"So boring..."
Sprawled out on the jade recliner he had moved into the house, Jiang Hai fiddled with his phone, absentmindedly reading a novel. He glanced at the sunny weather outside, wondering if he should find something to do. Otherwise... it really was too boring.
Winter in the north was like this—there was simply nothing to do. If anyone heard Jiang Hai complain, they'd probably say: Why not go play in the snow? Build a snowman? Have a snowball fight?
If someone actually said that to him, Jiang Hai would probably spray them in the face with a mouthful of salty soda. Snowmen? Snowball fights? Are those adult activities? That's just childish. And besides—where was the snow?
It was only early November. Technically still early winter. Occasionally, there'd be a few snowflakes at night, but nothing substantial—barely a dusting. It'd all melt by noon. The weather this time of year had one defining feature: cold. The kind that made people want to do nothing but huddle indoors.
Even if Jiang Hai wanted to go out, there was nowhere to go.
Young people in Winthrop were either at school or hibernating at home. No one was crazy enough to brave the cold just for fun. Even the social types were holed up in bars—and everyone knew Jiang Hai didn't do bars.
And so here he was, lying like an old retiree on his lounge chair, occasionally staring at the ceiling or scrolling through his phone, completely at a loss for how to spend the day.
The time difference between the U.S. and China didn't help either—thirteen hours, to be exact. By the time Jiang Hai got up in the morning, it was already night back home. And when he was the freest around noon, everyone in China was fast asleep.
He couldn't just call up his friends and wake them from their slumber just to chat. So... nothing to do.
Well, to be fair, it wasn't like he really had nothing to do.
He could go to the cowshed—there was always work to be done there—but the smell put him off. He could head to the beach and catch some bamboo clams, maybe even take the boat out, but the cold made him lazy. So he stayed home, stuck in this cycle of boredom.
That was winter in the north: when there's no work, there's nothing. Not like spring, summer, or autumn when there were options. Now? Nothing.
Just as he was thinking of what to do, Xiaoya came bounding up the stairs in slippers, holding two candied haw skewers.
"Jiang, want some candied haws?" she asked cheerfully.
Jiang Hai perked up a little and took the strawberry skewer she handed him, biting in happily. These were the same candied haws he'd made a while back. Every day he'd store them in the freezer, and then leave them outside at night to let them freeze naturally.
The taste held up pretty well.
Though, to be fair, the strawberries were from way back—probably March to June, the peak strawberry season. They'd been frozen since, so while they weren't spoiled, the texture and flavor had changed a bit.
"Next year, I'm definitely building a greenhouse. I can't stand eating old fruit like this," Jiang Hai muttered to himself as he nibbled on a skewer. Then he glanced sideways at Xiaoya and sighed helplessly.
Even though it was below ten degrees Celsius outside—just a few degrees, actually—the geothermal heating in the manor kept the indoor temperature at a comfortable 26°C. It wasn't hot, but certainly not cold.
Which is why the women in the house dressed... rather liberally.
Darlene and Marianne preferred wearing sheer layered pajamas—though they were technically covered, there was little left to the imagination. Fortunately, Jiang Hai didn't have any improper thoughts about them, and more importantly, they listened to him.
But Bernice, Xiaoya, and Azalina? They were in another league altogether.
Bernice was fond of wearing tight camisoles around the house—without anything underneath. Whenever she bent over, Jiang Hai could see everything he wasn't supposed to. She paired it with snug capri leggings that clung tightly to her curves.
Azalina was even more outrageous. She often wore one of Jiang Hai's oversized t-shirts as a dress. Considering he was over 1.9 meters tall and weighed 260 pounds (mostly muscle), his shirts were enormous. On her, one side might stay at the neck while the other shoulder would fall completely off. Sometimes she wore shorts, other times she didn't bother. She moved through the house cool and casual—but if anyone knocked on the door, she'd vanish into her room like a ghost.
If she didn't show her shoulders, she'd reveal those dramatic cleavage lines instead. Jiang Hai didn't want to look, but it was hard not to. And if he did look... well, that was another problem entirely.
Xiaoya was the most modest of the group—until recently. Lately, it seemed like she'd been influenced.
Like today. She wore a lacy nightgown that barely reached mid-thigh. No bra underneath. After handing Jiang Hai the candied haws, she plopped herself onto the wooden lounge chair opposite him, her long legs fully exposed. Her dress slipped slightly, giving Jiang Hai an unfiltered view of her small but delicate chest... and the Pooh Bear shorts underneath.
Jiang Hai swallowed uncomfortably.
Her pale legs dangled and swung back and forth, toes wiggling like jade carvings. She was clearly in a great mood.
"You should really go put on more clothes," Jiang Hai muttered, a little flustered.
"Nope, I feel just right," she said, grinning. "And if I do feel cold, I'll just snuggle into your arms."
Jiang Hai rolled his eyes. "Who taught you to talk like that? Don't follow your sister's example. Learn to cook better instead."
"Oh? Is there anything you've been craving lately? Tell me and I'll make it," Xiaoya replied, eyebrows raised with interest.
That piqued his attention. For someone like Jiang Hai, food was probably the only thing that could distract him from women.
If I ever feel like I'm losing control again, I'll just focus on food, he told himself. Not sure how effective that'll be, but worth a shot.
"Actually... I've been craving soup dumplings. Can you make them?"
Since recovering from her illness, Xiaoya usually took care of lunch and dinner, while Jiang Hai handled breakfast when he felt like it. She'd become really talented at blending Chinese and Western styles—especially since they had no pork or freshwater fish—so the food she made was creative and delicious.
"Soup dumplings? You mean the ones from Jiangsu?" she asked, surprised.
"Uh... I think so. I just know they're the kind Bao Qingtian ate."
Soup dumplings, or "soup buns," had a history dating back to the Northern Song Dynasty. They weren't originally high-class food—street vendors sold them. While Kaifeng was their birthplace, they were most popular in Jiangnan now. That's why Xiaoya assumed they were from Jiangsu.
"Anyway, the kind with soup inside," Jiang Hai clarified.
"Oh, I see. I'll give it a try. I've always focused on red dishes—never really done white case cooking."
In culinary terms, "red case" refers to savory dishes like stir-fries and stews, while "white case" is for staple foods like buns, dumplings, and noodles. There's also "water case," which refers to prep work like washing vegetables and basic kitchen tasks.
Xiaoya eagerly ran off to try. Making soup dumplings wasn't easy—the folds, the broth, the dough texture—everything had to be just right.
An hour later, she called Jiang Hai downstairs to try them.
On the table sat a steaming basket of dumplings. Appearance-wise, they weren't perfect, but they looked promising. Bernice, Azalina, Darlene, Marianne, and Xiaoya were all gathered around, looking excited but hesitant.
"You didn't try them yet?" Jiang Hai asked.
They shook their heads in unison and looked at him expectantly.
"What's the filling?" he asked, lifting one curiously.
"Fresh meat and shrimp," Xiaoya said carefully.
Not bad. Jiang Hai bit a small hole and sipped the soup inside. Hot—but flavorful. His eyes lit up. The broth had to be chicken-based, enhanced by the savory pork and sweet shrimp. He'd give it a solid ten out of ten.
No wonder—it was made with his own ingredients. The pork was from the fragrant pigs he'd imported from China. The shrimp were Arctic sweet shrimp—both raised on herbs imbued with spiritual energy. Of course it would taste amazing.
After finishing the soup, Jiang Hai popped the dumpling in his mouth. The tender meat, the rich broth, the fresh shrimp—it all blended perfectly. He squinted in satisfaction.
"Did it work?" Xiaoya asked anxiously.
"Perfect!" Jiang Hai declared, grabbing the steamer basket and bolting upstairs.
The rest of the girls chased after him. They hadn't eaten yet, and he was stuffing the buns into his mouth like there was no tomorrow.
"Let them fight for it. You made more, right? Let's cook another batch," Azalina said, patting Xiaoya on the shoulder.
Xiaoya nodded, smiling. She'd almost forgotten she still had more buns. The two of them slipped into the kitchen again to continue cooking.
At that moment, a sports car slowly pulled up in front of Jiang Hai's manor.
(To be continued...)