If it weren’t for Mother suddenly leaving, Shen Cishu wouldn’t have felt that she did anything wrong.
Sometimes, she even thought that Mother was a little too cruel.
To punish her in such a way, even though she hadn’t done anything wrong.
Yet she was forced to live burdened by guilt.
It was as if the gentleness and tolerance Mother had shown all along were just to prepare her for the final day when she would leave abruptly and give her a harsh lesson.
Otherwise, why did everything have to happen so suddenly?
But no matter what, from that day on, she no longer had Mother.
No matter how angry she was at Mother, no matter how much she blamed Mother for taking her away from a wealthy life, she didn’t have Mother anymore…
And Mother’s death was like a curse.
A lesson for a child who never listened.
Shen Cishu no longer remembered how Mother looked after she had finished criticizing the food.
Maybe Mother had been very hurt?
She couldn’t recall anymore.
Her mind automatically altered that part of the memory she wanted to avoid, allowing her to sink deeper into guilt.
After Mother left, she sank into endless regret.
Only after losing someone does one learn to cherish.
Only after Mother’s departure did she slowly remember, through memories, the love Mother had for her.
But Mother was already gone.
If she could return to that afternoon once more, she would definitely cry and say it was delicious.
She would ask Mother to make a little more, promising to eat it all.
Once Shen Cishu’s emotions had somewhat stabilized, Su Li slowly set down the work in her hands and came over to her side.
Looking at her tear-streaked face, Su Li’s expression remained calm.
She held a tissue, intending to offer it to Shen Cishu once she came back to her senses.
People’s sorrows differ, and Su Li felt she didn’t have much empathy.
But she knew what she should do when others felt sadness and grief.
For example, quietly stand by Shen Cishu’s side and hand her a tissue when needed.
And when not needed, return to doing what she ought to do.
So Su Li didn’t stand there long before heading back into the kitchen to prepare the meal.
She took down the apron hanging on the wall, ready to put it on.
But just shortly after tying on the apron, Shen Cishu appeared behind her, standing by her side.
She could hear occasional sobs at her ear, the crying slowly tapering off, and Shen Cishu’s mood gradually steadying.
“You tied the knot wrong. Mom wouldn’t tie it like this,” Shen Cishu’s voice trembled as she spoke.
Though mixed with sobs, her tone was unusually stern and serious.
Her eyes seemed intolerant of any mistakes.
Su Li had no choice but to retie the knot.
Yet Shen Cishu, standing beside her, didn’t say how it should be done.
Even when Su Li looked at her questioningly, Shen Cishu stammered and couldn’t explain.
She couldn’t quite recall how Mother tied it either.
She only knew Su Li’s way was wrong.
After Su Li tried four or five common knot styles, Shen Cishu kept shaking her head, frustration welling in her eyes.
Only after Su Li tried one last clumsy attempt did Shen Cishu finally nod begrudgingly.
This knotting method was uncommon, usually used by those who didn’t know how to tie knots—forming a Dead Knot that was difficult to undo even when removing the apron.
But Shen Cishu insisted on this method.
Su Li suspected that the knot she remembered was probably the one she had tied for Mother when she was little.
Only her mind had tricked her into thinking Mother tied it that way.
Su Li didn’t waste more time on it and resumed cooking.
As she cooked, she gradually realized Shen Cishu possessed an almost pathological need for control and obsessive-compulsive tendencies.
She could feel that the two of them were not playing roles at all.
At least Shen Cishu wasn’t immersed in the role of a daughter but was acting as a customer, scrutinizing and directing her service.
Throughout the cooking process, Shen Cishu made various demands on her posture and movements.
Although Su Li thought that following Shen Cishu’s requests would surely make the food taste awful, she tried to recreate the dishes from Shen Cishu’s vague and abstract descriptions of how Mother made them.
This description was completely different from the information Bai Huizi had provided her.
“The salt is too little. Keep adding it. Mom usually uses a big spoon and puts in a lot of salt,” Shen Cishu complained.
Su Li paused briefly before gently saying, “If you add more salt, it will be too salty.”
“This is exactly how Mom cooked it. Just follow what I say,” Shen Cishu snapped.
Watching Su Li prepare the dishes, the meal was slowly taking shape according to her memories.
Su Li had tried to persuade Shen Cishu once, but since she refused to listen, Su Li didn’t bother arguing further.
Shen Cishu’s memory might not be accurate—she was probably very young then, so the spoon in her memory seemed bigger, making the salt amount seem excessive.
But since she insisted, Su Li, as her Customer, would do exactly as requested.
As long as payment wasn’t delayed, Su Li would obediently comply, no further resistance.
Once the meal was finished, Shen Cishu looked at the Four Dishes and One Soup that matched her memory almost perfectly and was quite satisfied.
Mother’s death gave this ordinary meal a special meaning, and she etched it deeply into her heart, never to forget.
Moreover, over the years, she had tried more than once to redeem herself by searching for that taste of Mother’s cooking.
But she had never found it.
She even believed she understood the Four Dishes and One Soup better than Mother did.
As Su Li brought the dishes to the table, Shen Cishu’s eyes shone with anticipation.
But just as she took her first bite, her brow furrowed.
She almost spat the food right out.
The taste was nothing like she remembered—too salty, almost inedible.
Mother would never have made such terrible food.
This was pure waste!
Mother was so gentle and kind—she hated wasting food the most!
“Why did you do this?” Shen Cishu put down her chopsticks and looked at Su Li angrily.