Chapter 39: Night Conversations in the Western-Style House

“What would you like to drink—coffee, milk, or perhaps I could make you a cappuccino?” Spring Lily led Wei Guo Xiao to the sofa area in the first-floor hall, then turned to him with her question.

“Anything is fine, really,” Wei Guo Xiao replied a bit awkwardly, his gaze flickering as if he wanted to look at her but dared not.

Spring Lily noticed his unease, a faint smile curling at her lips as she turned away to prepare the coffee.

Wei Guo Xiao finally began to calm himself; after all, with his mature mind, he couldn’t let himself be continually unsettled by a young girl. He glanced around, studying the layout of the small Western-style house. The first-floor hall was spacious, clearly designed for receiving guests, with one side arranged as a sofa area and the other as a dining space. He surmised the bedrooms must be upstairs on the second and third floors.

Soon enough, Spring Lily returned, carrying a tray. She placed a cup of coffee before him; the surface was adorned with a milk-foam pattern—a five-pointed star.

“Please, enjoy your coffee.” Spring Lily set the cup in front of him and gracefully took her seat at the sofa to his left, her lively eyes fixed on him.

Wei Guo Xiao found his thoughts lagging behind once more.

Perhaps encountering one’s beloved feels just like this. He had never experienced such a sensation in his previous life or this one; in this moment, it seemed he had stumbled upon love.

He sipped the coffee—something almost impossible to find in this era, in this country. The bitterness of the brew mingled with the smoothness of the milk, blossoming on his palate, as if transporting him back to the twenty-first century. Seeking a way to break the ice, he asked, “I saw you reading—what book is it?”

“Just call me Spring Lily,” she replied, her eyes curving like the moon as she smiled. “Calling me ‘comrade’ feels odd.”

“I’m reading Dream of the Red Chamber. Have you read it?” she continued.

“Of course, I’ve read it, and I know all the Four Great Classics. In Dream of the Red Chamber, who’s your favorite character?” he asked.

Spring Lily pondered for a moment, then recited slowly, “Before the White Jade Hall, spring dances; the east wind swirls evenly. Bees and butterflies flock in chaos. How often have I followed the flowing water? Why must I be consigned to dust? Thousands of threads and strands never change, let them gather and part as they will. Do not mock the youth for having no roots. The wind lends its strength, sending me soaring to the blue sky.”

Wei Guo Xiao recognized the poem—it was penned by Xue Baochai in the novel. Clearly, Spring Lily favored Baochai.

“I too admire Xue Baochai. That graceful, dignified composure, ‘accepting fate and keeping modest,’ is rare among women and especially captivating. Baochai herself has grand ambitions; had she entered the palace in the story, she might have had a splendid ending. Actually, I’m fond of another line of hers, ‘If you seek to repay the White Emperor, rely on purity.’ That one phrase encapsulates her character entirely,” Wei Guo Xiao said, gazing steadily into Spring Lily’s eyes.

Spring Lily was astonished. This young man, dressed as a worker, possessed such deep knowledge of Dream of the Red Chamber—a remarkable thing in this era.

As young hearts do, Spring Lily soon found herself engrossed in conversation with Wei Guo Xiao about books, their characters, and the stories that stirred their souls.

In terms of reading, Wei Guo Xiao—whose mental age was over thirty—far surpassed Spring Lily, who was still in her teens. At her age, one could read only a handful of books, but in later times, books were endless for those who wished to read.

Eventually, it was mostly Wei Guo Xiao speaking, Spring Lily listening. Her curiosity grew as she looked at him; how incredible that her mother had brought home such a learned young man in work clothes.

Such a marvelous feeling.

Love often begins with curiosity and admiration.

Unknowingly, they had spoken for over half an hour when Zhao Shu Xian called them to the table for dinner.

Wei Guo Xiao closed his dry lips, picked up his now-cold coffee, and finished it in one gulp.

“Let’s go eat—Auntie seems to have finished cooking,” he said to Spring Lily.

“All right, we can continue our conversation at the table. We were talking about what happened to Paul after he lost his sight,” Spring Lily said reluctantly.

“You’ve been chatting so long and didn’t even offer Wei Guo Xiao a glass of water—look at you, silly girl,” Zhao Shu Xian chided Spring Lily affectionately.

“No, I won’t,” Spring Lily replied, pouting at her mother.

Looking at the vibrant girl before him, Wei Guo Xiao’s heart began to melt.

“Let’s eat first—we can keep talking at the table,” Wei Guo Xiao said, helping to clear the table.

Soon, Zhao Shu Xian brought out braised spare ribs, sautéed lettuce stalks, fragrant marinated beef, string beans stir-fried with pork, and a lotus seed stew—a lavish spread of four dishes and a soup.

Wei Guo Xiao and Spring Lily helped carry the dishes and rice, then the three sat at the table together.

Zhao Shu Xian looked at the young pair, smiled, and said, “Let’s begin. But before we eat, we must thank Wei Guo Xiao for his help today.”

With that, she raised her bottle of Arctic Ocean soda in a toast to him.

Wei Guo Xiao quickly raised his own bottle and clinked it with hers, saying, “Auntie, you’re too polite. Let’s leave this behind us from now on—no need to bring it up again.”

He drained his soda in one gulp.

Spring Lily, seeing him, declared, “Me too, me too!” She tried to down her bottle in one go, but Zhao Shu Xian stopped her.

“Young ladies shouldn’t behave so—it's not ladylike. You should be graceful, stand and sit properly, or Wei Guo Xiao will laugh at you.”

After sipping her soda, Spring Lily, seeing her mother wasn’t watching, made a silly face at Wei Guo Xiao.

He couldn’t help but smile at her antics.

“Don’t be shy. Wei Guo Xiao, please try the dishes,” Zhao Shu Xian urged, beginning the meal.

As he ate, Wei Guo Xiao thought to himself, “No wonder they’re bourgeois. In the countryside, people eat cornbread every day, and even in the city, everything is rationed, but here, it’s four dishes, soup, white rice, and Arctic Ocean soda.”

If he stayed in this Western-style house much longer, he’d start to believe he’d returned to the twenty-first century.

“Auntie, earlier you mentioned the letter in your bag was important. May I ask, what kind of letter is it?” Wei Guo Xiao inquired out of curiosity.

“Oh, that’s a letter from Spring Lily’s father. He’s in Hong Kong now, and only sends a letter every so often, so we treasure them. They aren’t particularly precious, just that family letters are worth their weight in gold,” Zhao Shu Xian explained.

“My father went to Hong Kong when I was very young—I haven’t seen him in many, many years,” Spring Lily added.

“How did Uncle go to Hong Kong? And Auntie, how do you manage your life here—do you have any means of support?” Wei Guo Xiao continued, making conversation.