Chapter 19 Part 2

Lu Ping deftly scooped it out with long chopsticks, shook off excess oil, and set it on the iron rack beside him—handmade by Lu Dad for draining.

After finishing the first plain Crispy Shrimp Ball, Lu Ping immediately started on the second one with added shrimp.

He spread out the meat paste and green onions on the batter, then placed three peeled shrimp on top. He paused for a moment, looked up at the young sister-in-law, and added one more shrimp to the batter.

As he fried this extra-large, no-extra-charge version, he winked at her. “Pretty A’jia, this one’s specially for you. Don’t tell the other customers, okay?”

He wrapped the two golden, crispy fried balls in oiled paper, drizzled them with sweet vinegar, and handed them to the sister-in-law duo, complete with a sweet smile. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but his clean, pleasant features made his smile especially endearing. The young sister-in-law giggled at his antics and said she’d come back to his dad’s stall for more Crispy Shrimp Balls next market day.

With the first sale in the bag—twelve yuan in change resting in Lu Ping’s palm—he turned and handed it to his dad.

Lu Dad, of course, refused to take it and insisted his son keep it. Wasn’t this social practice for school? This was the reward for it.

The father and son pushed the twelve yuan back and forth until a figure slowly approached and stopped in front of the stall.

“Boss,” the person asked, “how much for these?”

“Five yuan for plain, seven for…” Lu Ping quoted as he turned, but the words caught in his throat when he saw who it was. His eyes widened in disbelief, and he raised his voice. “Shen Yuze, when did you get here?!”

Shen Yuze had one hand in his pocket, his tone faintly displeased. “When you were flirting with that ‘A’jia.'”

“…What flirting?” Lu Ping scratched his head. “I was just reeling in a repeat customer!” Then it hit him. “Wait, what are you doing here? Weren’t we meeting up in the afternoon?”

Shen Yuze certainly wasn’t about to tell Lu Ping that he’d woken up early that morning and couldn’t get back to sleep, so he’d decided on his own to come to the North Shore ahead of schedule.

He just hadn’t expected Lu Ping to be out at the market with his parents instead of home—”market day,” another utterly foreign term in Shen Yuze’s life. It had appeared in those rustic literary works before, but this was his first time experiencing it firsthand.

When his car crossed the River Crossing Bridge to the North Shore, it felt like stepping into another world. There were noisy crowds, countless stalls, the fishy smell from the docks, freshly picked fruits and vegetables from the fields, and cheap T-shirts for five yuan a pop… This was Lu Ping’s world.

Ordinary, real, brimming with the kind of everyday vitality Shen Yuze had never encountered.

His luxury Cayenne couldn’t make it through, so he’d had the driver park on the nearest street and walked the rest of the way.

It was an extraordinary experience—his feet had once trod the cleanest expanses on the planet, and now he was back among the masses.

Lu Ping would never know the mindset with which Shen Yuze had crossed the dust to reach his side.

Shen Yuze said, “I called your mom before coming. She told me you were here.”

“My mom? How do you have her number?” Lu Ping felt like he’d been struck by lightning again.

Shen Yuze replied breezily, “As the top scorer in English, getting any parent’s phone number isn’t hard.”

“…” Lu Ping thought of his own English exam paper, which hadn’t even scraped a passing grade, and his heart ached.

Seeing the two chatting so animatedly, Lu Dad guessed what was up. He asked, “Pingping, is this your friend? Did he come early to hang out?”

Lu Ping hurriedly introduced Lu Dad to Shen Yuze. Lu Dad’s Mandarin was poor and halting, so he switched to the local dialect, leaving Lu Ping to translate.

Lu Dad: “Your friend’s so handsome!”

Lu Ping: “…My dad says ‘hello.'”

Lu Dad: “Fair-skinned and clean, with such good grades too. You should learn from him.”

Lu Ping: “…My dad asks if you’ve had breakfast.”

Lu Dad: “Look how tall he is. I always said you should drink more milk. Even Little Ning likes tall guys now.”

Lu Ping: “…My dad asks if you want some Crispy Shrimp Balls.”

Shen Yuze: “Crispy Shrimp Balls?”

“That’s what we’re selling.” Lu Ping pointed to the oil pot, the batter, meat paste, and shrimp nearby. “If you want some, I’ll make you one without shrimp.”

Shen Yuze had already eaten breakfast that morning. The family private chef always prepared a perfectly balanced meal—carbs, protein, veggies in just the right proportions to fuel him through the morning. But for some reason, staring at this humble stall, Shen Yuze suddenly felt ravenous.

Lu Ping worked quickly, spreading out an extra-large batter base and packing it full of meat filling.

As he was about to add the green onions, he glanced up at Shen Yuze. Without a word, Shen Yuze got the hint. “I eat onions.”

Only then did Lu Ping add some.

Making Crispy Shrimp Balls wasn’t hard; the trick was getting the outer batter right. It needed plenty of water to be thick yet pourable—not too watery, or it’d fall apart in the hot oil and fail to form.

Soon, a special extra-large plain-meat Crispy Shrimp Ball emerged from the fryer. After it drained on the rack, Lu Ping handed it straight to Shen Yuze.

Shen Yuze didn’t take it. “You added a sauce for those two ‘A’jias.’ Why not for me?”

“That’s sweet vinegar.” Lu Ping rolled his eyes. “You don’t like sour stuff, right?”

Shen Yuze hadn’t realized Lu Ping remembered his casual mention of dietary dislikes so well.

The batter was pre-seasoned, and the meat filling had been salted during marination, so even without vinegar, it wouldn’t be bland. Shen Yuze took a gentle bite. The golden crust crunched easily under his teeth, shedding crispy bits—thank goodness for the oiled paper.

The meaty aroma blended with the batter’s savoriness, transformed by the high heat into that nostalgic street-food taste of childhood.

Shen Yuze didn’t complain about the setting and ate right there by the stall. At nearly six feet tall, he stood out like a crane among chickens in this coastal town. With his refined eating manners and handsome looks, what better live advertisement?

Before long, a long line formed at the Lu Family stall. Young wives and girls at the market shelled out cash for the same Crispy Shrimp Balls just to get a close-up of the hunk.

Lu Ping’s scalp tingled at the sight.

Hey, hey, at this rate, we’d block traffic!

He yanked off his apron, tossed it to his dad, grabbed Shen Yuze’s arm, and bolted from the crowd.

…

“Why run?” Shen Yuze followed Lu Ping, finally squeezing out to the other side of the market. “More people are good, aren’t they?”

“More people are great—for us.” Lu Ping said, “Didn’t you see the other stall owners glaring? With the crowd, no one can see their spots anymore. We can’t just hog it all and leave them with no sales.”

It was simple, folksy logic: help others to help yourself.

Shen Yuze trailed Lu Ping along the market, which stretched east-west along the embankment. Normally a two-lane road, it got jammed solid with stalls every Saturday, so locals learned to steer clear.

“It’s really lively during Spring Festival,” Lu Ping said as they walked. “People even come from neighboring towns before the holiday! The whole street’s fireworks, lanterns, and couplets—red as far as the eye can see, super festive. How do you celebrate Spring Festival in the Capital? Do you have markets?”

“…” How could Shen Yuze explain? Past Spring Festivals meant returning to the Shen Family Main Residence with his mom to see his elderly father and power-wielding older siblings. What others saw as family reunion was pure tedium for him.

He answered dryly, “The Capital… has temple fairs.” He hadn’t been, but friends had mentioned them. “And ice sculpture exhibits.”

“Ice sculptures?!” Lu Ping’s excitement shot up like a tail wagging. “I’ve seen them on the news. All made of ice? With ice slides and stuff? Have you tried one?”

“No.” Shen Yuze was honest. “But I’ve skied.”

Skiing—another thing Lu Ping had never done. The Jiao River rarely saw snow, and when it did, it melted fast. In elementary school, he’d once gathered slush from a rare snowfall to make a grubby hand-sized snowman, but it turned to slushy mud days later under the sun.

Lu Ping spread his arms, imagining gliding down a snowy slope, unaware that at that very moment, Shen Yuze pictured a red-blanketed North Shore Grand Market before Spring Festival.

As they chatted and strolled, a sweet aroma wafted by. Lu Ping halted, closed his eyes, sniffed, then pivoted ninety degrees and pointed to a distant stall. “Over there! I smell Plum Blossom Cakes!”

“Plum Blossom Cakes?”

“Another local snack. Come on, fresh from the pan’s the best!” Lu Ping dragged Shen Yuze to a small stall.

The owner was an old man with a slightly hunched back and white hair, but he looked spry.

He pedaled a small tricycle cart rigged with a heavy iron mold about sixteen inches across and eight inches thick, topped with a lid. Arrayed in rows were flower-shaped, conical holes. The old man heated the mold, poured in batter, added fillings layer by layer, topped with more batter, sesame, and sugar powder…

After about ten minutes, he lifted the lid, and steaming Plum Blossom Cakes emerged.

Kids loved them; the stall was ringed by seven- or eight-year-olds clutching two-yuan coins, sweetly begging “Grandpa, I want cake!” Lu Ping shamelessly elbowed in, unashamed to compete with children for snacks.

The fresh cakes went into disposable paper cups for easy eating.

Lu Ping dashed back with two cups and held them out to Shen Yuze. “Pick one. They’re identical—crispy bottoms, soft and chewy tops. Mouthwatering, right?”

“Here, you choose. One’s red sugar filling, the other’s black sesame.”

Shen Yuze couldn’t decide. He wasn’t big on sweets and wouldn’t have glanced twice without Lu Ping’s pitch.

He asked, “Which filling’s better?”

Lu Ping, of course, pushed his favorite. “Red sugar’s the best! Classic flavor—I’ve loved it since I was little!”

“Okay then.” Shen Yuze nodded, took the black sesame one, and handed the red sugar to Lu Ping. “You have the red sugar one.”