GV – Chapter 58

Song Zhiqing didn’t stay in A-City for more than a few days. Because of the New Year, she had to return to the Song family’s ancestral home to celebrate.

Of course, she did get to eat a bowl of tomato beef brisket noodles made by Ye Yuhuan. Song Zhiqing’s review was, “I want to learn how to make this.”

Ye Yuhuan politely remained silent.

On the evening of New Year’s Eve, Ye Yuhuan picked up Si Shan from the hospital. Although Ye Yuhuan was born and raised in the north, her mother, Si Zhen, was a true southerner, so all their holiday customs followed southern traditions.

After Si Zhen passed away, Ye Yuhuan bought flour and meat filling on New Year’s Eve that year and made dumplings for the first time in her life. She even ceremoniously placed a coin inside one. However, she probably made too many, as neither she nor Si Shan found it that night. Instead, Ye Yuhuan bit into it at noon on the first day of the New Year. It was so unexpected that she almost swallowed it.

After that, they learned their lesson and started putting many coins in the dumplings.

Since it was for good fortune, they shouldn’t be stingy with the prizes. It wasn’t like a real god would be awarding them a grand prize anyway.

But this year was a little different. Si Shan glanced at the kitchen and saw no sign of dough. She opened the refrigerator and found familiar yet strange cured sausages and cured meat, asking in surprise, “Are we not having dumplings this year?”

Ye Yuhuan was placing a prepared pork knuckle into a steamer. Amidst the humming of the steam, her calm voice was softened by the vapor. “No, we’re not. Mmm, I’m actually not very fond of dumplings.”

The lid was placed on the pot. The spices, urged on by the heat, were melting into the crevices of the pork knuckle’s succulent meat. This was a process Ye Yuhuan was familiar with—Si Zhen used to steam a pork knuckle every New Year.

This was a continuation of the Si family’s holiday tradition. In the Si sisters’ memories of New Years spent at home, there was always a tender, juicy pork knuckle on the table. Their father would have a glass or two of liquor, and their mother would focus on watching the Spring Festival Gala. She was easily amused, and the Gala wasn’t so boring back then; every year, she would be moved to tears of laughter.

Now, her own niece was bustling about the kitchen. Si Shan sat to the side, watching quietly. Her illness wasn’t cured yet, and in any case, handling kitchen utensils seemed too dangerous for her.

Si Shan sometimes felt as if she had never grown up. She had fallen ill before she could even leave her parents’ protection. After several years of seeking medical help and actively undergoing treatment, she finally recovered, but she never entered society. She became a painter. Critics said her style was bizarre yet innocent. Si Shan knew she had been painting herself all along. She had never stepped out of her own circle, and when she wanted to, her illness returned as if playing a joke on her.

Her career came to an abrupt halt, and her family was worn out with worry.

Si Shan had seen many hesitant glances, people wanting to speak but holding back. Even her own parents had once cautiously asked, “Shanshan, that illness of yours… is it because you think too much? Why don’t we stop painting? You could be a teacher, spend more time with children, and your mood will improve.”

Si Shan didn’t know how to answer, just as she didn’t know why she had gotten sick.

Later, she found out it was said to be hereditary. When her mother heard the news, she locked herself in her room for three days and cried for three days.

From then on, her mother treated her as her own mistake, trying her utmost to make up for it and compensate her.

This was all very normal. This is how people face things they cannot understand or accept.

What wasn’t normal was this niece of hers. She didn’t seem to be able to distinguish between a mentally ill person and a normal person. No matter how much Si Zhen warned her not to go near her auntie when she was having an episode, she would still secretly toddle over on her short little legs, picture book in hand, to tell stories to her friend, Shanshan.

When she was old enough to understand what mental illness meant, she just said stubbornly, “I’m going to be the best psychologist. I don’t believe what other people say. I’m going to study it myself. Even if our family has a gene for mental illness, it doesn’t mean anything. I’ll cure all of us.”

Such a proud niece, yet the day after Si Zhen died, she asked her, “Auntie, do you think something like fate exists in this world? Are we just destined to become a certain kind of person?”

Si Shan was Shanshan back then. She couldn’t answer her and even messed up her hair.

And now?

Why was Ye Yuhuan willing to eat pork knuckle now?

This stubborn child would rather eat dumplings she didn’t particularly like than have anything on the table that represented Si Zhen. Only on the anniversary of her death did Si Zhen’s memory seem to pour over Ye Yuhuan like a long-suppressed flood, drenching her through and through.

“Huanhuan, are you missing your mom?” Si Shan could only think of this possibility.

Ye Yuhuan was slicing the cured meat. She paused at the words, then relaxed and smiled. “No, I just felt like eating it.”

“Someone taught me that if you eat what you’re craving, you’ll feel happy.”

Eh, someone? This means… something’s going on.

Calculating her age, Huanhuan wasn’t so young anymore.

Time for some puppy love?

Si Shan didn’t press further. She knew her niece; doing so would only scare her.

It was better to let her develop things at her own pace.

Ye Yuhuan had once boasted to Song Zhiqing about her cooking skills, but that was actually quite a modest statement.

After more than two hours of labor from Chef Ye, a New Year’s Eve dinner that was perfect in color, aroma, and taste was set on the table. Si Shan had set out the bowls and chopsticks and was waiting for her. The Spring Festival Gala had already begun. The hosts were all dressed in red, and the celebrities who appeared singing and dancing were also in red, as if they were trying with all their might to render the festive joy of the holiday in vibrant color.

Si Shan took out a red envelope she had prepared earlier and handed it over with a smile. “Huanhuan, in the new year, I wish you more happiness than the last.”

Ye Yuhuan took the red envelope in surprise. Feeling its weight, it seemed… substantial.

But her auntie should only have the pocket money she gave her.

Her bankbook was with her, too, and she hadn’t seen her withdraw any money.

“I can paint again,” Si Shan said gently. “So you see, Huanhuan, everything is getting better.”

She had painted seven or eight pieces in the hospital and sold three of them for a rather considerable price. At this rate, it wouldn’t be a problem to support Huanhuan through university in the future.

“You won’t have to work so hard anymore. Auntie can take care of herself. Huanhuan, whatever you want to do, just go for it boldly.”

Huanhuan wouldn’t have to study business, which she disliked, or go to a school she didn’t like. If there was someone she liked, she could be with them openly, without worrying about having a sick aunt at home who needed someone to look after her.

Ye Yuhuan was pleasantly surprised that Si Shan’s condition had improved so much, but she was also displeased with the subtext that Si Shan felt she was a burden. “Taking care of you isn’t hard at all, Auntie. On the contrary, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been able to hold on so easily.”

Without Si Shan, her childhood would have been a lonely, dark night. After Si Zhen passed away, she might not have had the strength to keep going after dealing with Ye Chu. Si Shan was very important, and not just as her aunt.

Si Shan’s eyes grew warm. She quickly took a sip of juice to hide her emotional expression.

This child, she looks so much like her father, how did she not inherit any of his self-righteousness? Can’t she think about herself a little more?

If it weren’t for her, how could Ye Yuhuan have had to go to that blasted elite school and suffer? Their Huanhuan had been adored by her peers since she was little.

Si Shan dabbed the corner of her eye, not wanting to bring these things up again. She raised her glass. “Today is a joyous day. Let’s not talk about the past. Come, Huanhuan, Happy New Year.”

The crisp clink of glass rang out against the noisy backdrop of the Spring Festival Gala’s songs and dances, adding a touch of reality to the manufactured laughter.

After putting down her glass, Si Shan composed herself and picked up a piece of the pork knuckle Ye Yuhuan had made. After chewing it slowly a few times, she couldn’t help but pause.

Eh? Why does this pork knuckle taste like tomato?

Glancing at her niece, who seemed particularly fond of this flavor of pork knuckle, Si Shan moved her chopsticks to the other dishes.

Scrambled eggs with tomatoes. This one could be tomato-flavored.

Potato and beef brisket stew. Mmm, she probably added a few cherry tomatoes.

Steamed fish. Maybe she added a little ketchup to enhance the flavor?

Cured meat platter. Good, finally no tomato flavor. But looking at the prepared dipping sauce on the side, at that dish of bright red, Si Shan swallowed hard.

“Huanhuan, have you been really into tomatoes lately?”

Ye Yuhuan had just swallowed a slice of cured sausage dipped in ketchup, her eyes narrowing in satisfaction. “Ah, yes. I’ve discovered that tomatoes taste good in everything.”

While that was possible, wasn’t making so many tomato dishes a bit over the top?

Okay, so, that so-called new development is probably tomato-flavored.

Ye Yuhuan was relishing the New Year’s Eve dinner, immersed in its rich tomato aroma. She even managed a polite laugh at this year’s particularly terrible Spring Festival Gala skits. Si Shan drank several large glasses of juice to calm the shock in her heart.

Ahem, well, although Huanhuan looks like her father, her personality is just like her mother’s.

Both are lovesick fools, cut from the same cloth.

As midnight approached, Si Shan had already fallen asleep under the effect of her medication. Ye Yuhuan was still ceremonially staying up for the new year. Of course, not entirely—she would occasionally play on her phone, waiting for a certain someone’s call.

When the screen lit up, the Spring Festival Gala was holding its third-to-last prize drawing. The city’s fireworks were poised to launch, ready to openly and brightly illuminate the entire night sky for one of the few times a year.

Song Zhiqing had probably run outside to make the call; her breathing was still hurried. “Hello, can you hear me?”

Ye Yuhuan’s back relaxed against the sofa. She was wrapped in a blanket, which made her voice sound warm as well. “I can hear you.”

“Let me tell you, Ye Yuhuan, you have no idea how annoying my relatives are.”

“Hey! No, wait, I’ll tell you later. The countdown is starting.”

On the TV screen, in the square not far from the Ye residence, and among the group of fun-loving young people in the Song family’s ancestral home, everyone began the countdown in unison.

“Ten.”

“Nine.”

“Eight.”

“Seven.”

“Six.”

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One!”

“Song Zhiqing, Happy New Year.”

“Ye Yuhuan, Happy New Year.”

After saying this, Song Zhiqing continued to complain to Ye Yuhuan about her relatives. One wanted to borrow money, another said Gao Yiren should retire to raise her children properly, and now that the country was encouraging a third child, the couple should hurry up and have another one.

The family gossip of wealthy clans was all more or less the same. Ye Yuhuan listened with a gentle expression to Song Zhiqing’s stream of complaints.

“They’re really meddling in things that are none of their business.”

“This group of people is so annoying.”

“We only see each other once a year, and they still seize the opportunity to be disgusting.”

Behind all this chatter was the worldly hustle and bustle that Ye Yuhuan had distanced herself from—fireworks more enduring than the grand display just moments ago. Ye Yuhuan gently pressed the tip of her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

What should I do? I’m craving something tomato-flavored again.

If this keeps up, I’m going to get fat, aren’t I?

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