On the day of the Beginning of Spring, Zhenzhen prepared the spring platter early in the morning and invited Xin Sanniang, A’Che, the gardener, and others to share it. When Lin Hong returned from playing the qin, he still went to the study alone to dine by himself.
Zhenzhen presented the crispy mountain spring platter he had made that morning, yet still harbored a glimmer of hope as she tried to persuade him: “Sanniang, A’Che, and the others are all dining together in the hall, chatting and laughing, very merry. Teacher, why don’t you join them?”
Lin Hong shook his head, unmoved.
“Teacher…” Zhenzhen looked at the lone set of dining utensils in front of him and voiced the speculation she had pondered for a long time: “You dine alone because you have no beloved companion, don’t you?”
Lin Hong frowned as he glanced at her, a slight gleam in his eyes like a cold star flashing momentarily.
Zhenzhen seemed oblivious to this, looked at the Goddess of Luo in the painting, then went to the kitchen to fetch another lacquered box to the study. She smiled at Lin Hong and said: “This box contains the spring platter I prepared for Sister Goddess of Luo, to thank her for always being here to accompany Teacher and protect us.”
Lin Hong made no response, but still tacitly allowed Zhenzhen to take out the spring platter from the lacquered box and present it before the statue of the Goddess of Luo.
This spring platter still contained five-colored vegetables and thin pastry sheets, accompanied by a fermented sauce that Zhenzhen had made from fish, meat, salt, wine, spices, and fermentation agents—savory and fragrant, perfect for accompanying spring rolls. In the center of the spring platter was a small animal that Zhenzhen had shaped from sweet pastry: a cone-shaped body like a snowman, a round ball-like head, and ears that resembled two even smaller balls, with round eyes, a pointed nose, and a curved mouth made from dried fruit kernels.
Seeing Lin Hong staring at the spring platter with an unusual expression, Zhenzhen said bashfully: “This is my first time shaping pastry, my skills aren’t good… I originally wanted to make a crane, but when the pastry dripped I saw it had no legs, so I thought I’d make a swan instead. But I accidentally made the body too round, and I didn’t know how to make the swan’s long neck… Then I prepared to change it to an owl, but it didn’t look quite right either… Or perhaps Sister Goddess of Luo could see it as a little bear…”
“Get out.” Lin Hong interrupted her, his tone ice-cold, his eyes darkening like clouds passing overhead.
“Did I make it too poorly?” Zhenzhen asked anxiously. She had made quite a few failed dishes in front of Lin Hong, some even worse than this small animal, but she had never seen Lin Hong show such a harsh expression.
“Get out!” Lin Hong pointed at the several layers of meat slices beneath the “little bear” and shouted: “Immediately, take your pork and spring platter out!”
Beneath the little bear, among the vegetables, were several layers of thinly sliced pork—what Lin Hong called pork—precisely made from the pork belly that Uncle Gu had sent, steamed and sliced. Zhenzhen had practiced her knife skills for a long time; these meat slices were cut evenly and neatly, with beautiful patterns of meat and fat distribution. Zhenzhen had also taken great care with the plating, arranging layer upon layer like clustered flower petals. Zhenzhen had thought Lin Hong might be dissatisfied with the pastry shaping, but she never expected that these fresh, finely cut, and artfully arranged meat slices would enrage him. Originally, this was a surprise Zhenzhen had prepared for him—in Pujiang, every year Qiuniang and the female disciples would press pork flowers on the spring platter, combining meat and vegetables to make the seasonal delicacies appear more abundant and beautiful.
Under Lin Hong’s angry stare, Zhenzhen hurriedly placed the spring platter back in the food box and rushed it back to the kitchen. Lin Hong’s voice calling for A’Che also reached her ears clearly—he was ordering A’Che to quickly fetch water to clean the study and burn incense to purify the air.
Her carefully prepared delicacy was, in his view, nothing but filth.
Zhenzhen set down the spring platter and walked out of the kitchen in a daze, seeing the scene before her eyes begin to ripple like reflections in water. She felt tears about to fall, so ignoring Xin Sanniang’s calls, she quickly fled from the place.
Running frantically without direction, only when her tears were spent did Zhenzhen realize she had unconsciously arrived at the cliff’s edge, the place where Lin Hong played the qin. Exhausted, she sat down in the pavilion, facing the thousand mountains and myriad ravines, the flowing waters and drifting clouds. Her heart felt desolate—she felt that her family was scattered and destroyed, and now she was also rejected by her teacher. In this vast world, there truly was no place left for her.
In the far distance, the remote peaks contained slate, while at her feet mountain mist rose like smoke in the clouds. Zhenzhen had rushed out from the warm room, and now in thin clothing, sitting motionless for a long time, she gradually felt the cold seeping into her bones. She sat hugging her knees, trembling with cold, when suddenly a cloak descended from above, still carrying the warm fragrance of an orchid chamber, enveloping her in spring.
She turned her head to look, and A’Che sat down beside her under her astonished gaze.
This handsome young man was two years younger than her, but now he looked at her with the kindness of an elder brother: “Go back quickly. It’s cold in the mountains, and there might be wild beasts—don’t become a wild beast’s spring platter.”
Zhenzhen glared at him: “You and Sanniang both lie like this. If there were wild beasts, would you and Teacher come here every day?”
A’Che laughed: “Even if there are no wild beasts, encountering bad people would be terrible. Do you think everyone is as kind as the Young Master?”
“Sigh,” Zhenzhen sighed deeply, “Teacher looked at me today as if he wanted to tear me to pieces.”
“Everyone has certain taboos that cannot be touched. For the Young Master, pork is one, and the Goddess of Luo is another. You offered pork to the Goddess of Luo, violating both taboos at once.” A’Che said, “The Young Master believes pork can make people fat and summon wind, and it exhausts one’s vital energy, so he never eats it. Though he never told you explicitly before, haven’t you noticed that he has never eaten this kind of meat?”
Zhenzhen recalled Lin Hong’s diet—she had indeed always noticed that he preferred vegetarian food, but hadn’t paid attention to his avoidance of pork. She also remembered what Feng Xian had said before: “What is honey to you may be poison to him; what we think is good doesn’t necessarily mean others will like it too.” She immediately felt deeply regretful for her rashness and sighed to A’Che: “This time it was indeed my mistake.”
“Then I might as well tell you—this isn’t your first mistake.” A’Che smiled, “Last time when you scrubbed the green patina off the Young Master’s bronze flower vase, he silently vomited blood in his heart.”
Seeing Zhenzhen’s great surprise, completely unaware of the problem, he patiently explained: “The square vase the Young Master uses is an excavated ancient bronze vessel. Having been buried for many years, it has absorbed deep earth energy and is therefore covered with copper green. However, that copper green can kill insects and prevent decay. When used to hold water for flowers, the water in the vase doesn’t easily spoil, and the inserted flowers can maintain their freshness for many days, as if still on the branch. Buds bloom quickly but wither late. But you scrubbed off the copper green, so this effectiveness will be greatly reduced.”
Only then did Zhenzhen understand why Lin Hong had shown no joy that day when he saw the cleaned bronze vase. With another guilty sigh, she asked A’Che: “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“The Young Master told me not to mention it,” A’Che said. “He said you cleaned the flower vase with good intentions. Although you made a mistake, it was an innocent error. If you were scolded for it, you would certainly be very sad, so he let it go and told me to act as if it never happened.”
Seeing Zhenzhen bow her head in silence, A’Che continued: “The Young Master doesn’t like to talk much and isn’t good at asking about others’ feelings, but though he doesn’t ask, he puts his heart in others’ place and looks at things from their perspective. So he endures what he can, and when he can’t endure it, he gets angry. But when he remembers your kindness afterward, he probably sighs and rolls up his sleeves to cook for you.”
Zhenzhen wanted to laugh but felt very guilty. She asked softly: “Will Teacher forgive me so quickly?”
A’Che said: “I’ll bet you five coins that he’s cooking for you right now. He doesn’t care about fame, fortune, or official position—how could he harbor endless grief and resentment over such a small matter?”
Zhenzhen’s lips curved upward, finally showing a bright smile. A’Che smiled back at her, then turned to look at the sea of clouds and distant peaks before them, singing loudly: “Azure mountains wait for each other, white clouds love each other, never dreaming of purple robes and golden belts. A thatched cottage, wild flowers bloom. Who cares whose family rises or falls, who succeeds or fails—even a humble alley with simple food brings joy. In poverty, one’s spirit doesn’t change; in prosperity, one’s aspirations don’t change.”
When Zhenzhen returned to the Wen Qiao Inn, she first went to the study to apologetically apologize to Lin Hong, recounting both mistakes she had made and earnestly requesting Lin Hong’s forgiveness. Lin Hong remained noncommittal, only indicating that she should withdraw. By then it was already evening, and she saw no sign of him summoning her for dinner. Zhenzhen felt somewhat disappointed, thinking she would probably have to concede those five coins to A’Che. As she retreated to the door, she met Xin Sanniang, who was bringing clean tea utensils to Lin Hong. Sanniang immediately said loudly: “Zhenzhen is back! Haven’t had dinner yet? I have some steamed cakes and side dishes in the kitchen—go get them to eat.”
Xin Sanniang knew Lin Hong loved cleanliness, so she maintained a separate kitchen where she, A’Che, and the gardener prepared their meals, not sharing with Lin Hong.
Before Zhenzhen could respond, she heard Lin Hong speak quietly from within the room, clearly addressing her: “There are three leftover mountain-sea pouches in the steamer in my kitchen. They won’t be good tomorrow, so if you don’t mind, eat them.”
Mountain-sea pouches were food wrapped in mung bean starch sheets to form pouches, containing diced spring bamboo shoots and fish and shrimp. After steaming, they were seasoned with sauce, oil, salt, and pepper, wrapped in mung bean starch sheets, and eaten with vinegar. The bamboo shoots came from the mountains, and the fish and shrimp from the sea, hence the name “mountain-sea.”
Zhenzhen suddenly remembered that Lin Hong had been eating vegetarian food for many days, and besides, he usually controlled his meal portions extremely precisely, making exactly what he would eat with absolutely no food left over for the next day. So these mountain-sea pouches might indeed be specially made for her, as A’Che had said.
Zhenzhen looked uncertainly toward A’Che behind Lin Hong. A’Che smiled faintly and winked at her.
Zhenzhen felt joy in her heart, but facing her teacher’s kindness, she felt tongue-tied and couldn’t find appropriate words to express her gratitude. In the end, she spoke words contrary to her heart: “It’s so late, I won’t eat… I’ll get fat.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she was so annoyed she wanted to slap herself: Why refuse? I’m obviously hungry, I need the mountain-sea pouches, especially ones made by Teacher Lin…
Fortunately, Lin Hong didn’t accept her refusal: “People won’t get fat from eating when they’re hungry. Weight gain comes from eating too much when the spleen and stomach don’t need it—for example, eating for socializing, eating to vent emotions, eating to avoid waste, eating to pass time. You’re not like that, so you needn’t worry.”
Zhenzhen happily agreed and was about to rush to Lin Hong’s kitchen when she heard him add: “There’s also a jade stream soup—I made too much of that as well. Drink it together with the pouches.”