400: Chapter 400: The Flavors of Jiangcheng Across Two Thousand Kilometers – Bonus Chapter 400

The moment the red-lacquered wooden door was pushed open, a wave of heat mixed with charcoal fire and cumin rushed toward them.

The shop wasn't large, with about ten square tables crowded together.

On the wall, a blackboard served as a handwritten menu and a place for diners' messages, while oil stains had dyed the white ceramic tiles in the corners into an amber hue.

A few warm yellow light bulbs hung from the ceiling, their dim glow casting a warm light over the beer bottles on every table.

Just as Ye Xi stepped over the threshold, the clattering sound of metal skewers being flipped came from the back kitchen.

A middle-aged man behind the grill looked up, his face glistening with oil and his apron stained with charcoal ash and chili powder.

Boss Fang's hand, holding a cattail leaf fan, paused for a moment. His gaze shifted between Lin Que and Ye Xi before finally winking at Lin Que.

He drawled out his words:

“Yo, Little Lin is here! You brought a friend today, huh? I’ve kept the spot you reserved for you.”

The teasing tone in his voice was self-evident.

Ye Xi didn't say a word, but her hand holding her phone tightened slightly.

Lowering her head, she walked straight toward the corner table at the very back, only the tips of her ears flushing an imperceptible shade of pink.

Boss Fang turned his head, wiped his hands with the towel draped over his shoulder, and gave Lin Que a knowing look.

Lin Que smiled helplessly and didn't explain.

He walked to the freezer, bent down to scan the contents, and pointed at several items.

Boss Fang scribbled them down on oil-resistant paper.

Thirty lamb skewers, ten beef tendon skewers, two portions of grilled chives, one portion of enoki mushrooms in foil, four slices of grilled mantou, and two bowls of hand-pulled noodles.

After finishing the notes, Boss Fang signaled with his eyes toward Ye Xi, who had walked to the back.

“So, how's the spice level for today?”

“Still extra spicy.”

“Got it.”

Lin Que carried two cups of hot barley tea to the innermost table.

Ye Xi had already taken off her sunglasses and unwrapped her scarf.

She was huddled in the corner looking down at her phone, the tips of her ears still tinged with pink.

He pushed a tea cup in front of her.

Ye Xi took it, cupping the sides with both hands and pressing her fingertips against the warmth, without looking up.

Lin Que sat down, leaning against the back of the chair in a relaxed posture.

He picked up his own cup and took a sip, his gaze falling on the top of Ye Xi's head. After waiting for three seconds, he naturally shifted the topic elsewhere.

“What’s the schedule for the National Piano Competition this time?”

“You said the finals are during National Day, but how come I haven't heard you mention the Preliminary Round or Semifinals?”

Ye Xi's fingers, which were holding the tea cup, twitched slightly.

She finally looked up, the pink on her ears having mostly faded, and her eyes regained some of their usual confidence.

She didn't answer, just looked at Lin Que with one eyebrow slightly arched.

The meaning of that look, translated into words, was:

“What do you think?”

Lin Que froze for two seconds as he met her gaze.

He slapped his palm against his forehead quite hard, and after doing so, he laughed at himself.

“Right, I get it.”

Ye Xi set down her tea cup, folded her hands on the table, and tilted her chin up slightly, waiting for him to finish.

“Studied under a piano master, performed a tour at the Vienna Golden Hall.”

“Bringing a resume like that back to a domestic competition—if the organizing committee didn't give you a direct pass to the finals, it would be an insult to the ears of everyone on the judging panel.”

Lin Que gestured toward her with his tea cup.

“Like using a cannon to hunt a mosquito.”

Ye Xi gave a soft hmph.

Her lips were pursed, but the smile she couldn't hide in her eyes had already leaked out through the curve of her eyelashes.

“You seem to know more about it than I do.”

“Do you think I sat in the front row of the Golden Hall for over two hours that day for nothing?”

Ye Xi didn't respond.

She lowered her head and took a sip of barley tea, the rim of the cup hiding most of her face, leaving only her eyes visible.

Those eyes curved for a moment before quickly returning to their composed state.

By the time she set down the cup, her tone had returned to its normal rhythm.

“The committee sent the direct-entry notice during the Preliminary Round.”

“October 3rd at 2:00 PM, Beijing Concert Hall. There are only twelve spots in the finals, and I’m scheduled to perform fourth.”

“Is the repertoire set?”

“It's set. Rach 3.”

Lin Que's tea cup paused for a beat at his lips.

Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 3—widely recognized as one of the technical ceilings of piano repertoire.

By choosing this piece, Ye Xi was clearly aiming to crush the entire field.

“What does your Sister Yang think?”

“She said this piece is too physically demanding and suggested I switch to Chopin. But I didn't.”

Ye Xi's tone was flat, but within that flatness was a hardness that brooked no argument.

Lin Que didn't comment on the choice.

He simply nodded and placed his tea cup back on the table.

The sound of metal skewers clashing in the back kitchen grew more frequent.

Boss Fang's voice cut through the oily smoke:

“Here we go, your skewers are ready! Enjoy~”

A waiter walked over carrying two large plates of skewers, with oil-resistant paper lining the bottom of the metal trays.

The meat skewers were packed together, the grease on the surface still sizzling and bubbling.

A thick layer of cumin seeds and chili powder was sprinkled over them, red and white mixing on the charred brown meat, as the heat carried the aroma upward.

Ye Xi's gaze fixed on those two plates of skewers.

Her throat moved.

Then she reached out and pulled a lamb skewer from the edge of the plate so fast that Lin Que almost didn't catch it.

As the skewer reached her mouth, her movements slowed for half a beat, as if she had remembered some rule about image management.

But the aroma of the meat had already entered her nostrils, and at this moment, such rules were worthless.

She took a bite.

The moment the juices exploded in her mouth, Ye Xi's eyes lit up.

That kind of brightness was completely different from when the spotlights hit her face on stage.

The light on stage was cold, restrained, and belonged to the public.

Right now, this light grew from within her eyes, carrying a simple, defenseless satisfaction from being struck by good food.

She nodded repeatedly, still chewing, and said indistinctly:

“So this is the famous Jiangcheng BBQ.”

“I see it every night when I scroll through Yin Fu short videos; I’ve been craving it to death. It really lives up to its reputation.”

Lin Que watched her chew the meat with puffed-out cheeks and pushed the tissue box toward her.

“Eat slowly, no one's going to steal it from you.”

Ye Xi was oblivious, already pulling a second skewer from the plate.

Chili powder was stuck to the corner of her mouth, and she wiped it with the back of her hand in a haphazard motion.

She was a completely different person from the one who sat poised before a Steinway piano in the Golden Hall.

After a few skewers, Ye Xi's pace finally slowed down.

She leaned back against the chair, hands resting on the edge of the table, looking at Lin Que opposite her.

Satisfaction filled her stomach, and something soft crawled up along with that feeling.

“Do you still remember when we were in Jiangcheng?”

Her voice softened, carrying a hint of distant melancholy.

“You told me that when there was a chance, you'd take me to eat authentic Jiangcheng BBQ.”

“I remember.”

“At the time, I thought we'd be able to fulfill that promise very soon.”

Ye Xi picked up her tea cup and turned it halfway, the condensation on the cup's side leaving a mark on her fingertip.

“In the end, it was delayed until now. And the place where the promise is fulfilled isn't even in Jiangcheng.”

She looked away from the tea cup and toward the dimly lit alley outside the window.

The late September night wind of Beijing squeezed through the improperly closed window gap, carrying the dryness unique to the north.

“It's so far from home.”

This sentence was spoken very softly, so soft it was nearly drowned out by the sound of flipping metal skewers in the kitchen.

Lin Que picked up the teapot and refilled Ye Xi's cup.

As the hot water poured in, the toasted aroma of barley tea rose again from the rim of the cup.

“Do you know why Boss Fang was able to open an authentic Jiangcheng BBQ shop in Beijing?”

Ye Xi turned back to look at him.

“He left Jiangcheng twenty-five years ago, carrying half a set of BBQ gear by himself on a green-skinned train for over ten hours to get to Beijing.”

“For the first three years, he worked as an assistant in other people's shops and slept in basements. He only took over this shop once he'd saved enough money.”

Lin Que gestured toward the kitchen with his chin.

“Boss Fang traveled over two thousand kilometers, but what's cooking in that pot is still the taste of Jiangcheng.”

“It’s the same with your piano playing. No matter which piano you sit in front of, the confidence that flows from under your fingers is something you've grown up with.”

“That’s something you can't lose, no matter where you go.”

Ye Xi's eyelashes trembled slightly.

She picked up the tea cup and took a sip, swallowing whatever was welling up inside along with the barley tea.

When she set the cup down, the corners of her eyes were still slightly red, but her lips had curled into a smile.

“Fine.” Her voice regained its usual crispness.

“For the sake of this BBQ meal, I forgive you.”

The two sat for a while longer, finishing off the remaining beef tendon and grilled chives.

Boss Fang poked his head out from the kitchen to ask if they wanted more skewers. Lin Que waved him off, took out his phone, and scanned the code to pay the bill.

At the shop entrance, the Beijing night wind was a few degrees cooler than it had been in the evening.

Ye Xi wrapped her scarf back on and put her sunglasses back on, shrinking back into that layer of protection.

Lin Que called a car by the roadside.

Before getting in, Ye Xi turned sideways and pulled something out from the inner pocket of her coat.

A ticket.

It was stiff cardstock with a silver-foiled border, and the logo of the National Concert Hall was printed on the front.

The seat number in the top right corner was clear: Section A, Row 2, Seat 7.

A front-row VIP seat.

Ye Xi held the ticket out to Lin Que, pinching one corner of it.

Her posture was formal, as if she were completing a long-planned task.

“October 3rd, 2:00 PM.”

Lin Que reached out to take it and flipped it over to look at the back.

In the blank space, a line was written in pencil. The handwriting was elegant but forceful, each word looking as if it were nailed into the paper.

“This seat must be filled.”

Lin Que tucked the ticket into his shirt pocket and patted it.

“I'll definitely be there.”

The vehicle drove away.

The Beijing night wind swirled up a few fallen leaves, carrying the dry cold of late autumn and early winter.

And at this moment,

Across six time zones and seven thousand kilometers away, the Balkan Peninsula was welcoming a continuous cold rain.

...