Half a month ago, at afternoon tea in a certain home on Braid Road, the ladies were playing mahjong when one of them said, "Hey, have you heard? The owner of Number 36 is moving in."
Everyone knew this prominent Shanghai financial family had an only daughter. People assumed the daughter the Cheng family had raised in luxury was a princess who could feel a pea beneath a velvet mattress. Little did they know that the pea wasn't under the velvet, but in the princess's heart.
By August, under the blazing summer sun, herbal tea and sweet soup shops dotted the streets of Hong Kong. But she had taken to the Lin household, setting out from home every day at three in the afternoon to have sweet soup with him.
Scooping a rice ball from his bowl, she spoke in her usual sweet, soft voice, trying out the Cantonese she'd heard: "Mr. Lin."
Then she declared that time was precious, revealing a flirtatious intimacy as she spoke over their bowls and spoons: "Call me An'an, okay?"
At night, Hong Kong's foothills glittered brightly, while the summit stood in its dignified splendor, as though inviting people to climb a ladder to heaven. Someone had once built a relationship here.
Theme: Love, food, and desire
