Summer vacation tasted as though it had been soaked in honey. Between the milky fragrance drifting through the dessert shop and the warm, sugary breath of its ovens, every day felt full and light.
Chen Jingming and I had both been hired for summer work at Sweetheart Bakery, a popular shop downtown. The hourly wage was every bit as good as he had said. The place was small, decorated in cozy shades of yellow. Its glass cases held delicate cakes, brightly colored macarons, and soft, tempting cream puffs, while a cheerful sweetness always lingered in the air.
A little sun like Chen Jingming could become the center of any place in no time. He was quick with his hands and sweeter with his mouth, soon getting along with all the other part-timers. Even the stern manager treated him gently. He always rushed to do the hardest jobs—carrying heavy bags of flour, scrubbing enormous mixing bowls, pulling scorching baking trays from the oven. Fine sweat beaded across his forehead and ran down his cheeks; he merely wiped it away with his arm, his trademark sunny smile never seeming to tire.
“Nian-Nian! Try this!” He brought over a little plate of freshly cut cake scraps as though he were presenting treasure. They were from the new sea-salt caramel cake. “The manager says the pieces that don't look pretty enough to sell can be eaten by us!” His eyes glittered as if he were sharing the finest food in the world.
The richness of cream melted over my tongue, mixed with the faint saltiness of sea salt and caramel's toasted scent. I nodded. “Mm. It's good.”
He immediately smiled so broadly his eyes nearly vanished. It was as if he had received the greatest praise. “See? I knew Nian-Nian would like it!”
One quiet afternoon, Chen Jingming somehow pushed out a somewhat battered electric scooter. Its body was a soft pale green, and it looked as though someone had cared for it well.
“Nian-Nian.” He patted the seat, a touch of pride in his grin. “I fixed up this old antique of my dad's! Starting today, I'm teaching you how to ride an electric scooter!”
I hesitated. I could barely ride a bicycle. An electric scooter...
“What are you scared of? You've got me!” He thumped his chest, complete trust and encouragement in his eyes. “We'll practice on the little road behind the shop. It'll be perfectly safe!”
His enthusiasm was always infectious. Unable to refuse him—and a little eager myself—I climbed onto the seat. He stood behind the scooter, both hands firmly holding the rear rack.
“That's it. Sit steady! Slowly twist the throttle with your right hand... Don't be afraid! I'm holding you from behind. You won't fall!” His voice was right by my ear, warm-breathed, calm, and strong. Somehow it settled my first wave of panic.
At the beginning, the scooter lurched from side to side like it was drunk. I was terrified, my heart in my throat. Chen Jingming's hands never wavered, and his voice became my strongest support. Slowly, I found my balance. The scooter began to glide forward steadily. The evening breeze brushed my cheeks, carrying summer warmth and the scent of freedom.
“Nian-Nian! You learned it!” Chen Jingming cheered behind me, his pride and delight impossible to hide.
Once I learned to ride, it felt as though a door had opened onto a wider world. During that long vacation, I drove with Chen Jingming behind me, following his directions through the streets and lanes of Sunan City.
He took me to the foot of old city walls covered in vines, where we ate osmanthus sweet-rice dumplings from an elderly woman who had sold them for decades. They were tender and softly sweet, scented with osmanthus.
At dusk, we rode beside the river that circled the city, watching the sunset turn the water to broken gold. People along the banks cooled themselves with palm-leaf fans, and nameless little insects hummed in the grass.
On weekend mornings, we got up early for the market. We threaded through its crowded, noisy stalls, and he always knew exactly where to find the freshest fruit at the lowest price, filling my scooter basket to the brim.
Once, when we finished work early, he even took me into an abandoned railway junction in the suburbs. Unnamed wildflowers grew between the sleepers. We sat side by side on rusty rails and watched an enormous sun slowly sink in the distance. Neither of us spoke. Only the wind whispered past our ears. The stillness and openness of that moment stamped themselves deep into my memory.
Another time, we rode far enough to find a wild pond blooming with lotus flowers. Broad lotus leaves blanketed the water; pink-and-white blossoms stood tall and opened their petals in the summer sun. Chen Jingming produced two lotus pods from nowhere and handed one to me. We sat beneath a tree by the pond, clumsily peeling the sweet, fresh seeds. Sticky juice coated our fingers. We looked at each other and laughed, and even the air seemed filled with the clean, watery freshness of the lotus pond.
Grandma's vegetable stall became another place we often went that summer.
After my parents divorced, I had been left with Grandma when I was very small. Adults were always like that. When they loved each other, a child was the proof and fruit of their love. When they stopped, the child became unwanted baggage.
From then on, I lost both my mother and father. Grandma alone raised me. Her tiny vegetable stall was one of the main sources of our income.
By then, Chen Jingming had practically become an unofficial member of the stall. Carrying produce, calling out to customers, taking payments—he was good at all of it. He could charm even the fussiest, most penny-pinching uncles and aunties into beaming and paying without hesitation. Grandma watched the two of us busy ourselves before the little stall, her clouded eyes full of affection.
“Ming-Ming, you must be tired. Hurry and have some water!” Grandma trembled a little as she held out her own cup.
“I'm not tired, Grandma! This is nothing!” Chen Jingming took the cup, swallowed a big mouthful, and flashed that bright smile. “You rest. Nian-Nian and I are here!”
I watched him and Grandma chatting happily. Sunlight rested on his smiling brows and eyes, and on Grandma's gray temples. A long-lost sense of happiness wrapped around me. I had once worked hard at school only to give Grandma a better life, to climb out of this poor mire. But looking at the warmth before me, a vague thought quietly surfaced—perhaps having one more person in my future, one more source of warmth and support, would not be so bad.
Vacation was nearly over. Two days before school began, Chen Jingming came knocking at our door early in the morning, looking secretive.
“Grandma! Nian-Nian! Get ready!” His excitement was impossible to contain. “I'm taking you somewhere nice today!”
Somehow he had rented a covered tricycle and carefully laid soft cushions inside. He half coaxed, half persuaded Grandma and me into it. He pedaled us through streets and alleys until we stopped at a free little park on the outskirts. The park leaned against a hill, thick with green trees, and a clear stream ran gently through it.
“Grandma, look! There's a pavilion over there. Let's go sit down!” Chen Jingming carefully supported her and pointed to the stone benches in the shade.
The sunlight was especially gentle that day, scattering bright fragments through layers of leaves. Grandma sat on the bench and watched children playing in the distance and little fish swimming through the stream. Her face held a pure ease and delight I had not seen in a long time. Like a child herself, she pointed to a clump of purple wildflowers beside the stream and asked me to pick a few for her.
“It's been so many years... since I came out for a walk.” Grandma narrowed her eyes against the cool breeze through the woods, her voice carrying a satisfied sigh. “This place is nice. Quiet, with trees and water...”
Chen Jingming ran off and came back with old-fashioned ice pops. The three of us sat in the shade with one each, slowly sucking at their sweet coolness. Melted ice ran onto the backs of our hands, sticky and cold. Grandma chattered about embarrassing things I had done as a child. Chen Jingming laughed loudly beside her, throwing in jokes now and then until Grandma laughed as well.
Yet when I saw her relaxed smile and the renewed light in her eyes, mine began to sting. A bottomless sadness rose inside me. Because of me, Grandma was still working so hard in the twilight of her life, guarding that small vegetable stall from dawn to dark and saving every cent for my tuition and living expenses. Her rough hands, bent back, and prematurely clouded eyes... all were the price she had paid for me.
“Grandma.” I leaned against her thin but warm shoulder, my voice muffled. “One day... I'll definitely give you a good life. You'll get to enjoy your old age.”
Her rough, warm hand patted the back of mine. She did not say anything, but her smile held too much love and hope for me to fully understand then.
Chen Jingming sat on Grandma's other side. He unwrapped a milk candy and naturally put it into her mouth. Then he looked up. Over Grandma's gray hair, his eyes met mine. The golden light of sunset fell into them. He said nothing, only gave me a smile full of warmth and certainty, silently passing strength to me.
At that moment, I heard my own heart clearly. The vague thought about the future came sharply into focus.
Yes. Having someone named Chen Jingming in my life from then on really would be wonderful.