TBW - 16: Nothing special, just practice makes perfect.

Nothing special, just practice makes perfect.

Shi Ying didn’t know when he had started lying. For as long as he could remember, he seemed to always lie to meet others’ expectations. But his initial intentions were surely kind-hearted—it was just that after telling so many lies, it became like the old oil seller’s skill: effortless.

After Li Xiangqun gave birth to Shi Ying, she became a vegetarian and avoided killing animals. On holidays, she not only burned incense and worshipped Buddha but also frequently bought live fish to release into the Yellow River.

To make his mother happy, he never let on that he craved meat in front of her. Every meal, he pretended to love vegetables, forcing himself to eat five bites of bland, unappetizing greens before reluctantly picking up a piece of braised pork.

His grandfather desperately hoped he was a once-in-a-century genius, but his IQ was truly average.

His grandfather believed he was a prodigy who memorized ancient poems at a glance and had extraordinary comprehension skills. In reality, he secretly wrote down all the pinyin for the classical texts and, whenever he found a secluded spot, pulled out his cheat sheet to memorize them as if they were sacred scriptures.

Later, he lied to many people—family, friends, teachers, classmates. As soon as someone entered his social comfort zone, he erected a polite yet false mechanism of interaction, like a mirror reflecting their hopes and expectations.

Thus, naturally, when Cheng Simin asked about his family situation, he responded affirmatively.

“Mm-hmm, they’ve reconciled. I even had dinner at my grandfather’s house this afternoon.” However, the reconciliation wasn’t perfect—the person who had made mistakes never apologized. The cost of regaining two elders was losing his father.

Thinking of his grandfather, Shi Ying remembered the jar of pickles outside. He climbed out of bed, slipped on his slippers, reopened the door, and moved the jar back into the living room, placing it in a corner.

“I’ve forgotten what your grandfather looks like. I just remember he was extremely tall and used to ride a big 28-inch bike to pick you up at the school gate. Sometimes your grandmother came along too. She was tall and slim, with short hair, not stooped at all. Are they still in good health?”

Cheng Simin continued to chatter on the phone. Shi Ying thought to himself, “Of course,” wondering what a dog’s brain could possibly remember. Just hours ago, they had been face-to-face buying and selling secondhand furniture, and neither had recognized the other.

“Mm-hmm, they’re doing well. What about your parents? Are they okay?” Out of politeness, Shi Ying reciprocated with a couple of courteous remarks.

Sleep completely abandoned him. Shi Ying stood in front of the fridge searching for a cold drink. Bending down, he realized the last bottle of ice-cold cola had been given to Cheng Simin. All that remained was ice water and ice-cold beer.

His gaze shifted left and right before his hand reached for an aluminum can. Opening the cap, he drank half the bottle, then walked to the balcony to enjoy the breeze. Below, not far away, a tipsy young couple was having a rendezvous. The girl playfully asked the boy to carry her on his back, but her body wobbled unsteadily. Several attempts to jump onto his back failed miserably.

The two swayed and giggled drunkenly. Finally, the boy lifted the girl and pressed her against a roadside tree for a passionate kiss.

Coincidentally, the silent tree behind them, serving as the backdrop for their romantic play, was also a poplar.

With a “swish,” the sliding door of the neighboring balcony opened. Shi Ying pulled back the beer resting on the railing and glanced sideways. At the edge of the gray-black wall, strands of long hair fluttered in the wind, shimmering silver under the moonlight like nylon fishing line catching the light.

Cold beer slid down his throat again. Below, the young couple was inseparable, lost in their sweetness. Meanwhile, the security guard patrolling near the west gate arrived on schedule, shining a high-watt flashlight as he rode his bicycle toward their direction.

Shi Ying didn’t shift his gaze. His irises reflected Cheng Simin’s hair, while his ears picked up the sound of her typing on her phone.

She was texting him, composing a long message. Afterward, Cheng Simin sighed deeply under the moonlight.

Shi Ying looked down at his phone. The message read:

“As for them, I really don’t know. I haven’t been in touch with my parents for a long time. During our college entrance exam year, they had a second child—a quiet, obedient, and intelligent daughter. She seems like an upgraded version of me, excelling in every way compared to how I was as a child. I imagine they’re very happy now as a family of three. They probably don’t need me anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t need them either. I’m doing fine now.”

“Oh, I forgot—you didn’t take the college entrance exam.” Shi Ying had gone abroad during his second year of high school. After transferring schools following middle school graduation, they had lost contact. However, legends about Shi Ying circulated widely within Banshan No. 1 Middle School.

After all, he had once been at the center of the social circle, and many classmates actively kept in touch with him. Hot news would occasionally reach Cheng Simin’s cold ears.

“Luckily, you didn’t take it. You wouldn’t believe how hard the math section was that year! I bit my pen so hard it got dented while solving problems. But even if you had taken it, you wouldn’t have faced our test paper—you’d have taken the A-level exam.”

As she spoke, Cheng Simin suddenly called out, “Hey!” toward the living room. Soon, the sliding door of the balcony creaked again, and the sound of Cheng Simin’s footsteps gradually faded from Shi Ying’s hearing.

Perhaps her husband had come home? Or maybe her children were playing and making noise.

Cheng Simin was different from him. He was truly alone, whereas Cheng Simin at least had her own refuge.

From this perspective, Shi Ying lacked the qualifications to console her or share in her resonance.

For others, youth was like the post-credits scene of a movie, candy found in the pocket of an old coat, or letters tucked inside textbooks. For him, the remnants of his youth were a moral bomb disguised as a WeChat nickname: “Spicy and Smelly Snail Noodles,” capable of sending him into eternal ruin with one misstep.

Even though he desperately wanted to confide in Cheng Simin about how absurd it was that his father’s new wife was younger than him by half a year.

With Cheng Simin’s knack for turning adversity into humor, she could surely come up with some jaw-dropping remark that would make him laugh too.

Heaven knew how much he needed to laugh sincerely right now.

Finally, the couple’s intimate moment was illuminated by the security guard’s flashlight. The boy wore a counterfeit “London Boy” T-shirt, with “BOI” written boldly beneath a reflective eagle spreading its wings on the back. The girl, dressed in a sequined skirt, shimmered like a disco ball.

Under the lamppost, BOI and his glittering companion fled in embarrassment.

The aluminum can in his hand now empty, Shi Ying put away his phone and replied, “Stop texting—go to bed early,” sighing deeply as he gazed at the moon hidden behind the clouds.

Shi Ying had returned to Banshan in August, but it wasn’t until late September that Cheng Simin fully settled in. It was already the autumnal equinox, yet the sweltering heat of Banshan showed no signs of abating.

Early in the morning, just as the birds began chirping, Cheng Simin woke up drenched in sweat on the top bunk of her bunk bed.

Wearing a tank top with a hole in the back, she rolled over groggily, wiping her neck with her hand—only to find it soaked. Peering down from her bed, she realized the electric fan that had been blowing air before she slept had long stopped.

Outside the window was an oppressive overcast sky, hinting at rain. The air stood still, not a breath of wind.

Even Beibei, who usually slept on the lower bunk, had sought refuge on the wooden sofa to escape the heat.

Cheng Simin had stayed up playing video games until 2 AM and now felt dizzy and disoriented, far from rested. Kicking off the towel blanket covering her, she lifted her sweat-soaked tank top above her belly button, exposing her lower abdomen to the air for cooling. Eyes closed, she fumbled for the remote control under her pillow, pressing buttons aimlessly in the air.

When the remote failed to work, she remembered seeing a notice in the property management group a few days ago about a major electrical maintenance in Huanghe Garden. Today must be the day.

Frowning, Cheng Simin rummaged through the gap in the bed frame, pulling out a palm fan and furiously fanning herself.

As she fanned, thirst overwhelmed her, forcing her to climb out of bed to drink water. By the time she completed these actions, Cheng Simin was fully awake. Opening the fridge, she stared blankly at the five pounds of beef in the freezer slowly thawing into a pool of water.

The meat had been purchased yesterday, intended to be cooked in three separate batches. Recently, after acquiring kitchenware, she had started cooking meals for herself and Beibei every afternoon. Before, when she was working, Beibei ate dog food, and she relied on prepackaged meals. Now, with plenty of free time, her greatest joy was experimenting with new recipes daily.

Thanks to online tutorial videos, after half a month of practice, she had mastered quite a few quick dishes.

Today, with five pounds of beef to handle, she decided to challenge herself with advanced cooking techniques: mincing the meat to make dumplings. Conveniently, it was also the perfect time to visit the morning market she had wanted to explore last month.

Without delay, Cheng Simin took a cold shower, washed her tank top, hung it on the balcony clothesline, and changed into outdoor clothes.

The sky outside was just brightening, and Beibei hadn’t even opened his eyes yet, but Cheng Simin had already quietly closed the door and begun descending the stairs.

The morning market was bustling. Cheng Simin strolled while eating. The early autumn sun in Banshan was particularly harsh, even on cloudy days, with strong UV rays. All the electric scooter riders were fully geared up. Besides her sun hat, Cheng Simin also wore ice sleeves, blending seamlessly into the crowded throng around her.

Her breakfast of fried dough sticks and tofu pudding sat comfortably in her stomach, while white radishes, onions, and farm-fresh eggs hung from her scooter handles.

After walking the entire 300-meter stretch of the market, Cheng Simin returned laden with goods. In addition to fresh ingredients for dumplings, she bought several small glass bowls for vinegar from the two-yuan store.

Passing by the towering poplar tree where she once carved words, Cheng Simin deliberately stopped to look up. However, the street view map wasn’t updated in real-time. Squinting upward now, all she could see was a small branch sprouting two meters up, its delicate green leaves completely obscuring the scars on the bark.

Riding her electric scooter back to Huanghe Garden in a flash, she picked up two packages. With the power still out in the neighborhood, Cheng Simin hauled her groceries up twelve flights of stairs, panting heavily.

First, she prepared food for Beibei: broccoli, sweet potatoes, and beef arranged neatly in a stainless steel bowl for steaming. She divided the remaining beef into two portions—one to be blanched and braised with star anise, cinnamon, and bay leaves, the other minced finely with a knife.

Kneading dough, seasoning the filling, rolling out wrappers—each step saw Cheng Simin adding more flour when the mixture was too wet or more meat when it was too salty. By the time she had prepared all the materials for making dumplings, half a bag of flour was gone, and all the braised beef had turned into minced meat. Only then did she realize the magnitude of her mistake.

Too much dough, even more filling—today’s meal would yield at least two hundred dumplings.

Homemade dumplings, even frozen, could only last a week or two. With so many dumplings, there was no way she could eat them all before they spoiled. More importantly, beef was expensive; these ingredients had cost her at least 300 yuan.

Thinking about the wasted food and money, Cheng Simin’s heart felt like it was bleeding.