Scallion Noodles on a Deadline

Her smile lasted less than a second. She took one bite and went very still. Rain tapped the glass. She ate slowly. When she finished the last strand, a tear dropped without warning into the empty bowl. “My grandmother used to...” She stopped and shook her head. “Never mind.” Shen did not ask. Whatever a diner found inside a bowl was not something a cook had the right to take. She left two hundred yuan beneath her bill. He tried to return it, but she had reached the door. All she left behind was a business card: Lin Wan, Chenghai Capital, Consumer Research. The old cookbook turned its own page. New ink appeared, darker than before.