kvmb Chapter 344 Recalling Those Sticky Little Sweeties Who Never Had a Wedding Ceremony
Chapter 344 Recalling Those Sticky Little Sweeties Who Never Had a Wedding Ceremony
The Imperial Observatory's young ox, swaying back and forth on his phone screen like a little bronze rhinoceros, wiped the sweat from his brows against the back of his bamboo chair.
“Zhen Xiaosi, don’t be like an ant on a hot pan. This kind of thing is like steaming buns – if the heat is too high, the bottom will burn; if the heat is too low, the bun will be undercooked. You can’t rush it. I think your situation with Xiaolin is like two kids in an alley squatting by the wall playing with mud, happily making mud figures, and then they turn around and see their trouser legs covered in mud. When they get home, they’ll definitely get chased and scolded by their grandmother with a broom.”
I understand your unease. It's like that old locust tree at the entrance of the alley, its branches blocking the sun, but once you cut it down, you miss its shade in the summer.
Yesterday, I bumped into Aunt Zhang Er talking to her daughter by the wall at the entrance of the alley. Her voice was as soft as freshly fluffed cotton, but her words were as dense as stitches.
When you're looking for Xiao Lin, make sure you don't catch him while he's gnawing on a braised chicken leg with his hands dripping with oil. It's best to find a quiet moment—either invite him to a tea shop for a bowl of almond tea, or take a leisurely stroll along the moat after dinner and casually say:
"Xiao Lin, chatting with you is like chewing on candy—it's really sweet, but it's also sticky and I can't stop. Lately, I keep thinking about the almost dried-up jasmine on the windowsill, and that half-read copy of 'Romance of the Three Kingdoms' on the bookshelf. I have a mountain of things to do; I need to find some time to deal with them, right?"
Once you say that, he'll know you're not looking down on him, but just that you have important things to do. At the end, you should add, "How about we meet every Wednesday evening under the old locust tree at the school gate? The setting sun then makes the locust leaves glow, and our chat will be more enjoyable."
The little rhinoceros on the phone screen flicked its tail, and the copper bell jingled like a crescent moon in the light and shadow: "Remember, when talking to old neighbors, you have to be like stretching noodles—you have to speak softly and reason directly. Just like Aunt Zhang said, good noodles need to rest, and good words need to be carefully considered."
Zhen Xiaosi found it amusing and rubbed her T-shirt against her phone screen. The little bronze rhinoceros blinked its round eyes, and a virtual locust leaf hung from its horn.
"Besides, we need to make the most of our lives—before, you two were always squatting by the wall playing chess like millstones, the sun rolling from the east wall to the west wall without you moving an inch. I think it would be better if you went to the moat and jogged around."
Think about it, the two of them running around panting, and when they get tired they sit on the riverbank and eat ice chips. They can chat idly without missing a beat, which is better than sitting around doing nothing and becoming two-faced.
If you want to dabble in books, meet at the library—you can occupy a table by the window to read "The Peach Blossom Spring," while he can lean against the radiator to devour "The Pavilion of the Drunken Old Man." After you're done, gather around the water dispenser to discuss "The Little Stone Pool," and then chat about "The Preface to Sending Ma Sheng of Dongyang Off"... It's much more exciting than squatting at the alley entrance chatting idly and getting all worked up.
The other day, I saw two students from the affiliated middle school, using a rubber band to tie their vocabulary books together. Whoever made a mistake had to buy roasted chestnuts as punishment. The aroma of mocha caramel wafted through the neighborhood, making every passerby swallow hard.
The little rhinoceros suddenly stomped its hoof on the screen, causing the wood grain on the bamboo chair to shake.
“Oh, right, there’s another important thing—you need to carve out a plot of land for yourself, like Old Wang in our courtyard divides his vegetable garden, clearly defining which row to plant radishes and which to plant cabbages. You need to tell Xiao Lin: ‘I have to make sand swallows at home every Tuesday and Thursday night, this is my proper livelihood, you know. If you come by the moon gate at this time, I guarantee I’ll chat with you with the door bolted—we can have a good chat even through the door.’”
If he suddenly knocks on the door, you can say through the door, "The kite frame isn't finished yet, but we'll definitely see you tomorrow!"
Besides, when chatting on WeChat, don't just stare at your phone and watch the words pop up. Set a time, like an hour after dinner, to reply to messages in one go, and pretend your phone is out of battery the rest of the time. I've seen Grandpa Li next door do that, and now he has time to practice calligraphy and even feed his myna bird.
Finally, we need to make sure this friendship can withstand scrutiny. You see, in old Beijing courtyard houses, the bricks under the eaves had to be stacked one by one, and friendships also need to be cultivated in the same way.
When you're not meeting in person, if you see something interesting, like a new Pop Mart seller has come to the store, take a picture and send it to him. Explain it to him in a few words, don't let it get bogged down in endless chatter.
Alternatively, you two could agree to bring something new to the table each time you meet—he can tell you a story he's heard, and you can tell him a story you've just read. That way, you'll have something to look forward to when you meet.
Like my childhood sweethearts, though we never held hands or had a wedding ceremony, we always strolled to the palace walls as the sun began to set. I remember Qiu Rongmu's servant always carrying an oiled paper package, the sesame cakes still glistening with ashes from the stove, the sugar frosting glistening between the sesame seeds; Zi'an's study companion was even more amusing, stringing candied hawthorns on a sorghum stalk, the hawthorns coated in an icy shell, each bite producing a satisfying crunch. Cong Xiaoye always bowed his head when handing things over, his braid brushing against the moss on the palace walls, muttering, "Little princess, the imperial kitchen doesn't have this flavor..." His cuffs were worn smooth—now, recalling the aroma of the cakes mixed with the sweetness of the sugar frosting, I can almost feel the warmth in my palms, a warmth that has lingered from late spring in Chang'an all the way to this late autumn in Songjiang City...
The little rhinoceros on the phone tapped its pipe, grinned, and continued:
“Zhen Xiaosi, you see, this is like cooking porridge. If the heat is too high, it burns; if it's too low, it won't cook. You have to figure it out slowly. A true friend is like the old locust tree in the alley, providing shade in the summer and not blocking the sun in the winter. He'll definitely understand what you're thinking. If he really doesn't want to, that's fine too. People with different values can't work together. We can't let a bowl of slow-cooked stew delay our trip to the temple fair, can we?”