The moment the call connected, the landlady’s slightly breathless voice came through: “Little Qiao, I want ALL the strawberries! Don’t sell them to anyone else—I’m coming back right now!”
In the call’s background, the click of Mahjong tiles, and a few faint, pressing questions:
“Is it those Ruby strawberries from last time? Back in stock?”
“What Ruby strawberries?”
“Ai-ya, the strawberries A-Hui shared with us last time. So delicious.”
“It’s just strawberries, isn’t it? If you love them I’ll bring you a couple boxes later—my nephew bought me some, three hundred a box.”
“Not the same! I’ve had five-hundred-a-box strawberries. Nothing beats those Ruby ones. That flavor… ai-ya, you haven’t had them, I don’t know how to describe it.”
“What flavor could it be? It’s strawberries…”
“A-Ping’s right, they really are good. Never had strawberries that delicious. A-Hui, wait for me—I’ll come with you, I want to buy some too”
…
The call ended. The landlady hadn’t even asked how many strawberries there were—pushed away from the Mahjong table and rushed home.
Qiao Ning inhaled another double-fruit platter, and judging the landlady nearly home, carried the boxed fruit downstairs, setting it at her third-floor door before heading back up for more.
The old community’s management was loose, but the landlady had a camera at her door—leaving boxes there was safe.
In all, Qiao Ning carried down four boxes: two of strawberries, two of cherry tomatoes.
Four boxes of strawberries total. He planned to give the roommates one; the landlady had taken five jin last time and would surely buy at least a box again. He’d bring two down—if she wanted them, great; if not, he’d ask other customers. Over these days, the old customers kept messaging sporadically, asking when he’d sell strawberries again.
The most persistent: “Joyful Family” and “A Devoted Foodie Heart.” The former chattered endlessly about how much her daughter and little granddaughter loved the strawberries—since tasting them, they thought of nothing else.
The latter was pure craving, telling him that “once you’ve seen the ocean, no other water compares”—she’d since bought every kind of strawberry on the market, none came close to Qiao Ning’s.
Qiao Ning: smug.jpg
Naturally—these were Spirit Spring strawberries. Golden Finger blessed!
Playing a round of the dress-up game on his phone, the landlady soon returned—trailed by three aunties of about her age.
“Little Qiao’s here! Come in, come in.” The landlady opened the door, waving Qiao Ning and her friends inside.
One auntie with small permed curls tugged the landlady’s sleeve and asked in a stage whisper everyone could hear: “A-Hui, you know this handsome young man? Such a pretty face. Does he have a girlfriend?”
“Well, well—walk in the door and start eyeing the pretty boy.”
“Shuqin, why do you care if he has a girlfriend? Hunting a son-in-law?”
The curly-haired auntie saw Qiao Ning’s cheeks flush with embarrassment and laughed all the harder: “That’s right! You’re Little Qiao, aren’t you? Got a girlfriend? Let Auntie introduce you to one—my daughter’s twenty-three, doing her master’s. I have her photos right here…”
Qiao Ning waved his hands frantically. “Thank you, but I have someone I like.”
He didn’t like girls. He’d discovered his difference young—and learned just as young that those who were different got ostracized.
Life was already hard enough. No need to expose his privacy and hand his haters more ammunition.
In university, that pretty face had attracted confession after confession—men and women alike. But though Qiao Ning liked men, he’d never met anyone he wanted to date. Or rather—he’d had no time for romance.
Now, being matchmade by an elder, there was no need to announce he liked men. Saying he had someone he liked meant the daughter-proud auntie wouldn’t dream of introducing her girl to a boy whose heart was taken.
Sure enough, the curly-haired auntie let go, all regret: “Oh, I see…”
She was thinking a boy this handsome—his future kids would be gorgeous.
But no fate, no forcing.
“Little Qiao, you have a sweetheart?”
The landlady came in last, helping carry fruit, and looked up at Qiao Ning’s face—and froze. “Little Qiao, you—you…”
Qiao Ning saw her staring and nervously pinched his fingers. Just a bit fairer, skin a bit better—nothing else had changed, right?
The landlady glanced suspiciously at the entryway light and found her explanation: “The light was bad this morning. My lamp here is bright, shows everything. Little Qiao, you were working yourself far too hard before—such a handsome boy, sallow and worn. Look at you now—barely rested and already glowing!”
Qiao Ning: “…”
Sallow was a bit much.
The landlady, whose whole mind had been on the fruit, now couldn’t help giving Qiao Ning several extra looks, marveling at youth. That face—she thought it outshone plenty of celebrities.
Qiao Ning, feeling guilty, wanted attention off his face. He crouched to open the boxes, introducing as he worked: “I brought two boxes of strawberries, about five jin each…”
“I’ll take them all,” the landlady ordered first, then asked, “Why so few? Any more?”
Qiao Ning answered honestly: “Two more boxes, but one’s for my classmate, and for the other, some old customers have asked repeatedly…”
The landlady heard this and was deeply satisfied.
This Little Qiao knew his manners—four boxes total, two for her, and only one box for all those other regulars combined.
“And us?”
Another auntie pressed anxiously: “A-Hui, you can’t hog it all! We’re buying strawberries too.”
“Exactly, we want some too.”
The curly-haired auntie wondered: “Can strawberries really be that good?”
“Taste and find out.”
“A-Hui…”
“I know, I know!” the landlady said. “Let me pay Little Qiao first.”
Qiao Ning: “Sampling is fine.”
The landlady hauled out her Weight Scale: “Business is business. We’re not taking advantage of a young man.”
She weighed them. Both strawberry boxes topped five jin—one at five jin nine liang, nearly six; the other five jin six.
EPE Pearl Foam was light—even with the box, five jin was a full five jin.
Only after weighing did the landlady portion out some strawberries and send them with a friend to wash for everyone to sample.
The landlady asked, “What are those two boxes?”
“Cherry tomatoes.” Qiao Ning opened one to show her. “Same cultivation base. Very tasty—have a sample first.”
The moment the box opened, a fruit fragrance distinct from the strawberries’ sweet-tart scent spread out. The cherry tomato aroma wasn’t as direct and bold as the strawberry’s—even a bit faint—but never thin. One whiff of that distinctive tangy-sweet fruitiness and your mouth watered before you knew it.
“Weight first.” The landlady absolutely refused to take advantage. Poor Little Qiao—he’d even given her strawberries before.
Both tomato boxes ran a bit heavier than Qiao Ning’s estimate: one at eight jin eight, the other eight jin five.
The landlady portioned some tomatoes for washing too, and the double-fruit platter that Qiao Ning had eaten twice today made another appearance—this time for others.
Glistening strawberries and cherry tomatoes, both red—one a brilliant red, one a quiet red—both so plump you could tell the juice and flavor were guaranteed.
Then they tasted, and everyone went silent.
Well-manicured hands darted into the fruit platter, snatching a strawberry or a cherry tomato and popping it in. Eating so fast, juice on their fingers and no time to wipe.
Qiao Ning swallowed a private mouthful of saliva. Say something, he thought. Give me your lines. Don’t just eat—I want some watching you.
Good thing he’d kept some at home.
Two pairs of hands collided over the emptying platter before the aunties sheepishly exchanged smiles.
“It IS delicious. No wonder you couldn’t stop thinking about it after one taste.”
“Right? I went to that big premium supermarket after—bought the eight-hundred-a-box kind. Nothing like this.”
“How are the cherry tomatoes this good too? I never used to like them—skin all tough and papery. But these are like little juice pearls. Great flavor, and the skin’s crisp-sweet.”
“So good. A-Hui, not very sisterly of you—didn’t share last time.”
The landlady cried injustice at full volume: “Didn’t you hear Little Qiao? Last time there were only strawberries. These cherry tomatoes are new this time!”
Qiao Ning hurriedly backed her up. It was true.
“But we barely got any strawberries last time either. How about this—a box of strawberries and a box of tomatoes each for me, I’ll pay. The other two boxes are my treat for my sisters. Little Qiao, add me on WeChat and I’ll transfer the money.”
“Hey—you’re taking two boxes, what about us?”
The others would not stand for it. It was just fruit money—which of them couldn’t afford it? They competed to have Qiao Ning scan their payment codes.
Seeing the situation slip, the landlady whipped out her phone and—armed with the advantage of already having Qiao Ning’s WeChat—rapid-fire transferred the money, buying up all four boxes.
“You transferred too much.” Qiao Ning looked at the five thousand yuan in his notifications and didn’t tap confirm.
Strawberries at ten jin, one thousand yuan.
Cherry tomatoes at sixteen jin—normally tomatoes run cheaper than strawberries; he’d seen them online for a few yuan a jin, maybe a dozen-plus in fruit shops. Even selling high at fifty a jin, that was only eight hundred.
The landlady said, “Not too much. We agreed last time—packaging costs extra. Little Qiao, fruit this good, selling it cheap would be underselling yourself. The extra makes up last time’s difference.”
Her paying more was buying herself a supply line. Fruit of this quality—she’d asked everywhere and never found its like again. If she wanted more, it’d have to be through Little Qiao.
Qiao Ning looked at the cardboard boxes he’d bought for a few dimes apiece and fell into silence.
This counts as packaging?
