Chapter 33: Spring Outing

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Louis had been absolutely right—the cold in Provence came swiftly and departed just as fast.

The cold air from Siberia seemed merely to have stopped by for a glance, leaving behind a heavy snowfall before hurrying away. The weather had clearly begun to warm.

As the temperature rose, the snow piled up in the forest melted into water and returned to the soil, and the traces of truffles once again became easier to find.

More than half of February had passed. No one could say how many days of picking remained in March—perhaps an entire month, perhaps only a single day. That was the uncertainty of living by the weather.

To dig up as many truffles as possible before the season ended, Ronan had to solve the problem of provisions.

One evening, while speaking with his parents on the phone, he brought it up.

“I work outdoors every day. Is there anything that still tastes good cold? Preferably something with meat...”

When Ronan had first arrived in Provence, he had borrowed the telephone at Louis’s house to reassure his parents. With other people around, he had not said much about himself.

Later, after he got a phone of his own, he simply forgot to tell them.

The only news his parents in distant Paris had received was that Ronan was still alive—and had not starved to death.

This was the first time Ronan had mentioned what he was doing in Provence.

“You found a job?” his mother, Feng Zhen, asked in surprise.

In his parents’ eyes, Ronan had no connections whatsoever in Provence, and finding work within a month was no easy feat.

“I didn’t find a job. I’ve been digging for truffles. The Luberon is practically paved with gold.” Ronan spoke in a joking tone.

“Digging for truffles?” Feng Zhen could not help raising her voice.

Her son, who could not even keep flowers alive, how could he possibly know how to dig for truffles?

Had someone tricked him into going there as a laborer?

On the other end of the line, Ronan awkwardly shrugged.

If he told his parents that he was also tending a twenty-acre vineyard, would they find it even harder to accept?

He decided not to mention it for now. The grapes had not yet been harvested; he would wait until they had at least borne fruit.

“I know a few truffle hunters. They taught me some of the tricks of the trade,” Ronan said, half truthfully.

“You’re wasting your time. You should go back to being an interior designer. Provence has plenty of large houses. One job there is worth several small apartments in Paris. Even if you can’t guarantee earning more than three thousand francs a month as you did before, your average income over the year wouldn’t be bad.” Feng Zhen suddenly lowered her voice, as though wary of being overheard. “Do you still have money?”

She knew that her son had taken out a loan of more than a hundred thousand francs for the farmhouse in the Luberon.

Feng Zhen could not understand it at all.

Interior design was a promising profession. If he did well, he could enter the upper classes.

Why go all the way to Provence and start from nothing?

Ronan’s heart softened at once.

His mother’s words might have sounded stern, but she was still worrying about him.

Winning her over would be easy. The difficult one was his father, who was more stubborn than a mule.

Since Ronan had arrived in Provence, his father had not answered the phone even once. Even when Ronan asked his mother to hand him the receiver, he always refused for one reason or another.

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Ronan deliberately made his voice sound cheerful.

“I have money. I’ve even bought a car.”

“Don’t tell me you bought it on credit again?” Feng Zhen’s voice gradually grew strained.

“No. I paid in full.” Ronan patted his chest, belatedly shaken by the thought.

He had Nelson to thank for bringing him back to his senses.

He must have been out of his mind back then, willing to take out a loan just to buy a new car!

Afraid his mother would not believe him, Ronan added, “I didn’t just buy a car—I’m also raising a dog. Mom... I’m doing very well here.”

Feng Zhen guessed that her son was too proud to admit the truth, forcing himself to look prosperous even if it meant putting on a brave face. Unable to bear continuing the subject, she steered the conversation back.

“You want something you can eat while you’re digging for truffles?”

“Yes.”

“You could steam some buns yourself. Ah, forget it, forget it. You probably wouldn’t be able to knead the dough properly. Don’t try making your own staple food. Honestly, you... Why did you have to go so far away? If you lived closer, I could bring you meals every day.” Feng Zhen sounded pained. “Wait a moment. I’ll call you back.”

Two minutes later, the telephone rang.

“Is your kitchen fully equipped?”

“Yes, everything’s there.”

“What about seasonings? I mean Chinese seasonings.”

“Chinese seasonings... Well, no.”

“Your father suggested making some soy-braised beef for you to take along. Or he could teach you how to make mouthwatering chicken. But you’ll need Chinese seasonings for either one.”

“I’ll go buy them this weekend.” Ronan shouted into the receiver, “Dad, you have to make sure I learn properly!”

...

Ronan was going to Ménerbes on Saturday, so on Friday, at the market in Lourmarin, he brought less than half of the week’s truffles.

The harvest had been quite good this week. Even that small portion sold for more than six thousand francs. Once he finished selling the rest in Ménerbes the next day, his savings would reach thirty-five thousand francs.

He would keep five thousand as an emergency reserve and deposit the rest in a bank in Avignon, using part of it to repay his mortgage. On the way, he would stop at the Chinese supermarket there to buy the seasonings he would need in the future.

But this raised a problem: if he did not return to Lourmarin after the market closed, what would Zoe do?

Should he let her find another way home on her own?

She would be bringing a great deal of equipment the next day, and finding a ride would certainly be difficult.

Then perhaps he could ask her to wait in Ménerbes while he went to Avignon, finished his business, and came back for her?

But even the fastest round trip would take four or five hours...

Or should he simply tell her the truth and suggest that she drive herself to Ménerbes the next day?

As these thoughts churned through his mind, a pair of slender hands appeared before his eyes.

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The hands waved in front of Ronan’s face.

“What are you thinking about? I asked whether you wanted to have lunch together.” Zoe repeated what she had just said.

“Ah...” Ronan came back to himself and nodded twice, still dazed. “Sure, sure. I’ll treat you.”

Zoe slowly turned away, took a glass from one of the boxes on the ground, and set it on the table.

“No. You have no idea how much unsold stock I have at home. Tomorrow, the two of us will have to make three or four trips carrying everything. I’d feel awful if I didn’t buy you lunch.”

Ronan helped Zoe arrange the items.

“It’s only a few trips carrying things. It’s no big deal. Do you really need to make such a grand gesture over lunch?”

Zoe stubbornly shook her head.

“Ever since I started sharing a stall with you, I’ve almost saved enough to buy a car. At the rate I was going before, it would have taken me at least another six months.”

In Provence, if one was willing to be strict with oneself, a used car could be bought for one or two thousand francs, and there were plenty of them. Ronan did not think this was anything worth making a fuss over.

“You don’t need to buy a car right now.”

Having two cars would be such a waste...

“Hmm. I’ve decided to use the money to upgrade the kiln.” Zoe nearly allowed Ronan to lead the conversation off course. “Could you stop being so formal with me all the time?”

Every time they had lunch, they ended up arguing about this.

Ronan spread his hands and smiled.

“All right, all right. I won’t be formal with you anymore... I’m asking because after I pack up my stall tomorrow, I have to go to Avignon. Will you browse the shops in Ménerbes and wait for me to come back for you, or should I find you a car so you can drive home yourself?”

Zoe tucked a few strands of hair from her forehead behind her ear.

“You’re still being too ‘formal’ with me. Why didn’t you think of having me go with you?”

“You’re going to Avignon too?” Ronan’s eyes widened.

Zoe’s time was precious as well.

She planned every hour of work for each firing of her pieces.

Zoe raised her right hand to shade her forehead, squinted up at the sun, then closed her eyes and drew a deep breath through her nose.

“Spring is coming...”

“What?” Ronan asked, not understanding.

Zoe’s bright, pale-blue eyes curved into a lovely arc.

“Let’s just say we’re going on a spring outing.”

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