Colorful years

Before this, Zhang Cong had always been the object of admiration, and had never taken the initiative to pursue anyone.

However, the gears of fate began to turn, and the spark of love was quietly ignited. Now he finally experienced the intoxicating romance of a man pursuing a woman, just like first love.

On Jiefang Road, a small candied hawthorn shop on the corner was emitting an enticing amber-colored sweet aroma. The cold wind was biting, and Zhang Cong wrapped himself tightly in his camel-colored cashmere coat, but the chill couldn't dampen the passion surging within him. His gaze gently swept over the hawthorns covered in glistening sugar frosting in the glass jars, as if he saw the sweetness of love beckoning to him.

This familiar scene always evokes memories of Xiao Hong. Whenever he thinks of Xiao Hong's adorable expression when she's jealous of radishes, his heart feels as if it's being gently touched by a tender hand.

The bright red radish slices, quietly soaking in the amber broth, resembled exquisite works of art. When she took a small bite, the crisp, resonant sound was like the elegant plucking of a harp, instantly filling the air. Even more amusingly, the chili seeds that accidentally clung to her lips were like playful embellishments on a musical score, adding a touch of liveliness and dynamism to the scene.

This man, who is already in his forties and a division-level cadre, is smiling like a teenager who has just stepped into adolescence and is experiencing his first love.

He carefully protected the insulated box in his briefcase, which contained two pounds of specially selected and weighed marinated radishes—a surprise prepared especially for his beloved. With each step, he anticipated the moment he would meet Xiao Hong, imagining the joyful smile on her face when she opened the box.

&34；张局又给爱人带开胃小食？&34；司机老陈瞥见后视镜里的保温盒会心一笑。这个在政界以&34；不苟言笑&34；着称的男人，唯有触及&34；肖红&34；二字时会卸下所有铠甲。

A year ago, as the deputy director of the cultural and artistic affairs bureau, he personally planned and wrote the literary script for "The Great Beauty of China", a large-scale cultural performance program for the opening ceremony of the Provincial Ethnic Minority Games, which once shook the entire literary and artistic circles.

Now, however, he willingly studies "Dietary Therapy Materia Medica" for his loved one, his notebook filled with notes: white radish is cooling in nature and should be eaten with ginger slices; capsaicin irritates the gastric mucosa, and the daily intake should not exceed 3 grams...

On the winter solstice, Xiao Hong was curled up in a leather sofa, a half-jar of candied hawthorns hidden under a cashmere blanket. Zhang Cong's slender fingers suddenly pressed against the glass jar, his negotiation skills, characteristic of a financial elite, softening into a gentle touch:

"Ms. Xiao, according to the latest research published in the *Chinese Journal of Gastroenterology*, consuming acidic substances on an empty stomach can exacerbate damage to the gastric mucosa." He magically produced a blue-and-white porcelain bowl. "However, if paired with my four-hour-simmered monkey head mushroom and yam porridge..."

As the warm mist rose, Xiao Hong saw water droplets condensing on the surface of the man's wristwatch and suddenly felt a strange warm current surge in her stomach.

"Are you trying to use me as a lab rat?" Xiao Hong stirred the thick porridge with a silver spoon, the amber-colored hawthorns trembling gently on the edge of the porcelain plate.

Zhang Cong removed the thermometer from the porridge bowl, his gaze behind his glasses even more focused than when he was looking at financial statements: "To be precise, you're a special care recipient. Director Li of the Municipal Hospital's Gastroenterology Department said your gastric mucosa repair needs to be precise to 0.1 millimeters..."

Before she could finish speaking, Xiao Hong suddenly leaned down and kissed away the porridge stain on the corner of his mouth. This unexpected action stunned them both; the blue-and-white porcelain spoon clinked against the bone plate. "Lord Zhang," she tapped his stiff shoulder with her fingertips, "you like numbers so much, have you considered the cultural significance of this moment?"

This humor made Zhang Cong burst into laughter.

当肖红的目光第27次掠过&34；鸭王世家&34；的鎏金牌匾，张聪不动声色地划开手机。三分钟后，米其林二星主厨带着专业保温箱匆匆赶来：&34；张局定制的低脂卤味套餐。&34；

Inside the fragrant lunchbox, boneless duck feet are coated in roselle juice, and chicken wings simmered with tangerine peel and star anise gleam with an agate-like luster—this is the latest achievement of the medicinal cuisine laboratory funded by Zhang's Venture Capital, satisfying the taste buds without harming the spleen and stomach.

"You leaders even need to monopolize technology to satisfy your cravings?" Xiao Hong bit into the warm duck foot, the amber sauce staining her lip gloss red. Zhang Cong used tweezers to pick up a temperature-sensing patch and attach it to the inside of her wrist.

34; Real-time monitoring of digestive enzyme activity is essential for risk control. The current volatility of pepsin is far more exciting than watching a Hollywood blockbuster. 34; As he spoke, he turned the tablet towards her; the fluctuating data stream on the graph actually bore a striking resemblance to a candlestick chart.

On the day of the Spring Equinox, sunlight streamed through the panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows, casting dappled patterns of light onto Xiao Hong's newly purchased "Illustrated Guide to Food Combinations."

In Zhang Cong's custom-made suit pocket, besides the stomach medicine he always kept on hand, there was now a bottle of handmade honey ginger candy. As Xiao Hong reached for the snack jar again, the man's well-defined knuckles promptly covered her slightly cool fingers, his precise tone tinged with doting: "According to your gastroscopy report this week, your intake of sweet and sour foods has exceeded the recommended amount by 12.7%."

"Is Mr. Zhang about to launch a mandatory takeover bid?" Xiao Hong waved the test report, the pages rustling in the draft. She suddenly pulled an electronic scale from under the coffee table, placed the jar of hawthorns on it, and raised an eyebrow provocatively: "How about we sign a performance-based agreement? If my gastric mucosa repair reaches the target within three months..."

Before he could finish speaking, Zhang Cong had already pulled out his pen and started drafting clauses on the back of the report. The scratching sound of the pen gliding across the paper mingled with his low chuckle: "If the bet is pickled garlic made by Miss Xiao herself, remember Taihang Mountain cliff honey."

They eventually composed a unique duet in the passage of time. When Xiao Hong learned to use an electronic scale to accurately measure the weight of chili peppers, and when Zhang Cong's meeting minutes were interspersed with excerpts from "Qianjin Shizhi" (a classic Chinese medical text), forty years of solitude transformed into the slowly rising aroma of tea in a purple clay teapot.

"Sir, do you also have a standard for the thickness of the pickled radish slices?" Zhang Cong was adjusting the humidity parameters of the constant temperature delivery box when he heard this. He looked up and revealed a rare slyness: "Back then, you said that the thickness of the old stall owner's radish slices was unstable, and an error of 1.2 mm to 1.5 mm would lead to..."

"It will cause a loss of texture and flavor!" The two exclaimed in unison, then burst into laughter. Xiao Hong suddenly reached out and loosened his Windsor knot, her fingertips touching the heartbeat beneath the second button of his shirt:

"Lord Zhang, what should I acquire now to stabilize my dopamine levels?"

Outside the window, the first snowflakes fell softly on the branches of the sycamore trees, while amidst the bubbling sound of boiling tea, someone quietly turned off the heart rate alarm on their smart bracelet.