In honor of firstname.lastname@example.org and daydreaming817, we have released another chapter of Les Interpretes.
I was going to invite my classmates over to eat dumplings, consuming a lot of effort.
Foreign white lettuce was very hard, I had to use water to boil it to soften it, before making the filling; all the meat at the market were all mixed with foreign sauces. I could only buy my own meat processing machine. The good part was that French flour was of great quality, it was white and chewy. After you cooked it, it would look transparent. But I couldn’t only have dumplings. I smashed the cucumbers, and mixed salt and sesame paste I had bought from a Chinese stop, making “Chinese salad”; in the case of anyone not eating it, I also prepared a few sandwiches and two big bowls of fried rice with eggs. I even bought some fruits and beer.
I busily worked like this for a whole afternoon, in the evening, the dumplings came out of the pot, and my friends continuously arrived.
The white cabbage dumplings were very liked, my Hong Kong and Taiwan classmates both felt this northern food taste was very new and strange, not to mention the foreigners. The food’s fragrance also attracted some exchange students from the same floor. Thus, faces of different colors all filled my tiny room. I felt very accomplished; such a simple dish made them all full of desire.
Auld Ferlande who had came from work brought us two melons. She ate some of my dumplings, and gave a thumbs up: “Delicious, delicious.”
I asked her: “Why hasn’t your little brother come yet?”
“He didn’t come?” She looked around, “Hey, who knows. Fei,” She gave me the plate that was completely clean, “Hit me up with some more fried rice.”
They finished eating, drank tea, drank beer, I didn’t know who brought a recorder to play Arabian music. Some people softly spoke, laughing, some people slowly danced to the music in the center of the room, a small space.
I sat on the sofa by the entrance, and accepted a cigarette that Aude gave me, and deeply breathed it in. Shrouded in smoke, I felt very happy.
My phone rang. I answered it saying “Hello?”.
The other side of the phone stopped for a second, and then I heard Cheng Jia Yang’s voice say: “Qiao Fei?”
I stood up, leaving my room, running to the dormitory’s patio. I said: “Hi, it’s me, are you good, Jia Yang.”
On the patio, the moonlight was bright, and the wind was soft and breezy, brushing my face and my neck. I didn’t have to look in the mirror to know I was smiling, I said: “It should be the morning over there right, why call me now?”
“Did you ever call me? I got your phone number.”
“Yeah, a few days ago. I was going to tell you, my basic course ended and I got 16 points for both courses.”
“That’s good. Congratulations.
…… what are you doing now?”
“I’m with my classmates, having a party.”
“Is it lively?”
“It’s great. My dumplings were very popular.”
“That’s right, I know. You really know how to cook.”
I felt as if I had more to say to Jia Yang, my words were in my heart, tossing around, but I didn’t know how to begin. I only hoped that he would say something more. I loved his voice the most, there were never any clear impurities. Hearing it today, it was just as soft.
“Okay then, go play, be happy. Bye.”
This ended so quickly?
“Bye.” I could only say it like this.
I closed the phone, and looked up at the night sky.
How could I forget Cheng Jia Yang’s appearance, being so handsome. His thick eyebrows, his watery eyes, his mouth that would make me into chaos, his white face that was like the dumpling skin I had used to make the dumplings today.
People were separated from such a great distance. When I thought about him, I forgot all those misunderstandings from before, and my heart was full of his goodness. His sweetness that would be like the waves in summer.
I also didn’t know how long I spent on the patio. I basically forgot all my friends, and returned. It seemed that everyone had left. They wrote me a paper and stuck it on the door, it said: “Fei, thank you for your dumplings and your just as fragrant fried rice, which was just like our friendship. Underneath, all the faithful heroes signed their names.
I laughed, took the paper off of the door, and pushed open the door. I saw that there was still one person sitting there, carefully looking at my picture which was pasted on the desk. He looked over. It turned out that it was Zu Zu, with black hair and black eyes, he looked at me: “I’ve come, but it looks like all the good things have all been eaten.”