Chapter 170: The Dumpling Incident on Winter Solstice

Hui Fang picked up a large rock and threw it with all her might. It landed five meters away, but the car had already driven off into the distance.

A short while later, Hui Fang’s phone rang. It was Xia Jinrong calling, saying it had been a while since he’d seen his son and wanted to spend some time with him. He assured her it was nothing serious and that he’d bring the boy back in a couple of days.

Hui Fang cursed, “Xia Goudan! You damn scoundrel! If my son loses even a single hair, I’ll make sure you pay for it!”

My heart skipped a beat—so Xia Jinrong was also called Xia Goudan.

Xia Jinrong’s impatient voice came through the phone, “The kid is mine too. I won’t let anything happen to him.” Then he abruptly hung up. I comforted Hui Fang for a bit before calling Uncle Jianguo to tell him about Xia Jinrong taking his son. After a moment of silence, Uncle Jianguo sighed, “Xia Jinrong is digging his own grave.”

“What do we do now?” I asked. “I can’t even see Xia Baorui. It’s not that I don’t want to save him.”

Uncle Jianguo replied, “Today’s the Winter Solstice. Call your parents, find someone to eat dumplings with. Let’s set this aside for now. Even us Taoists need to celebrate holidays. Besides, a son being taken by his father—there shouldn’t be any real danger.”

Gao Mo’s voice suddenly shouted in the background, “Master, wash the leeks!” With that, I hung up. Those master and disciple—just yesterday they were at each other’s throats, and now they’d already made up.

A cold northern wind blew through the midday streets, where passing cars left me standing alone.

Suddenly, I began to miss Xie Lingyu.

The unexpected surge of longing nearly brought me to tears.

On the bus, a skinny young man with glasses, sporting a parted hairstyle, dark blue jeans, and a pair of AdiWang sneakers, stood in front of an advertisement featuring a stunning female model.

He burst into uncontrollable sobs, as if the biting wind had stirred up some unforgettable memory or overwhelming emotion. Tears streamed down his face.

I wondered, *What’s wrong with him? Why is he so heartbroken?* He cried for half an hour in the wind. I tried to comfort him, but it was no use. In the end, I gave up. If someone needs to cry deeply, who am I to stop them?

Maybe he’ll feel better after letting it all out.

I took out my phone, logged into *Little Rascal Loves Kitten*’s Weibo, and posted about the crying boy in front of the billboard, along with a photo of his back.

My nose running from the cold, I boarded the bus to Chu Han Avenue. Brother Jun’s auto repair shop had just opened for the day. I called him to ask what he was up to, and he said he was taking Liu Jibao and the others home for the Winter Solstice to have a dog meat hotpot. Because of Little Rascal, they didn’t invite me.

A Lanzhou noodle shop by the roadside had put up a sign: beef dumplings—8 yuan for three taels; lamb dumplings—8 yuan for three taels. People went in and out, stuffing themselves happily and patting their full bellies as they left.

*Especially during holidays, people always feel lonely.*

That statement couldn’t be more true.

I went to the market, bought a pound of ribs, some cabbage and pork, three yuan’s worth of dumpling wrappers, and picked up some soy sauce, vinegar, and chili oil. Carrying my haul back to the apartment complex, Xu Guangsheng saw me and laughed, “Master, making dumplings? All by yourself?”

“Yeah, just me.”

Up on the fourth floor, I opened the door and called for Little Rascal. “We’re having dumplings tonight!” He wagged his tail excitedly, circling around me.

I washed the cabbage and chopped the pork. Just as I was about to call my mom to ask how to prepare the filling, her call came in first.

I laughed. “Mom, I was just about to call you. How did you know?”

She chuckled. “I had a feeling. What have you been up to today? Did you eat dumplings yet?”

“No, but a friend’s coming over to join me. It’ll be lively.”

Little Rascal barked twice as if on cue.

Mom said, “Good, good. Make sure to use warm water for the dough.”

I grinned. “No need—I bought pre-made wrappers.”

She laughed. “Oh right, I forgot you’re a lazy one. Make sure the filling’s finely chopped, and add salt to the boiling water so the dumplings don’t fall apart. The signal’s bad here—I’ll call you later to remind you about the cooking time. Don’t worry about your dad; he’s fine. Phone bills are expensive, so I’ll keep it short.”

Just before hanging up, I heard my dad’s playful, mischievous chuckle.

After the call, I continued chopping the meat, the rhythmic thuds echoing in the empty apartment. Aside from Little Rascal and myself—two lovable idiots—there was no one else.

I chopped harder, venting my loneliness into the task. Just then, the doorbell rang.

Opening the door, I saw Xu Guangsheng standing there, holding two garlic bulbs.

“Come in,” I said.

He smiled. “Just a quick word—I won’t stay.”

I nodded.

“Master, I noticed you didn’t buy any garlic, so I brought you some. Also… I wanted to ask—if I cook some dumplings for Shuangxi, is there anything I should keep in mind?”

I hadn’t expected Xu Guangsheng to be so thoughtful. “Did he have any dietary restrictions when he was alive? Like cilantro, scallions, or spicy food?”

“He liked Chengdu girls. No restrictions.”

I chuckled. “You’re planning to offer some to Sun Junliu too, aren’t you?”

Xu Guangsheng scratched his head, admitting it. “Shuangxi liked her when he was alive. I hope they can meet in the underworld—maybe even get together. So I thought I’d make an extra portion, one for Shuangxi and one for Sun Junliu.”

His simple, heartfelt wish made me feel ashamed of my own pettiness.

“It’s fine. Just put willow branches in the cooked dumplings and leave the condiments nearby for them to use.”

Xu Guangsheng nodded gratefully and handed me the garlic. As he turned to leave, he hesitated. “Oh, and… what about the two punks who died in the crash? Can I offer them some too? They won’t start fighting again, will they?”

Once again, I was touched by his kindness. “If they fight, just call me. I’ll break it up.”

Satisfied, Xu Guangsheng thanked me profusely and left.

“Thanks for the garlic!” I called after him.

This ordinary security guard, with his simple gestures, radiated an inexplicable charm.

*The true greatness lies in the kindness of ordinary people.*

After finishing the filling, I mixed the cabbage and pork together. Then my phone rang again. I put it on speaker—it was Feng Wushuang, cheerfully asking what I was up to.

“Making dumplings,” I said.

“What a good man! Your wife and kids must be lucky,” she teased.

“Don’t rub it in. You’re happily paired up, mocking us lonely souls. Fine, I’ll go to the reunion—just stop teasing me, gorgeous.”

Feng Wushuang laughed. “Perfect! I’m alone too. Give me your address—I’ll come over. Otherwise, I’ll tell everyone you had a crush on me and got rejected.”

Defeated, I gave in. I’ve always been too soft-hearted.

Feng Wushuang arrived without makeup, yet her natural beauty was undeniable. She walked in, glanced at Little Rascal, then at the books scattered around the living room. “Wow, a reclusive scholar in the city,” she remarked.

We weren’t particularly close, but Feng Wushuang had a way of making anyone feel at ease. People often said we looked like siblings, and she played along, keeping the conversation light.

“So, how’s work, beauty? Must be a line of suitors,” I said.

She tied an apron around her waist. “Help me with my hair.”

The kitchen was cramped, making me slightly awkward.

She teased, “If you’re supposed to be my big brother, why so shy?”

If she wasn’t bothered, why should I be? I tucked her black hair behind her ear, catching a glimpse of her long legs. *They say flight attendants have great legs—she’s proof.*

Feng Wushuang’s sixth sense kicked in. “Is this how a brother looks at his sister?”

I stuck out my tongue playfully.

She continued, “Just flying around every day. A few clueless guys keep pestering me, but I ignore them.”

After wrapping the dumplings, she frowned. “We can’t just eat dumplings alone. You don’t even have side dishes—go buy some ingredients. I’ll make braised pork trotters with red yeast sauce, Coke chicken wings, and Lao Gan Ma potatoes. And grab some wine.”

I was baffled. *Wine? It’s just dumplings.* But unable to resist her persistence, I leashed Little Rascal and headed to the supermarket.

On the way downstairs, it hit me—*this is what loneliness does.*

In the city, everyone is lonely. We dress up, put on smiles, but on holidays, we realize we’re all just passing through.

At the gate, I realized I’d left my phone in the kitchen. *Oh well, who’s going to call me anyway?* I tightened my coat and went to the market.

The vegetable vendor, an elderly woman, blew into her hands for warmth. I picked up three potatoes. “Auntie, why are these potatoes so cute?”

She bagged them with a grin. “Hold on—let me ask the potatoes themselves.”

“Potato, potato, why are you so cute?”

I paid, took the potatoes, and tugged Little Rascal along. Turning back, I called out, “Auntie, you look twenty years old today—so pretty!”

She cackled, smoothing her graying hair before crouching to rub her rheumatic knees.

Then she counted the money in her tin, pulling out a few wrinkled bills from under her arm—still warm from her body heat. *Enough for my son’s train ticket home for winter break? What about his new girlfriend’s birthday next month?* She added a little more, scolding herself for almost forgetting.

She packed the money carefully, then pulled out her lunchbox and took a few bites of cold rice. The more she chewed, the happier she seemed.

It took me a while to find pork trotters, then I grabbed a big bottle of Lao Gan Ma, soy sauce, and Coke. The chicken wings were harder to find. In the end, I settled for the cheapest Cabernet.

Little Rascal shivered in the cold as I hurried back to the apartment, bags in hand. He sprinted after me, and by the time we reached the building, the afternoon air was filled with the scent of home-cooked food.

“Little Rascal, race you to the fourth floor!” Before I could finish, he bolted ahead.

*Huh, the dumb dog’s getting smarter.*

At the door, I fumbled for my keys—but voices came from inside. *Wait, wasn’t it just Feng Wushuang?*

Before I could unlock it, the door swung open.

Feng Wushuang beamed. “Hurry up! Your mom and dad are here to see you!”