Engraved on the back: Jiang Yuanzheng, Third Class Merit.

I picked it up and held it in my palm.

It was very light.

So light it didn't feel like something exchanged for a human life.

"Uncle Liu..."

"Your father’s proudest moment in life wasn't getting on that levee, and it wasn't saving people."

His eyes turned red.

"It was having you."

"He told me that his greatest wish in life was to see his daughter go to college. He said his daughter was smart and would definitely make something of herself in the future."

The table went quiet.

Aze wiped his eyes secretly. Lu was already crying.

Grandma C held my hand, not saying a word.

Cole sat across from me, watching me quietly.

I tucked the medal away and put it into my pocket.

Right against my heart.

"Dad, you were right."

"Your daughter has made something of herself."

After the meal, Cole helped clear the table.

He was very clumsy at washing dishes; his sleeves were rolled high, and his arms were splashed with bubbles.

I stood beside him, watching.

"Have you never washed dishes in your life?"

"This is the first time in front of you."

"Then you’re doing a terrible job."

"If you don't like it, do it yourself."

"I don't mind."

He turned to look at me.

The faucet was still running, the water splashing loudly.

"Nora."

"Yeah?"

"That meal—I still owe you one."

"Didn't you treat me to one just last week?"

"That time doesn't count. You took three work calls during that meal."

"Then when will you treat me?"

"Now."

"Now? We just finished eating."

"I’m not asking you out for a meal." He turned off the faucet, his hands covered in foam, and reached out.

"I’m asking you to have every meal with me from now on."

I looked at his foam-covered hands.

"Your hands are covered in dish soap."

"Are you going to agree or not?"

I grabbed a dry towel and wiped his hands clean.

Then I placed my own hand into his palm.

"Agreed."

The kitchen light was a warm yellow, shining down on our damp, intertwined hands.

It wasn't romantic.

But it was real.

Like a soup simmered over a slow fire—no fancy frills, just honest, solid flavor.

Chapter 28

Zhao Meifen was discharged from the hospital five months after her surgery.

Lucy took a day off to pick her up.

I didn't go.

But I had Lucy bring her two things.

An envelope containing a photocopy of that passbook and an enlarged photo of the last page with the words "For Nora’s college tuition" written on it.

There was also a note with a single sentence written on it.

"This is what Dad left for me. You knew where it was, yet you lied to me for twenty-two years."

Lucy said that after Zhao Meifen saw the note, she didn't say a word during the entire taxi ride.

Once they reached the place she was renting—a single room in a "village within the city"—she finally spoke one sentence.

"Your sister is right. I don't deserve it."

Lucy relayed this to me while I was in the back kitchen mixing a newly developed sauce.

"Did she say anything else?"

"She said she won't look for you again."

"Mhm."

"Truly, she won't." Lucy looked at me. "I promise."

"You don't need to promise. Whether she looks for me or not doesn't affect my life."

Lucy nodded and went back to chopping vegetables.

After that, Zhao Meifen truly never looked for me again.

No calls, no texts, no sending messages through others.

She lived off her pension and health insurance subsidies, with two thousand yuan deducted by the court every month to pay off her debt.

Lucy transferred one thousand yuan to her for living expenses every month.

It was money saved from the salary she earned at Nora’s Kitchen.

I knew about it, but I didn't say anything.

That was Lucy’s choice. Everyone has the right to decide who they want to be good to.

That was a lesson Zhao Meifen never understood.

But Lucy had learned it.

Six months later, the seventh branch of Nora’s Kitchen opened. This time, it was in Beijing.

It wasn't a tiny shop in an alley anymore; it was a standalone two-story building next to Sanlitun.

The first floor was an open kitchen and dining area, and the second floor held private banquet rooms.

Many people came on opening day.

Food critics, food bloggers, several catering industry media outlets, and two famous chefs who had returned from overseas.

But the person who surprised me the most was a white-haired old man.

He leaned on a cane, wearing an old military uniform with three medals pinned to his chest.

"Excuse me, is Jiang Nora here?" he asked the server at the door.

The server called me out.

I looked at him; I didn't recognize him.

"You are—"

"My name is Wang Dehou. During the flood relief back then, your father saved three people. I was the first one."

I stood at the door, unable to move for a long time.

"When your father dragged me out of the water, I held his leg, unable to speak. He said one sentence to me—'Brother, you go first; there are others behind us.'"

"Then he rushed back in."

The old man’s eyes were bloodshot, but he didn't cry.

"I searched for your family for many years but could never find you. Two days ago, I saw your program on TV and recognized your father’s name. I came all the way from Henan by train today just for this."

He took a small cloth bag out of his military uniform pocket and opened it.

It was a yellowed group photo.

The photo showed a group of young soldiers in training uniforms standing on the levee.

The one on the far left was smiling the brightest.

It was my father.

"This was taken before we got on the levee. Your father stood on the far edge; he said he was afraid of blocking others."

I took the photo.

The young man in the photo, twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old, tanned dark by the sun, had one crooked front tooth.

Just like in the photo of him holding me, he had two dimples when he smiled.

"Thank you, Grandpa Wang."

"I’m not the one who should thank you; I’m the one who should thank your father. Without him, there would be no me."

I invited him to sit in the shop and cooked him a bowl of noodles myself.

Three-fresh noodle soup, the broth made from a base of old hen and ham simmered for eight hours.

He took a bite and nodded.

"Delicious. I wish your father could taste this."

"He can taste it," I said.

Chapter 29

Five years later.

Nora’s Kitchen had grown to twenty-three locations nationwide, with two central kitchens and an annual revenue exceeding one hundred million.

I appeared on the cover of People magazine, with the headline: "From a Steamed Bun to a Brand—Jiang Nora’s Twenty Years."

I didn't particularly like the title. But Fang Ran said, a good title isn't about whether you like it, but whether it can let more people know your story.

Liu Tiezhu retired and was growing vegetables in his hometown. Every month, he mailed me a box of his homegrown produce with a note, which always contained only four words: "Eat well, sleep well."

Grandma C was eighty years old.

Her health was not what it used to be; she needed a cane to walk, and her hands were no longer steady enough to cook. But she still insisted on entering the kitchen every day, even if just to boil a bowl of porridge.

She would say, "The kitchen is my battlefield; if I’m going to die, I want to die in front of the stove."

I would say, "Could you say something more auspicious?"

She would laugh and pat my head.

Cole and I got married.

There was no grand wedding; it was held in that first Nora’s Kitchen in the old town. Six tables, seating only the people closest to us.

Grandma C sat at the head table, and Liu Tiezhu served as the witness.

He raised his glass and said, "Yuanzheng, your daughter is married. Rest assured, I’ve vetted this young man for you; he’s reliable."

The whole room laughed.

I didn't laugh.

I looked down at the military medal in my hand.

I had pinned it to the collar of my wedding dress.

As my dowry.

Lucy eventually worked her way up from a vegetable washer to a store manager.

The manager of the Nora’s Kitchen in the provincial capital.

She managed a team of twelve, waking up at six every day for prep, and not locking the doors until eleven at night.

Her son was in elementary school; his grades were average, but he was happy.

Once, while I was visiting the provincial store for an inspection, I saw Lucy teaching a new apprentice how to wash vegetables.