Love Finds Its Time - Chapter 31

Fishing is all about patience. That is its essence, the most necessary and important thing.

When Wen Qinghan moved to another spot to cast her line, she patted the place beside her. Shi Qingqiu understood and went to sit down.

With the uncle’s help, Wen Qinghan reeled in a catfish larger than her palm, then sat back down. Time passed until the sun sank westward from the middle of the sky.

Though there were no cell phones, at least they hadn’t put away their watches. Shi Qingqiu watched the hour hand tick downward. She was just about to tug on Wen Qinghan’s sleeve when she noticed her frowning.

The surroundings were quiet. A faint breeze stirred. The little bell at the end of the fishing rod swayed, its clear chime mingling with the sight of the rod tip bending low under the weight. Wen Qinghan pressed her lips together, gripping the rod tightly. The uncle, seeing this, immediately whispered, “Quick!”

Wen Qinghan tightened the line and pulled the rod back with force. The line snapped up, and at the end of the hook dangled a fat catfish, about the length of an elbow—much larger than the previous one.

“My goodness, that’s huge.” The uncle slowly unhooked the fish as he marveled, running his hand over its slippery body.

Breathing lightly, Wen Qinghan set the rod flat on the ground. She turned, meeting Shi Qingqiu’s concerned gaze, and said, “That one was heavy. I almost couldn’t lift it.”

“Qinghan, how does fishing feel?” Shi Qingqiu teased as she helped her up, the two standing together.

Wen Qinghan glanced at the catfish in the uncle’s hands. In a market or supermarket, it would be considered large, and since it was still wriggling so energetically, it would surely sell quickly. She patted her knees to ease the numbness, lifted the corners of her lips slightly, and said, “Not bad. But I still can’t grasp the timing. It’s easy to miss the moment.”

The uncle raised his head, wagging his finger again. But this time it wasn’t to shush them. Smiling broadly, he dropped the catfish into their bucket and praised, “You’re being modest, little one. You’ve got talent. With more practice, you’ll surely outdo me when I was your age.”

“Uncle, what do you mean?” Wen Qinghan frowned. “You helped me today. You already gave me the first fish. This one should be yours.”

The uncle just laughed heartily, picking up his own bucket and rod. Walking back, he called out, “Forget it, I’m sick of eating the fish I catch. See you tonight at the village chief’s house. Don’t forget the dish you promised me…”

His voice faded into the air. The cameraman turned the lens back to the two who were left standing there, stunned.

After a moment, it was Shi Qingqiu who spoke first. Carrying the bucket in one hand, she tugged on Wen Qinghan’s wrist with the other and laughed. “Come on, we still need to cook to repay your fishing master. Don’t disappoint him.”

A trace of amusement flickered in Wen Qinghan’s eyes. She bent to pick up her rod and asked, “So you’ll cook?”

As they walked back, Shi Qingqiu nodded. “Sure. But I’ve never cooked this kind of fish. I think it’s catfish, right? Let me see if I can get a phone later to look up a recipe.”

Wen Qinghan shot her a sideways glance. “Do you really think you can do it well the first time?”

Shi Qingqiu paused, then shook her head, slowing her steps. “No. But I can cook other things. At least I’ve got some basics.”

Her words lacked conviction. And since Wen Qinghan knew her well, she easily caught that uncertainty. A faint curve touched her lips. “Then let me do it.”

Shi Qingqiu was caught off guard, staring in surprise at Wen Qinghan, who still looked cool and aloof. That air not only pushed others away but also made her instinctively think Wen Qinghan couldn’t possibly cook.

Yes—she had always believed Wen Qinghan was the pampered type, who never touched household chores, at most slicing vegetables to toss into a hotpot. After all, she had been an outstanding student, now a successful professional, maintaining her aloof image since childhood.

And yet this very Wen Qinghan could cook!

“Wait… Qinghan, are you serious?”

“Do I look like someone who jokes?” Wen Qinghan replied evenly, without breaking stride.

Shi Qingqiu’s shock lingered all the way back. From returning the rod to thanking the family who had lent it, to arriving at the village chief’s house, Wen Qinghan never answered further. She only politely greeted Xu Zhi and her friend Xiao Yulan when they came back at the same time.

The two groups chatted and laughed as they entered the courtyard—only to see Qin Wang chasing a pheasant around, muttering desperately, “Oh no, don’t run! This grandpa needs you for a high score tonight. Stop! Stay still!”

The pheasant not only kept running but squawked loudly. The clamor of man and bird filled the yard.

As Qin Wang ran, suddenly a pair of legs appeared before him. Someone bent down and snatched the pheasant. He looked up and grinned. “Lanlan! Nice catch!”

Ji Lan helplessly shoved the bird into his arms, tilting her chin toward the others behind him. With a faint laugh she said, “Look at them, then look at you. If you can’t cook this pheasant tonight, then ruining your shirt like that will be for nothing.”

“What do you mean, others? Who came back?” Qin Wang asked in confusion, clutching the bird as he turned around. His eyes went wide as copper bells.

There stood Shi Qingqiu and Wen Qinghan, clean and neat, untouched by dirt. Beside them, Xu Zhi and Xiao Yulan were equally tidy, no different from when they’d left in the morning—except now with spoils in hand.

“What the—! How come none of you came back with injuries?” Qin Wang shouted in protest, hugging the bird. A scratch from its claws had already ruined his sleeve.

Xu Zhi carried the pork, trying her best to hide her laughter. “A-Wang, hurry up and kill the chicken, then change your clothes. If you keep dealing with it like this, watch out for your pants.”

Qin Wang glanced at the vegetables in Xiao Yulan’s hands, then pointed at the pork Xu Zhi carried. “Where did you get that meat?”

“At the end of the village, a family was butchering a pig to sell in town. We happened to pass by and helped out a little. This was their payment to us.”

“Wow, why didn’t I run into such good luck!”

Ji Lan cut in mercilessly. “Because the moment you left, you ran straight after the pheasant.”

This time, everyone burst out laughing, even the corners of Wen Qinghan’s lips lifted.

“Alright, alright! Welcome back, our ladies and gentlemen! Next comes the exciting cooking segment. Everyone, go to your assigned kitchens according to your numbers. An hour and a half at most—see you at the village chief’s house!”

The host’s booming voice came from behind. The group turned to see Yu Shushen’s team and Lu Sizhou’s team returning as well.

Before leaving, everyone checked their ingredients: Shi Qingqiu’s group had fish; Xu Zhi’s group had pork and vegetables; Yu Shushen’s group had vegetables too; Qin Wang’s group had the pheasant; and Lu Sizhou’s group had bamboo shoots.

Shi Qingqiu’s group drew number one, which luckily let them stay at the village chief’s house and use his kitchen.

Just before Wen Qinghan entered the kitchen, Shi Qingqiu worriedly caught her hand. “Qinghan, do you really not need my help? I can be your assistant.”

Wen Qinghan shook her head. “No need. Wait outside. I’ll call you when it’s almost done.”

Since Wen Qinghan’s decisions were always carefully thought through, they usually left no room for debate. But this time, because it was being filmed, and since Shi Qingqiu hadn’t helped much with the fishing, she felt she ought to contribute to cooking. So she asked, “Why not?”

“Because the beginning part ruins my image.” Wen Qinghan left the words coolly behind, then shut the door with a bang.

Looking at the closed kitchen door and listening to the sound of water inside, Shi Qingqiu smiled faintly, pulled over a small stool, and sat outside to wait.

Wen Qinghan’s plan was to use the smaller fish for soup and the larger one for braised fish. She tied on an apron and began the “image-ruining” preparations she had mentioned earlier.

After preparing the seasonings, she first made the soup base—sautéing minced ginger and scallions until fragrant, then adding cooking wine to remove the catfish’s odor. She poured in half a pot of water, brought it to a boil, then added the cleaned fish. Once it boiled again, she lowered it to simmer.

Fortunately, the village chief’s kitchen had more than one pot. While the soup simmered, Wen Qinghan began methodically preparing the braised catfish.

Before long, the aroma seeped through the cracks of the kitchen door. Shi Qingqiu was the first to notice it. Remembering Wen Qinghan’s instructions, she didn’t knock right away. After about fifteen minutes, the door opened.

Wen Qinghan stepped out, neat and spotless, looking exactly the same as when she had entered.

Shi Qingqiu stood and lifted her hand to her nose, sniffing. There wasn’t the slightest trace of fishiness—only that faint fragrance unique to Wen Qinghan.

“What is it?” Slightly uneasy at the gesture, Wen Qinghan’s fingers twitched.

“Nothing, just checking if our Chef Wen has fishy hands.” Shi Qingqiu blinked playfully, peeking past her into the kitchen. She grinned. “So, is your image ruined yet?”

The corners of Wen Qinghan’s lips curved faintly. Instead of pulling away, she turned her hand and held Shi Qingqiu’s in return. “Come see for yourself.”

She led Shi Qingqiu to the stove. The braised catfish simmered quietly under its lid, its aroma locked inside.

Scooping half a bowl of the now milky-white fish soup, Wen Qinghan set it before her. “Try it.”

The soup exuded a delicate milky fragrance, laced with scallion. Shi Qingqiu stared at it, still stunned that Wen Qinghan could cook at all.

Wen Qinghan’s fingers circled slowly on the bottom of the bowl. After pressing her lips together briefly, she picked up the spoon, filled it, blew it cool, and lifted it gently to Shi Qingqiu’s lips. Her expression remained calm, unreadable.

A smile spread gradually in Shi Qingqiu’s eyes. She lowered her head and drank from the spoon.

The soup was delicious—savory, fresh, and lingering. She hadn’t expected it to taste so good, and she wanted more.

Still looking down, she gave herself away. Wen Qinghan noticed, scooped another spoonful, cooled it with her breath, and held it up again.

Her gaze shimmered softly, reluctant to stop. Watching the soup dwindle, she felt an unexpected reluctance, so she drew it out slowly, as if to keep the moment longer. Even when her fingers stung from the hot bowl, she refused to let go. Her heart was too full of joy—far stronger than the pain in her fingertips.

“Oh my, what do we have here? Public displays of affection—scary stuff! Come on, let’s see what Qingqiu’s group has made. Smells amazing—what’s on the menu?”

The host’s voice rang from the kitchen door. Wen Qinghan seemed to flinch. At once, Shi Qingqiu steadied her, taking both the bowl and the hand that held the spoon. But when her fingers brushed the bowl, it wasn’t just warmth—it was burning hot. She quickly took it out of Wen Qinghan’s hands.

“Fish soup and braised fish. The soup’s done, and the braised fish will be ready in a few minutes.” Wen Qinghan explained while subtly pulling her hands back, clasping them behind her.

She accompanied the host to the pot of soup. The host fanned the aroma toward himself, exclaiming, “Wow, it smells incredible. Don’t forget to save me some later…”

Wen Qinghan smiled faintly, then turned to Shi Qingqiu, who grinned and gave her a big thumbs-up. The cameraman, just finished with a close-up of the soup, turned in time to capture the moment between them.