Chapter 5

Sam and I had known each other for less than a week. As an international exchange student from South Africa staying with my family, combined with his comical appearance and outgoing, talkative personality, we had quickly become friends over the past few days.

Although I felt an indescribable unease deep down about befriending this dark-skinned classmate from South Africa.

Before dinner, in the kitchen at home.

At Sam’s suggestion, we went to the kitchen to help Mom.

“Hey, Sam, you need to use chopsticks to mix the meat, not your hands!” Mom glanced over, her beautiful eyes filled with shock and anger.

Her furious tone startled me as I was washing vegetables by the sink, and I turned to look at Sam.

Mom was always very particular about hygiene, especially when it came to food. I remembered when I was a child, I often had the habit of not washing my hands before grabbing things to eat.

Every time Mom caught me, she would lightly slap my little hand and say, “Wash your hands before eating, Zihan. You need to be a healthy child.” Because of that, I’ve always been very careful about hygiene when eating.

I remember when Mom was younger, she loved wearing all kinds of dresses—sundresses, bodycon skirts, A-line skirts, floral dresses, long gowns, cheongsams...

With her fair, snow-like skin and tall, slender figure, she would often hold my hand and walk along the beach, taking photos of me, as well as pictures of the two of us together. Those are some of my fondest childhood memories.

My thoughts returned to the present as I looked at Mom standing by the induction cooker. Her figure was still curvaceous and graceful. Time may spare no one, but I felt Mom had only grown more beautiful, with an added touch of mature elegance.

“Oh, Mom, I’m sorry. Is this not proper etiquette in China?” Sam looked flustered, his dark hands unsure where to place themselves. He, too, was startled by Mom’s sudden reaction. “Sam, whether it’s Chinese etiquette or not, you shouldn’t mix the minced meat with your bare hands. It’s unhygienic. Didn’t you see the disposable gloves I placed in front of you?”

Mom still seemed shaken by Sam’s behavior, her beautiful eyes wide with disbelief.

“Mom, I’m sorry. In South Africa, we always make meatballs this way. I thought it was the same in China.” Sam quickly grabbed the disposable gloves on the cutting board and put them on.

“Sam, it’s not that I’m criticizing you, but food is so important—it has to be clean and hygienic!” Mom seemed to realize her earlier reaction might have been too strong and smiled gently at Sam.

At that moment, I felt a wave of relief. If Mom had really lost her temper and started scolding Sam nonstop, I wouldn’t have known how to handle the situation.

“Okay, thank you for reminding me, Mom. I’ll remember that,” Sam nodded with a grin, his dark hands now covered in disposable gloves as he focused intently on mixing the minced meat in the bowl. After washing the vegetables, I handed them to Mom for the soup. Originally, the meatballs Sam had shaped were meant to be boiled in the pot, but Mom decided to fry them instead. I guessed she was still somewhat wary of the meatballs shaped by Sam’s dark hands.

Maybe Mom thought frying the meatballs would make them cleaner, I thought to myself.

Sam continued to bounce around the kitchen cheerfully, hopping up and down like a gorilla in a zoo.

Dinnertime, in the living room.

The family was enjoying a cheerful dinner while watching a TV drama playing on the screen across the room.

“Honey, starting next week, I’ll be going on a business trip for about two months to set up a new branch for the company. I leave tomorrow.”

Dad spoke to Mom beside him, his voice steady, though his eyes avoided her widening gaze. After finishing his announcement, he quietly lowered his head and focused on his meal, knowing full well that Mom was about to give him an earful.

At home, Dad had always been the more submissive one, always listening to whatever Mom said.

“Another business trip! Why don’t you just move out there permanently?” Mom shot Dad a cold glare, her face flushed with anger.

“There’s no other choice. I’m the only one at the company suitable for the job,” Dad replied helplessly. Over the years, he had worked diligently and earned recognition at the company, which also meant more pocket money for me.

“Hmph,” Mom snorted, ignoring him.

Her slender hand picked up her chopsticks, plucked a leafy vegetable from the pot, and placed it into her rice bowl. She then opened her rosy lips and ate the vegetable along with a mouthful of white rice.