Chapter 282 - 163: New Year’s Eve (3)
Chen Zhuo didn’t try to squeeze in. He walked over to the shelves lining the wall, his eyes scanning the rows of condiments.
Vinegar, cooking wine, sesame oil, soybean oil.
His gaze landed on the bottom shelf.
A few bottles of soy sauce were placed there. He squatted down and glanced at the labels.
Two bottles of light soy sauce, one bottle of seasoned soy sauce, but not the Haitian-brand dark soybean soy sauce he was looking for.
"Uncle Li."
Chen Zhuo stood up and called out toward the counter.
Old Li was busy giving change to a middle-aged man. Hearing the voice, he looked up from a pile of change.
"Hey, Xiaozhuo! When did you get back?"
Old Li recognized Chen Zhuo.
In this neighborhood of family residences, Chen Zhuo’s name was quite well-known.
"Been back a few days."
Chen Zhuo walked up to the counter.
"Uncle Li, we’re out of dark soy sauce at home. My mom sent me to buy a bottle of Haitian-brand dark soybean soy sauce, but I don’t see any on the shelves."
"Dark soy sauce, eh?"
Old Li handed the two yuan to the middle-aged man, then turned to look at a cardboard box behind him.
"The soy sauce has been flying off the shelves with the New Year rush. The ones on the shelf are sold out, but I’ve got more in the box. I’ll grab one for you."
Just then, an old man in a worn-out, cotton-padded jacket came up to the counter, holding two bags of salt and a bottle of Erguotou.
The old man placed his items on the counter, fumbled in his pocket for a handful of crumpled bills and a few coins, and spread them out in his palm, struggling to count them.
"Two bags of salt, one-twenty. A bottle of liquor, three-fifty. In total, that’s..."
The old man kept his head down, muttering to himself as his finger poked through the pile of change.
Old Li was still bent over, rummaging through the box for the dark soy sauce, and didn’t notice.
"Four-seventy."
Chen Zhuo’s voice cut in from the side.
The old man looked up, glancing at Chen Zhuo.
"You’ve got a five-yuan bill there."
Chen Zhuo pointed at the green bill in the old man’s palm.
"Just give him the five, and he’ll give you thirty cents back."
The old man paused, looked down at the money in his hand, then back at the items on the counter.
"Right, right, right. Four-seventy, so thirty cents back from five yuan."
It dawned on the old man. He pulled out the five-yuan bill and slapped it on the glass countertop.
Just then, Old Li straightened up with a bottle of dark soy sauce in hand.
"Here you go. Haitian dark soy sauce, two-twenty."
Old Li placed the soy sauce on the counter.
Chen Zhuo placed the two-yuan bill and two ten-cent coins he’d been clutching in his palm onto the counter.
Old Li took Chen Zhuo’s money, then smoothly pulled open the drawer under the counter, took out three ten-cent coins, and handed them to the old man who’d bought the liquor.
𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺
The old man took his change and his items, muttering about how "kids these days are so sharp," and slowly ambled out of the little shop.
Chen Zhuo reached out and picked up the bottle of soy sauce.
"So, Xiaozhuo, is university life tough?"
Old Li leaned against the counter, pulling a Red Pagoda Mountain cigarette from a tin box and sticking it between his lips.
"It’s alright."
Chen Zhuo switched the soy sauce bottle to his right hand.
"It’s about the same as junior high. The books are just a bit thicker."
Old Li exhaled a puff of smoke and laughed.
"You’re such an honest kid. All the neighbors say you’re going to be a great scientist one day, building atomic bombs for the country."
Old Li pointed at the television set overhead.
"Maybe we’ll even see you on TV someday."
Chen Zhuo followed Old Li’s finger to the bulky CRT television. An ad for Brain Platinum was playing on the screen, showing two animated seniors wiggling their hips as they danced.
"We don’t need to build atomic bombs anymore. I’m planning to build something even more powerful."
Chen Zhuo said with a perfectly straight face, looking at the TV screen.
"Uncle Li, Happy New Year. I hope business is booming."
With that, Chen Zhuo took the bottle of soy sauce, pushed open the door, and left.
The little bell above the door chimed again.
The cigarette still dangling from his lips, Old Li watched Chen Zhuo’s retreating back, a smile on his face as he shook his head.
Chen Zhuo walked home.
The streetlights flickered on one after another, casting a dim yellow glow. In the distance, the sound of firecrackers rose and fell in a continuous, overlapping chorus—the prelude to New Year’s Eve.
He reached his front door.
The security door hadn’t been fully closed, left open just a crack for him.
The rich aroma of cooking meat wafted insistently through the gap.
Chen Zhuo pushed the door open and went inside.
"Mom, I got the soy sauce."
Chen Zhuo placed the bottle of Haitian dark soy sauce on the dining table.
Liu Xiuying burst out of the kitchen, spatula in hand. She snatched up the bottle of soy sauce and glanced at the label.
"Soybean-brewed. Good."
Liu Xiuying twisted off the cap, and a rich, savory aroma wafted out.
"Good thing you were quick, you little rascal. The oil’s ready."
Holding the soy sauce bottle, Liu Xiuying rushed back into the kitchen like a whirlwind.
A moment later, a loud SIZZLE erupted from the kitchen—the sound of the soy sauce hitting hot oil and sizzling beef.
Chen Zhuo took off his down jacket and hung it on the coat rack.
He walked over and sat on the living room sofa. At some point, Chen Jianguo had already settled there, teacup in hand, watching the Spring Festival Gala countdown on TV.
The brand-new, large Simen Zi refrigerator stood silently in the corner, its silver-gray door reflecting the soft light from the living room lamp.
Chen Zhuo picked a sugar tangerine from the fruit bowl on the coffee table.
He slowly peeled the skin.
Outside the window, someone’s family set off a massive, 100,000-round string of "Earth Red" firecrackers.
The deafening CRACKLE-POP of explosions seemed to set the entire sky above Zeyang City ablaze.
And just like that, amidst a house full of the scent of meat and streets thick with the smell of gunpowder, the Spring Festival of 2004 arrived with a bang.