Love in the Courtyard: From Now On, Call Me Brother Zhu

You used to call me Silly Zhu, and I never held it against you!

From now on, call me Brother Zhu!

Before dawn had fully broken, three green-painted pendant lamps were already swinging in the kitchen of the Third Steel Rolling Mill's cafeteria. Years of grease coated their shades, and the light leaking through was a murky yellow pool.

A strip of yellow paper hung across the ceiling, with red characters reading "Strive for the Top." Its corners had curled from the stove's heat, but no one had the time to take it down. Piles of Chinese cabbages filled the corner, each frosted over, their pale green and white heads looking like rows of little people squatting there.

He Yuzhu stood at the stove, tossing food in a wok.

He was in his thirties, with a crew cut and a square face. His features gave him a guileless look, but his hands were quick and deft. The iron wok sat over the flames. Oil sizzled and leaped, and he flicked his wrist, sending half the dish flipping over before it settled back in the pan in one smooth motion. The wok clanged against the stove.

He knew that sound by heart. He could do it with his eyes closed.