Summer vacation seemed steeped in honey. Amid the milky fragrance of the dessert shop and the warm sweetness drifting from its ovens, the days became wonderfully full and light.
Chen Jingming and I both landed summer jobs at Sweetheart Bakery, a well-known shop downtown. The hourly pay was every bit as good as he'd promised. The shop was small, decorated in cozy shades of warm yellow. Its glass cabinets displayed delicate cakes, brightly colored macarons, and soft, tempting cream puffs. A delightful sweetness always hung in the air.
A little sun like Chen Jingming quickly became the center of attention wherever he went. Quick with his hands and sweet with his words, he soon befriended the other part-timers. Even the stern woman who managed the shop treated him warmly. He always rushed to take the hardest jobs: carrying heavy sacks of flour, cleaning the enormous mixing bowls, lifting trays still scorching hot from the oven. Fine beads of sweat formed on his forehead and slid down his cheeks. He merely wiped them away with his arm, his signature sunny smile as tireless as ever.
“Nian-Nian! Try this!” He brought over a small plate of freshly cut cake trimmings as though presenting a treasure. It was the new sea-salt caramel flavor. “The manager says we can eat the bits that don't look good enough to sell!” His eyes shone as though he were sharing a delicacy beyond compare.
The rich sweetness of cream melted on my tongue with a trace of sea salt and the toasted fragrance of caramel. I nodded. “Mm. It's good.”
His grin immediately grew so wide his eyes nearly disappeared, as though he'd received the highest praise. “Right? I knew you'd like it!”
One afternoon, when there were few customers, Chen Jingming wheeled out a used electric scooter from somewhere. It was a soft pale green and looked well cared for.
“Nian-Nian.” He patted the seat, a little pride in his smile. “I fixed up this old relic of my dad's! Starting today, I'm teaching you to ride.”
I hesitated. I could barely manage a bicycle. An electric scooter...
“What are you scared of? You've got me!” He thumped his chest, his eyes full of trust and encouragement. “We'll practice on the little road behind the shop. Perfectly safe!”
His enthusiasm was always infectious. Unable to resist—and a little eager myself—I climbed onto the seat. He stood behind the scooter, both hands firmly holding its rear rack.
“That's it. Sit steady! Slowly twist the throttle with your right hand... Don't worry! I'm holding you from behind. You won't fall!” His voice was right behind my ear, warm-breathed, steady, and strong. Somehow it soothed my initial panic.
At first the scooter wobbled like a drunk. I was terrified, my heart in my throat. Chen Jingming's hands remained steady, his voice my surest support. Slowly, I found my balance. The scooter began to move smoothly. The evening breeze brushed my cheeks, carrying summer warmth and the promise of freedom.
“Nian-Nian! You've got it!” he cheered behind me, his pride and delight undisguised.
Learning to ride opened a door onto a wider world. Throughout that long vacation, I carried Chen Jingming on the scooter and, following his directions, traveled through the streets and lanes of Sunan City.
He took me beneath the vine-covered walls of the old town to eat little rice dumplings in sweet fermented rice, made by an elderly woman who had been selling them for decades. They were lightly sweet and tender, fragrant with osmanthus.
In the evenings, we rode along the river circling the city. We watched the sunset turn the water to broken gold, saw people cooling themselves on the banks with palm-leaf fans, and listened to nameless insects calling softly in the grass.
On weekend mornings, we arrived early at the market and threaded through its noisy, crowded stalls. He always knew exactly where to find the freshest, cheapest fruit, filling my scooter basket.
Once, when we finished work early, he even led me into an abandoned railway junction on the outskirts. Unfamiliar wildflowers bloomed between the sleepers. We sat side by side on the rusted rails, watching the enormous sun sink slowly in the distance. Neither of us spoke. Only the wind whispered by our ears. The peace and vastness of that moment burned themselves deep into my memory.
Another time, we rode a long way and found a wild pond covered in lotus blossoms. Broad leaves spread across the water, pink and white flowers standing gracefully among them, opening their petals beneath the summer sun. Chen Jingming produced two seedpods from somewhere and handed me one. We sat in the shade beside the pond, clumsily peeling the fresh, sweet lotus seeds. Sticky juice coated our fingertips. We looked at each other and smiled, the air itself filled with the pond's clean, watery scent.
Grandma's vegetable stall also became one of our regular stops. After my parents divorced, I had been left for her to raise alone while I was still very young. Adults were always like that. When they loved each other, a child was the fruit and proof of their love. Once they stopped loving each other, the child became unwanted baggage. From then on, I had lost both my mother and father, and Grandma alone brought me up. Her tiny vegetable stall was one of our main sources of income.
By now, Chen Jingming was practically an unofficial member of staff. Carrying vegetables, calling out to customers, taking payments—he could do it all. He always managed to charm even the fussiest, most penny-pinching older customers into smiling and paying gladly. Watching the two of us bustle around the little stall, Grandma's clouded eyes brimmed with affection.
“Ming-Ming, you must be tired. Have some water!” With a trembling hand, she offered him her own cup. “Not tired, Grandma! This is nothing!” He took it, swallowed a great mouthful, and beamed. “You rest. Nian-Nian and I are here!”
I watched them chatting happily, sunlight falling across his smiling eyes and her gray temples. A happiness I hadn't known in a long time wrapped around me. Once, I had studied hard only to give Grandma a good life and escape the mire of poverty. Now, looking at that warm scene, a vague thought quietly surfaced. Perhaps one more person in my future, one more source of warmth and support in my plans... might be rather nice.
Vacation was almost over. Two days before school began, Chen Jingming arrived early in the morning, full of mystery, and knocked at our door.
“Grandma! Nian-Nian! Get ready!” Excitement lit his face. “I'm taking you somewhere wonderful today!”
Somehow he'd rented a covered tricycle and carefully lined it with soft cushions. Half coaxed and half persuaded, Grandma and I climbed aboard. He pedaled us through streets and alleys, finally stopping at a small park on the outskirts that charged no admission. Built against a hillside, it was shaded by green trees, with a clear stream murmuring through it.
“Look, Grandma! There's a pavilion. Let's sit over there!” Supporting her with great care, he pointed toward stone benches beneath the trees nearby.
The sunlight was especially gentle that day, falling in scattered patches through layer upon layer of leaves. Grandma sat on a stone bench, watching children playing nearby and tiny fish swimming in the stream. Her face held a pure ease and pleasure I hadn't seen for a long time. Like a child herself, she even pointed to a clump of purple wildflowers beside the water and asked me to pick her a few.
“It's been so many years... since I came out for a walk.” Squinting as the cool woodland breeze touched her face, she sighed contentedly. “This is a lovely place. Quiet. Trees and water...”
Chen Jingming ran off to buy old-fashioned ice pops. The three of us sat in the shade, one each, slowly savoring their sweet chill. As they melted, drops fell onto the backs of our hands, sticky and cool. Grandma rambled through embarrassing stories from my childhood. Beside her, Chen Jingming laughed aloud and occasionally chimed in with a joke, making her laugh too.
Yet seeing the ease of her smile, the renewed sparkle in her eyes, brought a sting to mine. An immense sadness welled up inside me. Because of me, she still worked so hard in her later years, keeping that little stall from dawn until dark, saving my tuition and living expenses one cent at a time. Her rough palms, her stooped back, her prematurely clouded eyes... These were the price she had paid for me.
“Grandma.” I leaned against her thin but warm shoulder, my voice muffled. “One day... I'll give you a good life. You'll be able to rest and enjoy yourself.”
Her rough, warm hand gently patted mine. She said nothing. But her smile held more love and hope than I could fully understand just then.
Sitting on her other side, Chen Jingming unwrapped a milk candy and naturally slipped it into her mouth. Then he looked up. Across Grandma's gray hair, our eyes met. Golden sunset light rested in his eyes. He said nothing, only gave me a warm, unwavering smile that silently lent me strength.
In that moment, I heard my own heart clearly. The vague thought about “one day” came fully into focus.
Yes. A future with someone named Chen Jingming in it really would be wonderful.