After tea, hunger returned. They rose and made their way to a well-known but unpretentious restaurant tucked down a side alley. Lanterns of carved teakwood swung above the door. Inside, marble tables rested beneath carved screens, and lantern light danced on porcelain plates.
A gracious hostess guided them to a table draped in pale silk. "Please try our house specialties," she said with a respectful bow.
Mo Yuxin ordered simple dishes: porcelain bowls of clear broth with shredded chicken and winter bamboo, plates of steamed dumplings glistening with pork and chive, and a platter of stir-fried morning glory leaves.
Su Yubing poured them each a small cup of warm golden rice wine. "To home," she toasted.
"To home," Mo Yuxin echoed, clinking her cup lightly.
They ate slowly, savoring each bite. The chicken was tender, the soup clear and soothing. Outside, the city hummed with life.
