A Bowl of Love in Wonton Soup
After his company went bankrupt, he became despondent, like a fallen leaf in the wind. To escape reality, he spent his days buried under blankets, sleeping endlessly. One day, he woke up with a growling stomach. In his dream, the memory of a bowl of rich and flavorful chicken soup wontons, steaming hot, came vividly to mind.
He called out for his lover, wanting her to go buy him a bowl of wontons, but then he remembered that she had left the night before, taking her clothes and jewelry with her.
He thought of his ex-wife, a composed and gentle woman. Back when he was working hard to start his business, often returning home late at night, she would always make him a bowl of hot wontons as a midnight snack. In a pristine white bowl, each wonton had a delicate white wrapper, encasing tender and juicy meat, lying plump in thick white chicken broth. A few drops of bright red chili oil and a handful of fresh green cilantro would make these simple ingredients burst with flavor. Later, when his business succeeded, he couldn’t resist temptation and had an affair. She asked for a divorce and moved out, cutting ties completely.
At this moment, he missed her intensely, and yearned for that warm, comforting bowl of wontons. Hesitantly, he picked up his phone and nervously sent a message: “How have you been? I really want a bowl of chicken soup wontons, but I can’t find any.”
A few minutes later, he received her reply: “Then come over.” His heart leapt with joy.
In her kitchen, he stood behind her, watching her patiently chop fresh meat into fine filling. In the pan beside her, chicken broth simmered, filling the room with its fragrant aroma. The long-missed smell of home made him feel warm. He gently hugged her from behind, whispering, “I’m sorry,” and buried his face in her hair.
He felt her body tremble slightly. She bowed her head for a long time before softly saying, “Go watch TV in the living room, the wontons will be ready soon.”
Retreating to the living room, he listened to the rhythmic sound of her chopping meat, a melody more beautiful than any symphony.
The taste was the same—pork and vegetable filling. He ate until his forehead was sweating, greedily drinking every drop of the soup. She sat quietly beside him, watching him eat with eyes full of indulgent love. He put down the bowl and sighed contentedly, “If only I could eat this every day.”
After a moment of silence, she said, “Then come over every day.”
His heart leapt again. Clearly, she still loved him. He hated himself for letting her go.
From then on, he pulled himself together and found a job as a supermarket supervisor. Dissatisfied, he complained to her that the job was beneath him. She calmly replied, “A supermarket supervisor is not bad. When we first divorced, I even worked as a building cleaner.”
His guilt surged again as he gazed deeply at her, but she just smiled and went into the kitchen to make his favorite shrimp wontons.
The work at the supermarket was tiring, and he often came home late. She started coming to his place to prepare dinner, waiting for him to eat together. The thought of remarrying her grew stronger each day.
Three months later, he was promoted to supermarket manager. Carefully selecting a necklace, he decided to propose to her again.
Returning home, he called her name. She came out of the kitchen, hands covered in flour. Before he could speak, she said, “I made various types of wontons and put them in the fridge. Whenever you want to eat, just take them out and cook them.”
He was stunned. “What do you mean?” She lowered her head, “I am getting married. We’ve known each other for a long time, and he’s been very good to me. We’ve postponed the wedding for four months to take care of you.”
In a hoarse voice, he asked, “So, you already had a boyfriend? Then why were you still so good to me?”
She smiled, “Because I loved you. How could I bear to see you unhappy? I cherish the you I once loved, and the me who once loved you.”
She left. He stood there, bewildered, looking around. On the wall was a recipe for wontons, detailing every step. As he looked at it, tears began to fall.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
