Chen Chunhua looked up at him. The boy's eyes were lowered as he concentrated on sweeping the floor, which reminded her of a rainy night. When Wang Tiezhu was four years old, he rolled in the mud and finally hugged her legs with his dirty body, but she kicked him away.
Zhao Chengshu turned around and opened the cupboard, but suddenly stopped when he reached out to take the bowl.
On the top shelf of the cupboard sat a blue and white enamel bowl, the one Chen Chunhua often used when she was a nanny at the Ye family. There was a fine crack on the rim of the bowl, where she had accidentally dropped it once, and the Ye family's master had it repaired with a gold rim.
"Uncle Zhao?" Ye Qingliu's call interrupted his thoughts. Zhao Chengshu took out a celadon bowl and turned to see Chen Chunhua picking up the last few chopped green onions with her fingertips. Sunlight filtered through her fingers, casting spider-web-like shadows on the ground.
"Here you go." He handed over the bowl, and their fingertips touched in mid-air, like two fallen leaves blown away by the wind, and separated in an instant.
The moment Chen Chunhua took the bowl, she caught a whiff of the faint scent of cedar on him. It was a strange smell. Back then, Zhao Chengshu had only the scent of sweat and grass, mingled with the sweet, fishy aroma of field soil.
She suddenly remembered the handwriting in the last letter - the letter said "I have married, don't worry", but the handwriting was much crooked than his usual handwriting. Why didn't she doubt it at that time?
"Auntie Chen, is the sauce ready?" Ye Qingliu's voice brought her back to reality. The boy was leaning against the window, peeling garlic. The sunlight filtered through the loose hair behind his ear, making his earlobe glow a light pink.
He suddenly raised a clove of garlic and waved it in front of his eyes. "Look, does this garlic resemble the ragdoll cat that Hua Jinyue raised?"
Chen Chunhua was amused by his metaphor, and her previous depression instantly dissipated. Ye Qingliu always had this way of making her laugh with these childish metaphors, like scattering a handful of stars in her heart.
But Wang Tiezhu never said such words. The child would just follow her woodenly, repeating "hungry", "painful", and "mom".
"Ready." Chen Chunhua poured the sauce on the ribs. The amber syrup slowly flowed down the texture of the meat. The moment she sprinkled chopped green onions on it, the whole kitchen was filled with fragrance.
She heard Zhao Chengshu's breathing suddenly become heavier behind her. When she turned around, she saw him concentrating on wiping the silver teapot, as if everything that had just happened was an illusion.
The dinner bell at the Ye family rang at six o'clock. Chen Chunhua took off her apron and looked at Ye Qingliu and Hua Jinyue sitting at the dining table. Suddenly, she felt that this scene was like a warm oil painting.
Hua Jinyue was pestering Ye Qingliu to tell her interesting stories at school. The boy smiled and picked up some food for his sister, his gray-blue eyes filled with tiny lights.
"Brother, look at the spareribs made by Aunt Chen!" Hua Jinyue picked up a piece first, and the sauce formed shiny threads in the porcelain plate.
Ye Qingliu's originally straight back suddenly sagged, and he casually loosened his school uniform tie, revealing the boy's thin collarbone.
He stared at the ribs like a hungry child, his Adam's apple rolled twice, and suddenly reached out and grabbed a piece of ribs, completely ignoring the silver chopsticks placed next to him.
"Be careful, it's hot!" Chen Chunhua subconsciously reached out to stop him, but saw that he had already taken a big bite. The sauce flowed from the corner of his mouth to his chin, leaving a small stain on his white shirt.
Hua Jinyue burst out laughing, but Ye Qingliu was completely oblivious. His eyes narrowed into crescents as he mumbled incoherently, "That's the taste... Aunt Chen, did you add some magic to the sauce?"
As he spoke, white sesame seeds stuck to his eyelashes, trembling slightly with each blink. Chen Chunhua was both angry and amused. She pulled out a napkin to wipe his mouth, but he turned his head away and instead licked the sauce on his fingertips with the tip of his tongue.
This action instantly shed his usual coldness as a ruler, and he looked like a toddler secretly drinking syrup, his gray-blue eyes gleaming cunningly under the light.
She turned and walked towards the kitchen. As she passed the corridor, she heard Ye Qingliu say to Zhao Chengshu, "Grandpa Butler, please teach me how to tie a tie tomorrow. Aunt Chen said I tied it too crookedly last time."
Chen Chunhua paused. Outside the French window at the end of the corridor, the setting sun was dyeing the sycamore leaves golden red.
She fished out a piece of candy from her apron pocket, the wrapper making a subtle sound between her fingers. Zhao Chengshu's reply came from a distance, his voice as light as a feather: "Okay."
As dusk deepened, Chen Chunhua sat in her small room, gazing at the silver bracelet on her wrist, warmed by the setting sun. The chirping of cicadas outside the window gradually faded, replaced by the gentle hum of evening insects.
She suddenly remembered the white hair on the back of Zhao Chengshu's neck when he bent down to pick up chopped green onions in the kitchen during the day - it turned out that he was so old.
In the stoneware vase on the bedside table, the roses she'd picked that day were still in bloom. Chen Chunhua reached out to touch the petals when she suddenly heard the sound of flipping pages. It was Ye Qingliu's room, and the boy was probably reviewing his lessons.
She smiled, put the fruit candy next to her pillow, and took a last look at the starry sky outside the window before turning off the light.
This time, she did not dream of Wang Tiezhu, but only saw Ye Qingliu holding the firefly jar and smiling at her, as if holding the starlight of the entire summer.
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