The day had mellowed after Liu Fenfang and Shen Yimin's exit from the Youth Arts Bureau. Their overly calculated friendliness and forced smiles still lingered like a faint perfume—unpleasant and hard to scrub away. Jia Lan returned to her desk and flipped through a fresh batch of design drafts, the lines swimming faintly before her eyes.
Her desk was tidy, almost too neat. A carved porcelain pen holder, gifted by her grandfather, held three meticulously sharpened pencils. A glass jar of hawthorn candies sat to the side, nestled against her floral notepad. A crocheted coaster, made by her second sister-in-law, held her delicate blue-and-white porcelain teacup, half-filled with cooled chrysanthemum tea.
The office hummed in a lazy, slow rhythm. Outside, the branches of a poplar tree swayed gently against the sunlight, scattering golden patterns onto the tiled floor. Inside, the clatter of typewriters had dwindled to occasional taps, and the scent of jasmine tea lingered.
Sister Li leaned back in her chair, fanning herself with a report folder. "Tch. That girl in pink… What a calculating face. I bet she came here fishing for favors.
Sister Li shuffled over, her eyes still sharp despite her years. "So? What did they want?"
"Just… to catch up," Jia Lan replied, voice airy.
"Hmph," Sister Li grumbled, plopping herself down at the corner of Jia Lan's desk, helping herself to a candy. "That girl in pink looked like she was planning to borrow sugar and leave with the whole jar."
Jia Lan laughed. "She asked about my work, complimented the office… and mentioned how peaceful it is here."
"She was too eager," Zhao Meiling muttered, sharpening a pencil. "You can tell when someone's pretending to be sweet. Jia Lan, did you know her before?"
"Not really." Jia Lan looked up with a soft smile. "We're from the same village, that's all."
"Well, she looked at your clothes like she wanted to borrow them," Sister Li quipped.
"Of course she did. She was probably measuring it in her mind, wondering if she could pull it off," Zhao Meiling muttered.
Jia Lan chuckled. Today she wore a seafoam green blouse with a row of tiny pearl buttons down the front, paired with a flowing beige skirt that moved with an effortless grace when she walked. Her desk was tidy, a porcelain cup holding three sharpened pencils, and a delicate teacup painted with crane motifs sat on a coaster with stitched cherry blossoms.
"Connections," Zhao Meiling muttered, glancing meaningfully toward Jia Lan. "Everyone's looking to climb."
"Let them try," Sister Li snorted. "Climbing up is one thing. Staying up is another."
The trio chuckled, the tension from earlier slowly fading. Outside, the sky had turned a dreamy periwinkle. The afternoon light spilled in golden waves through the window, illuminating floating dust particles that danced lazily through the room.
Just as she dipped her brush into black ink, the chime of the wall clock struck three.
"Tea time," Sister Li announced. "I brought red bean cakes today."
A round tin appeared, filled with delicately molded cakes. Jia Lan took one, admiring the flower imprint. "Still warm."
"Picked them up on the way here. My nephew's fiancée works at that new bakery near South Lane."
"Lucky girl," Jia Lan murmured, taking a small bite. The soft red bean filling melted on her tongue.
By late afternoon, Jia Lan finished her last set of sketches and carefully filed them away. She had a clear sense something was shifting—people who had once dismissed her as a spoiled city girl were now eyeing her with barely concealed ambition. She wasn't offended. She was simply amused.
As the office clock ticked toward five, Jia Lan stood and stretched lightly. The sun was beginning its descent, painting the walls in soft tangerine tones.
"Going home early today?" Zhao Meiling asked.
"Father's at the bureau tonight. Mother said she'll be making winter melon soup," Jia Lan replied.
"Oho, a lucky girl," Sister Li said wistfully. "I'll be eating cold noodles again."
"Come for dinner next time," Jia Lan offered playfully.
Once home, Jia Lan was greeted by the fragrant smell of simmering broth. The rich scent of pork bones and dried shrimp filled the tiled kitchen, and she slipped out of her heels by the entryway.
Lin Shunhua wore an embroidered light-blue apron, her hair swept into a graceful bun. "Lanlan, you're back. Wash up, the soup's almost ready."
In the living room, Jia Chenghai sat cross-legged on a low cushion, sipping tea. He raised his brows with a grin. "Your mother's in a good mood. Must be because she turned down another proposal."
"Oh?" Jia Lan asked, raising a brow as she washed her hands.
"Someone from the neighborhood came by," Lin Shunhua explained. "They say their cousin's son just passed his cadet exam and would make a good match."
"And?"
"I told them our Lanlan is only sixteen," her father said with a dramatic sigh. "What do they think we are, marrying her off like a bundle of rice?"
"She's still our little lotus," Lin Shunhua added with mock sternness. "They were very insistent though. But we don't want our daughter being hurried into anything."
Jia Lan grinned, settling at the table. "Thank you for protecting me."
"You should've seen the auntie's face," her father said with a chuckle. "Looked like someone told her the ration station shut down."
They laughed together as dinner was served: winter melon soup with bits of tender pork, stir-fried chives with egg, and cold cucumber with sesame oil. The meal was simple but full of warmth.
Afterward, as Jia Lan prepared to head to her room, a soft chime echoed in her mind.
Ding! Daily Sign-In Complete.
Day 61 Reward: Advanced Culinary Mastery (Permanent)
Jia Lan blinked. A warm sensation filled her limbs, like the confidence of a seasoned chef being poured directly into her fingers.
She smiled faintly. So tomorrow, perhaps she'd surprise her family with a meal.
Back in her room, she stood by her small writing desk, lit by the golden lamp shaped like a lotus. She pulled out a notepad and began planning a menu—elegant, balanced, and full of love.
Outside, the stars blinked over the city skyline.
Inside, Jia Lan sharpened her blessings into grace.