Chapter 372: Frequent Visits

The warm sun of early winter brushes over the weathered green walls.

Two or three withered leaves hang from the branches of the locust tree; when the Wind passes, they emit a light sound like shattered glass.

With a "creak," the car thrusts straight into the parking space. Wang Qiguang gets out of the car in a rush, her mid-high heels clicking sharply against the stone slabs.

After walking only a few steps, she hears two "beep-beep" honks behind her and turns around instinctively.

A Cherokee pulls up next to the Pasat, and with a "bang," Wang Qizhi jumps out of the car.

Wang Qiguang sighs: despite rushing and hurrying, she is still late.

But plans cannot keep up with changes: in the morning, her secretary suddenly called to say there was an emergency at the department, and she, as the Supervisor, had to go back to handle it.

There was no help for it; she had to leave it to the nanny, and she has no idea how the cooking is going.

Thinking to herself, she adjusts her expression, revealing a warm and kind smile.

Wang Qizhi presses his key, and with a soft "clack," the car locks.

The smile vanishes bit by bit, and Wang Qiguang looks suspicious: is it just Wang Qizhi alone?

Where are the others?

Seeing his sister's expression, Wang Qizhi says with a "ha": "I was just thinking, has the sun risen from the west today, that my sister would actually smile when seeing me? Tsk, Second Sister, your face changes fast, doesn't it?"

"My palms itch the moment I see you; it's a mercy I didn't give you two slaps!" Wang Qiguang snorts and looks behind him again, "Where is Ji Wangshu?"

"She said she wanted to help you, so she left before ten o'clock."

"Where is Lin Sicheng?"

"He left even earlier, before dawn, and went to the morning market with Ye Anning to buy groceries!"

Wang Qiguang is stunned: what, the morning market?

There are only three or five things needed, and the supermarket outside the residential complex has them; why go to a morning market?

Wang Qizhi is indifferent: "Let them go; just consider it window shopping!"

"Wang Qizhi, do you have any manners? We are the ones treating Lin Sicheng to dinner today, and you're making him do manual labor?"

"Is it only you who has rules?"

Before she can finish speaking, a slap comes swinging, and Wang Qizhi dodges it with a laugh: "What's wrong with buying groceries? Back in Xijing, Lin Sicheng would cook at the drop of a hat—"

"You are his teacher, can that be the same?"

"How is it different? You are the older sister of his teacher, aren't you an elder too?"

It is impossible to reason with his nonsense.

Wang Qiguang glares at him, though she is not too anxious anymore.

For a meal of seven or eight people, with the sister-in-law helping, it shouldn't be a big problem.

In a flash of thought, the siblings enter the elevator.

"When are you returning to Xijing?"

"There are a few antiques that need re-appraisal, and Lin Sicheng needs to go to the Forbidden City. After that, he has to go to the Gongwang Mansion; I estimate the week after next!"

"What does that have to do with you?"

"I am his teacher, shouldn't I follow along and bask in some reflected glory?"

"Wang Qizhi, where is your shame?"

Wang Qizhi is shameless: "He is my student, what more shame do I need?"

As the two chat, they exit the elevator, and Wang Qiguang opens the door.

Ye Xing'an is watching television and leans over to take a look: "Old Third is here!"

Wang Qizhi nods and looks for slippers in the cabinet. Wang Qiguang is in the middle of untying her scarf, and she suddenly pauses:

There is only Ye Xing'an in the living room, with only one cup of tea in front of him.

But on the coat rack, Ye Anning's coat and bag are both there.

She looks around: "Where is Lin Sicheng?"

Ye Xing'an picks up the cigarette case, hands one to Wang Qizhi, and gestures toward the kitchen with his chin: "In the kitchen!"

What on earth?

Wang Qiguang's eyes widen bit by bit, and she whips her head around.

Through the frosted glass partition, it is not very clear; she can only see a few blurry figures.

Standing near the door are two: one is rather plump, clearly the family's nanny, and the one next to her should be Ji Wangshu.

By the stove inside, one tall and one thin, it must be Lin Sicheng and Ye Anning.

Judging by their movements, they should be stir-frying.

Wang Qiguang is stunned: no—Ye Xing'an, this is the first time meeting him, and you let him cook?

But thinking about it, it doesn't seem right: having lived together for half a lifetime, how could Ye Xing'an be so tactless?

As a couple of many years, they already share a tacit understanding, and Ye Xing'an gives her a look to stay calm: "Why are you standing there stunned? Go pour tea for Wang Qizhi?"

Pour tea your head?

Wang Qiguang rushes toward the kitchen.

Wang Qizhi is bewildered: "Lin Sicheng is stir-frying?"

Ye Xing'an cannot help but laugh: "How is that possible?"

Wang Qizhi also feels it is impossible: that may be what it looks like, but there is absolutely no reason to let Lin Sicheng cook.

Even in Xijing, it was only after they were quite familiar, and it just so happened that Ji Wangshu and Ye Anning were both away, that Lin Sicheng entered the kitchen to make fried rice.

Even then, after Lin Sicheng left, Wang Qizhi was nagged by Ji Wangshu for an entire evening—

While thinking this, he follows behind.

Ji Wangshu and the nanny are wearing aprons, standing behind the door; hearing the commotion, they turn around instinctively.

Seeing the two siblings, the aunt looked a bit uneasy and at a loss. Ji Wangshu, however, was all smiles and even raised her eyebrows at Wang Qiguang, meaning for her to see for herself.

Further inside, right by the stove, Ye Anning was also wearing an apron, holding a skimmer in one hand and chopsticks in the other, as if she were deep-frying something.

Lin Sicheng stood to the side, hands in his pockets, looking relaxed, and even pointed things out: "Cousin Ye, the oil temperature is too high, you need to turn the heat down a bit—you scooped it out too fast, it's fried too lightly—remember the mantra: seven parts smoke, bubbles form rings, that's when you put the fish in—skin slightly yellow, gills frosted, that's when you scoop the fish out—"

Ye Anning was flustered, covered in sweat: "Lin Sicheng, we agreed last night, you said you were going to do it?"

"The mistress of the house wouldn't let me!"

"Aunt didn't say that!"

"Don't believe me? Ask her?"

What was there to ask? Today, Lin Sicheng was a guest—

"You did this on purpose, didn't you?" Ye Anning puffed out her cheeks, "Anyway, you said it: if no one eats what's made, you'll finish it all!"

"Don't worry, a great teacher produces a brilliant student—"

Food was stewing on the stove, the sound of the range hood was too loud, and the two were so focused that they had no idea someone was standing outside the kitchen.

Wang Qiguang looked on with curiosity, observing carefully.

Several dishes were set aside, covered with lids, not looking like the aunt's cooking. She didn't know if they tasted good, but they smelled decent.

In the vegetable basket was a pile of sliced luffa, which must have been Ye Anning's handiwork.

By the oil pan were fish fillets already marinated and ready to be fried; one look showed they were cut with a left hand, so they must have been cut by Ye Anning too.

A steamer was on the stove, wafting the scent of preserved mustard greens; it didn't look like the aunt's cooking, nor did it look like Ji Wangshu's handiwork.

After a rough look, Wang Qiguang entered the kitchen.

Hearing the movement, the two turned around subconsciously.

Lin Sicheng smiled and called out to the aunt; Wang Qiguang nodded: "Little Lin is here, thank you for your hard work. Qizhi is here too, go outside and keep him company with some tea—"

"Thank you, Aunt!"

Saying this, Lin Sicheng left the kitchen.

Once he was out, Wang Qiguang lifted the lids to take a look: Lamb and Tofu, Braised Steak, Chicken with Pork Tripe, Gold-Rimmed Cabbage—there were meat and vegetable dishes, soup and courses.

Two of the dishes were made by the aunt, two were not, and they didn't look like Ji Wangshu's handiwork either.

Of course, they certainly weren't made by Lin Sicheng.

Picking up chopsticks to taste, Wang Qiguang's eyes lit up: I'll be, it's actually quite delicious?

She looked at Ye Anning and smiled: "Tsk, you've made some progress?"

"Mom, it tastes good, right?" Ye Anning was both proud and curious, "How did you know it wasn't made by Lin Sicheng?"

"You think everyone is as thoughtless as you?" Wang Qiguang glared at her, "There's a supermarket right outside the residential complex, yet you insisted on dragging Little Lin to the morning market!"

Ye Anning snorted and wrinkled her nose: Lin Sicheng did it on purpose.

She had only been thinking about how good Lin Sicheng's fish tasted, forgetting for a moment: Dad was here, and Aunt was here too, so how could they possibly let Lin Sicheng take charge of the cooking?

After returning, Ye Anning finally realized: at least half of the ingredients they bought were new dishes that neither the aunt nor the aunt-in-law would know how to make.

Lin Sicheng had said he wanted to teach her, and could she really say she wouldn't learn in front of her own father?

And so, she was taught for the entire morning.

Heh heh, Lin Sicheng, you just wait—

Muttering to herself, Wang Qiguang tied on an apron, but just as she stood by the pot, Ye Anning shoved the tools into her hand: "Mom, it's up to you now—"

Before she could run away, Wang Qiguang stopped her and pointed at the pot: "What is this?"

"It's just Braised Fish, just fry it and stir-fry it—"

Do you think I don't have eyes?

This is clearly that cold-water fish called something-fresh; the only person in the family who knows how to make it is the aunt-in-law, but even she only knows how to steam it.

Deep-fried? She had never even seen it before—

Wang Qiguang shoved the skimmer back into her hand and said bluntly: "I don't know how!"

Ye Anning rolled her eyes: "You're my mom!"

"So what if I'm your mom? A mom won't take the blame for this!"

Ji Wangshu laughed out loud.

Actually, most of the work was done, leaving only the stir-fried luffa. Around twelve o'clock, the dishes were set on the dining table.

Once seated, Ye Xing'an picked up his chopsticks: "Little Lin, don't be a stranger!"

"Thank you, Uncle!"

As the two talked, Wang Qizhi didn't stand on ceremony either, dipping a bit of the Braised Fish sauce. Then he smacked his lips: "Hey, Ye Anning, your skills have improved?"

Ye Anning was half-doubting: "Uncle, you don't have to comfort me!"

The method was taught by Lin Sicheng, and it was actually quite simple: soak in beer for half an hour, fry twice, then braise.

It was just that the process was too precise: oil temperature and frying time were measured in degrees and seconds.

Ye Anning had self-awareness: she had no talent for cooking, her patience was only average, and she was learning on the spot, so how good could it really be?

Her uncle was just feeling sorry for her—

She spun the lazy Susan: "Dad, you try it too!"

Trying it is just trying it; at worst it tastes bad, it won't kill anyone, right?

Thinking this to himself, Ye Xing'an picked up a piece, but as soon as it entered his mouth, he began to praise: "Girl, not bad?"

Really?

Ye Anning still didn't quite believe it, because apart from the cooking process requiring more precision, there didn't seem to be anything extraordinary about it?

No secret recipe, and certainly no special techniques—

Suspicious, she spun the lazy Susan again: "Dad, try this one too?"

This dish was Steamed Pork with Preserved Mustard Greens, and like the fish, it was the last to come out of the pot; Ye Anning hadn't even managed to taste it.

"This is even better?" Ye Xing'an tasted a piece, his eyes lighting up. "Little Lin, Qi Zhi, you two eat too, it's authentic Hakka cuisine!"

The two did not hesitate, each taking a piece, and then, they also began to praise it.

The four women were skeptical, including Ye Anning herself: it made no sense, were all three of them comforting her just to make her feel better?

Because this dish was also not very difficult, aside from boiling and frying, then chilling it with ice, then stir-frying it, and finally steaming it.

It had two more steps than the usual steamed pork, but it wasn't complicated, nor was it tedious.

The key was that Ye Anning didn't have the heart to tell Lin Sicheng: her father was extremely picky; hearing a single "not bad" from his mouth was already very difficult, let alone "authentic"?

When Ye Xing'an reached for a second piece, Wang Qiguang finally picked up his chopsticks, half-doubting. Then it was Ji Wangshu, then Ye Anning and the auntie.

Everyone picked up a piece to taste, and then, they all raised their heads in unison.

Then they tasted the fish: the same movements, the same expressions.

Including Ye Anning: were these two dishes really made by her?

Lin Sicheng smiled. "Cousin Ye, I didn't lie to you, did I? I told you it wasn't hard to learn!"

Ye Anning nodded vigorously, her self-confidence inflated to the extreme: it really wasn't hard to learn, and it was truly not hard to learn.

Wang Qiguang and the nanny auntie exchanged a look, completely bewildered: Ye Anning didn't stop coming home. Regardless of which of the couple returned from a business trip, she would come back to stay for two days.

When the mood struck her, she would also show her filial piety. But to be honest: every time, Ye Xing'an would grit his teeth and force a smile as he swallowed it down.

Suddenly, her culinary skills had become this good?

Seeing what they were thinking at a glance, Ji Wangshu sighed inwardly:

Internet technology is so advanced now, and recipes and formulas are not secrets; imperial palace cuisine is everywhere online.

But why is it that with the same formula, ninety-nine out of a hundred chefs still can't make it well?

Because to make a dish well, it is not enough to just know which ingredients to use, how to process them, and how much seasoning to add; the key lies in the heat control.

The so-called "true transmission is a single sentence, false transmission is ten thousand scrolls of books." Just like the sentence Lin Sicheng taught Ye Anning: Seven parts smoke, bubbles form rings, skin slightly yellow, cheeks frosted—

Furthermore, although Ye Anning was the one at the helm for these dishes, Lin Sicheng provided guidance throughout: how to heat the pot, how hot to make the oil, whether to put in the ginger or garlic first, how many seconds to stir-fry each—and so on, down to the smallest detail, so there wasn't much difference from Lin Sicheng stir-frying it himself.

Turning these thoughts over, Ji Wangshu smiled again. "Since it's not hard to learn, you should make it often in the future!"

Subconsciously, Ye Anning was about to nod again, but halfway through, she felt something was not quite right: when she was learning Artifact Restoration, Lin Sicheng also said it wasn't hard to learn.

She also felt it wasn't hard to learn at the time, but when he taught her, she understood it at a glance; yet when Lin Sicheng wasn't around, as soon as she tried it herself, it was a disaster—

Ye Anning thought for a moment, with a very serious expression: "If I make it, will you eat it?"

Lin Sicheng did not hesitate: "I will!"

He actually dared to eat it?

Ye Anning began to doubt again: it couldn't be that the reason she didn't do well before was just because she hadn't met a master teacher like Lin Sicheng?

Ji Wangshu sighed again: Silly girl, since Lin Sicheng can eat the food you make, he must be right by your side. He watches you cook; it would be hard for you to do a bad job.

Why don't you try it again when he's not around?

I reckon even Wang Youjian wouldn't eat it.

It wasn't that Ye Anning wasn't smart, but that Lin Sicheng answered too quickly, not giving her any time to react at all—

Ye Anning was quite happy, volunteering to get the wine.

Ye Xing'an personally poured a glass for Lin Sicheng. "Qi Zhi says you don't like to drink much, which is a good habit; just take it easy today—"

"Thank you, Uncle!"

"Come, let's have a toast!" Ye Xing'an clinked his glass with his. "Come often in the future."

"Okay!"

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