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Huamei's life is rather simple. Every morning she wakes up well after the sun is on the horizon and her bed is empty and she goes to the Lower Ring's markets. She buys her groceries of the day and then comes back home and sets up her dumpling stand in time for lunch. She makes what money she can - not a large profit, but one nonetheless - feeding those who want a small bit of indulgence, who love her cooking or forgot their lunches at home.
She spends her time talking - not gossiping - with the others who stand on her street. She asks Ummi, the vendor to her side, to watch the stall sometimes as she wanders. For whatever reason it feels as though she finds something new to explore in her home every day. It's surprising, because she's spent her life here, as an orphan on these roads, but she also doesn't think she knows them that well.
Before she goes back to her stall she wanders down three alleys to the left and then right to the bakery where Lee is hired. His hours are long, but he gets up hours before she does, before the sun touches the sky, so he finishes in the evening. She leans up against the counter and smirks at him as he takes off his apron, running her hands across his arm to ward off the girls who litter the shop just to stare at him. Huamei doesn't blame them - she thinks Lee is handsome too. The scar that he'd gotten fighting the Fire Nation as a child just adds to his appeal, as does the sword at his waist. He's strong.
Sometimes, Huamei wishes she was a bender, or that Lee was. She thinks about how different life would be if she was; she thinks that perhaps they could both have joined the army, could have left this place. But they can't, and it's fine. It's not as though life here is terrible - they have each other and that's what matters. So when she kisses Lee as he grabs his bag and walks back to the stall with her, his hand draped across her shoulders, she can't be too angry at this fate.
Her life is rather simple but it's also perfect. They could do better, they could always do better, but the problems in this life are simple. There's no war in Ba Sing Se, there are no benders in the Lower Ring, it is just her and Lee and the life they have in the tenement.
He chats with his friends as she gets back to her cart and starts preparing for the dinner rush. Lee feeds her bites of bread as she cooks, and he talks about his day, tells her of the city's daily gossip. "Did you know the Avatar is here?" he asks.
Huamei does know. Doesn't she? "I don't understand why," she twists some dough together. "Why Ba Sing Se? He knows there's no war in Ba Sing Se . . ."
"There's apparently a call for a waterbender," Lee purses his lips and grabs a piece of carrot from her hand, "the Avatar is putting up posters of her all over the summer. It's almost funny, that she looks like you."
Huamei looks down at her hands. "Do you think I might have ancestry from the water tribes?"
Lee carefully grabs her face and tilts it towards himself, caressing one cheek with his rough hands. "Your eyes are beautiful," he breathes, not a new sentiment. "Perhaps. Perhaps your parents came here," they both are silent for a moment, but then he kisses her on the nose and bends away. "It doesn't matter. You can't bend, anyway."
"That would be fun," Huamei laments, pushing him away. "Don't distract me, now. Go talk to Pumi, won't you? And then go home - and start dinner?"
"Of course," Lee leaves, and Huamei smiles, contented. Her life is rather simple and it is perfect.