The temple fair was an old tradition in Jiang City.
The liveliest one was on Taihe Street, passing through West Twentieth Alley, along the outskirts of East Lake Park. The locals called it the First Day Temple Fair.
Peng Xiangzhi loved it when she was a child. The crowds were so thick that she would sit on her father’s shoulders, nibbling on sugar figurines and enjoying the view from above while shaking her head.
After puberty, she lost interest, finding it too crowded. Later, when she went to college and joined a band, she had even less regard for the temple fair.
But today was different. She thought Xiang Wan needed some excitement, and after much consideration, she decided that the liveliest place in Jiang City was still the First Day Temple Fair.
They arrived in the afternoon, not too early. Entering the towering gate, the vehicles outside were already jammed to the point of immobility, and the crowd became denser as they went further in. The hustle and bustle of the temple fair was hidden amidst the throngs of people, but fortunately, the intermittent megaphone playing music added to the festive atmosphere.
Xiang Wan felt a little dizzy from the jostling, so Peng Xiangzhi offered her hand and said, “Follow me, and don’t get squeezed.”
Xiang Wan was dressed in a plaid coat, with a beige woolen scarf wound around her neck and her long hair resting on the scarf. She hadn’t put on any makeup and looked so clean that rubbing against her seemed offensive.
Peng Xiangzhi, on the other hand, wore a short jacket-style woolen coat with slim-fitting jeans tucked into black flat boots. She appeared tall and proficient. However, she had pinned a dark red beret on her slightly curled hair, adding a feminine touch to the jacket’s coolness.
Xiang Wan held her hand, walking cautiously. She sighed when her shoulder got bumped again, “There are so many more people here today than yesterday.”
Peng Xiangzhi laughed at her, “Yesterday was New Year’s Eve, who would go out then?”
“You came to see me yesterday,” Xiang Wan asked her, “Did your family say anything?”
“They can’t control me.”
Peng Xiangzhi pinched her hand and motioned her to look ahead as she said, “Look at that kid, haha, walking to the rhythm of the music. I’ll count one, two, three, and she’s bound to trip.”
Xiang Wan refused to look, “You’re so mean.”
“What else should kids be for if not for teasing? You’re the one who’s boring.” Peng Xiangzhi snorted at her, still following the child with her eyes.
One, two, three… ah, the child fell.
Peng Xiangzhi couldn’t help but laugh, and Xiang Wan bowed her head, covering her lips with a light smile.
“Hey? I thought someone said I was mean? Don’t laugh if you dare.” Peng Xiangzhi shot her a sideways glance.
“This laughter isn’t because I’m mean; it’s because it’s childish.” Xiang Wan said leisurely.
“Who’s childish?” Peng Xiangzhi frowned.
“You’re childish, and so am I,” Xiang Wan said, curving the corners of her mouth.
“Fine,” Peng Xiangzhi released her hand, patted it lightly before holding it again. “It’s fair enough.”
Smelling the delicious aroma of Luzhu[1], Peng Xiangzhi led Xiang Wan through the crowd, squeezed to the roadside and looked at the giant pot that’s as tall as a half person in a small booth. Inside it, old soup braised with intestines, lungs and offal, steaming hot. With each scoop and pour by the stall owner, followed by a sprinkle of green onions, Peng Xiangzhi felt her mouth watering.
Taking out her mobile phone, she asked Xiang Wan, “Do you want some?”
Xiang Wan knitted her eyebrows while pulling her head back.
In her eyes, Peng Xiangzhi saw the word ‘fear’.
“What’s the matter with you?” Peng Xiangzhi hated when people questioned the local cuisine of their Jiang City.
Xiang Wan raised her hand, pointed at the tip of her nose, and coughed lightly.
“You look down on our Jiang City,” Peng Xiangzhi pinched her hand.
Xiang Wan winced, shaking her head: “Not at all.”
“False sentiments.”
“If you don’t mind, let’s have a bowl of mung bean milk[2] later.”
Xiang Wan’s face turned pale and her chest began to heave, barely able to control herself.
Peng Xiangzhi was furious: “You’re done, Xiang Wan.”
“Hm?”
“You’re not worthy! You’re not worthy of our Jiang City temple fair, you’re not worthy of the hospitality of our Jiang City people, you’re not worthy of this ancient capital’s thousand-year heritage!”
Xiang Wan looked at her, curved her eyes and whispered, “Thousand-year heritage… am I not worthy?”
“You…”
“I’m more than worthy,” said Xiang Wan with a smile, drawing a conclusion.
In the middle of the winter, Peng Xiangzhi felt as if her head were about to smoke.
Yes, it was Peng Xiangzhi who was unworthy. On the first day of the new year, she wanted to be kind and do good deeds, but ended up getting angry. If she knew this would happen, she would rather go to Qinghe Temple to burn incense and worship.
Seeing Peng Xiangzhi fall silent, Xiang Wan grew worried, thinking that she might be genuinely angry. So she gently pulled on her hand and said, “I’m sorry, it’s my fault.”
“What apology?” Peng Xiangzhi spoke vaguely, still ignoring her.
“Apologies to the Luzhu,” Xiang Wan smiled and nodded towards the direction of the Luzhu.
“And apologies to the mung bean milk,” she tip-toed to look around for the mung bean milk stall.
Peng Xiangzhi was amused, pointing her index finger at her, “Pretentious.”
She then still held Xiang Wan’s hand and continued walking.
“We, the people of Jiang City, don’t care about such things. Neither do the Luzhu nor the mung bean milk.”
“Right.”
“We, the people of Jiang City, are magnanimous and open-minded.”
“Right.”
Walking by the snack stall, Peng Xiangzhi bought a skewer of candied hawthorns for Xiang Wan, thinking that she would enjoy this kind of snack that had been around since ancient times. However, being the daughter of a prime minister’s family, Xiang Wan had never tasted it before.
Upon taking a bite, Xiang Wan’s normally composed features twisted together, and tears threatened to fall.
“No crying!” Peng Xiangzhi scolded her.
Xiang Wan looked at her, holding back her tears.
“You’re a tough T! No tears allowed!”
What kind of image would a T have if she cried in public?
While not understanding why a tough T shouldn’t cry, Xiang Wan saw Peng Xiangzhi’s fierce expression and, realizing she wasn’t that upset to begin with, decided to swallow her tears.
“Wow, are you really that tough T?” Peng Xiangzhi was amazed, “The kind that never be a bottom?”
This tough T’s dignity was just too effective.
“What is a tough T?” Xiang Wan asked while holding the candied hawthorns.
“It means being purely top, not allowing others to touch you even in bed.” Peng Xiangzhi brought her hand close to Xiang Wan and whispered.
After considering for a moment, Xiang Wan softly replied, “I can let people touch me.”
Ah, Peng Xiangzhi loved hearing such intimate secrets between friends. She immediately asked, “So what’s your top to bottom ratio?”
“Uh…”
Seeing Xiang Wan’s confusion, she explained, “It’s about what you prefer in bed: how many times you want to be top versus being bottom. If, for example, out of ten times, you want to be topt eight times, then your ratio is 0.8.”
“Then I’m 0.8.”
“You didn’t even think about it! Are you just being lazy and copying the 0.8 I said?” Peng Xiangzhi stomped her foot in annoyance.
“Yes,” Xiang Wan admitted quite openly.
“You!”
“What I mean is that it’s impossible to predict one’s preferences in such matters, only by experiencing them can one truly understand what they desire.”
That made sense. “Then why did you say you’re 0.8?”
“To appease you, otherwise you’d keep asking,” Xiang Wan said calmly.
Hiss…
She knew her too well.
Peng Xiangzhi found herself at a loss for words and continued walking with Xiang Wan. They watched a lion dance performance and climbed onto a flower stage in the bustling crowd to look up at the dashuhua[3].
The dashuhua had been a common sight during Peng Xiangzhi’s childhood, but it became increasingly rare as she grew older, probably due to the danger it posed. Since fireworks could replace the spark, most people were no longer intrigued and these traditional performances were phased out.
However, whilst watching, Peng Xiangzhi couldn’t help but wonder, “We didn’t see any dashuhua yesterday. What do you think they’re doing during the day? It’s not even dark yet, so we can’t see any sparks. It would be so much better if they held it at night.”
Upon further thought, she guessed that perhaps the temple fair had invited some folk artists to perform, merely as a formality to promote traditional culture. Naturally, they wouldn’t bother to arrange performances at the best times or to produce the best effects.
However, Xiang Wan was quite interested and pulled her towards the crowd.
After watching for a while, it was already getting dark, but the dashuhua performer began to pack up, saying that they had to perform at another night party. The crowd gradually dispersed in twos and threes, with a few scattered sparks still on the ground.
Xiang Wan put her hands in her pockets and followed Peng Xiangzhi. Her gaze lingered on the lingering sparks on the ground.
When the sparks flashed into her eyes, she blinked and looked up again. Not far away, a figure turned around, also glancing at the sparks on the ground before looking up, their gazes meeting.
Xiang Wan smiled and said, “Ms. Chao.”
Luzhu huoshao – Wikipedia one of the most well-known traditional Beijing street foods. [return to text] Douzhi – Wikipedia a fermented dish from Beijing cuisine. It is similar to soy milk, but made from mung beans. [return to text] Dashuhua – Wikipedia It is shown by throwing molten iron against cold bricks to create showers of sparks which have a similar shape of leafy tree canopy(See the video below). [return to text]
The temple fair was an old tradition in Jiang City.
The liveliest one was on Taihe Street, passing through West Twentieth Alley, along the outskirts of East Lake Park. The locals called it the First Day Temple Fair.
Peng Xiangzhi loved it when she was a child. The crowds were so thick that she would sit on her father’s shoulders, nibbling on sugar figurines and enjoying the view from above while shaking her head.
After puberty, she lost interest, finding it too crowded. Later, when she went to college and joined a band, she had even less regard for the temple fair.
But today was different. She thought Xiang Wan needed some excitement, and after much consideration, she decided that the liveliest place in Jiang City was still the First Day Temple Fair.
They arrived in the afternoon, not too early. Entering the towering gate, the vehicles outside were already jammed to the point of immobility, and the crowd became denser as they went further in. The hustle and bustle of the temple fair was hidden amidst the throngs of people, but fortunately, the intermittent megaphone playing music added to the festive atmosphere.
Xiang Wan felt a little dizzy from the jostling, so Peng Xiangzhi offered her hand and said, “Follow me, and don’t get squeezed.”
Xiang Wan was dressed in a plaid coat, with a beige woolen scarf wound around her neck and her long hair resting on the scarf. She hadn’t put on any makeup and looked so clean that rubbing against her seemed offensive.
Peng Xiangzhi, on the other hand, wore a short jacket-style woolen coat with slim-fitting jeans tucked into black flat boots. She appeared tall and proficient. However, she had pinned a dark red beret on her slightly curled hair, adding a feminine touch to the jacket’s coolness.
Xiang Wan held her hand, walking cautiously. She sighed when her shoulder got bumped again, “There are so many more people here today than yesterday.”
Peng Xiangzhi laughed at her, “Yesterday was New Year’s Eve, who would go out then?”
“You came to see me yesterday,” Xiang Wan asked her, “Did your family say anything?”
“They can’t control me.”
Peng Xiangzhi pinched her hand and motioned her to look ahead as she said, “Look at that kid, haha, walking to the rhythm of the music. I’ll count one, two, three, and she’s bound to trip.”
Xiang Wan refused to look, “You’re so mean.”
“What else should kids be for if not for teasing? You’re the one who’s boring.” Peng Xiangzhi snorted at her, still following the child with her eyes.
One, two, three… ah, the child fell.
Peng Xiangzhi couldn’t help but laugh, and Xiang Wan bowed her head, covering her lips with a light smile.
“Hey? I thought someone said I was mean? Don’t laugh if you dare.” Peng Xiangzhi shot her a sideways glance.
“This laughter isn’t because I’m mean; it’s because it’s childish.” Xiang Wan said leisurely.
“Who’s childish?” Peng Xiangzhi frowned.
“You’re childish, and so am I,” Xiang Wan said, curving the corners of her mouth.
“Fine,” Peng Xiangzhi released her hand, patted it lightly before holding it again. “It’s fair enough.”
Smelling the delicious aroma of Luzhu[1], Peng Xiangzhi led Xiang Wan through the crowd, squeezed to the roadside and looked at the giant pot that’s as tall as a half person in a small booth. Inside it, old soup braised with intestines, lungs and offal, steaming hot. With each scoop and pour by the stall owner, followed by a sprinkle of green onions, Peng Xiangzhi felt her mouth watering.
Taking out her mobile phone, she asked Xiang Wan, “Do you want some?”
Xiang Wan knitted her eyebrows while pulling her head back.
In her eyes, Peng Xiangzhi saw the word ‘fear’.
“What’s the matter with you?” Peng Xiangzhi hated when people questioned the local cuisine of their Jiang City.
Xiang Wan raised her hand, pointed at the tip of her nose, and coughed lightly.
“You look down on our Jiang City,” Peng Xiangzhi pinched her hand.
Xiang Wan winced, shaking her head: “Not at all.”
“False sentiments.”
“If you don’t mind, let’s have a bowl of mung bean milk[2] later.”
Xiang Wan’s face turned pale and her chest began to heave, barely able to control herself.
Peng Xiangzhi was furious: “You’re done, Xiang Wan.”
“Hm?”
“You’re not worthy! You’re not worthy of our Jiang City temple fair, you’re not worthy of the hospitality of our Jiang City people, you’re not worthy of this ancient capital’s thousand-year heritage!”
Xiang Wan looked at her, curved her eyes and whispered, “Thousand-year heritage… am I not worthy?”
“You…”
“I’m more than worthy,” said Xiang Wan with a smile, drawing a conclusion.
In the middle of the winter, Peng Xiangzhi felt as if her head were about to smoke.
Yes, it was Peng Xiangzhi who was unworthy. On the first day of the new year, she wanted to be kind and do good deeds, but ended up getting angry. If she knew this would happen, she would rather go to Qinghe Temple to burn incense and worship.
Seeing Peng Xiangzhi fall silent, Xiang Wan grew worried, thinking that she might be genuinely angry. So she gently pulled on her hand and said, “I’m sorry, it’s my fault.”
“What apology?” Peng Xiangzhi spoke vaguely, still ignoring her.
“Apologies to the Luzhu,” Xiang Wan smiled and nodded towards the direction of the Luzhu.
“And apologies to the mung bean milk,” she tip-toed to look around for the mung bean milk stall.
Peng Xiangzhi was amused, pointing her index finger at her, “Pretentious.”
She then still held Xiang Wan’s hand and continued walking.
“We, the people of Jiang City, don’t care about such things. Neither do the Luzhu nor the mung bean milk.”
“Right.”
“We, the people of Jiang City, are magnanimous and open-minded.”
“Right.”
Walking by the snack stall, Peng Xiangzhi bought a skewer of candied hawthorns for Xiang Wan, thinking that she would enjoy this kind of snack that had been around since ancient times. However, being the daughter of a prime minister’s family, Xiang Wan had never tasted it before.
Upon taking a bite, Xiang Wan’s normally composed features twisted together, and tears threatened to fall.
“No crying!” Peng Xiangzhi scolded her.
Xiang Wan looked at her, holding back her tears.
“You’re a tough T! No tears allowed!”
What kind of image would a T have if she cried in public?
While not understanding why a tough T shouldn’t cry, Xiang Wan saw Peng Xiangzhi’s fierce expression and, realizing she wasn’t that upset to begin with, decided to swallow her tears.
“Wow, are you really that tough T?” Peng Xiangzhi was amazed, “The kind that never be a bottom?”
This tough T’s dignity was just too effective.
“What is a tough T?” Xiang Wan asked while holding the candied hawthorns.
“It means being purely top, not allowing others to touch you even in bed.” Peng Xiangzhi brought her hand close to Xiang Wan and whispered.
After considering for a moment, Xiang Wan softly replied, “I can let people touch me.”
Ah, Peng Xiangzhi loved hearing such intimate secrets between friends. She immediately asked, “So what’s your top to bottom ratio?”
“Uh…”
Seeing Xiang Wan’s confusion, she explained, “It’s about what you prefer in bed: how many times you want to be top versus being bottom. If, for example, out of ten times, you want to be topt eight times, then your ratio is 0.8.”
“Then I’m 0.8.”
“You didn’t even think about it! Are you just being lazy and copying the 0.8 I said?” Peng Xiangzhi stomped her foot in annoyance.
“Yes,” Xiang Wan admitted quite openly.
“You!”
“What I mean is that it’s impossible to predict one’s preferences in such matters, only by experiencing them can one truly understand what they desire.”
That made sense. “Then why did you say you’re 0.8?”
“To appease you, otherwise you’d keep asking,” Xiang Wan said calmly.
Hiss…
She knew her too well.
Peng Xiangzhi found herself at a loss for words and continued walking with Xiang Wan. They watched a lion dance performance and climbed onto a flower stage in the bustling crowd to look up at the dashuhua[3].
The dashuhua had been a common sight during Peng Xiangzhi’s childhood, but it became increasingly rare as she grew older, probably due to the danger it posed. Since fireworks could replace the spark, most people were no longer intrigued and these traditional performances were phased out.
However, whilst watching, Peng Xiangzhi couldn’t help but wonder, “We didn’t see any dashuhua yesterday. What do you think they’re doing during the day? It’s not even dark yet, so we can’t see any sparks. It would be so much better if they held it at night.”
Upon further thought, she guessed that perhaps the temple fair had invited some folk artists to perform, merely as a formality to promote traditional culture. Naturally, they wouldn’t bother to arrange performances at the best times or to produce the best effects.
However, Xiang Wan was quite interested and pulled her towards the crowd.
After watching for a while, it was already getting dark, but the dashuhua performer began to pack up, saying that they had to perform at another night party. The crowd gradually dispersed in twos and threes, with a few scattered sparks still on the ground.
Xiang Wan put her hands in her pockets and followed Peng Xiangzhi. Her gaze lingered on the lingering sparks on the ground.
When the sparks flashed into her eyes, she blinked and looked up again. Not far away, a figure turned around, also glancing at the sparks on the ground before looking up, their gazes meeting.
Xiang Wan smiled and said, “Ms. Chao.”
Luzhu huoshao – Wikipedia one of the most well-known traditional Beijing street foods. [return to text] Douzhi – Wikipedia a fermented dish from Beijing cuisine. It is similar to soy milk, but made from mung beans. [return to text] Dashuhua – Wikipedia It is shown by throwing molten iron against cold bricks to create showers of sparks which have a similar shape of leafy tree canopy(See the video below). [return to text]