Oh no! I've only been a freshman and I've already been targeted by a mean upperclassman.

"Your visual estimation error range is—"

"I didn't use visual estimation." Yan Xi put down the knife. "When you said 2.3, you were looking at the middle section of the fish, slightly to the right. The distance from that position to your first cut is your default reference point. When I finished off the fish, I used your line of sight as the anchor."

Li Chen's cleaver stopped on the cutting board.

She deduced the standard spacing from the movement of his eyes in less than two seconds, and then corrected it with a finishing move.

"If you used this ability on exams—"

"It's boring." Yan Xi washed her hands. "There are too few variables in the exam."

Li Chen placed the fish used for practice on a plate. "Put it in the steamer. Bring the water to a boil over high heat, then put the fish in. Steam for seven and a half minutes, then turn off the heat, without opening the lid, let it sit for one minute."

"Why is it seven and a half points instead of eight?"

"The thickness of the fish. The thickest part of this fish's spine is about 3.8 centimeters, and it will be cooked through in 7.5 minutes without being overcooked. If it's more than 4 centimeters thick, it will take 8 minutes."

Yan Xi put the fish into the steamer. She paused for a moment as she put the lid on.

"When your grandfather first let you steam fish on your own, how long did it take you to steam it?"

"Nine minutes passed, the fish meat fell apart, and he made me buy another one."

"And the second time?"

"Seven and a half points."

"One-time correction is all it takes?"

"I used math," Li Chen said. "Based on the timing of the first overshoot and the extent to which the fish meat fell apart, I deduced the optimal duration."

Yan Xi looked at him. "So your grandfather's seven and a half points are decades of experience, while your seven and a half points are an equation."

"The result is the same."

"The processes are different." Yan Xi's gaze shifted to the steamer. "Which one would your grandfather prefer?"

Li Chen did not answer.

He knew the answer. His grandfather preferred experience. Because experience carries the weight of time, which equations don't.

"So when I do it tomorrow—"

"Use your senses. Don't calculate."

Yan Xi nodded.

The water in the steamer boiled, and white steam rose from the edge of the lid.

Li Chen started timing. Yan Xi stood beside him, not looking at her phone or saying anything, her gaze fixed on the steamer lid, as if trying to remember the rhythm of the steam overflowing.

Seven and a half.

Yan Xi turned off the fire.

I waited a minute. Then I lifted the lid.

The cut on the fish's back was slightly open.

The fish is intact.

In Li Chen's words, the color was "white to the perfect degree."

He poked the thickest part of the fish with his chopsticks. The chopsticks pierced through easily, and the fish meat didn't fall apart.

"It's done."

Yan Xi's lips twitched slightly.

Tiny.

But Li Chen caught it.

"You're happy."

"no."

"The corner of your mouth is off by about two millimeters."

"Could you please stop measuring my expression with millimeters?"

"I'm used to it."

Yan Xi picked up the bowl of pre-mixed steamed fish soy sauce from the stove and poured it over the fish.

The technique is steady, with a linear trajectory, rinsing the fish from head to tail in one go, without any backhand motion.

"The trajectory of you pouring soy sauce is a straight line."

"What's the problem?"

"No problem. But the usual practice is to draw circles. Your straight line is an architectural approach, finding the shortest path from point A to point B."

"Why is your grandfather getting wet?"

"Draw circles. But the circles are irregular. He said that cooking is not like drawing; it doesn't require precision, it requires feeling."

Yan Xi stared at the fish. She remained silent for two seconds.

"When I get showered tomorrow."

"What's wrong?"

"Draw a circle."

"Not drawing straight lines anymore?"

Yan Xi put down her chopsticks and touched the back of his hand with the back of her hand.

"Your grandfather's circles are irregular because he has decades of experience. My straight lines are because I only have this one fish today. But give me time, and I will find my own way of 'sprinkling'."

Li Chen's fingers touched her knuckles.

That's enough.

"What's enough?"

"You don't need to be nervous tomorrow."

Yan Xi's fingers curled slightly. "I told you I wasn't nervous."

"You practiced a set of three fish punches today. You also learned how to tie an apron and sharpen a knife. You're the best prepared of all the non-nerve-worried people."

Yan Xi took off her apron, folded it neatly, and placed it on the table.

"Could you hang up my apron for me?"

Li Chen took it. It was hanging on a hook on the wall. Next to it was Shen Ruolan's apron.

Two side by side.

Yan Xi glanced at it, said nothing, and walked out of the kitchen.

My phone vibrated. It was a message from Yan Xi. She had already gone to the living room.

[Yan Xi: Tomorrow's fish. I'll do it.]

Li Chen looked at the two aprons side by side.

[Li Chen: Okay.]

At seven o'clock on the morning of the third day of the Lunar New Year, Li Chen was awakened by noises from the kitchen.

It wasn't Shen Ruolan. Shen Ruolan cooks slowly, adding ingredients only after the oil is hot, allowing for a waiting period in between.

The sound now is like a cleaver landing on a cutting board. The frequency is steady. The intervals are even. But it's a fraction of a second slower than yesterday's rhythm.

Yan Xi.

Li Chen got up, put on his slippers, and walked to the kitchen door.

Yan Xi was already dressed.

She was still wearing that off-white turtleneck sweater.

The apron is tied.

First, loop around, then tie, just like Shen Ruolan taught me yesterday.

Her hair was tied in a low ponytail.

She wasn't wearing a phoenix hairpin either.

She stood in front of the stove, with a bass in front of her.

It's been resolved.

Remove the scales, gut the animal, and cut it.

Li Chen glanced at it.

The spacing between the cuts on the fish's body—

2.3 centimeters.

She practiced again last night.

What time did you get up?

Yan Xi didn't turn around. "Six o'clock."

When was the fish processed?

"6:15."

"Is the first thing you do when you get up to kill fish?"

"The first thing I did was practice boxing. The second thing was to kill fish. The third thing was to wipe the kitchen countertop twice."

Li Chen walked over.

The countertop is indeed cleaner than yesterday.

Yan Xi isn't the type to wipe things down everywhere.

She wiped it twice because she was nervous.

"What time is your grandfather arriving?"

"He said 10 o'clock. But he usually arrives earlier. According to his habit, it's around 9:30."

"I still have two and a half hours."

Li Chen leaned against the stove, watching her.

Yan Xi's fingers paused on the edge of the cutting board. "Aren't you going to wash up?"

"I'll keep an eye on you first."

"What are you looking at?"

"You don't seem nervous at all."

Yan Xi picked up the kitchen knife and tapped it lightly on the cutting board. She didn't say anything.

Li Chen noticed the position of the web of her right hand—it was slightly higher when she held the knife yesterday, but she adjusted it down today. The grip felt more comfortable.

"The position of your tiger's mouth has changed."

"Your mother came to the guest room again last night."

"What did I teach you?"

"When slicing ginger, you should lower your hand by half a finger so that the back of the knife doesn't hit your knuckle."

Li Chen went to wash up.

While he was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, he heard the sound of ginger being chopped coming from the kitchen.

Light and even.

There was no sound of the back of the knife hitting the knuckles.