Su Xiao drank pumpkin and millet porridge at a breakfast shop in the alley for half a month, and finally noticed Shen Zhi who was making porridge - he was always stirring the casserole in the morning light at five o'clock in the morning. He would serve the dense porridge in a white porcelain bowl and add an extra spoonful of soft and glutinous pumpkin to her. Even the temperature of his fingertips when passing the bowl was just right.
Shen Zhi's little thoughts are hidden in the porridge cooked in the old casserole: when she coughs, she will put a few more Sichuan clams in the porridge; she works overtime and comes in late, so there is always a pot of warm porridge on the stove; even the pickles in the shop are salted as she likes. The grandmother in the alley always laughs: "What Xiao Shen cooks is not porridge, but the hope that you will come every day."
When Su Xiao was about to move to a neighboring city and went to the shop for the last time, there was a note underneath the porridge bowl handed over by Shen Zhi: "Since the first time you said, 'Porridge is so warm,' I have wanted to leave you with the morning light and hot porridge every day. When you come back, I will teach you how to make your favorite pumpkin and millet porridge, okay?"
