On my third wedding anniversary, I cooked a table of dishes.
Braised pork ribs, steamed sea bass, sweet and sour pork loin, spicy and sour potato shreds, plus a pot of pork ribs and lotus root soup. They are all Yue Jinse's favorite food. The dishes are prepared starting at three o'clock in the afternoon, the fire is started at five o'clock, and everything is served on the table at six-thirty o'clock.
She said she would come back early today.
I arranged the dishes and chopsticks, put a lid on the soup cup to keep it warm, and turned the lights in the living room to warm yellow. The bouquet of lilies on the table was brought back from the vegetable market. The old flower seller said that lilies symbolize a hundred years of good marriage. I didn't realize until I paid the money that Yue Jinse probably wouldn't even look at this thing after I bought it.
At 6:40, I sent her a message: The food is ready, when will you get home?
No reply.
At 7:30, I sent another message: The soup is cold, I'll heat it up.
Still no reply.
