The yellow wine would lose its alcohol during cooking, leaving no noticeable effect—it would only remove the fishy smell and enhance the aroma. Su Chi always kept some at home.
The soybeans had been soaked since morning—he’d asked Uncle Liu to help when he came over at noon to heat up Wang Wen’s meal. They were now perfectly softened, easily crushed between thumb and forefinger.
After the water boiled, Su Chi skimmed off the foam and let it cook a little longer, then removed the trotters and rinsed them again with warm water.
He started a fresh pot, adding the trotters and soaked soybeans, along with scallion sections, a small pinch of Sichuan peppercorns, a slice of angelica root, and a small piece of tangerine peel. He poured in enough hot water to cover everything.
The fire licked the bottom of the pot slowly. It would need to simmer for an hour, giving Su Chi time to attend to other things while it cooked.
He took out the kelp that had been soaking in a basin since last night, selected a few thick sections, and cut them into strips suitable for the pot. He rinsed them several times to make sure they were clean and set them aside.
Outside, the sky darkened rapidly—a downpour was coming. Su Chi went out to cover the chicken coop with thick cloth, gathered a few eggs from the nest, and brought in the farming tools leaning against the wall. He checked the water vat—it was half full, enough for now.
A breeze had picked up, swirling stray leaves around the yard. After finishing his chores, Su Chi anxiously looked toward the path.
Why wasn’t she back yet?
Just then, he spotted Xie Yushu coming down from the mountain path, carrying a basket full to the brim, heading toward his house.
When she pushed open the gate, Su Chi handed her a bowl of water—he’d prepared it earlier, waiting for her return: “Thirsty? Here, drink this—it’ll cool you down.”
He took the basket from her. She’d picked plenty of vegetables, just what he needed. He set the basket aside.
Xie Yushu took the bowl of slightly yellowish water and downed it in one go. She’d been parched—the drink was refreshing, with a faint, sweet plant-like taste.
“What is this water?” she asked, smacking her lips curiously.
The water was warm, not hot—clearly it had been left to cool for a while. At the bottom of the bowl, a few thin, nearly dissolved slices remained.
Su Chi explained patiently: “It’s winter melon peel tea—I dried the peels during the hottest days and boiled a bit for water. Good for clearing heat, diuretic, and quenching thirst.”
Every year, Su Chi would dry various fruit peels and store them for tea.
Then he noticed her clothes—they were damp from the rain. “You got wet? Didn’t I tell you to wear the rain hat?” he said with concern.
“Just a light drizzle—no problem.” Xie Yushu turned to look outside. It was indeed raining now—drops hammering the ground, growing heavier and faster.
She was glad she’d come back early.
Su Chi handed her a clean cloth to wipe down her clothes. “Be careful next time—getting caught in the rain can make you sick.”
He didn’t like it when people fell ill.
Noticing the hair on her forehead was also damp, he stood on tiptoe, raising the cloth to wipe it for her—then caught himself. His expression shifted. After a moment’s hesitation, he placed the cloth in her hand and pointed at her hair. “Your hair’s wet too—dry it.”
“Oh, right.” Xie Yushu took the cloth and roughly wiped her forehead and hair. That should do it, she thought.
She was about to say something to Su Chi, but he’d already disappeared—now standing in the kitchen doorway.
Xie Yushu frowned, confused. What was that about?
Outside, the rain came down in sheets. People still on the road scattered like startled birds, running for cover. The streets emptied instantly. The sky had gone dark—though it was still early, you couldn’t tell if it was day or night.
Xie Yushu relaxed. Good—she didn’t need to go home. She could eat right here at Su Chi’s, and no one would see.
She felt no guilt about eating at Su Chi’s for free—in fact, she was shameless enough to want to come every day, even considering moving all her seasonings and ingredients over to his kitchen.
Even so, she kept herself in check, staying in the main hall while Su Chi worked alone in the kitchen.
Su Chi had composed himself and was now focusing on dinner. He’d also steamed the rice.
The trotter soup had about fifteen minutes left. He lifted the lid—the broth had turned milky white. He added the kelp, covered it, and let it simmer a little longer.
Over the past few days, Su Chi had figured out Xie Yushu’s taste—she liked just about everything, but preferred bold, spicy flavors. He took the opportunity to prepare a dipping sauce so she could enjoy it even more.
He mixed together crushed garlic, a spoonful of his homemade chili paste, Sichuan pepper powder, sugar, vinegar, soy sauce, white sesame seeds, and a generous amount of scallions, adding a bit of the trotter broth to blend it all. The aroma was already mouthwatering—sweet and sour, with enough kick.
Before the rain, he’d picked some crisp, fresh greens from his small garden plot. Now, he stir-fried them with a bit of lard—a simple, clean dish.
When the greens were done, the trotter soup was finally ready. Su Chi lifted the lid, and the savory aroma filled the house. After simmering for so long, the natural flavors had fully emerged. All he needed was a sprinkle of salt before ladling it out.
He filled two bowls to the brim—one for Xie Yushu, one for his father—generous portions with plenty of trotters and vegetables.
He carried Xie Yushu’s bowl over to her.
“You eat first—I’ll take Father his meal.”
Ever since Wang Wen had eaten the sweet-and-sour kelp salad that Xie Yushu had taught Su Chi to make, his appetite had improved a little. Su Chi had been happy for days.
The trotter soup was now ready—the skin tremblingly tender, the tendons soft and gelatinous, thoroughly infused with flavor. Wang Wen ate a fair amount.
Leaving his father to eat slowly, Su Chi stepped out.
He’d originally planned to eat his dinner in the kitchen, but Xie Yushu wouldn’t have it—how could the host eat in the kitchen while the guest had the main hall all to herself?
At her insistence, Su Chi sat down at the table in the main hall, facing Xie Yushu.
This was the first time they’d eaten together.
On the table sat a large bowl of kelp, soybean, and trotter soup, a plate of crisp stir-fried greens with lard, and steaming rice. Xie Yushu was ravenous; the mouthwatering aroma made her stomach growl.
The trotter soup had a thin layer of glossy oil on the surface. The rich, milky broth held fall-apart-tender trotters, kelp draped on top, and soybeans that had cooked down to a soft pulp. On the side was a small dish of reddish-green dipping sauce—it looked incredibly appetizing.
Just as she was about to dig in, she noticed Su Chi’s bowl held only soup and vegetables—no trotters. “That’s all you’re having?” she asked, puzzled.
Su Chi held his small bowl and shook his head. “I’m not very hungry—just a little will do. I didn’t buy many trotters. You eat—they’re best while hot.”
Looking at his bowl of only broth and vegetables, and her own heaped with two large trotters, she couldn’t let it slide.
She picked up a large piece of trotter and placed it in his bowl. “If you won’t eat, then neither will I.”
He glanced at her. He’d never intended to eat any himself—they were all meant for her. Seeing her insistence, he had no choice but to eat slowly.
Only then did Xie Yushu feel at ease and tuck in.
She took a sip of the broth first. Though milky white, it was clear and clean—no stray spices or herbs, which Su Chi must have strained out.
After simmering for so long, the soup was deeply flavorful. The first taste was rich meatiness, with the sticky, gelatinous feel of tendon, the soft fragrance of soybeans, the savory freshness of kelp, and the subtle depth of the aromatics—all melding together in one sip.
She drank several satisfying mouthfuls before turning to the melt-in-your-mouth trotters.
Picking up a piece with her chopsticks, the tendon was tender yet chewy, the skin quivering. A gentle nudge separated the meat from the bone. It practically melted on the tongue—no real chewing needed, just a soft press and it dissolved, leaving only the rich, gelatinous flavor.
The soybeans had long since broken down into a sandy, creamy texture, their floral, nutty sweetness balancing the richness of the trotters. The more she chewed, the more flavorful they became.
The kelp was the finishing touch—added at the last moment, cooked through but still slippery and firm, carrying the broth in its folds. It brought a hint of the sea, elevating the soup to another level of umami.
A piece of trotter, a bite of kelp, a spoonful of creamy soybeans—Xie Yushu was fully immersed in the rich, savory feast.
Even without the dipping sauce, it was delicious. With it, it was transcendent.
She dipped a piece of tender trotter into the sauce—the pale, gelatinous tendon came away coated in glistening red chili oil, flecked with scallion rings and minced garlic. The moment it touched her tongue, the spicy, pungent, aromatic flavors burst forth, lifting the trotter to new heights of complexity and richness.
She placed the sauce-coated tendon on a mound of steaming rice; the rice instantly absorbed the savory liquid. A gentle press of her chopsticks, and the flavors melded.
She ate with pure joy, wolfing down mouthful after mouthful of rice and trotter, pausing only to grab a bite of greens for balance.
This meal was so good she could barely speak—she just kept eating, occasionally spitting out a bone before diving back in.
She didn’t forget to praise Su Chi—his cooking was truly exceptional.
Eating such rich, hot trotter soup in the middle of summer felt entirely right—almost as if it were flushing out the dampness that had built up in her body over the hot days.
With a few mouthfuls of hot soup, fine beads of sweat formed on their foreheads. It didn’t feel uncomfortable—instead, every pore seemed to open up, leaving them relaxed and refreshed.
Su Chi ate his meal in unusual peace. He glanced at the unrelenting rain outside, then let his gaze drift back to Xie Yushu, who was across from him, eating with focus.
She ate earnestly, a light sweat on her nose, her cheeks working as she chewed. A soft smile tugged at the corner of Su Chi’s mouth, his brows relaxing. Something in his heart quietly loosened.
This person…
Had dropped a small stone into the still, even stagnant surface of his heart—not with a splash of surprise, but with ripples that spread slowly, endlessly, from the center.
The basket was full of vegetables she’d picked for him—cabbage, radishes, and more—more than enough for his filling.
Drinking the trotter soup and looking at the overflowing basket of vegetables, Su Chi felt a quiet warmth spread through him.
Outside, the rain kept falling, pounding against the roof tiles with a steady patter. Inside, it was calm and peaceful—just the soft sounds of two people quietly sipping their soup.
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