Christmas Eve Draw - Part 2
Lin Yue was the last to arrive.
The moment the door opened, he walked in as if carrying the scent of December snow, with a few strands of his slightly curled hair still retaining the chill of the outdoors.
He took off his thick black down jacket, revealing a navy blue sweater underneath, paired with dark gray sweatpants. He looked clean and neat, with a natural composure in his expression—not deliberately dressed to be handsome, but possessing a pleasing and spirited quality that was easy to remember.
Zhiwei glanced at his attire and smirked, "Are these your pajamas? You didn't read the question carefully."
Lin Yue was taken aback, looked down at herself, and smiled: "I was afraid that if I dressed too flashy, you would think I was going to perform a skit."
Did you bring stir-fried beef with yellow peppers?
"I brought it, I brought it, I guarantee it'll be delicious." He held up the insulated bag in his hand. "If you like it, you can order it anytime."
The room was warmly lit, filled with the delicate scents of roses and tea, and a sense of relaxed ease. He changed his shoes, slowing his pace as if subconsciously softening his movements.
Just then, he saw her.
Pan Qiu was squatting by the coffee table, adding tea, her face turned to the side, her movements quiet and focused. The warm yellow light fell on her shoulders, and her slightly loose hair swayed a little with her movements.
For some reason, a phrase suddenly popped into his mind: a greenhouse rose. She was wearing a pink long-sleeved nightgown, with a minimalist cut, yet its silhouette perfectly accentuated her understated and gentle temperament.
She stood up, picked up a glass, and walked towards him.
"It's freshly brewed tea, try it." She said softly, her tone as steady as ever, but softened by the night and the aroma of the tea.
The moment Lin Yue accepted the tea, his gaze fell on her face—it was the first time he had truly seen her up close. Her eyes were larger than he had imagined, clear and bright, like the water of a lake on a winter night; her nose was small and pert, and her lips were slightly curved, giving her an air of natural quietness and cuteness.
He suddenly recalled the thought that popped into his mind when he first met her: she looked a bit like Gwei Lun-mei from the movie "Secret".
She was always reserved, quiet, and unapproachable, like a warm yet distant stone. But now, standing in the warm light, holding tea, her expression gentle and her smile enigmatic, she exuded a relaxed warmth unlike anything she had before.
Lin Yue was momentarily stunned. This must be what it feels like to be moved.
He lowered his head and took a sip of tea, suppressing a hint of unspoken emotion at the corner of his mouth.
Panqiu looked at the person in front of her.
Before this, their relationship seemed both familiar and strange. Because they lived close by and were acquainted with Zhiwei, they often bumped into each other downstairs, at the library, or in front of the gymnasium, exchanging nods and pleasantries.
Panqiu always felt that he was like a big, energetic dog that was always running around, always on the move. But tonight, it seemed to be the first time they had spoken and looked at each other so closely.
His eyes shone brightly as he spoke, his voice was light and cheerful, and he had a slightly embarrassed smile, as if he brought the scent of a winter night's snowstorm with him. He handed me the food container he was holding and said, "Here you go, stir-fried pork."
Pan Qiu lowered her head to accept it, thanked him softly, but still couldn't help but look him up again.
He looked clean and energetic, with a neat haircut and slightly upturned sideburns, as if he had just come back from the cold wind and hadn't had time to completely straighten his hair. The dark blue sweater accentuated the lines of his shoulders and back, understated yet exuding a quiet, youthful charm.
He wasn't the flashy, attention-grabbing type, but he had just the right amount of presence—like the scent of winter sun shining on pine wood, calm and refreshing.
A stirring ran through her heart, though she couldn't quite explain why. At that moment, a certain quality about him seemed to gently touch something deep within her memory—not specific, not clear, but warm and slow, enough to make her heart skip a beat.
The dishes were gradually heated up, and Zhiwei took the lead, standing behind the kitchen counter. She waved her hand and called out, "Come on, come on, don't be shy, it's all self-service!" Everyone laughed and lined up in a small queue.
The kitchen countertop was completely covered, like a meticulously planned yet naturally vibrant festival exhibition.
The most eye-catching dish was the scallion oil noodles that Zhiwei and Panqiu had prepared in advance, a large porcelain bowl occupying the center of the counter. The noodles were coated with a glossy soy sauce, sprinkled with fragrant scallion segments and golden fried garlic, and steam rose from the bowl, the aroma enough to make one want to walk around the kitchen a few more times.
Beside them were their proud creations, made through collaboration—Zhiwei's braised pork and Panqiu's sweet and sour pork ribs, their deep, glossy red broths served in small porcelain bowls, exuding a festive and ceremonial feel. A platter of sliced fruit and two bottles of red wine sat nearby, quietly waiting to add a touch of intoxication to the evening.
The two dishes brought by Leo and June were placed in one corner of the table—the cola chicken wings were tempting in color, with a thick sauce and a perfect balance of sweet and savory, a common choice for beginners, yet they were surprisingly well done; the green pepper and potato shreds next to them were cut a little rough, with some potato shreds being thicker than others, but they were cooked perfectly and were very fragrant. Zhiwei joked, "You can tell they put a lot of effort into it, but the knife and spatula aren't quite working properly yet."
Xu Qian's liangpi (cold skin noodles) was packaged in a large, transparent glass box. The aroma wafted out as soon as the lid was opened. The chili oil glowed red, mixed with the smooth liangpi, chewy bean curd sticks, and crisp cucumber shreds, topped with a sprinkle of crushed peanuts and cilantro. One look was enough to tell this was her signature dish. "I'm tempted to scan the QR code and pay," Leo exclaimed.
The braised pork ribs that Liu Dan and Chen Yan brought were served in a tall lunchbox. As soon as it was opened, the aroma of the ribs instantly filled the kitchen. Unlike Pan Qiu's delicate bowl of ribs, this pot was clearly a large and substantial "hard dish," with thick meat and big bones, braised to perfection, and a deep, rich sauce, just like the kind of big pot that everyone in the family would fight over during Chinese New Year.
The hot tofu pudding was served in an earthenware bowl. A lump of tender white tofu was drizzled with chili oil, minced garlic, and sauce, creating a savory, spicy, and fragrant flavor. Few people were familiar with this dish, making it a pleasant surprise. "My mom taught me this lazy way of making it. Just heat up the ingredients and mix it up," Liu Dan explained with a smile.
When the red date and white fungus soup was poured out of the thermos, it was still steaming. The soup had an amber luster, with red dates floating in it. It was sweet and fragrant, like a little bit of sweetness prepared just for this winter night.
Lin Yue's stir-fried pork was a simple yet delightful surprise, served in a bento box. The pork slices and green peppers were stir-fried until glistening with oil, fragrant and spicy, making it the most appetizing dish on the table. Although he doesn't cook often, he had clearly mastered this dish.
He smiled sheepishly, "This is the only dish I know how to make. I'll make a lot so everyone can share." Next to him, he casually placed a row of chilled craft beers, "I'm not very good at making these. The only thing I'm good at is twisting bottle caps."
In the last corner, they had prepared juice and sparkling water in advance, squeezed between bottles. At that moment, the kitchen was like a miniature drama of life: there was the confidence of a master chef, the dedication of a novice, the composure of the old guard, and the passion of youth. Steam rose, and aromas mingled—outside, the festive snow fell; inside, there was the warmth of their hot pot.
Some people served rice directly from bowls, while others slowly picked out vegetables from small plates. Leo said while picking at his food, "I have a feeling that today will be the best meal we've had all semester."
When Panqiu carried the plate back to the living room, the cushions had already been taken by everyone, so she simply sat down next to the small coffee table, and Zhiwei followed suit. The aroma of the food lingered in the air, and the sounds of clinking cups and plates, laughter, and occasional soft music created an invisible warmth that perfectly complemented the small space.
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