My Sweet And Submissive Bunny Won't Stop Being Clingy - Chapter 17

Meng Hemian pulls out the prescription from her notebook, the one she had glimpsed and ignored multiple times.

Dried tangerine peel, astragalus, and honey soaked in water. It can be drunk as a tea substitute to moisten the lungs, relieve coughing, supplement qi, and resolve phlegm.

Below it, a line of small, neat calligraphy notes: “Xiao Die doesn’t like drinking this.”

Grandmother Meng often wrote such annotations, which relative didn’t like sugar, or which neighbor preferred spicy food. She meticulously recorded the tastes and preferences of every regular customer, adjusting the recipe for Wisteria Cakes countless times to reach its current perfection.

Now, Meng Hemian steps on a stool to retrieve a jar of dried tangerine peel from the high cabinet, grabs some astragalus, and borrows a spoonful of Wen Shuyao’s jujube flower honey.

The first two ingredients are soaked in water for later use, while the honey replaces a portion of the white sugar in the wisteria filling. She uses the warm tangerine astragalus tea to knead the dough, filling the kitchen with a faint, fresh scent of orange.

This was the source of that unique fragrance.

As Meng Hemian finishes wrapping the filling and turns to find the shaping mold, the exquisite wooden tool is already being handed to her.

Wen Shuyao blinks, her tone rising playfully: “Are you looking for this?”

Dazzled by her spirited expression, Meng Hemian lowers her eyes and takes the mold: “Thank you.”

She had been so absorbed that she hadn’t noticed when Wen Shuyao entered, or how long she had been quietly watching. What followed made Meng Hemian feel like a head chef. Whenever she needed a tray, Wen Shuyao already had one ready with parchment paper. When she needed a box, a sturdy paper one appeared instantly.

Turning around after packing the cakes, she sees Wen Shuyao briskly tidying the workstation. While it made her work easier, Meng Hemian wants to understand why Wen Shuyao is being so proactive today.

She watches Wen Shuyao wring out the cloth and put it away. The girl asks shyly, “Did I help?”

The eager, pleasing look is almost like a puppy wagging its tail.

Meng Hemian nods: “Mm.”

Wen Shuyao begins to chatter while washing her hands. “It seems you prefer doing things alone, Meng Hemian. Whether it’s fixing things or baking cakes.”

She always buries herself in work, letting Wen Shuyao stand by only as a “consultant.” Wen Shuyao adds solemnly, “If you didn’t need to eat to live, you probably wouldn’t even need me to cook.”

This blunt observation makes Meng Hemian raise an eyebrow. Wen Shuyao is right; she does prefer handling things herself without external forces, there are fewer accidents. But occasionally, she finds it nice to have a helping hand. Specifically, she has grown accustomed to Wen Shuyao being by her side.

“You’ve already helped me a lot before,” Meng Hemian says softly.

A sweet smile curls on Wen Shuyao’s lips: “Don’t mention it.”

Seeing her glow like that, Meng Hemian’s hand itches again. She wants to pat her head and muss up her hair just to see her reaction. However, remembering how she did it instinctively last time, she worries about being too overbearing or upsetting her.

“I’m going back to Wan Xianyu’s house,” Meng Hemian says, picking up the cakes. “Want to come?”

“Mm.”

Wen Shuyao follows obediently like a little tail, but quietly sighs once they step out. Why didn’t Meng Hemian pat my head this time?

Thinking of Meng Hemian’s restrained and self-controlled nature makes Wen Shuyao frustrated enough to grind her teeth. She thinks despondently: If only I weren’t a little rabbit demon, but a fox spirit instead.

The Secret in the Photo Album

Wan Xianyu is busy with family business today, so Meng Hemian has to find the elder herself.

Seeing Wen Shuyao staring at the carvings on the eaves, Meng Hemian explains, “The Wan family used to be a prominent clan in Jianglou. This house is about a hundred years old.”

Wen Shuyao whispers in awe, “Then wouldn’t Grandma Wan be a ‘Young Mistress’?”

“I suppose so.”

Meng Hemian knocks and enters. The old woman is still in her chair, facing the garden as if she hasn’t moved.

“You’re back. Xiao Yu said you were sick recently. Better?”

“Much better. I remade the Wisteria Cakes. Would you like to try them?”

Meng Hemian places the still-warm cakes on the side table. The elder glances at her and huffs, “Listen to that answer. You don’t care about your health at all, exactly like your grandmother.”

Meng Hemian: “…”

Wen Shuyao stays quiet, but internally agrees so much she nearly applauds. Meng Hemian is indeed quite stubborn when it comes to self-care.

Grandma Wan begins to eat. She eats slowly again, leaving half a cake unfinished. Wen Shuyao’s heart sinks, fearing another failure, but Meng Hemian remains calm, prepared for any outcome.

“Yes… it’s almost identical to hers,” Grandma Wan says, a hint of a smile appearing on her wrinkled face. “Good child, how did you do it?”

It worked! Wen Shuyao nearly wiggles her tail in excitement.

Meng Hemian explains calmly, “Grandmother added honey to your cakes and used tangerine astragalus tea for the dough. She said it nourishes the lungs.”

Meng Lanyin had handled countless cakes in her life, yet she made this special adjustment just for her friend, incorporating the healthy tea she disliked into the fragrant pastry. It was a gesture of customized care.

Grandma Wan freezes. She turns to look at the old wisteria tree in the courtyard, which is nearing the end of its bloom.

“No wonder her soups and pastries always had that taste,” she remarks. “I thought I was always irritable because I ate too much of her tangerine peel snacks.”

After a silence, she sighs and pulls an old photo album from a drawer. The covers are falling off, but the photos inside are vivid. Meng Hemian recognizes her grandmother as a young woman smiling by a steamer.

As the pages turn, the colors fade to black and white. Finally, there is a photo of two women. On the right, a young girl with braids smiles brilliantly at the camera. On the left, the “Young Mistress” in an exquisite qipao is also smiling but she isn’t looking at the lens.

She is looking at the girl beside her.

“Your grandmother was a fool,” the elder says softly, recounting their history. She tells of Meng Lanyin’s marriage, her husband’s infidelity, and her decision to leave and start over alone. She speaks of their bickering, the care they gave each other during illnesses, and the snow they watched together.

“That wisteria tree… we planted it together. Now, it is the sixtieth spring…”

The old woman closes her eyes, her voice faint. “In this life… it’s okay to have some regrets.”

The last light of sunset fades from her face. Meng Hemian quietly takes Wen Shuyao’s hand and leads her out of the courtyard.

Regrets and Bread

Under the dim streetlights, Meng Hemian sees Wen Shuyao’s red eyes.

“It felt like such a sad story,” Wen Shuyao says, wiping her eyes.

“She didn’t go to the funeral, but she wanted the cakes. I guess she just couldn’t face it,” Meng Hemian says. Seeing Wen Shuyao so affected, she feels a bit flustered. She has no tissues or candy to comfort her.

As they walk, Wen Shuyao asks tentatively, “Meng Hemian… don’t you think it’s strange?”

“Why strange?”

“Grandma Wan seemed to… like…”

“We’re humans,” Meng Hemian interrupts casually. “Why limit your choices? I support freedom of preference. If Wan Xianyu told me she liked a cyber-husky, I’d still give her a red envelope and my blessing.”

Wen Shuyao is stunned by the “cyber-husky” example. “That’s not the same thing!”

“Isn’t it?”

The night breeze carries the scent of roses. Meng Hemian realizes she actually enjoys this walk. Usually, she finds walking with others noisy or boring, but with Wen Shuyao, it’s relaxing.

“Actually, life is best without regrets,” Meng Hemian says suddenly.

“Do you have regrets right now?” Wen Shuyao tilts her head.

“Yes.” Meng Hemian stops at the end of an alley where a glowing sign is visible: “Miss Cat’s Cafe.”

She turns to Wen Shuyao with total seriousness. “I want to see ‘Little Bread’ (the cat) right now. If I don’t see him, it will become a regret.”

Wen Shuyao: “?”