Chapter 329 - 267: Going to Build a House
When Li Baoyu and Ji Lin came in carrying the dog, Wang Meilan didn’t see Hua Xiao’Er. She’d wanted to ask about him right then and there.
But at that moment, Li Baoyu was introducing Ji Lin, and Wang Meilan got so busy entertaining her guest that the question slipped her mind.
Now that she remembered, she had only to ask the question to see that something was wrong with Zhao Jun’s expression. Wang Meilan’s heart sank.
Zhao Jun was silent for two seconds before meeting Wang Meilan’s gaze. "Mom..." he said bitterly. "Hua Xiao’Er... we left him on the mountain."
Hearing Zhao Jun’s words, Wang Meilan’s eyes widened. A second later, she lowered her head and pressed her fist to her nose and mouth. A choked sob escaped her, and even with her head bowed, her tears could be seen splashing onto the floor.
"Mom!" Alarmed, Zhao Jun hurried forward, putting one arm around Wang Meilan’s shoulders and using his other sleeve to wipe her tears.
Wang Meilan pushed his hand away. "How did it happen?" she asked.
"Mom, come to my room. I’ll tell you there." Zhao Jun helped Wang Meilan into his room and settled his mother down on the kang before briefly recounting what had happened on the trip to Yongxing Brigade.
When Zhao Jun finished, Wang Meilan wiped the tears from her eyes. "After dinner tonight," she said, "you should go to your second brother’s house. He needs to be told."
"I know, Mom." Zhao Jun understood. He knew Wang Meilan had been the one to feed Hua Xiao’Er for the past three years. Dogs have a way of understanding people, and people aren’t made of stone. They form attachments.
"Alright, son, you rest for a bit. Mom’s going to make dinner." Wang Meilan went into the outer room. The meat had been soaking in cold water for a while and was mostly thawed. She diced it, then put the cubes back into cold water to draw out the blood.
With any red meat, whether for dumplings or other dishes, you had to soak the blood out, or else it would taste gamey.
After soaking it for a while, she poured off the bloody water and added fresh water to soak it again. She repeated this process several times until the water no longer turned red. Then, Wang Meilan used a skimmer to scoop out the diced meat and squeezed it tightly with both hands, forming it into balls to wring out all the excess water.
With the four balls of meat set aside, Wang Meilan heated oil in the wok. Once the oil was hot, she stir-fried some chopped scallions until fragrant, then added the meat. She used a spatula to break up the clumps and stir-fried continuously until the diced meat turned white, then added cold water.
When the water came to a boil, she added two spoonfuls of homemade soybean paste, then reduced the firewood to let it simmer slowly.
While the meat sauce simmered, Wang Meilan began to roll out the noodles. She rolled the rested dough into a large, thin sheet. Then, using the rolling pin, she lifted the sheet and, as it draped back down, folded it back and forth on itself into a strip about a hand’s-width wide.
The layers of dough would stick together, so Wang Meilan sprinkled corn flour between each fold.
With the corn flour in between, the layers of dough wouldn’t stick.
Soon, the table-sized sheet of dough had been transformed into a thick, long stack only a hand’s-width wide.
Just then, the meat sauce was ready. Wang Meilan lifted the pot lid and ladled the sauce onto a plate. She then scrubbed the large pot clean, filled it with water, and added more firewood to bring it to a boil for the noodles.
While the water was heating up, Wang Meilan began to cut the dough. She started at one end of the stack, and with each slice of the knife, a long noodle was formed.
The blade rang out, THWACK, THWACK, against the cutting board. When Wang Meilan made her final cut, she gathered all the noodles and gave them a good shake to dust off the excess corn flour before placing them on a steamer mat. She carefully collected the shaken-off corn flour to make porridge the next morning.
By now, the water was boiling, and Wang Meilan dropped the noodles into the pot.
Whether you’re boiling dumplings or noodles, if the pot is covered, a white foam will always surge up once the water reaches a rolling boil.
The instant the foam reached the rim of the pot, Wang Meilan lifted the lid. The foam immediately receded, vanishing back into the roiling water.
After boiling for another three or four minutes, Wang Meilan transferred the noodles into a large basin of cold water.
In the summer, you would rinse the noodles in cold water several times to cool them down, making them perfect for a hot day.
But it was only early spring, and with two little ones at home, Wang Meilan only dunked the noodles in the water for a moment before portioning them into bowls.
"Son, set the table! Time to eat!" Wang Meilan called out to the inner room.
"Coming, Mom!" Zhao Jun hurried out to carry the bowls, the plate of sauce, and the chopsticks. The two youngsters were already waiting at the dinner table.
Zhao Jun took a large bowl, which, despite its size, didn’t have a lot of noodles in it. These noodles needed to be tossed with sauce, and you couldn’t mix them properly if the bowl was too full.
Zhao Jun first dipped his chopsticks into the meat sauce for a taste. Deciding it wasn’t too salty, he ladled four spoonfuls into the bowl, tossed everything together thoroughly, and handed it to a waiting Zhao Na, who was craning her neck in anticipation.
Since he’d prepared a bowl for his younger sister, he couldn’t leave out the older one. Zhao Jun mixed another bowl for Zhao Hong, and only then did he prepare his own.
But unlike his two sisters, Zhao Jun had to eat out of a huge basin-like bowl.
Just then, Wang Meilan came in and handed Zhao Jun two peeled scallions. She sat down on the edge of the kang and asked, "Is it good, son?"
"Delicious!" Zhao Jun replied. He took one of the scallions, turned it around to bite into the white bulb, and then began slurping up his noodles.
After a couple of bites, Zhao Jun looked at Wang Meilan. "Aren’t you eating, Mom?"
"I’ll eat in a bit. No rush."
"Oh." Zhao Jun suddenly remembered something. He kept his head down and continued eating, his right hand still busy with his chopsticks, while his left hand reached into the pocket of his cotton-padded jacket. He pulled out a folded kraft paper envelope and tossed it onto the center of the table.
"What’s this?" Wang Meilan picked up the envelope and opened it. She gasped, looking at Zhao Jun in astonishment. "Son, where did all this money come from?"
With noodles dangling half in his mouth and half in his bowl, Zhao Jun slurped the rest in. "For catching that tiger," he said indistinctly while chewing. "It’s the reward from the brigade."
As he spoke, Zhao Jun reached back into his pocket, about to pull out the award certificate to show her, but he was interrupted by Wang Meilan. "This is perfect timing. Your dad was just talking about building you a house. I was thinking we should build it big—make it a five-room house."
Upon hearing this, Zhao Jun couldn’t stop a single question from bursting out: "Say what?"
Zhao Jun was stunned to hear his mother talking about building him a house.
’In my past life, Wang Meilan had died from an illness. That heartless bastard Zhao Youcai, wanting to marry a younger woman, had built a house for Zhao Jun, married him off, and then kicked him out.’
’But in this life, Zhao Jun would never let that tragedy happen again.’
’Besides, his mother was still alive and well, so why was she suddenly thinking of building a house for him? Why did it sound like they were splitting up the family?’
Seeing the stunned look on Zhao Jun’s face, Wang Meilan smiled. "You’re already twenty-one. It’s time you got married. Your dad and I were just talking about it these last few days—building you a house and trying to arrange your marriage this year."
At this, Wang Meilan sighed before adding, "Once you’re married, I’ll finally be able to rest easy."
"Wait, no." The more he listened, the less sense it made. Zhao Jun forgot all about his noodles, quickly putting down his chopsticks to ask, "Mom, aren’t I your only son?"