The night outside the window was as dark as ink that couldn't be dissolved, and only the studio floor was still lit, like a button forgotten on black velvet. The air conditioner had been turned off half an hour ago, and the stuffy air was filled with the smell of ink from printer paper, the slightly astringent smell of camera lens cleaner, and, most notably, the rich aroma of steaming instant noodle soup.
Ah Yu slurped the last mouthful of noodle soup into his mouth, the plastic fork scraping softly against the bottom of the bowl. Only one braised egg remained in the bowl, soaking in the orange-red broth, the egg white absorbing the flavor and glistening with an enticing sheen. Without thinking, he flicked his wrist, the fork firmly piercing the egg, and placed it in Zhong Hua's bowl: "Here you go."
Zhong Hua was looking down at the data on the blueprints when he heard this. He glanced up, his gaze behind his glasses falling on the round, hard-boiled egg, then sliding to Ah Yu's lips, which were smeared with some broth. He didn't take it; instead, he gently poked at the egg with his chopsticks, splitting it in two. The runny yolk oozed out slightly, mixed with the broth, like a small piece of melting sunset. "Wanqing didn't get any either," he said, pushing half an egg towards Lin Wanqing.
Lin Wanqing, who was rubbing her temples in front of the computer screen, laughed when she heard this. She reached out and pushed the half-eaten egg back, her fingertips touching the scalding bowl as she flinched. "Come on, you two have been performing this 'egg ritual' for years. Don't drag me into it." Her gaze swept between Ah Yu and Zhong Hua, with a hint of teasing. "Forgot about the frenzy of fighting over braised eggs in the university cafeteria? Now that you've changed locations, the ritual hasn't diminished at all."
Ah Yu, still biting his fork, paused when he heard the words "university cafeteria." Steam rose from the rim of his bowl, blurring his glasses and making the scene before him somewhat hazy, yet strangely evoking images from many years ago.
They were sophomores then, with a packed schedule of major courses. Every day after class, they would rush into the cafeteria, and it was a miracle if they could even snag a hot meal. The cafeteria's braised eggs were limited, costing 1.5 yuan each, which wasn't cheap at the time. Every time they were put out at the window, they were gone in a flash. Ah Yu was always busy reserving a seat, and by the time he squeezed his way to the window with his tray, the braised eggs were long gone.
He remembered the first time he failed to get a braised egg, he angrily poked at the white rice in his bowl. Zhong Hua sat down opposite him and silently shared half of his braised egg with him. At that time, Zhong Hua's movements were still clumsy; the eggshell wasn't peeled cleanly, with some bits of egg white left at the edges. But on the half egg he had shared, he used his fingernail to draw a crooked smiley face. The eyes were two asymmetrical dots, and the mouth was an upward-curving arc—it was kind of cute in its ugliness.
“Here,” Zhong Hua pushed the half-egg towards him, his tone flat, “I don’t like egg yolks.”
Ah Yu believed him then, and happily accepted it, even keeping the eggshell with the smiley face drawn on it, secretly tucking it into her textbook. Later, she discovered that Zhong Hua didn't dislike egg yolks; she just always saved her share for him. Once, she left class early and went to the cafeteria to wait for braised eggs. She saw Zhong Hua stuff the braised eggs he had just bought into his pocket, turn around, and run towards his art studio. However, he tripped over a mop at the corner of the stairs, the eggshell broke, and the yolk spilled all over his pocket. He only cared about picking up the half of the egg white that was still edible, frowning and muttering, "What a pity, I can't draw a smiley face now."
The sunlight streamed through the cafeteria's glass windows, illuminating Zhong Hua's back as he squatted on the floor picking up eggshells, giving his hair a golden edge. Ah Yu stood at the top of the stairs, suddenly feeling a sting in her eyes, even more uncomfortable than being stung by the turpentine in the art studio.
"What are you thinking about?" Zhong Hua's voice rang in his ears, tinged with amusement. Ah Yu snapped out of his reverie and realized he was still biting his fork, drool almost dripping down the tines. He hurriedly took the fork off, the fog on his glasses thickening with his breath, so he simply took off his glasses and wiped them haphazardly with his sleeve.
"It's nothing," he said, his gaze falling on the remaining half egg in the bowl. Zhong Hua had already placed the half egg on the edge of his bowl; the runny yolk had solidified slightly, like a piece of warm jade.
The studio was quiet, with only the lingering sound of the air conditioner after it was turned off and the sound of Lin Wanqing typing on the keyboard. Occasionally, a car returning home late would drive by outside the window, its headlights shining through the gaps in the blinds and casting a few moving spots of light on the wall, like a string of running stars.
Ah Yu suddenly spoke, her voice not loud, but clearly reaching the ears of the other two: "I'll make tea eggs tomorrow."
Zhong Hua raised an eyebrow: "No need to trouble yourself—"
“No trouble at all.” Ah Yu interrupted him, putting her clean glasses back on, her eyes behind the lenses brightening. “There’s still some tea and star anise at home. I’ll come early tomorrow morning and cook a big pot, enough for us to eat for several days.” He paused, then added, “I remember you like it with a slightly charred flavor, so cook it a little longer.”
Lin Wanqing chuckled: "Okay, then I'll be waiting to mooch a meal tomorrow. But let's make it clear, no half-and-half rituals with the tea eggs, I want the whole one."
Zhong Hua didn't speak, but just smiled and reached out to push the half-eaten egg from the edge of Ah Yu's bowl towards him. His fingertips accidentally brushed against the back of Ah Yu's hand, and both of them flinched as if burned. Ah Yu's fingers curled up, feeling the scalding heat of the bowl, like the sunlight falling on Zhong Hua's hair on that afternoon years ago when he was squatting on the ground picking up eggshells.
He picked up his chopsticks, took the half-egg, and slowly put it in his mouth. The salty and savory flavor of the braised egg, mixed with the slightly runny yolk, spread across his tongue. Actually, he had long forgotten what the braised eggs tasted like back in college; he only remembered the warm feeling he had every time he received half an egg, like having a little sun inside him.
Zhong Hua had already lowered his head again to look at the drawings, the pen tip scratching across the paper. Ah Yu looked at his profile; the lamplight cast a small shadow on his eyelashes. He suddenly noticed a faint scar on Zhong Hua's right index finger. It was during their junior year of college, when they went to the mountains to take photos. Ah Yu almost slipped into the water while trying to photograph the stream in the morning mist, and when Zhong Hua reached out to pull him out, he was cut by the pebbles on the bank. Blood had been gushing out, but Zhong Hua had only frowned, handed Ah Yu his handkerchief to wipe the mud splattered on his trousers, and said, "It's nothing, just a small cut."
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