Although Pinglan runs a private restaurant, her husband Qin Liangshan is worried that entertaining guests will exhaust him and cause him to lose his health, so he rarely receives guests throughout the year.
I come here occasionally, usually to invite my sisters and relatives to try the new dishes.
And so, all the people I met were familiar faces.
Fu Siming called Pinglan early this morning to say he was bringing his wife over, which excited her so much that she woke up her husband who was still asleep.
Because of health problems he developed when he was young, he was unable to have children, which remained a thorn in Qin Liangshan's side.
When Jiang Man gave birth to Fu Siming, she was happy for Jiang Man, but she was also secretly saddened.
Jiang Man knew about her past and said directly that her child was her child, and she was the child's godmother. She added that if the child ever treated her badly in the future, she should just beat him up.
Because of their relationship, Fu Siming always treated her with great respect whenever he came, which made Pinglan very happy.
Qin Liangshan was ushered out of the kitchen to greet them. He saw Fu Siming holding Song Xingyao's hand and whispering something in her ear, just like he and Ping Lan when they were young.
Fu Siming was the first to notice him, and stood up to greet him: "Uncle Qin".
The latter nodded and sat down opposite the two of them. "Si Ming! Your Aunt Ping and I didn't even give you a big red envelope for your wedding. This little Song girl is so cute. Come and accept the gift your uncle prepared."
I don't know how, but a velvet brocade box appeared out from behind me, shimmering slightly in the dim light overhead.
Before Song Xingyao could react, Qin Liangshan spoke again: "Here, little Song, this is something your Aunt Ping specially prepared for you. It's nothing particularly valuable, so take it!"
As he spoke, he pushed the brocade box in his hand in front of her.
Seeing his actions, it seemed unreasonable to say anything to refuse.
She replied obediently, "Thank you, Uncle Qin. Please also thank Aunt Ping for me."
Fu Siming echoed, saying that the box contained an imperial green jadeite safety buckle, its green so clear and bright that it was obviously not what he described as something particularly valuable.
Seeing her like this, Fu Siming said in a seemingly joking manner, "Aunt Ping is really generous, it's a pity it wasn't given to me, that's too biased."
Just as she finished speaking, Pinglan came out carrying a white round plate.
Hearing this, she pouted and said, "You brat, you're talking about me behind my back. If a girl is willing to marry a rascal like you, of course I'll prepare a big gift for her! Besides, when you have children, I'll prepare an even bigger one for my grandson."
Upon hearing this, Song Xingyao suddenly remembered what Aunt Qi had said yesterday, and her body tensed up...
Noticing that her expression was a little stiff, Fu Siming assumed that it was pressure from her elders, so he quickly spoke up to defuse the situation: "We haven't had enough of our time as a couple yet! We don't plan to have children so soon."
Hearing these words, Song Xingyao felt a sense of loss and unease.
She wondered if Fu Siming was not looking forward to his arrival if she really was pregnant.
Pinglan then realized, "That's right, the most important thing is that the young couple lives a comfortable life. Alright, we can eat now. Lao Qin, please help serve the dishes."
Before long, the table was filled with exquisite dishes, and space was left for the young couple.
Fu Siming had invited the couple to eat together, but Pinglan refused to be a third wheel.
Every dish was a feast for the eyes, nose, and palate, making Song Xingyao, who hadn't had much of an appetite lately, very hungry.
Seeing her reaction, Fu Siming smiled indulgently before serving her some food.
The first bite of braised pork looked glistening, but it was rich yet not greasy, and incredibly savory. Sister Song Xingyao ate several pieces in a row.
The man next to him then spoke up: "There's so much food! Save room to try it all, don't just focus on the braised pork."
The soup is also a rich and sweet chicken soup. The skinless chicken meat is stewed until it has a tender texture, and the soup is sweet but not greasy.
Seeing that she was enjoying her meal, even Fu Siming was influenced and ate quite a bit himself.
In the end, it seemed like they were about to finish everything, but Song Xingyao really couldn't eat anymore. Looking at the remaining dishes on the table, she looked troubled.
I really didn't want to waste it, but I was so full that I felt uncomfortable, like a homeless person who hadn't eaten for several days.
Fu Siming saw through her intention, but didn't let her eat it. "Little glutton, Aunt Ping's cooking skills are indeed well-deserved. If you like it, we can come again next time."
"Isn't this a bit much... It feels like we've prepared for Aunt Ping for so long, it would be such a waste if we couldn't finish it!"
"Aunt Ping rarely accepts outside guests when she runs this private restaurant. She'll be very happy if you come to visit her often. Look, she likes you a lot and has prepared such a big gift for you. Even I don't have one!"
Fu Siming's tone was unusually childlike, which made Song Xingyao happy, and her mood became light and cheerful along with his.
She nodded, preparing to tidy up the table and put things away with him, just as Qin Liangshan and his wife came down as if they had timed it perfectly.
Seeing their actions, Pinglan told her to put them down and took Song Xingyao's hand, saying, "Let the men handle this kind of thing. Come on, let's go for a walk."
She raised an eyebrow at the two men present, then went straight out the door, where she saw Qin Liangshan nod indulgently.
The two walked in the garden. The style of the outside and the inside seemed a bit mismatched. It was all brightly colored and colorful, unlike the gentle and graceful style of the Jiangnan region. Instead, it had a feeling of boundless vitality.
There are many types of flowers, giving the impression of an abstract painter casually splashing a bucket of mixed oil paints.
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