Steamed Buns at the City God Temple

Ye Chen turned the steering wheel and merged into the traffic. He glanced at his parents in the rearview mirror and smiled. "Let's go for a stroll around the City God Temple area first. The gardens there are always packed with people, so let's not join the crowds. We'll just wander around the old streets and I'll take you to try some pan-fried buns and xiaolongbao."

The car was parked in the underground parking garage near Renmin Road. As soon as I stepped into the old street, I was greeted by old-fashioned buildings with upturned eaves. The aroma of oil and sweet cakes from the morning market wafted into my nose on the morning breeze.

"Jianguo, look at this." She lowered her voice and tapped the price tag with her fingertip. "It's a good idea to bring Jianhua and the others two boxes. The boxes are sturdy and look presentable."

Ye Jianguo put his hands in his jacket pockets, craned his neck to glance at the price tag, his eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly, and he mumbled a reply: "...cough, it's alright, since we're already here, we'll just take two boxes."

The stall owner had barely put on a smile when Ye Chen took out his phone and scanned the QR code: "Boss, give me four boxes of this pear syrup candy and six bags of spiced beans, in red bags."

"Hey! Chenzi, how come you're so quick? What if you bought too much and got a discount..."

Chen Xiulan complained, but her hand had already reached out and carefully pulled the newly packed gift box into her arms, afraid of crushing the corner of the tin box.

"Dad, Mom, rest here for a while, I'm going to line up for Nanxiang steamed buns."

Ye Chen waited in line for about ten minutes and brought back two boxes of freshly steamed crab roe soup dumplings. The bamboo boxes were lined with oil paper, and the skins were so thin they were almost translucent, allowing a glimpse of the pool of golden broth inside, swaying gently.

Ye Jianguo craned his neck to take a look, paused for a moment, and couldn't help but ask in surprise, "Hey, Chenzi, didn't you just say you were going to buy steamed buns? Isn't this just a baozi, a small steamed bun with pleats?"

"Dad, you don't understand," Ye Chen said with a smile, handing over the plastic plate and thin bamboo skewers. He explained, "In Shanghai and the Wu-speaking region, all stuffed noodles have been called 'mantou' since ancient times. Meat buns are called meat mantou, pan-fried buns are called pan-fried mantou, and the proper name for xiaolongbao here is 'xiaolong mantou.' The signboard of this shop reads 'Nanxiang Mantou Shop,' and that's exactly what they sell."

"And there's this strange detail..." Ye Jianguo muttered, looking at the paper-thin dough, but stopped arguing about it.

"It's hot, eat slowly," Ye Chen reminded him. "Bite a little bit of the skin first, then sip the soup."

Ye Jianguo followed suit, carefully tearing a hole in the bun, and with a slurp, the scalding hot soup entered his mouth. His eyes lit up, and he hissed and gasped for breath. After swallowing, he smacked his lips and said, "Hey... it's all oily! This bun is really different, it's like drinking chicken soup, it's really fresh."

Chen Xiulan also took a bite, and accidentally got some soup on the corner of her mouth. While wiping it with a tissue, she smiled and said, "The skin is so thin. We can't make this in our hometown."

Along the way, Chen Xiulan touched and looked at Suzhou embroidered handkerchiefs and sandalwood fans with tassels. Ye Jianguo urged her to "walk faster, they're all about the same," but his feet kept stopping. Ye Chen lagged behind by two steps, his hands unknowingly filled with red and green plastic bags. When he saw his mother turn around and look at him somewhat embarrassedly, he simply raised his chin, indicating that she should take her time browsing.

As noon approached, the old street was bustling with people. Ye Chen turned onto Fuyou Road and led them into a local Shanghainese restaurant with an impressive facade.

The shop was filled with the rich, sweet aroma of soy sauce. The waitresses carried plates and walked through the aisle speaking in their clear, soft Shanghainese. Dishes such as braised pork belly with clover, braised eel with sizzling oil, poached chicken, and braised pork with bamboo shoots, plus a bowl of glistening braised pork, were quickly laid out on the table.

The braised pork was cut into neat, thick slices; it wobbled precariously when touched with chopsticks.

Ye Jianguo picked up a piece and put it in his bowl. With a gentle flick of his chopsticks, the skin and the well-cooked fat separated. He put it in his mouth and chewed it a couple of times. He raised his eyebrows in surprise: "It's really crispy, but... why is there white sugar in this dish?"

"The dishes here tend to be on the sweeter side, with rich, dark sauces." Ye Chen scooped a spoonful of sauce onto his father's white rice. "It's delicious when you mix this with the rice."

Chen Xiulan held her chopsticks, her gaze passing over the carved mahogany window as she surveyed the well-dressed diners around her, and remained silent for a long time.

"...Back in my hometown, I saw these kinds of fancy restaurants on the calendar all the time." She spoke softly, as if talking to herself, "Back then, I wondered what kind of people would eat here. Who would have thought that in the blink of an eye, we'd be eating here ourselves..."

"This is nothing." Ye Chen put a piece of poached chicken into her bowl, interrupting her sentimentality. "Once our shop is on track, you two can go wherever you want, just let me know, and I'll buy you tickets anytime."

Jianguo took a big gulp of barley tea from his teacup, didn't say anything, but glanced at his son's upright shoulders out of the corner of his eye. The tight lines at the corners of his mouth gradually relaxed, and he lowered his head to eat a big mouthful of white rice covered with meat juice.

In the afternoon, the three of them strolled to the Bund.

The wind on the river was much stronger, and Chen Xiulan pulled her coat collar tighter, the weariness in her eyes completely blown away.

Ye Jianguo leaned on the cold granite railing, staring blankly at the skyscrapers piercing the clouds on the opposite bank of the river. Giant ships glided across the river, pushing aside the rolling white waves. Turning his head, he saw rows of heavy, tall European-style old buildings behind him, with the clock tower's clock ticking slowly.

"Those things built by foreigners?" Ye Jianguo pointed to the clock tower, his tone carrying a hint of surprise at having never seen them before.

"About a hundred years ago it was." Ye Chen stood beside him, his hand resting on the stone railing. "Now it's all ours. That row of high-rises across the river is Lujiazui, the place that controls half of the country's money."

Ye Jianguo pondered these words, nodded silently, and unconsciously straightened his back even more.

"Quick, Xiao Chen, take a picture of me and your dad!" Chen Xiulan grabbed her husband's arm and pulled him forcefully toward the railing.

Ye Chen took a few steps back and raised his phone.

On the screen, Ye Jianguo stood upright with a serious "fatherly" face, but when Ye Chen counted to "two," his lips finally parted and a smile appeared. Chen Xiulan's hair was blown wildly by the river wind, half-clung to her face, but she didn't bother to brush it off, just holding her husband's arm and smiling from ear to ear.

After taking the photos, Ye Chen led them directly along the path to the Dongjin Line ferry terminal.

"But why don't we take a big boat?" Chen Xiulan pointed to the magnificent double-decker sightseeing cruise ship in the middle of the river. "I see a lot of people queuing up."

"That cruise ship costs over a hundred yuan per person; it's a rip-off for tourists from out of town. Don't be a sucker."

Ye Chen exchanged three green plastic tokens at the window and slapped one into each of his parents' hands: "Ride this, it's two yuan per person. Old Shanghainese take it across the river every day to and from get off work, and the scenery is exactly the same as that of a cruise ship."

Ye Jianguo held the light, green plastic disc in his hand, looking down at it for a long time. Surprisingly, he didn't nag this time; instead, his eyes revealed a sense of satisfaction at having "gotten a great deal."

With a "click," the turnstile swallowed the token.

The three of them followed the flow of people pushing electric carts and grocery shopping carts down the pontoon bridge and onto the swaying double-decker ferry. The deep roar of the diesel engine came from under the iron deck. The river breeze was blowing in their faces. The modernity and history on both sides of the river slowly unfolded in the rumbling sound. The couple held tightly to the railing, no longer caring about the gift bags in their hands, staring straight at the surging river.