Page 11 of The Tea Witch’s Secret

"Steeper," I repeated. "As in one of the Four Families?"

She nodded.

It was a surprise that she felt like she could just ask one of them, but maybe she told them it was for Eva and Max rather than for me.

I picked up one of the buns and slowly tore it open, letting the steam from inside escape. The filling was glistening, and I could see the chunks of fatty pork and mushroom slices. I didn't recognise the herbal notes in the aroma, but I hadn't tried a herb in Purple Oak that I didn't like. My mouth watered at the thought of eating it, so even though I was a little nervous, I bit into the bun. The dough was soft and perfectly fluffy, but the filling was the hero. Savoury tender pork, earthy mushrooms, and a lot of garlic which paired perfectly with them both.

"This is very tasty," I said, surprised by how good it was. It wasn't like any steamed bun I had before, but it was good. Really good.

Pepper tried her own bun. "Mm, it is nice. How does it compare?"

Now that was a loaded question, but I felt comfortable answering because she seemed to actually want to know the answer and appreciate my honest opinion. "When I make my dough, it's sweeter," I said, eating a piece of the bun by itself. It tasted more yeasty, but that worked well with the filling.

"Sweeter, huh? I'll remember that for next time." She ate another bite. "And the insides?"

"Really good," I answered, having more of the bun. "Pork and mushrooms are good friends."

She chuckled. "That's a cute way of putting it."

"Is that not how you would say it?"

"I think I would say they're good together," Pepper responded.

"Together like they're getting married? Pork and mushrooms are good spouses?" I checked, wanting to get the expression right.

Pepper chuckled, but it seemed to be in amusement rather than being mocking. "I guess you could say they marry well together, yes."

I finished the steamed bun without realising it and eyed up the large pot, unable to see if there were more of them in there. Even if there were, I probably shouldn't have another, or I would spoil my appetite for later.

"Would you like another?" Pepper asked, seeming to have read my mind.

"Are there enough for me to have another?" I checked, not wanting to take any that she was planning on using for something else.

"Absolutely, I made them for you." She put another on my plate, looking pleased. "I'm glad you like them. It was fun to make them, and I'm pleased with how they came out. I think I want to make some adjustments next time, though."

"You're going to make them again?" I asked while I ate my second bun.

"Only if you would like to have them again," she responded.

"Eva would definitely like them. I'm not so sure about Max."

"I would make different fillings so he can have one without mushrooms. Maybe chicken and leek. Or cheese and ham. That's probably very unconventional," she said, sounding excited about the prospect if her smile was anything to go by.

"Then yes, Max would like it too," I said.

Pepper leaned against the counter, her arms folded in a way that showed off her strong forearms. I could tell she did a lot of kneading from how well-defined the muscles were. "But would you like to have steamed buns again?"

I finished chewing, realising I had polished off my second bun already. "If it's not too much effort, I would."

The smile breaking through on Pepper's face was perhaps the most beautiful smile she had so far. "Then I would be happy to make them again. For you. And maybe, if you're willing to, you could tell me how you make your dough and filling so that I can get them perfect."

Something in my stomach fluttered from the way she was looking at me. I usually didn't like when people stared, but there was something soft in her eyes. I didn't know why, but I wasn't against it. Just like the steamed buns, I liked it more than expected.

Chapter 8

Lian

The hazy light between day and night hung in the air, only made more intense by the light flickering from the large bonfire in the middle of the field. All around us, people were chattering away and heading over to the stalls that lined the sides of the field. A band of some kind played jolly music that I didn't recognise but could still enjoy. It was nothing like when Max played the elegant strings of the guquin or blew on his bamboo dizi to create an ethereal sound that travelled through the home, but it was nice in a different way. It was joyous, which was definitely something that could be said for a lot of the residents of Purple Oak.