蒸笼揭盖时，奶香如初雪簌簌落下，圆润的包子皮泛着羊脂玉般温润的光。

面皮褶皱里渗出的金黄馅料，像故宫琉璃瓦上融化的夕阳，轻轻一碰就流淌出蜂蜜色的银河。

咬破的瞬间，蛋黄与椰浆的暖流在舌尖卷起绸缎般的漩涡，甜味里藏着云朵的蓬松，最后留在唇上的奶香，是小时候母亲用银调羹搅动的那碗冒着热气的晨光。

When the steamer is uncovered, the milky aroma falls like the first snow, and the round bun skin emits a warm and creamy light like sheep fat jade.

The golden filling seeping out from the folds of the dough resembles the melting sunset on the glazed tiles of the Forbidden City, and with a gentle touch, a honey colored Milky Way flows out.

At the moment of biting, the warm flow of egg yolk and coconut milk rolled up a silky vortex on the tip of the tongue. The sweetness was hidden in the fluffy clouds, and the milk fragrance left on the lips was the steaming morning light stirred by my mother's silver spoon when I was a child.