Cui Dabao actually had some understanding of cooking and picked it up quickly, which even surprised Tang Xianling. Cui Dabao looked nervous: “Is it no good?” 

“Try it.” Tang Xianling broke off a piece of the first batch of pot-sticker buns and let Cui Dabao taste it, while giving the rest to Tieniu and his mother. Jiang Yun took a bite, went “Hmm,” and said, “It’s delicious.”

Cui Dabao hadn’t tasted his own creation yet, but hearing Aunt Jiang’s words, he breathed a sigh of relief and took a bite. He chewed it over, then shook his head and said it wasn’t as good as the boss’s—it was a bit soggy, and the seasoning was too light.

“For a beginner, this is impressive. I said yesterday you had a knack for this, and now I see it’s true.” Tang Xianling was delighted. He had been making chicken soup for his employees the day before, but he hadn’t expected Cui Dabao to actually have a real talent for it.

“Do you cook at home?”

Cui Dabao: “Never.”

“Then you’re truly talented in this area,” Tang Xianling affirmed. Seeing that Cui Dabao was quite particular about the flavor of the pot-sticker buns he’d made, he explained, “I’ve been blessed by heaven with this gift. In this line of work, I know how to get the most out of any ingredient. Now we just need to slowly adjust the recipe proportions so you can achieve the same results as I do.”

“Don’t be discouraged—it turned out really well for your first try.”

Cui Dabao remembered, “Earlier, when you made the chess-piece-shaped beans, my wife tried making them at home following your method, but they just didn’t taste right. After adjusting the recipe over and over, he finally got the flavor right—it was almost identical.”

Tang Xianling nodded. Old Man Cui was quite the talker—he’d said “very similar” rather than “exactly the same.” 

“If your pot stickers turn out ninety percent like mine, they’ll be good enough to sell.”

Cui Dabao wanted to say something, but in the end, he kept it to himself.

Tang Xianling could tell this man had a stubborn streak; his expression seemed to say, “Well then, I’ll work on getting it exactly right.” Fine by him—it was his business, and having employees who took the taste of the buns seriously was a good thing.

That morning was spent entirely on making pot-sticker buns.

Tang Xianling told Old Man Cui to go home to rest and eat, and to come back in the afternoon to learn more—but not too early, since he still needed to take a nap.

“…Sun is home alone. He’s expecting a child, so there’s no rush for him to learn right away. You should go home and come back later this afternoon when it cools down a bit. And take some of these pot-sticker buns home for Uncle Cui and Douzi to try.”

They were all made by Cui Dabao—three different flavors—so he should take them all. Tang Xianling wasn’t in the mood for pot-sticker buns anymore.

Cui Dabao felt a bit embarrassed but didn’t want to refuse, since he’d made these pot-sticker buns for the first time and wanted Douzi and his father to try them. So, grinning, he picked up the basket and hurried home, his steps quickening all the way.

“What are we having for lunch?” Jiang Yun asked Wu-ger and Tieniu.

Tang Xianling had been sampling food all morning and wasn’t hungry now. He waved his hand. “Mom, just hearing the word ‘food’ makes me feel sick.”

Jiang Yun:!

“Wu-ger, you aren’t—”

“No, Mother, you’re thinking the wrong thing. I’m just stuffed from eating so many buns.” Tang Xianling explained to his mother, “You bought me breakfast this morning, and not long after I finished that, I ate one pot-sticker bun after another. Now I’m stuffed!”

He’d had breakfast just past ten; it was only a little past noon now. How could he possibly be hungry? He wasn’t a pig, after all.

Jiang Yun found his reasoning sound. She nodded and said no more. It wasn’t her fault she’d been suspicious—Wu-ger and Tieniu were getting closer and closer. That morning, when she’d just gone out to buy breakfast, the two of them hadn’t been able to resist hugging and kissing in the courtyard in broad daylight. Luckily, no one else had seen them besides her…

The Cui family courtyard.

Sun Douzi finished making lunch and brought it to his father first. Father Cui wouldn’t let Douzi feed him—to avoid any appearance of impropriety—so he just had him boil the noodles until they were soft, then took a spoon and ate by himself with his good hand.

“It’s fine. It’s actually easier for me to eat slowly on my own.”

“Don’t wait up for Dabao either. He’s a grown man; he won’t go hungry.” Though Father Cui said this, he was still worried about his son. It was Dabao’s first day going to the Tang family to learn how to make bread—he’d never even set foot in the kitchen before.

It was all because he’d spoiled him.

Dabao didn’t even know how to knead dough; if he couldn’t make these pancakes, he’d surely be anxious and upset. Father Cui was injured now and couldn’t go anywhere; otherwise, he would have loved to knead the dough and make the pancakes for his son himself.

Father Cui had spoiled his son from childhood through adulthood. Logically, he knew it was one thing, but emotionally, he still worried about every little detail and couldn’t help but fret. Sun Douzi was the same—he couldn’t eat a bite, constantly glancing toward the courtyard gate. Whenever he heard footsteps, he’d rush over to look, but peering through the crack in the door, he’d only see passersby; Dabao hadn’t returned yet.

Just as Sun Douzi was peeking through the crack in the door for the umpteenth time, Cui Dabao finally arrived at the doorstep, carrying a basket. Inside, Douzi’s heart leapt with joy; he pulled the latch open. Before Cui Dabao could even knock, the door swung open, and there was his Douzi, beaming at him.

For some reason, Cui Dabao’s heart was pounding, and he felt incredibly happy and content.

“It’s so hot out here—what are you doing standing there?” Cui Dabao said, and then he knew why. “Were you waiting for me?”

Sun Douzi wasn’t one to lie; he just hummed in response. “Are you hot? Have you eaten yet?”

“I’m hot, and I haven’t eaten—” Cui Dabao saw Douzi rushing to go into the kitchen and grabbed her arm, saying, “I’m not hungry. I’ve been making buns for over an hour, so I’ve had my fill. Have you and Dad eaten yet?”

Inside the house, Father Cui heard the commotion in the courtyard and grew anxious. He called out loudly, “Douzi, is that Dabao coming back?”

Before Sun Douzi could answer, Cui Dabao called back, “Yes, Father, I’m back. I’ll come in to see you in a moment. Don’t worry.” 

“I’m not worried. Douzi was just worried about you and hasn’t eaten yet.”

“I know.”

After the father and son finished calling to each other across the courtyard, Cui Dabao looked at her husband. In just a few days, Douzi’s once plump, rosy cheeks had grown thin again. “You need to eat.”

“I know,” Sun Douzi replied, then added cheerfully, “The food’s hot—let it sit a bit; it’ll taste better when it cools down.”   

“It can’t get too cold. I’m worried you’ll get an upset stomach now that you’re expecting.”

“Got it.” Sun Douzi thought his husband had become quite chatty lately—he’d never been like this before—but he didn’t mind it; in fact, he liked it. “What?”

Cui Dabao suddenly remembered. “Pot-sticker buns—I made them myself.” He called out in a loud voice, “Dad, skip a few bites of rice. I made some buns; you’ve got to try them.” 

Inside, Father Cui was overjoyed. Buns made by Dabao himself? Then he wouldn’t eat rice—he’d eat Dabao’s buns instead. “Alright, bring them over so I can try some.”

Once Sun Douzi and Father Cui had tasted the pot-sticker buns Cui Dabao had made, both of them viewed him through rose-colored glasses. Father Cui praised his son’s cooking, saying they were just as delicious as the ones sold by Mr. Tang at the shop. Sun Douzi nodded in agreement with his father and added, “They’re beautifully made, too—you’d never guess an outsider made them.”

“???” Cui Dabao munched on the pot-sticker buns he’d made, saying aloud, “How could they be exactly the same? They’re still a bit off,” but inside he was overjoyed and proud.

Feeling a bit shy yet eager to show off, he said, “Mr. Tang also said I have a bit of a knack for this trade, though of course I can’t compare to him. When I baked my very first pot-sticker, Mr. Tang and Aunt Jiang ate it and looked at me with such surprise…”

Father Cui and Sun Douzi listened intently, their expressions shifting between surprise and delight.

While at the Tang family’s courtyard, Cui Dabao had been quite humble and strict with himself, but once back in his own home, facing his closest relatives and husband, he relaxed. After finishing his training, his confidence gradually grew.

“Father, Douzi, I truly believe that my previous reluctance to work was simply because I’d chosen the wrong path. Perhaps Heaven saw that I was meant to be a flatbread baker, which is why it’s taken this long…”

Father Cui nodded earnestly in agreement.

Sun Douzi said, “Since Boss Tang says so, Dabao is definitely capable of making good pancakes.”

Thus, buoyed by his family’s praise and the boss’s encouraging words, Old Man Cui—who had previously been a flash in the pan at everything he tried but had always been passionate about food—now stood with boundless enthusiasm and vowed: He would perfect the pot-sticker buns to 95% of the original.

He can do it—he’s got this!

Tang Xianling had no idea his new employee was so ambitious; right now, he was sprawled out in a belly band and loose shorts, taking a nap, snoring away—it felt so good.

After Huangfu Tieniu and his mother finished lunch in the main hall, Jiang Yun called out to Tieniu, “Don’t bother cleaning up. Go take a nap with Wu-ger—there aren’t many dishes to wash.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Huangfu Tieniu said.

Jiang Yun smiled. “We’re family—no need to be so formal. Go on, then.” Although Tieniu was a few years younger than Wu-ger, once he arrived at the house, he would do all the chores, dote on Wu-ger, and treat her with respect and devotion.

On weekends, it’s nice for the two kids to get some extra rest.

Huangfu Tieniu walked into the room and saw Xianling sleeping with his belly exposed. In the summer heat, Xianling loved to kick off his blankets while sleeping. Luckily, he was wearing a belly band; otherwise, he would surely catch a chill. He carefully pulled the blanket over him and gently fanned himself with a fan.

Strange as it may seem, whenever they had a day off, the weather would be scorching and sunny, but it would rain within a week.

As Huangfu Tieniu fanned him, his husband sensed the breeze and turned his face toward him to catch it. Feeling so comfortable, his brows and eyes relaxed, as if he were dreaming of something pleasant, with a faint smile on his lips—he looked absolutely lovely.

He couldn’t help himself; he leaned down and kissed the tip of his husband’s nose. How could he be so adorable?

Tang Xianling slept like a log for a whole day. When he woke up, it was already past four in the afternoon. He felt hungry and had an appetite. Cui Dabao had arrived early and was busy baking pot-stove buns in the shop up front.

As soon as he woke up, Cui Dabao appeared with a plate of pot-stickers, saying eagerly, “Boss, I just made these two batches. Want to try some?” 

Tang Xianling: …

He was in the mood for char siu rice, not pot-stickers.

Then Boss Tang carefully picked up a piece, broke it open, and said, “Wait a moment, I’ll give it a try.”

Huangfu Tieniu brought over a glass of cold water. Tang Xianling took the glass first, “I’ll have a sip to moisten my throat.” He’d just woken up, and his throat was indeed dry—Tieniu really understood him!

“No rush, no rush,” Cui Dabao said eagerly.

Tang Xianlin:……

After finishing the water, he finally set about tasting the pot-sticker.

It had to be said that Cui Dabao was indeed clever when it came to cooking, and he knew how to experiment on his own. For this pot-sticker, while he had prepared the preserved mustard greens in advance, everything else—kneading the dough, the amount of water, how long to knead it, how long to let it rest, and seasoning the filling—including the ratio of preserved mustard greens to pork and the proportions of spice powders—was all done by him.

This one—

“It’s already very close, and the crust is crispier than the last batch we made this morning.” Thin pot-buns are supposed to be crispy. Tang Xianling took a bite and asked, “How did you do it?”

Cui Dabao beamed with delight. He, too, felt this version was about 92% there—still room for improvement—as he explained, “It’s hot out, so you have to watch the dough’s moisture while it’s resting. I took a clean piece of cheesecloth, dampened it slightly, and covered the dough with it. That way, when it comes out, it’s soft enough to knead, and the wrapper doesn’t tear easily when you fill it…”

Tang Xianling nodded. “That’s a great method.” He was the kind of person who thought things through and put his ideas into practice.

“I later came up with another version, but it didn’t taste as good as the first one,” Cui Dabao said. He had wanted to improve it further, but it didn’t work out—he failed.

Tang Xianling took a bite of the second one; the texture was indeed not as good as the first. “You didn’t get the seasoning right either. The meat filling is too bland, and the strong flavor of the preserved mustard greens overpowers the fat. Also, the pastry is too thin and overbaked.”

It had only been baked for a short while, so the issue wasn’t immediately obvious. It tasted a bit too dry; when broken apart, it was crispy, but it felt like eating pot-bottom rice—lacking the chewy texture of a proper bun.

After receiving this feedback, Cui Dabao went back to the front to work on it some more.

“Let’s have char siu rice for dinner!” Tang Xianling said to his mother and Tieniu.

Huangfu Tieniu breathed a sigh of relief, his face lighting up with joy. “Finally something I’m in the mood for! What kind of char siu do you want? I’ll go buy it.”

“Pick a cut of pork shoulder,” Tang Xianling said. Then, realizing that just having char siu rice might be a bit heavy, especially in this heat, he added, “I’d like some lemon chicken feet—”

That would take a bit of effort, mainly because they didn’t have any lemons or chili peppers.

“Are the century eggs I made ready yet? If not, I’ll buy some soft tofu and mix it with the eggs.” Tang Xianling suddenly remembered the eggs he had preserved earlier; counting the days, it had been over ten days, so he figured they were ready to eat. He was immediately delighted. “I’ll go check.”

Jiang Yun: “Then I’ll go buy the groceries. You want pork shoulder and tofu, right?” 

“Mother, let me go,” Huangfu Tieniu said.

Jiang Yun was already reaching for the vegetable basket hanging on the wall. “It’s still early. I’ll go for a stroll—it’s not too sunny yet. You and Wu-ger stay home—” She paused. “Wait, Old Man Cui is home. The two of you… Actually, why don’t you go buy the groceries, Tieniu?”

Tang Xianling, who had been listening from start to finish: Hahahahahaha.

“Mother, Xianling knows his limits,” Huangfu Tieniu said, his face flushing.

Jiang Yun: “You just spoil Wu-ger. If he wants something, how can you refuse him—ahem, I’ll go instead.” If she went on any longer, it would be going too far—not something an elder like her should be saying.

But just before leaving, Jiang Yun looked at the Wu-ger and whispered, “In broad daylight—”

“I get it, I get it. Mom, I’ll definitely restrain myself. I definitely won’t nibble on Tieniu. Even if he wants me to, I won’t do it. Abstinence!” Tang Xianling promised. Jiang Yun couldn’t go on and scolded him playfully, “You’re such a kid, always spouting nonsense. You’ll say anything.”

As soon as Mother left, Big Brother Yang grinned wickedly. Huangfu Tieniu said, “Mother just left.”

“…Now that you mention it, the atmosphere feels a bit off. It makes it seem like I’m flirting with a respectable young man.” After teasing him, Tang Xianling noticed his young husband’s face turning red as he kept glancing toward the shop up ahead—probably checking to see if Cui Dabao was coming from the back. Feeling a tingle of excitement, as if they were having a secret affair, he tugged at Tieniu’s arm. With just a light touch, Tieniu leaned in, and the two shared a kiss.

It was a quick, light kiss—just a brush of the lips. A bit shy.

“It’s just like when we first met and kissed for the first time,” Tang Xianling mused, his heart pounding like a teenager in love. Huangfu Tieniu hummed in response, but stopped kissing him, instead lightly brushing his husband’s lips.

“We’ll talk about it tonight.”

You lecherous ox, what on earth is there to wait until tonight for!

Sure enough, when you’re well-rested, your mind wanders. Last week, he was exhausted as a beast of burden, never getting enough sleep—how could he have had the energy for such thoughts then? Tang Xianling mused.

For dinner, they had char siu rice—this was easy to make, too; the secret was in the char siu sauce.

Tang Xianling boiled a few century eggs, fished them out, and ran them under cold water to cool. He peeled and chopped them. The soft tofu needed to be blanched or steamed briefly to remove some of the raw bean odor. After that, there was no need to cut the tofu; he simply mixed it with the century eggs, and it was ready.

The rice was steamed in a clay pot. Slices of char siu were arranged on top, blanched tender Chinese cabbage was placed inside, the sauce was poured over, and the lid was put on to let it simmer for a while. If you like crispy rice at the bottom of the pot, drizzle a ring of oil around the edge of the lid before covering it. The result is a golden-brown, crispy crust at the bottom of the pot.

The aroma wafting from Tang’s Kitchen grew ever more intense.

Cui Dabao, the foodie from the shop up ahead: Swallowing his saliva with a gulp, gulp.

He didn’t have the nerve to ask the Tang family what they were making for dinner because Cui Dabao knew that if he did, they would surely give him a bowl of rice. He could have afforded to buy food in the past, but now his father needed medicine, Douzi was showing, and they’d have to hire a midwife for the delivery… and it would be safer to hire a doctor as well.

Cui Dabao’s little father had died during a difficult childbirth, so the mere thought of Douzi giving birth filled him with dread. He needed to save up more money.

Cui Dabao ran through the family’s finances in his head. Douzi was due at the end of the year. He’d already collected next year’s rent this year, so he couldn’t collect it again. However, Mr. Tang had said he’d pay an extra two months’ rent at the end of the year. But he’d only worked for half a year—how could he possibly ask for two months’ pay? One month should be enough, right?

If he saved it all up, that should be enough to pay the midwife, right?

“Come eat,” Jiang Yun called out to Cui Dabao from the front shop. “Dinner’s ready. It’ll be dark soon. Wu-ger said we’ll call it a day today. Let’s have supper first, then clean up and head home.”

Cui Dabao paused, “I still get a meal?”

“Of course. We provide meals here. It’s the same for Sister Tong and A-Liang, who come to help out at our place,” Jiang Yun explained with a smile.

Upon hearing this, Cui Dabao—who had intended to be polite, since he was still an apprentice and hadn’t officially started working yet—couldn’t help but speak up. The aroma wafting through the air was making his mouth water.

“Alright, thanks, Aunt Jiang.” 

“Don’t mention it—it’s only right.”

Tang Xianling had steamed a large clay pot of rice—more than enough to go around. The char siu pork was already mixed into the rice, and the grains were coated with a layer of golden-brown crust. For tonight’s dinner, they served it on individual plates: first the rice in a slightly deeper dish, then a few slices of the extra-fried char siu pork laid on top.

On the side, a spoonful of preserved egg mixed with tofu.

Don’t let the somewhat “messy” appearance fool you—it actually tasted incredibly delicious. To save time, he’d steamed it all in one pot; the rice, infused with the sauce, was perfectly separate and coated in char siu glaze. Since he loved meat, he’d added extra pan-fried char siu, and one bite was enough to whet his appetite.

Tang Xianling was holding his bowl when Cui Dabao arrived. He said, “Hurry up and eat, hurry up and eat. You’re making rapid progress now. Just practice a bit more next week, and you’ll have it down.” The group sat at the table in the courtyard to eat.

Cui Dabao took a couple of bites, a grain of rice still clinging to the corner of his mouth, when he suddenly stopped eating and said, “Boss, can I take this home to eat? I’ll bring the bowl back tomorrow.”

“Sure. Just bring your bowl, chopsticks, and drinking cup tomorrow. There’s still rice in the pot in the kitchen—if you run out, just go get some more,” Tang Xianling said.

Cui Dabao chuckled, saying, “That’s enough, that’s enough,” and carried his bowl out the door.

As soon as he was gone, Jiang Yun couldn’t help but remark, “Old Man Cui wasn’t like this before. Whenever there was something good to eat, he’d always put his own mouth first.” Otherwise, how would the nickname “Old Man Cui” have spread? When it came to food, even his own father had to take a back seat.

But now, with just a bowl of rice, he’s thinking of taking it home for his family to try.

Tang Xianling, channeling his inner know-it-all, chimed in, “Maybe Old Man Cui is just going home to enjoy it all by himself. He’ll eat it with relish right in front of Douzi and his dad, just to make them jealous.”

“……” Jiang Yun’s heart was full of mixed emotions, leaving her at a loss for words. She knew her Wu-ger was just being deliberately silly.

“I’ll ask Douzi later if he thinks the char siu rice I made is good.” Seeing his mother at a loss for words, Tang Xianling finally spoke up with a grin. He didn’t want to hear his mother praising Cui Dabao as some kind of paragon of a man, nor did he feel like going along with it, so he deliberately played the contrarian.

After they finished eating, as dusk fell, the courtyard gate creaked open.

Cui Dabao came to return a bowl, accompanied by Douzi—the couple had come together. Cui Dabao apologized, “I forgot to tidy up the shop!”

“…If you hadn’t mentioned it, I would’ve forgotten the shop was still a mess out front. Go ahead, then.” Tang Xianling had truly forgotten.

Cui Dabao headed to the front to tidy up, and Sun Douzi followed him. Cui Dabao said, “Don’t go in there—it’s all secret recipes. Just stay right here.”

This startled Sun Douzi so much that he really didn’t dare go to the front to help.

Tang Xianling sat there fanning himself as he chatted idly with Douzi. He recalled the topic that had come up during dinner, but he didn’t ask, “Was the char siu rice good?”—he wasn’t exactly a complete fool; asking that directly would have put Douzi on the spot.

To his surprise, Douzi brought it up first, a faint blush of embarrassment on her face. “Dabao said he took a bite of the rice and thought it smelled so good. He remembered that Dad and I hadn’t tried it yet, so he took some home for us to try.”

The three of them each got a small bowl of the rice, but to Sun Douzi, it tasted better than anything else.

Tang Xianling’s eyes crinkled with a smile as he said sincerely, “I’m glad you like it. I’ll tell you how to make it—pork isn’t expensive, and with a little seasoning, it’s very easy to prepare.”

“No, no—you’ve got your business to run,” Sun Douzi hurriedly stopped him. “I didn’t come here to ask for a recipe.”

“I know.” Tang Xianling nodded and didn’t bring it up again. “Cui Dabao’s a master at making buns. Have you tried them? The batch he made this afternoon is even better.”

Upon hearing this, Sun Douzi said, “I thought the ones this morning were already delicious. If the ones this afternoon are even better, that’s wonderful. He’ll be able to work, earn his money, and feel at ease.”

The two chatted for a while. As dusk fell, Cui Dabao finished cleaning up his stall and even fetched two buckets of water. Only then did they agree that he would walk home with Douzi. Tang Xianling saw them off to the courtyard gate and told them to come learn at the same time tomorrow—but not too early.

Cui Dabao: …He’d figured it out—Master Tang was ready for bed. That was fine, too.

The courtyard gate was locked, and the night was deep.

Jiang Yun finished her bath and tidied the bathroom floor, telling the two men to bathe early—the hot water was already boiled and waiting in the pot. Huangfu Tieniu agreed, went to fetch the hot water, mixed it with cold water to make bathwater, grabbed his husband’s clean clothes, and then called out to Xianling that it was time to bathe.

Tang Xianling stood there, looked at Tieniu for a moment, and said very seriously, “If Mother were to praise a man of unparalleled virtue, she shouldn’t praise Cui Dabao—it’s my classmate Tieniu right here who is the man of unparalleled virtue!”

A reformed rogue deserves nothing but the highest praise—though naturally, Cui Dabao’s “crimes” don’t warrant such praise; he isn’t a rogue, just a gluttonous, food-loving fellow. Now that Cui Dabao has taken on his share of responsibility, it’s fine for family to praise him as they please, but as neighbors and outsiders, there’s no need to heap excessive praise upon him.

Huangfu Tieniu now understood why Xianling had gently cut off his mother’s words during the evening meal—it was for this very reason. Though his husband often seemed childlike, he was actually quite perceptive at heart.

When he said that, Tang Xianling raised an eyebrow, a touch of the “playboy” coming out, and waved his index finger, saying, “No, no, no, don’t put me on a pedestal. I’m just—”

“Hehehe, I want to feel Classmate Greedy Tieniu’s abs. Touch, touch, touch, touch.”

Huangfu Tieniu didn’t understand, but the husband in front of him amused him. He’d definitely slept well—he was full of energy now. Tonight, they could do it… and do it a few more times.

That was exactly what was written all over Xianling’s face.

He arched his back and deliberately tightened his abs, guiding his husband’s hand onto his stomach. His husband’s hand lingered there for a moment before sliding downward. Huangfu Tieniu tightened his abs even more and looked down at his husband.

Tang Xianling lifted his head, stood on tiptoe, leaned in, and kissed him.

And just like that, his hand remained on Tieniu’s abs the whole time.