A Little Restaurant by Taihu Lake [Food and Management]

Shen Chun worked overtime until five or six in the morning and died suddenly at her desk.

The last thing that flashed through her mind before she closed her eyes was her grandmother's portrait.

A crooked black-and-white photo sat on the greasy mahjong table at her cousin's house.

When she opened her eyes again, the calendar had turned back to June 2016.

She was twenty-one, a senior in college, and had just finished her final exams. A message from her cousin was waiting on her phone: "Sis, don't worry about the restaurant. Dad says he'll take it over, so you can focus on school."

In her previous life, her parents had died so suddenly that she never managed to recover. She couldn't bring herself to step into the little restaurant, with all its memories.

So the fermented brine her mother had tended for twenty years was poured down the drain, the little restaurant by the lake was turned into a mahjong parlor, and the old sign reading "Waterside Kitchen" was replaced with a garish neon sign in red and green.

And later, even her grandmother...

Shen Chun deleted the message and bought a ticket on the next high-speed train home.

The day she went to bring her grandmother home, the old woman was squatting outside her cousin's house, trimming long beans. A bowl of rice porridge by her feet had gone cold.

When she saw Shen Chun, she froze for a moment, then broke into a smile. "You're home, sweetheart! Have you eaten?"

"Grandma, leave those beans. Come live with me at the restaurant."

During the plum rains, the little Taihu Lake restaurant lit its stove again.

Business was slow during its first month. But running a restaurant beside Taihu Lake had one big advantage: the ingredients were never in short supply.

In spring, she made shepherd's purse wontons, tossed malan greens, braised pond loaches, and simmered river clams with tofu. In early summer, she picked loquats, waxberries, and honey peaches. Then Taihu Lake's Three Whites came into season, served alongside a bowl of silky water shield soup. In high summer, she peeled gorgon fruit, boiled water chestnuts, and chilled bowls of fermented-rice dumplings. In autumn, the hairy crabs were packed with rich yellow roe, and sweet osmanthus lotus root came into season. In winter, she simmered Cangshu lamb, braised pork, and cured meat with bamboo shoots...

She cooked whatever was in season. She served her diners whatever Taihu Lake gave her.

Spring turned to autumn, and the stove stayed lit. Amid the Jiangnan region's simple dishes and everyday meals, life slowly took on its own flavor.

Theme: Run the business with care and keep striving every day.