Legal alcohol for 21-year-olds
Their little red brick house is located on a quiet street with narrow lanes lined with old-fashioned buildings of the same style, mostly two-story brick and stone structures, with rattan chairs and wind chimes often on the porches.
Tall trees line both sides of the street, and in the summer, their dense foliage provides ample shade, spreading out in large swaths that cover the entire sidewalk.
Pan Qiu recognized the sycamore trees, but couldn't name the others. Sometimes, when the wind blew, dappled sunlight flickered on the ground, like a slow-motion scene from an old movie.
A few minutes' walk from the street corner, and you leave this tranquil area behind.
There's a coffee shop on the street corner called "Little Fox." A picture of a little fox in an apron hangs above the entrance, and the window displays their signature cinnamon rolls and information about their own roasted coffee beans. A sign also says "Hiring Always." Every day when I pass by, I'm greeted by a warm, comforting aroma of caramel and rich coffee—like a subtle invitation.
If you walk further ahead, you will pass several unique little shops.
The window display of the "Greek Bakery" is always the most eye-catching, with all kinds of exquisite desserts neatly arranged - pink nut biscuits, lemon tarts, matcha cheesecake, milk pudding cake sprinkled with crushed pistachios... It's like a miniature dessert exhibition, making people want to take a second look.
Panqiu once stood outside the glass for a full minute, just to see if a certain cake was covered with gold leaf. The sweet aroma, like an enthusiastic salesman, wafted out from the cracks in the opening and closing doors, following passersby and peddling its warm sweetness until it finally stopped at the street corner.
Across the street is a liquor store called "Soul and Wine," its wooden signboard against the dark red brick wall resembling a silent yet affectionate old face.
Further ahead, there are several restaurants serving local specialties.
"Little Green House" specializes in Italian home-style cuisine, and it's said to serve the most authentic truffle cream pasta in town. A few small tables are set up along the sidewalk outside, where people often sit, sipping colorful cocktails and enjoying freshly cooked pasta. The aroma of cream rises with the steam, the clinking of cutlery mingles with laughter, and the sunlight bathes everyone in a relaxed, languid atmosphere—a sense of slowed-down rhythm seems to permeate the air.
"Yin Guo" is an Indian restaurant, with colorful strings of lights always hanging at the entrance, and the air is often filled with the aroma of cumin and curry.
There's also a Korean restaurant called "Song. Tofu" that specializes in tofu stew; the aroma of sweet chili sauce and soybean soup can be smelled from afar.
Passing through these small shops and restaurants, you reach the school grounds.
There are no walls or obvious gates here; just rows of teaching buildings scattered naturally along both sides of the street. The library is in one corner, the gymnasium is on the other, and some department buildings are in between.
The psychology department is housed in a low, modern building, primarily made of glass, like a transparent box gently placed among the shadows of trees. Sunlight leaves subtle patterns on the facade, making the entire building feel open and quiet, like a receptive container that listens, allowing thoughts to flow freely.
Panqiu initially found her way by following a tree.
The tree grew on a lawn by the street. It was incredibly thick, with cracked bark, lush branches and leaves, and many bean-like fruits hanging down in clusters, winding and curling.
The first time she saw it, she was almost mesmerized, feeling as if the tree was some kind of ancient magical plant from Harry Potter, sighing softly in the moonlight. After that, every time she passed by, she would subconsciously glance up at the tree, knowing in her heart: she was almost at school.
That afternoon, Panqiu returned from school and passed by the "Greek Bakery," where she had planned to push open the door and go inside.
A brass bell hung on the glass door and rang softly. She stood in front of the cake display case for a while, finally choosing a sliced lemon cream cake topped with pale yellow jam and icing, which looked perfectly balanced between sweet and sour.
After leaving the pastry shop, she went into the "Soul and Wine" shop next door.
The air in the shop was filled with the aroma of wine and oak, and rows of bottles on the shelves resembled an orderly army of glass. Not knowing much about wine, she chose by color.
After looking around, I picked up a bottle of Coney Island Orange Cream Beer. The bottle was orange with a picture of an old amusement park, and the packaging said: "Like orange soda... but for adults."
She smiled—adulthood doesn't have to be bitter; it can also be sweet, with a touch of bubblyness.
Back home, she placed the cake and wine on the kitchen counter, turned to Zhiwei and said, "Today is my birthday, I'm 21, and I can legally buy wine now."
Zhiwei was stunned for a moment, then quickly reacted: "Oh, happy birthday!" After saying that, she turned around and went into the kitchen. "Then I'll cook you a bowl of longevity noodles to make it a special occasion."
The pot was bubbling away, the noodles were thin and smooth, and a handful of greens and a perfectly poached egg floated in the water, with a few drops of sesame oil added at the end. When Zhiwei served it, the steam hit her face, and the aroma was irresistible.
Pan Qiu smiled, lowered her head and took a bite, but a subtle warmth rose in her heart—not the kind of ostentatious celebration, but like a plant quietly sprouting in the soil.
After dinner, the two shared a cake while drinking beer. The cake was covered with a glossy layer of lemon curd, looking as refreshing as a piece of amber touched by sunlight.
After taking the first bite, Pan Qiu paused slightly—it was a little too sweet, like an overly enthusiastic congratulation, almost too much to handle. She coughed softly and slowed down the speed of her spoon.
Zhiwei took a bite and immediately clicked her tongue, saying, "My teeth are numb from the sweetness."
Panqiu laughed and said, "Luckily I didn't buy those pink piping cakes, they look sweeter."
Zhiwei raised her beer bottle and nudged her: "Luckily, I have some beer to calm my nerves."
Pan Qiu nodded and took a small sip of her orange-flavored beer. The moment the bubbles burst, there was a gentle coolness, with a finish of orange peel and vanilla, which somewhat neutralized the overly sweet taste from before.
“Cheers,” Zhiwei said, “to your first legal drink at twenty-one. Cheers.”
"A toast to freedom," Pan Qiu said softly, a smile rising from her eyes like bubbles.
After finishing their meal, the two cleaned up the kitchen together, chatting about random things while washing the dishes.
The wind outside the window made the shadows of the trees sway. Pan Qiu was slightly tipsy, leaning back in her chair and looking out the window. She thought of the "magic tree," which was probably standing quietly in the night, swaying gently in the moonlight.
Twenty-one is the age when a person gradually learns to be at peace with themselves.
Perhaps every birthday is like a subtle dividing line. When it arrives, you think everything is normal, the wind and the lights are just as gentle, but in the year that follows, something always quietly changes direction.
Some people appear, some people leave, or perhaps a thought of never looking back has taken root in their hearts.
She had no idea that change was already waiting for her not far off. The night was so quiet, even the air seemed to be taking a deep breath in preparation for the future.
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