14 Double Standards

While waiting for the delivery, Wen Dong returned to her room to remove her makeup and then went to the bathroom to wash her face.

Half an hour later, she and Zhang Xingxu each held a bowl of small glutinous rice balls in brown sugar syrup, sitting at the small bar on the balcony partition.

The rice balls were piping hot, steam rising and stinging her eyes.

Wen Dong blew on them repeatedly but still couldn’t bring herself to take a bite.

After a long while, she suddenly spoke up, “Do you know which mythological figure I like the most?”

“Hm?” Zhang Xingxu turned his face toward her, his voice soft.

Wen Dong stirred the little rice balls in her bowl, then turned her head to meet his gaze. “I like Nezha the best.”

“Do you think if Li Jing told Nezha to eat that piece of meat, would he?” Without waiting for Zhang Xingxu’s answer, Wen Dong chuckled to herself, “He’d probably overturn the table before eating it.”

She then popped a rice ball into her mouth, but it was so hot her tongue got twisted; she opened her mouth and fanned her tongue. “Water! Water, Zhang Xingxu!”

Zhang Xingxu turned to find water for her and, seeing the ice cubes he had taken out earlier, didn’t hesitate to pick up two and put them directly into her mouth.

His hand brushed her lips, soft and fleeting.

Wen Dong furrowed her brows tightly, puffed out her cheeks squarely, mumbling incoherently, “Now it’s like an ice and snow world.”

The ice cubes kept her mouth propped open; if she wasn’t careful, saliva would drip out. She gave up speaking and, with tears glistening at the corners of her eyes, went looking for tissues—not sure if it was the heat or the cold that made her eyes water.

Zhang Xingxu watched her for a moment.

Wen Dong searched left and right but couldn’t find the tissue box she’d placed on the bar earlier. She lowered her head and turned around, preparing to open a new box.

Zhang Xingxu bent down, picking up the tissue that had fallen on the sofa and handed it to her.

Wen Dong blinked, as if asking, “Where did you find this?”

Zhang Xingxu sat back down and carefully dropped a few ice cubes into her bowl. The cubes sank into the brown sugar syrup, rippling the surface gently. He added some to his own bowl as well.

Wen Dong didn’t wait for the ice to melt and bit into one directly.

The cold chilled her teeth all the way down her throat, and she shivered. “My Chu Yuqian seems to be a bit cold.”

She took a sip of the syrup; the sweetness lingered on her lips and teeth.

“Li Wan isn’t Nezha,” Zhang Xingxu said.

Wen Dong was momentarily stunned.

Li Wan was the name of the girl from the movie they had just watched.

“I know.” Wen Dong smiled. “I was just making a hypothetical.”

Zhang Xingxu hummed in acknowledgment and said no more.

Wen Dong ate slowly, one bite at a time. Zhang Xingxu finished first and put down his spoon, standing up.

“What are you going to do with these flowers?” Zhang Xingxu asked.

Wen Dong turned her head toward the wilted sunflowers, soaked by the rain, neither alive nor dead, limp in the flower bucket.

She took a bite of the rice ball, the soft glutinous texture swirling on her tongue.

“Just leave them for now. When it clears up, I’ll take them to the rooftop to dry.”

Two days passed in waiting.

The rain made travel congested, and Wen Dong was late two days in a row.

That night, she rummaged through her old clothes and cut a piece of fabric to make a Teru Teru Bozu, hanging it on the balcony window.

Zhang Xingxu saw it and asked, “Have you always been this superstitious?”

“Can’t hurt to try,” Wen Dong said, painting blush on the little doll’s cheeks. “If I’m late again, they’ll dock my whole month’s pay. Then I’ll really be eating the northwest wind.”

Sure enough, the next day was sunny.

Zhang Xingxu looked at the little white cloth doll fluttering in the window, his expression complex.

Wen Dong grinned and patted his shoulder. “See? Show some respect to my sunshine lord.”

Then she hummed a cheerful tune and headed out to work.

Minutes later, Zhang Xingxu received a message from her:

“By the way, could you please take the sunflowers upstairs to dry? Just hang them upside down.”

“I forgot to do it earlier because I left in a hurry.”

“Thanks~ I’ll cook dinner tonight (bows deeply.jpg)”

Zhang Xingxu took the withered sunflowers upstairs, hung them, and even sent her a photo for confirmation.

+V for the crab roe burger secret recipe: [Thank you! Tonight I’ll treat you to a feast!]

At 4 p.m., Zhang Xingxu came back from hiking, freshly showered, when his phone rang.

It was Wen Dong.

He usually disliked answering calls and was about to hang up when she called again.

After hanging up twice, he reluctantly opened the message.

A voice message with a red dot popped up. His perfectionist nature compelled him to listen.

Wen Dong’s tone was threatening: “Zhang Xingxu! Answer me!!”

Then another message came: “If you hang up again, you’re dead meat!”

Confident he had listened, Wen Dong called a third time.

Zhang Xingxu answered.

“Come downstairs to help move something! It’s too heavy for me!” Her breath was uneven, and there was a lot of noise around.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“At the entrance of the community. Hurry up, I’m so hot.”

Zhang Xingxu threw off his towel, grabbed his keys, and headed out, pausing briefly at the entrance. “Do you need an umbrella?”

Wen Dong, sweltering, fanned herself. “Just come. That’s enough.”

Downstairs, Zhang Xingxu saw her waving from afar, the voice in the phone overlapping with reality: “Zhang Xingxu! Here!”

By her side was a camping charcoal grill nearly as tall as a person and a medium-sized cardboard box filled with steel charcoal.

“Which one should we move up first?” Wen Dong ended the call, slinging her backpack behind her, ready for a big task.

“Barbecue tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah, don’t you want some?” Wen Dong looked at him.

He had lived here nearly a month, yet Wen Dong still didn’t know his tastes.

It seemed no matter what she suggested to eat, he’d always agree.

At first, Wen Dong thought he was shy about imposing his preferences, but after he cooked a meal, all the dishes on the table were her favorites.

Zhang Xingxu said, “I don’t know how to cook.”

So he had been secretly learning the few dishes she often made.

Wen Dong found it amusing and also felt a bit proud, strangely like a mentor teaching an apprentice.

“It’s not bad to eat,” Zhang Xingxu said, bringing her back to reality. “Did you buy the ingredients?”

“Of course,” Wen Dong estimated the time. “They should be arriving any minute.”

Over the next twenty minutes, Zhang Xingxu carried the grill and charcoal to the rooftop. His white T-shirt got covered in dust. Just as he was about to change, Wen Dong called him to help prepare ingredients.

After half an hour of skewering, Wen Dong carried all the dishes upstairs in batches.

“Why don’t you finish eating before changing? You’re probably going to make a mess anyway,” she said before leaving.

“You go up first,” Zhang Xingxu replied.

“Okay, there are disposable gloves in the pocket on the table. Use them if you want,” she added.

Zhang Xingxu changed and returned to the living room, carrying a large plastic bag filled with disposable bowls, chopsticks, gloves, barbecue seasonings, and two boxes of mints—one jasmine-flavored, the other grape.

He glanced at them and took everything upstairs.

Stepping out into the corridor, a gust of wind carried the faint scent of burning straw.

Zhang Xingxu looked up.

Wen Dong held the withered sunflower, flames licking the petals and consuming the flower’s core. Her eyes sparkled brightly in the firelight.

The wind blew, making the flames flicker.

She wasn’t afraid of burning her hands and carefully inverted the flower to ignite it fully.

“Hey! You’re up here?” Wen Dong spotted him and happily pointed at the coffee table. “Quick, take a photo for me!”

In the distant twilight, the afterglow lingered on the horizon, soaking the vast expanse of clouds.

Waving the sunflower, sparks fell and quickly vanished.

At that moment, Lezhi Mountain seemed right before his eyes.

Yet in his gaze, there was only the person igniting the sunflower.

“What are you spacing out for? The flower’s almost burned up!” Wen Dong urged.

Zhang Xingxu took out his phone and snapped a photo.

Wen Dong flashed a peace sign at the camera, her smile radiant, eyes curved like crescent moons.

She wore dark overalls over a pink T-shirt, her hair tied in a bun, no hairpins or earrings.

The frame of her glasses hid the mole on her face.

Her smile was bright and charming, especially on camera.

Loose strands of hair curled around her face, which she brushed off by lifting one shoulder.

She then turned and placed the flower into the charcoal grill, arranging some charcoal around it.

“Remember to send me the photo,” she said over her shoulder.

Zhang Xingxu nodded and sent her the two photos he took.

After sending, he was about to delete them when Wen Dong called out, “Zhang Xingxu, don’t slack off, come help.”

He put down his phone and helped stoke the charcoal fire.

They sat opposite each other, the low table cluttered with ingredients, leaving no room to set anything down, so they grilled and ate intermittently.

Zhang Xingxu took out disposable gloves and offered them to her, but Wen Dong refused. “I don’t need them; you’re the one I bought them for.” She wiped her hands on her little yellow duck apron.

“Oh, and the mints—did you see those?”

Zhang Xingxu glanced at the table. “Yeah, I saw them.”

“They’re for you too.” Wen Dong flipped chicken skewers and brushed on oil, not looking at him.

Some oil dripped into the charcoal, sparking a small flame. She didn’t flinch and kept brushing.

Zhang Xingxu held two potato slice skewers, sprinkling cumin as he asked, “Weren’t you going to make dried flowers? Why burn them instead?”

“The conditions didn’t allow it,” Wen Dong glanced at him. “It was scorching today; the petals hardened when I brought them up.”

“I thought that rather than withering, it’s better to burn.”

“If that flower knew it was lighting up tonight’s barbecue, it would be happy for sure.”

Zhang Xingxu tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You can even tell what it’s thinking?”

“Of course. Don’t you know?”

Zhang Xingxu shook his head.

“You’re supposed to be a plant doctor,” Wen Dong said proudly, then turned to post something on her social feed.

After a while, the potato slices were done. Zhang Xingxu grabbed a foil container to pack them and casually checked his phone. Wen Dong had posted the two photos with the caption: [See! A little spark of spirit!]

...

He silently put away his phone and packed the potatoes.

“Here, the chicken’s ready.” She placed a skewer of tender grilled chicken in his bowl. “Give me the chives.”

Zhang Xingxu handed her several skewers.

Wen Dong ate while grilling.

“By the way, why have you been bringing home those flyers from the education center these past couple of days?” she asked, biting a piece of chicken and pulling out the skewer. “Planning to sign up for the civil service exam?”

Zhang Xingxu was silent for two seconds, put down the potato slices, and sipped water.

“Don’t tell me you’re looking for a job?” Wen Dong watched him closely, trying to confirm something.

“So?” Zhang Xingxu countered, “Can you help me?”

“Of course! I’ve been in Lecheng for two years; I have some connections and resources.”

Zhang Xingxu genuinely smiled this time, the curve of his mouth obvious. “I didn’t expect you to have connections.”

“Who are you looking down on?” Wen Dong finished the last bite of chicken and tossed the skewer aside. “Just wait, I’ll definitely help you find a job this week.”

She spoke with conviction.

Zhang Xingxu nodded. “I trust you.”

Just then, a gust of wind blew, turning the white smoke toward Wen Dong’s face.

She choked and coughed, waving the smoke away as she ran over to Zhang Xingxu, tears still in her eyes. “Come here, let’s squeeze together.”

Their hands touched, but Zhang Xingxu instinctively pulled away.

“What’s wrong? I’m not—”

Before she could say “dirty,” her eyes dropped to the oil stain on his clothes.

The white fabric had a faint yellowish mark spreading.

“Sorry, sorry! I really didn’t see it!” she hurriedly grabbed some tissues to wipe it, but Zhang Xingxu took them from her. “I’ll do it.”

His brow furrowed slightly, as if seeing it as a nuisance.

Remembering his earlier words about how apologizing was useless after something happened, Wen Dong quickly made amends. “If you want, I can wash it for you.”

“No need.”

“Then...” Wen Dong bit her lip and studied his expression. “Buy you a new one as compensation?”

Zhang Xingxu met her gaze.

“You warned me before coming up. I just didn’t listen.”

He paused, then added, “It’s my problem, not yours.”

A bold question mark seemed to hover over Wen Dong’s head.

This guy...

Why was he suddenly becoming so double-standard?