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理——“刻木事亲”里的丁兰为母亲刻木像，木头的纹路里藏着思念，他想让点心也带着这样的温度。蒸笼冒起的白汽里，能看见点心渐渐鼓起来，像一个个圆滚滚的木牌。
晚上七点半，老先生果然跟着导游来了。他拄着根雕花木杖，杖头雕着只小松鼠，走进餐厅时，木杖敲在青石板上，笃笃地响。徐涛赶紧迎上去，把他引到靠窗的位置——那里的竹丛被晚风拂得沙沙响，月光透过竹叶洒在桌面上，刚好落在“刻木事亲”的故事卡上。
“Mr. Rossi， this is the dessert we prepared specially.”徐涛把青瓷盘推过去时，盘子里的黑芝麻点心正冒着热气。老先生拿起一块，指尖先碰了碰，像是在感受温度，然后才慢慢咬开——糯米皮在齿间微微粘牙，黑芝麻馅带着焦香漫开来，没有一点颗粒感。
“Like the taste of memory.”老先生用英语轻声说，他指腹蹭过点心边缘的纹路，“My mother used to make sesame cakes for me. The texture is different， but the warmth is the same.”陈露刚好端着普洱茶过来，听见这话，把茶杯放在他手边：“In China， we believe that food can carry memories. Just like this story——丁兰 missed his mother， so he carved a wooden statue. The taste and the statue are both about missing.”
老先生端起茶杯，茶汤在灯光下泛着琥珀色。他抿了一口，忽然指着窗外的竹丛：“That bamboo looks like the one in my garden. My daughter planted it three years ago. She said it''s from China.”邢成义正好从后厨出来，手里拿着个刚雕好的竹节素肠——用冬瓜雕的竹节，里面塞着香菇馅，表面还刻着竹叶。“This is for you，”他把素肠放在盘子里，“Bamboo grows tall but stays humble in Chine
