Actually, if this kind of bun hadn’t been frozen, it could be eaten directly just by wrapping with material packet, missing one egg, but the taste shouldn’t be too bad.
He hadn’t tasted it, didn’t know. Gave uncle and aunt’s sons and daughters to try, no more eggs, could only do it this way. They merely complained a little and that’s all, didn’t get angry, which showed it was okay.
This kind of bun, after being frozen, becomes cold and hard. If not fried, very hard to eat.
Her living condition is so good, yesterday also ate together, didn’t feel like she was picky about food, so he hesitated for a moment just now, didn’t make cold and hard sandwich to make her settle, retreated back to the bed, pretended as if he hadn’t gone out, didn’t let her see that he went into the kitchen and messed around for a long time but didn’t manage to make anything.
Song Qing pursed his lips, his gaze once again landed on the stove. Her stove looked very unusual, in the middle was a control knob, at one corner of the countertop there was also a digital screen, but for some reason the knob didn’t respond when turned, and the screen couldn’t be pressed out.
The family was poor, uncle and aunt’s home also average, Song Qing had only used induction cookers and gas stoves before. Just turn on the valve below, twist the knob above and it’s good. This kind was his first time seeing, also first time encountering the situation of not being able to ignite or turn on the gas.
Since she had already left, and at least wouldn’t return until noon, time was still early, Song Qing first went to clean the oven. The few dirty bowls and cups in her vegetable-washing basin were also washed and put on the rack above the sink to air dry.
After confirming there were no miscellaneous chores, he came back to focus on researching that stove.
Still couldn’t turn it on.
Song Qing took out his phone, went to the living room and connected to her WiFi.
Yesterday she had already written the WiFi password on a sticky note and stuck it under the computer. After connecting, Song Qing searched online for this brand of stove, found the user manual.
This model had a child lock function, needed to press and hold for three seconds before the fire could be turned on. After turning on, the back panel also pops up, on it was a bunch of functions.
Similar to timed cooking, hotpot boiling, low flame adjustment, etc.
After Song Qing tried it out and understood it, he went to fiddle with other things.
In her kitchen there were also many appliances: a steam-bake combo machine, dishwasher, microwave, etc. Many of them were new, either never used or only used once or twice.
Those with slight signs of use, he wiped them all once; those unused, also wiped down. That refrigerator she used temporarily also lost power — once the cold air inside was gone, he was preparing to carefully wipe it several times.
Because the injuries on his body hadn’t healed yet, he couldn’t stand this kind of activity. Basically do for a bit, then rest a bit, do for a bit, then rest again.
Roughly after nearly more than twenty minutes, the food delivery she mentioned arrived.
This apartment had a good location, the price likely not cheap. It could be seen — a high-end residence. There was property management downstairs; to enter required an access card, and entering the elevator also needed one. But upon entering the building, you could directly call the room upstairs, and the person inside could remotely unlock the door.
When arriving at the elevator, it was the same. It could be remotely controlled to send the delivery person to the intended floor and complete the delivery.
Song Qing stood at the entrance, almost seeing with his own eyes the delivery guy place the food under the door camera.
There was a camera installed at the door, viewable from the small screen at the entrance.
Song Qing went out, brought the delivery inside, opened it and took a look. It was one bowl of congee, one portion of steamed dumplings, and also one portion of pork rib soup.
There was a remark on the delivery slip below. It didn’t look like it was for the merchant or the delivery guy — more like for him.
【You must eat properly, or else】
If it was really said to him, then the sentence after “not eating properly” should be — “or else you won’t be allowed to see the good-hearted person.”
Song Qing indeed was quite curious about that good-hearted person, wanted to know who it was, wanted to remember that person’s kindness, and repay it once he had the ability.
But in truth, she herself was also a benefactor to him. With double grace stacked together, he could only compromise.
Song Qing looked at the corner above the remark. The displayed amount was 25.8 yuan.
25.8 yuan — in the past, it was his one week’s living expenses.
He was considered to have good luck, but also not good. Good was because he was born in the countryside next to the city, his parents were a pair of kind and gentle couple. Not good was that the two of them passed away early, and before he could feel much warmth, he entered someone else’s home to work like an ox and horse.
In that village of theirs, most young people at fifteen or sixteen would go out to work. Even as early as thirteen or fourteen years old. One’s own biological children were already like that, let alone a fostered one. He was someone the teacher tried hard to protect, and under the teacher’s coordination, signed an agreement.
He could go to school, but could not delay doing housework and cooking, had to look after two children, and during winter and summer vacations go help at nearby stores, earn money for them. If there was time, he had to tutor lower-grade students. As for the money — it naturally belonged to them.
Perhaps it was because people often said tutoring was very profitable, and also because he had subsidies and scholarships, uncle and aunt always thought he had a lot of money. Every month not only did they not give him living expenses, they even demanded he bring back a fixed amount.
That amount, for someone his age, was almost impossible. But in order to keep studying, he grit his teeth and gave it anyway.
The part that wasn’t enough, he covered by borrowing from Huabei and Jiebei, and squeezing his own living expenses. Because he was always in debt, now he couldn’t use Huabei or Jiebei anymore. He couldn’t even afford phone bills.
He could only receive calls, couldn’t make outgoing ones. He had no one he needed to contact either, so it didn’t matter. If he had money, he’d pay; if not, then forget it.
Song Qing lowered his long eyelashes, looking at that thin sheet of paper, his mood was somewhat complicated.
21st century, high-tech and peaceful era — most people probably couldn’t imagine that there were still people whose weekly living expenses were only a little over twenty yuan, not even enough for someone else’s one breakfast.
If said out loud, others wouldn’t believe it. They’d argue, “How could that be possible? You have hands and feet — just work a little and it’d be more than that.” But this was his daily life.
Song Qing gave a light sneer.
He really envied those people, whose weekly living expenses weren’t twenty-something yuan. Also envied their lives — where they hadn’t met someone like him.
Song Qing put away the delivery slip, silently memorized that amount, prepared to return the money to her when he had money in the future.
Since he had been specially told to eat properly, he also ate properly. He was still young, and his appetite wasn’t small. In other people’s words: half-grown boy, eat poor your old man.
Because he usually got up early, from six o’clock until noon, at least five or six hours — in the morning he usually took three mantou, with soybean paste in the middle, and it tasted really good.
This kind of appetite actually wasn’t suitable for eating such refined food — it cost more money.
He really wanted to tell Nan Zhi, no need to treat him so well, also no need to get him something like pork rib soup. Just give him two or three bowls of plain white rice, he could pour soy sauce and vinegar and still eat happily.
In the long years, he had long stopped caring about taste. He only cared about being full — food that could fill his stomach was good food in his eyes. Whether it tasted good or not didn’t matter.
He wanted to contact Nan Zhi, but one — he didn’t have Nan Zhi’s phone number; two — he didn’t have call credits to call. So he could only give up and wait for arrangements.
Song Qing actually somewhat regretted it — that he didn’t manage to make breakfast in the morning. If he had made it, perhaps she wouldn’t have spent money to order delivery for him.
After eating, Song Qing continued working, finishing the parts visible to the naked eye, and the things he had missed.
Because of the stop-and-go nature of working, he didn’t feel too tired. Actually, for him, this was just an appetizer of activity — normally, this amount was nothing. It was only because of his injured leg, and injuries on his body, and considering that he needed to heal, that he moved more slowly.
He couldn’t go upstairs to the second floor, and there wasn’t much to do on the first floor either. He wasn’t in a rush — just took his time.
—
At twelve noon, Nan Zhi had one hour for lunch. She sat in the hospital cafeteria, originally in a good mood.
Because this morning a new intern arrived and affectionately called her “Teacher Nan Zhi.”
It was the first time she’d been called “Teacher,” and she was quite pleased — all the way until just before eating. But just now, when she looked down, she discovered her white nurse’s coat had gotten red oil on it.
One drop, two drops — two or three, in a very obvious spot. And she’d walked around just now like she was blind, completely not noticing.
Since it had to do with clothes, she couldn’t help thinking of another matter. Yesterday morning, when she left for work, she’d tossed a bucket of clothes into the washer. Originally, she’d planned to hang them out after work.
But after work, because she brought Song Qing back, she forgot.
After two days and one night — and on the balcony, being baked by the sun — they had probably long turned sour and stinky by now.
She wanted to call Song Qing at home but realized she had carelessly forgotten to get his phone number.
A series of events made her good mood vanish completely.
She looked at the grease stains on her clothes and felt she was getting more and more stupid. In the past, she never dropped food on her clothes while eating. Even if the clothes were pure white, it didn’t matter — she wore them clean and tidy.
She didn’t know when it started — whenever she looked down, she’d see oil stains on her clothes.
Even walking, she’d bump into things. Clearly the room and hallway were quite spacious, other people had no issues, but whenever she passed by, she’d hit something.
Sometimes, she even doubted the meaning of her existence — apart from wasting food and resources, what use was there?
Absolutely no use.
Nan Zhi tore off a piece of tissue, patching the situation like mending a pen after sheep are lost [亡羊补牢 – a proverb meaning fixing something after a loss], and wiped the place where oil had dripped, quietly tidying up the mess.
—
12:30 PM, the doorbell at the entrance rang again.
Nan Zhi had ordered another meal for him — one meat, one vegetable, and one soup: garlic stir-fried lettuce, a chicken dish, and an egg soup.
The amount in the lower right corner was 28.8 yuan, even more expensive than in the morning.
So wasteful.
He felt it was too wasteful to let him eat these things.
But the remark at the bottom was the same as the one in the morning — he was worried that if he didn’t behave and left the food untouched, Nan Zhi would get angry when she got home.
Yesterday, when he pressed down on the wheelchair and said he was fine, it seemed to have made her angry. Her face turned cold, and she insistently pushed the wheelchair into the living room. When treating his injuries, she didn’t say a single word the entire time.
Even though she didn’t say anything, he felt like her impression of him probably dropped a bit.
Having that one experience, he remembered it afterward — if she gave special instructions and showed her stance, that meant listen. She never said he could decide things on his own.
In the end, Song Qing still finished the meal completely clean.
—
Around 5:00 PM in the afternoon, Nan Zhi’s mood had gotten even worse. She followed the supervising teacher to examine a patient’s injuries. The supervising teacher wanted to mentor her and explained more than usual, but the patient’s family thought they were being treated like they had no dignity, not only kicked the two of them out, but also cursed them with very unpleasant words.
This shift completely drained all her energy and spirit. Nan Zhi sat in the break room for a long time before changing clothes. Exhausted all over, she went downstairs, started the car, and drove home.
The house was also cold and empty.
On the way, just like always, she wasn’t very willing to go home. She purposely looped around the block of her apartment building. She even planned to make one more round. Suddenly, while waiting at a red light, she accidentally noticed that the light in her own home was on — someone was inside.
She was startled, and then remembered — she had brought someone back yesterday.
Earlier at noon, she had been worried about whether he knew how to buzz the delivery up. If he couldn’t make contact, the delivery would likely just be left in the downstairs delivery locker. There was a threshold at the door; he couldn’t get the wheelchair out. He’d probably have to go hungry the whole day. And now in the evening, she had completely forgotten about him.
Way too careless.
Nan Zhi looked at the red light — about thirty seconds left. Taking the opportunity, she tilted her head and looked toward her own window.
When she first got this apartment, she was very happy. First, it was like a pie falling from the sky, such a good thing suddenly landed on her. Second, it meant she had entered her parents’ line of sight — started to be paid attention to along with her older sister and younger brother.
But one day, she had excitedly come over to see the place. Suddenly she noticed that the window of the neighbor’s home was lit up, and someone was in the kitchen by the window cooking. It was full of the breath of daily life.
Then she looked at her own — the window was pitch-black. Sometimes when she forgot to close the window, the white curtain would be blown out of the window by the wind, one piece on each side. Anyone who didn’t know might think it was some kind of mourning hall.
This was the first time she saw her own place, lit up like the other neighbors’.