Since the last time Madam Qi had come that way, Wen Yin hadn’t seen her again. The meeting had left Wen Yin at a loss — she didn’t know how to face her — so she let the matter lie.
The dessert shop’s business had steadied day by day. Jian Tuo still dropped by from time to time to make himself familiar with the place; sometimes, when Wen Yin was swamped, he’d lend a hand. When her gaze lingered on him one afternoon, he scratched his head, a little sheepish.
“Sis, why are you staring?” he asked.
Jian Tuo carried that sunlit, college-boy energy — brash, careless, with a faint puppyish charm that made some of the women customers swoon. A lot of them asked for his contact info, but he hadn’t given it to a single one. His excuse was simple: one day when Wen Yin came out carrying a cake, she’d caught him politely refusing a girl who’d asked for his WeChat.
“I already have someone I like,” he’d said. “So I’m sorry.”
Wen Yin wasn’t surprised; at his age, who hasn’t had a crush or two? She wasn’t the sort to pry either. After he refused and turned to help, he saw her standing there with the cake, watching him. Realizing she’d overheard, he embarrassedly scratched the back of his head.
“Sorry, sis. I didn’t mean to be a bother.”
Wen Yin smiled faintly and set the cake down. “It’s fine. I appreciate the help, but your studies have to come first. You can’t make this a habit. Don’t let helping me get in the way of your classes.”
Her meaning was clear. Jian Tuo’s bright look dimmed a little; whatever his reasons were for wanting to help, Wen Yin wouldn’t let him stay. She didn’t like owing people favors for no reason. If she needed more hands, she’d hire another server — she wouldn’t take advantage of someone else.
He looked for a moment like a pup abandoned at the door, but when Wen Yin named his favorite cake — taro, of course — he couldn’t help smiling. “Thanks, sis,” he said, calling her that in a way that was charming rather than awkward.
From then on, his visits tapered off. Wen Yin watched her little fanbase grow and realized being recognized came with complications: crowds, requests for autographs, the flow of people clogging the street. Her shop sat in the center of the block; if she drew a crowd every day, everything would be a mess. After thinking it over, she decided to bake a fixed number of cakes each morning and shut up shop once they sold out. For the rest of the time, she would keep her presence minimal.
With that decision made, her days opened up. She finished the morning’s baking well before noon, had a light lunch, and spent the afternoons experimenting with new dishes. She’d promised fans occasional food streams, and now that she had a following the broadcasts were no longer quiet affairs. People poured into her room within minutes of her going live.
Wen Yin read the chat as she cooked and talked — simple home-cooking recipes, casual conversation. The comments came fast and bright.
“Finally, A-Yin is streaming! I was about to wither away waiting!”
“Her recipes are so simple even I, a hopeless mess, can make them!”
“She’s a legit honest streamer. Everyone else who gets famous turns to shilling, but she’s still doing real food streams.”
“Is anyone else here just dying to watch her eat? I need a mukbang!”
“The claypot rice she made last time was amazing. Please teach us dan dan noodles next!”
Her stream took off so quickly the short-video platform pushed her into recommendations. Even Madam Qi found herself staring at Wen Yin’s smiling face on her phone, reaching out as if to touch the skin on the screen. She had to admit it: she was a coward. She’d seen her own daughter only from across the street the other day and hadn’t had the courage to step inside. She could tell there had been something in Wen Yin’s eyes — something complicated. Maybe she already understood more than she let on.
Madam Qi knew investigations were ongoing, and that Shao Yinan was looking into things too. Even if they’d tried to conceal the whole truth of the past, Shao Yinan might have uncovered it. If he knew, then soon Wen Yin might know, too.
There was a knock at the door. Madam Qi wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and let them in.
“Madam, you haven’t eaten properly in days. Have a small pastry to keep your strength up,” the maid urged. She’d served Madam Qi for decades and could see the woman’s struggle.
Madam Qi closed her eyes at the sight of the pastries. “No, I have no appetite,” she whispered.
The maid pushed a little. “These are from Wen Yin’s dessert shop, madam.”
At that name, Madam Qi opened her eyes. Her hands trembled as she picked up a piece and put it to her lips. “Delicious,” she said, and the words came out with a flood of tears. Of course she hadn’t been mistaken — her daughter’s baking was the best.
The maid breathed easier, relieved to see her mistress at least try to eat. The quiet didn’t last long. Voices rose outside, angry and insistent.
“Where’s Mom? I want to see her!”
“Are those things the servants said true or not?”
“Mom! I know you’re in there! Come out and explain!”
“Is all that gossip true? Tell me!”
The commotion at the entrance swelled, the household about to be pulled into yet another storm.