◎Moon◎

Same side, same foot.

Chun Zao hadn’t expected this to happen to someone who had won the military training excellence award in her first year of high school. In any case, for the remaining stretch to the school gate, she became an uncontrollable self-heating pack, unable to achieve coordinated limb movement while walking.

She must be overthinking…

Hopefully, she was just overthinking.

Yuan Ye noticed her prolonged silence: “Why aren’t you talking anymore?”

Inexplicably resistant to making eye contact with him again, and somewhat annoyed at her abnormal behavior, Chun Zao scanned the small stalls scattered across the street: “You stopped talking first, didn’t you?”

“Did I?” The boy seemed to just realize this, thinking for a moment: “Oh, right, I did.”

There was laughter in his voice: “Sorry.”

The red pedestrian figure on the traffic light remained motionless, indicating the path was temporarily blocked.

“Was there something wrong with what I said just now?”

He said it directly!

Her face, which had just cooled in the night breeze, flushed red again.

Chun Zao acted as if nothing was wrong, deliberately making her tone light: “Not at all.”

Yuan Ye observed her for a few seconds, then said slowly: “I’ve never had very specific feelings about eating. It seems like I can eat anything, but I don’t have anything I particularly like either. It might be related to childhood experiences—every time we ate, my dad would ask about studying and grades, and later my mom…”

He stopped there, seemingly unwilling to continue further.

Chun Zao looked up in surprise.

So that’s what he meant.

The one with a guilty conscience was herself, and she had unintentionally brought up those sad old matters.

“Actually,” Chun Zao became uneasy, instinctively comforting: “I’m the same way, I—”

She avoided the term “mom”: “My parents also often ask about my grades during meals…”

She completely empathized.

At those times, even if the table was full of delicacies, everything would become tasteless and hard to swallow; sometimes, tears of grievance would even drip into the rice bowl.

“But I still have things I love to eat,” like foods with no nutrition but that truly satisfy human cravings—high sugar, high fat, high calorie treats: “Otherwise it would be a bit impossible to live.”

By the end, her voice grew smaller and smaller.

When desires are suppressed for too long, there are only two outlets: self-numbing or explosive release.

But Yuan Ye always maintained an unusual calm: “Is that so?”

“Yes.” Chun Zao looked at him.

The boy also looked at her: “Then treat me to something you like.”

Chun Zao was stunned. After a moment, the little green figure began moving in her vision, and she curved her lips: “Okay.”

—

Chun Zao chose fried chicken strips, the super-large portion.

Fried skewers were unseemly, milk tea was inappropriate—her options were already limited.

Fortunately, her favorite fried chicken strip place hadn’t closed yet.

The taste was naturally beyond reproach, and every day before and after evening self-study it would be surrounded by layers of students.

After staring at the sizzling, bubbling oil for a while, Chun Zao turned to look for Yuan Ye.

The boy stood by the curb, head slightly lowered, quietly scrolling on his phone. The streetlight’s glow covered him like a cone-shaped bottle filled with water, his black hair moving slightly in the wind, like a frame from an art film, inexplicably somewhat lonely and desolate—impossible, Chun Zao quickly shook off this strange thought. Passing students were all looking at him.

Look, there were even people greeting him.

Oh? A second person greeting him appeared.

After the second time smiling and responding to an acquaintance, the boy’s face turned toward her.

Chun Zao immediately turned around, asking the boss when it would be ready, repeatedly emphasizing “don’t overcook it.”

She wanted to prove to Yuan Ye that there were indeed unforgettable delicacies in the world—how could there be no specific feeling of deliciousness?

Watching the fragrant, tender inside and crispy outside golden chicken strips gradually filling the largest paper bag, Chun Zao’s appetite was also stirred. She swallowed some saliva, her gaze following the boss’s hand to the toothpick container nearby.

He pulled out two bamboo picks. Just as he was about to put them both in the paper bag, the girl stopped him: “One is enough.”

The boss looked at her strangely, removed one, then took the bills she handed over and transferred the hot fried chicken strips to her.

Chun Zao squeezed out of the crowd, jogged back to Yuan Ye, holding up the bag with both hands: “Ready, here you go.”

Yuan Ye was surprised by the size of the package in her hands: “This much?”

Chun Zao said matter-of-factly: “It’s okay. Take your time eating it.” It would all be finished eventually, she added in her mind.

Yuan Ye took it in his hands, his slender fingers opening the bag.

When he discovered there was only one bamboo pick inside, he glanced at Chun Zao: “Aren’t you eating?”

The girl shook her head twice: “I’m not eating, this is treating you.”

Eating together…

From the same bag…

That would be too weird.

That’s why she had only asked for one pick—she had to eliminate potentially misleading conditions in the cradle to avoid those flights of fancy turning into little dramas again.

Yuan Ye said nothing more, picking up a moderately sized golden chicken strip and putting the whole thing in his mouth.

Looking down, he met the girl’s quietly expectant gaze.

He stopped, just holding it in his mouth, and began chewing. Midway, he turned his head in the opposite direction, unable to help but wanting to smile.

“How is it?” She asked as expected.

He pressed his lips and looked back: “Pretty good.”

Pretty…

She was clearly not very satisfied with this answer, but she didn’t speak harshly or threaten him to answer again, just laughed dryly without emotion: “As long as it’s good.”

After speaking, she took out a small pack of tissues from her backpack’s side pocket, pulled out two sheets, fully unfolded them, and then folded them once.

The girl’s slender hands, along with the tissues, fluttered over to him like a white bunting.

“Use this as padding, be careful it’s hot,” she said.

Yuan Ye was startled. With the double barrier of a paper bag and a plastic bag, he hadn’t noticed any uncomfortable heat.

But he still took it as she suggested.

After placing the tissue padding, he ate another piece of chicken strip.

Because the person beside him was so… intensely focused, like a cat secretly watching, he couldn’t ignore it at all.

They walked out a distance in this silent manner.

Chun Zao heard the rustling sound of plastic bags. Glancing over, Yuan Ye had put the bag of chicken strips away, hooking it back with his knuckles, hanging it at his side, seemingly not planning to eat anymore.

She restrained her overflowing incomprehension and disagreement, asking pleasantly: “Are you not eating anymore?”

He made an “mm” sound that sounded natural and innocent.

Chun Zao was speechless. She held back, smiled kindly, and reminded, “This needs to be eaten while hot for the best taste.”

The boy still didn’t think there was anything wrong: “Didn’t I already eat several pieces?”

“…”

Chun Zao began cyclically reciting her don’t-get-angry doggerel.

—

What a waste of good food.

Back home, Chun Zao was so speechless she wanted to lightly pound her chest. Who could understand the heart-blocked feeling of failed recommendations? This kind of ending without recognition was too frustrating. He was a monster, wasn’t he? Was it not delicious?

Or maybe the boss didn’t control the heat well today, but she had strictly supervised from the side—the color, texture, and aroma were all perfect when she got them. Did he respect each of the world’s most delicious chicken strips? Unless he had no sense of taste, this could never be forgiven!

Tong Yue was still better—every time she bought this, there was 100% support plus storm-like inhaling. Even the super-large portion could be divided up by the two of them at the fastest speed.

After an 800-word internal rant, Chun Zao crawled out of her self-doubt spiral and concluded:

Yuan Ye didn’t know good food.

Whatever.

After washing up, Chun Zao used cotton swabs to clean her ears, also tilting her head to shake out the “water” that had gotten into her brain these past few days. Returning to her bedroom, seeing it was still early and Manager Chun hadn’t returned to her room yet, she wasn’t in a hurry to get in bed (to secretly play with her phone). She pulled out an extracurricular exercise book from the bookstand, opened it to the page she had folded last time, selected a mechanical pencil from the pen holder, and clicked the cap a few times.

Just as she was about to lower her head to examine the problems, the girl suddenly remembered something. She looked up coldly, aimed the pencil tip at the wall in front of her, and jabbed at the air a few times before lowering her eyes again.

Chun Chuzhen opened the door to call back her daughter, who was immersed in the sea of problems.

“You should go to sleep.”

Chun Zao responded and closed her book.

Watching her mother close the door and confirming she had also returned to her room to rest, she turned off all the lights, letting darkness wrap around her like a safe black sweater.

Her tense nerves relaxed all at once, and Chun Zao collapsed back onto the bed, sprawled out.

She skillfully felt for her phone, just about to put on earphones when sounds suddenly came from next door—footsteps, a door opening, seeming to go to the living room… Chun Zao slowly put down the hand holding the earphones, holding her breath to listen carefully.

The sound of a microwave?

Chun Zao sat up, moving to lean against the wall.

Could it be…

The corners of her lips unconsciously lifted. Chun Zao crossed her arms, thinking that Yuan Ye really didn’t know good food—now he was hungry and wanted to eat, but unfortunately he had missed the optimal tasting period.

Chun Zao lay back down, put in her earphones, first setting a twenty-minute timer, then opening her playlist as background music for web surfing.

The timer was her auxiliary tool for limiting online time.

The outside world was dazzling and distracting—only with strict self-control could she avoid indulging endlessly in entertainment.

When the first song was nearing its end, a WeChat message notification suddenly popped up. Chun Zao thought it was Tong Yue coming to gossip about tonight’s dinner treat, and was just preparing to click in and vent her frustrations, but unexpectedly, it was a message from Yuan Ye.

Just three words.

-Are you asleep?

The boy’s avatar was a somewhat cold and lazy youth, so she couldn’t tell the real meaning behind this opening line at all.

Suddenly, Chun Zao remembered her friend’s warning: “If he chats with you again, just read and don’t get too involved.”

Chun Zao decided to practice “just reading.”

But she was online—wouldn’t pretending to be gone be too heartless?

Unable to bear it in the end, she typed back: Not yet. Is there something?

The other side replied quickly:

-Open the door

Two simple words, but they made her heart skip two beats.

What kind of late-night ambush was this…?

The safe darkness suddenly became less safe because her thoughts began to waver.

Chun Zao stared fixedly at the screen, realizing she had forgotten to breathe for a while. She took a deep breath, sat up from the bed with a sudden movement, and asked cautiously: Are you outside?

Yuan Ye: No.

Then…

Just as she was about to ask clearly, the other side said again: Open the door and you’ll know.

Chun Zao pinched her fingers for a while, then got out of bed quietly. Putting on slippers, she ran lightly to the door and cracked it open.

Through the narrow gap, she surveyed outside—

The living room was dim, with no one there.

The strongest presence was probably just the pervasive aroma of chicken strips.

Chun Zao gripped the handle, gradually expanding her limited field of view. Midway, her movement suddenly stopped.

On the dining table in the center of the living room, there was an additional set of bowls and chopsticks, with chicken strips in the bowl. They were placed on the side closer to her room door.

In her peripheral vision, the phone on her bedside table lit up.

Chun Zao retreated and received Yuan Ye’s message: Did you see it?

Chun Zao typed: I saw it.

She seemed to half-understand his intention, unconsciously being contrary: You’re not eating it?

He said: I saved half for myself.

Chun Zao stood there dazed.

…So, not eating on the road was for this reason.

Chun Zao heard her breathing getting heavier.

She went out, carried the still-steaming bowl and chopsticks back to her room, and closed the door firmly.

Faced with the chicken strips she never tired of eating, she felt unusually without appetite for the first time, not because of negative emotions working in reverse, but because… she suddenly felt a bit lost about judging Yuan Ye. Unclear feelings surrounded her, and she even felt a bit weightless. Sitting at the table, she felt like sitting at the bottom of a ship sailing the night sea, rising and falling unsteadily.

She seemed to always be…

Misinterpreting him with her assumptions.

She decisively grabbed her phone and confessed to him: Sorry. I thought you didn’t eat on the road because you didn’t like it, and I was a bit angry. I was being petty.

While chewing, Chun Zao watched the typing indicator on the other side start and stop. After a while, he only sent two simple sentences:

-I know.

-But you bought too much.

Chun Zao burst out laughing.

Afraid of startling her mother, she quickly covered her mouth: Since I was using your card, I couldn’t very well treat you to a small portion.

Yuan Ye said: So now isn’t it just right for two people to eat?

Her heart cleared like clouds dispersing after rain, with all things sprouting to life. Chun Zao agreed with his statement: Right.

Unwilling to give up, she asked again: So do you think it’s delicious?

He no longer used gentle, ambiguous adverbs, but gave a definite answer: Delicious.

Chun Zao: Really?

Yuan Ye: Mm.

Chun Zao put down her phone and chopsticks, clenched both fists, and rubbed her face that had gone stiff from smiling, then picked up her phone again.

Another sentence appeared on the screen: Put it in the kitchen when you’re done. I’ll wash it later.

Her just-cooled cheeks began showing signs of fire again. She quickly refused: No need, I can do it myself.

But the boy realistically reminded her: Aren’t you afraid of your mom discovering it?

Chun Zao: “…”

Though somewhat worried, she felt bad about making Yuan Ye do more. After finishing all the chicken strips in the bowl, Chun Zao steeled herself and crept out with the lightest possible steps.

Not daring to turn on any lights, relying entirely on that bit of weak window light and intuitive knowledge of the home’s layout to feel her way to the kitchen.

The entire kitchen seemed to have been marinated in the cumin and chili powder fragrance of the fried chicken strips, with a fresh aroma hitting her nose.

Chun Zao sniffed, stopped in front of the sink, looked around twice, then carefully turned on the faucet, gradually adjusting the water flow. When she didn’t control the pressure properly and the water flow suddenly increased, crashing into the basin like a mountain flood in the quiet night, she was so startled she immediately turned it back, tried again, and finally settled on a “pattering light rain” mode.

Just as she was about to bring the bowl down below, there was a creaking sound behind her.

The sound of a door opening.

Chun Zao’s heart trembled. She frantically turned off the faucet, hugged the bowl, crouched down on the spot, then didn’t dare make a sound.

She didn’t know why she crouched down—such self-deception, like a brainless and spineless deserter.

“It’s me.” The youth’s breathy voice came from above the back of her head, mixed with undisguised laughter.

Chun Zao looked up. Yuan Ye was looking down at her from above. From this angle, even his upside-down face was flawless.

His eyes were very bright, too.

Chun Zao relaxed, stood up, and turned around: “You scared me to death!”

She also spoke in ghostly whispers, only able to express her emotions through suddenly rapid breathing.

“I already told you to just leave it.”

“…”

Chun Zao couldn’t argue.

In the dim environment, the boy in front of her was like a moon. The reason for this completely unrelated metaphor and association must be because the arc of his smile was too beautiful.

“Here, here,” Chun Zao was still shaken, not knowing why she no longer dared to meet his eyes, thrusting the bowl that hadn’t touched a drop of water in front of him, terminating all life-and-death activities: “I’m going out.”

Yuan Ye took it and stepped aside to let her pass.

Just as she was about to leave, Chun Zao stopped and turned back.

Though she knew Chun Woman would very likely not interfere with Yuan Ye, it was better to have one less thing to worry about—being careful was always good.

She made a serious face and spoke in mosquito volume: “Keep your voice down, remember to wipe the water dry before putting it back, and hurry back to your room to sleep when you’re done.”

Yuan Ye looked at her without responding.

Only the corners of his mouth didn’t drop.

After confirming her instructions were complete, Chun Zao turned again. Just as she was about to step out of the kitchen doorframe, the boy’s answer came from behind. His slightly low voice carried obvious playfulness:

“Got it, young miss.”