A Cake-in-your-face Affair
A Shanghai Pink burst out of the winter wonderland. "We're sugar and ice, and all things nice. Why would the moon fairies pick you?"
Other Pinks fell like angry snowballs on top of the Traditionals. It was a very cake-in-your-face affair, until –
"Freeze!" called Pecan Pie, and Moony heard someone coming downstairs.
Ding ding, five 'o clock, chimed the bakery clock.
Moony froze. He didn't want to give Cook Chan another funny turn. Through the bamboo curtain, there the man was, boiling his breakfast noodles.
"Quick!" said Moony, as soon as Cook Chan went out of the back door.
The mooncakes spun as fast as they could, through the hatch, along the kitchen top, until – oh no! – Chan Tai was coming downstairs, putting on her frilly apron.
"Now!" said Moony, rolling when her back was turned.
"Me, me!" called some Shanghai Pinks as Chan Tai opened the fridge door.
When the back door opened, the mooncakes ground to a halt near the sink.
"We're finished!" said Suzhou Ham.
Cook Chan lowered his flour, sugar and eggs; straightened his tall baker's hat. What were his Traditionals doing piled up, over there?
"Anything wrong?" asked his wife.
"No, no," said Cook Chan, and hummed a silly tune. "In fact, hey! I've got an idea, a marketing idea, for the Traditionals."
"Yes?" said Chan Tai wearily.
Cook Chan picked up Nutty, flicked some flaking pastry.
"I'm going to package them together. Create an ... assortment," said Cook Chan.
"Nice knowing you!" said Nutty, as he was placed in a fancy metal tin.
Moony's double duck egg heart sank deep in his lotus paste. Put in that tin? How would the fairies find him? How would he see the moon again?
Chan Tai shook her old rattan brush. "You and your Traditionals," she grumbled.
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