graceful as if he were completing some ritual.
Hua Jinyue slowly came down from upstairs, her hair casually tied into a ponytail, with a few strands of hair hanging by her ears, looking casual and lazy.
Chen Chunhua placed the sweet and sour pork ribs in front of Ye Qingliu and deliberately pushed the cola chicken wings to Hua Jinyue's side. The two siblings' eyes met briefly at the table, then looked away.
"I'm starting to eat." Ye Qingliu picked up the chopsticks, his voice so calm that no emotion could be heard.
Hua Jinyue reached out and grabbed a chicken wing, took a bite, and frowned: "It's too sweet."
Chen Chunhua's heart sank. "Then I'll put less Coke next time..."
"No need." Hua Jinyue took another bite, "That's all."
Ye Qingliu picked up a piece of sweet and sour pork ribs with an elegant and restrained movement. Chen Chunhua noticed that his chopsticks paused for a moment above the ribs before he steadily picked up the most perfect piece in the middle.
The boy put the ribs into his mouth and chewed them so lightly that the movement of his jaw was barely noticeable.
"How is it?" Chen Chunhua couldn't help but ask, her fingers unconsciously tightening the edge of her apron.
Ye Qingliu put down his chopsticks, picked up his napkin and gently wiped the corners of his mouth: "The heat has exceeded three seconds."
Chen Chunhua blinked and didn't react for a moment.
"The outer layer should be a little crispier," Ye Qingliu added. His voice remained calm, but Chen Chunhua could hear a barely perceptible warmth in it. "But the balance of sour and sweet is right."
Hua Jinyue suddenly laughed out loud, still holding half a chicken wing in her mouth: "Brother, you're actually commenting on Aunt Chen's cooking? Didn't you say you don't have any preferences for food?"
Ye Qingliu glanced at his sister calmly: "It's just an objective evaluation."
"You're lying." Hua Jinyue licked the sauce off her fingers. "You obviously like Aunt Chen's sweet and sour pork ribs the most."
The air in the restaurant seemed to freeze for a moment. Chen Chunhua stood at the table, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest. Eleven years later, they still remembered it.
Ye Qingliu did not refute, but picked up another piece of ribs. This time he chose the part close to the bone, where the meat was the tenderest and most flavorful.
Chen Chunhua remembers that six-year-old Ye Qingliu always ate the meatier parts first, leaving the bones to chew slowly.
Hua Jinyue was so engrossed in her cola chicken wings, her hands covered in sauce oblivious to the fact. Chen Chunhua wanted to offer her a tissue, but fearing it would seem too obvious, she silently pushed the tissue box toward her.
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