The morning light pierced through the mist, painting the fields of the Red Flag Production Brigade a golden-red hue. In Lin Wanqiu's courtyard, the blue brick pavement was still glistening with dew. The rough earthenware jars brought by Shen Tingzhou were neatly stacked in the corner, their rims gleaming with a warm, earthy yellow sheen, a charming contrast to the newly built earthen stove beside them. Shen Nian'an, wearing a faded little jacket, squatted by the stove, her small hands clutching a clean piece of coarse cloth, wiping the dust off the outer walls of the earthenware jars, her little face full of anticipation.

"Mom, did Dad say we can make that 'fermented tofu' you mentioned today?" Shen Nian'an looked up, his bright black eyes sparkling with curiosity. He had vaguely heard his parents talking last night, and only remembered this novel name.

Lin Wanqiu was pouring soybeans that had been soaking overnight into the feed chute of the stone mill. The plump soybeans, having absorbed enough water, looked so full they seemed about to burst through their skins, glistening in the morning light. Hearing this, she turned around, reached out and ruffled her son's hair. Her fingertips touched the soft hair, and her heart was filled with warmth: "Yes, once the tofu is made, and after marinating it for a few more days, we'll be able to eat fragrant fermented tofu. We can eat it with corn porridge, and we'll be able to eat two more bowls."

Shen Tingzhou stood by the stove, stabilizing the firewood in the firebox with stones. Hearing the conversation between the mother and son, a faint smile appeared on his lips. After returning home last night, he made a special trip to the town's black market, exchanging his savings for some star anise and cinnamon. At this moment, these spices were wrapped in kraft paper and placed on the wooden table beside the stove. From the corner of the torn paper, one could faintly smell a rich, spicy aroma.

“Making tofu requires two people working together. I’ll push the millstone, and you add the beans.” Shen Tingzhou walked over, rolled up his sleeves, revealing his strong forearms. The calluses on his palms, from years of holding a gun, were now firmly gripping the wooden handle of the millstone. As he exerted force with his arm, the heavy millstone slowly turned, making a “creaking” sound, like a long-lost folk tune.

Lin Wanqiu stood beside the stone mill, holding a ceramic bowl, carefully pouring soybeans and water alternately into the feed inlet. Under the mill's grinding action, the soybeans gradually turned into milky-white soy milk, slowly flowing through the gaps in the millstone and dripping into the wooden bucket below, creating fine bubbles. Sunlight filtered through the old elm tree in the courtyard, casting dappled shadows on the surface of the soy milk, and the unique fragrance of soybeans gradually filled the air.

Shen Nian'an was mesmerized, occasionally leaning close to the wooden tub, tiptoeing to peek inside, and gently sniffing with her little nose: "Mom, it smells so good, even better than the soy milk ground at the village mill."

"It'll be even more fragrant if we add tofu later," Lin Wanqiu said with a smile, her fingertips inadvertently brushing against Shen Tingzhou's hand. Their eyes met in mid-air, and they both saw a long-lost warmth in each other's eyes. They used to work in the yard like this, but back then Shen Tingzhou was still in the army and could only come back a few times a year. Now that they were reunited, this ordinary daily routine had become the most precious happiness.

After grinding the soybeans, Shen Tingzhou carried the wooden bucket to the stove, set up a large iron pot, and started a fire to cook the soybeans. The firewood crackled in the stove, and the firelight reflected on his face, making the guilt and tenderness in his eyes particularly clear. As he added firewood, he said softly, "Wanqiu, I went to town yesterday and inquired about it. The commune's supply and marketing cooperative is short of side dishes to eat with rice. If our fermented bean curd is good, maybe we can send some over to sell."

Lin Wanqiu was filtering the soybean pulp from the soy milk with gauze when she heard this, her eyes lit up: "Really? If I could get into the supply and marketing cooperative, that would be much more stable than setting up a stall in town. But the flavor of our fermented bean curd has to be special so that people will remember it." As she spoke, she took out a small oil paper packet from her cloth bag, inside which was a special starter culture she had taken out from her space—this was something she used to make fermented bean curd in her previous life, which could make the flavor of the fermented bean curd more mellow and also have a unique wine aroma.

Shen Tingzhou leaned over to take a look. Although he didn't know the origin of the strain, he had complete trust in Lin Wanqiu: "Don't worry, as long as it tastes good, I'll talk to Old Zhou from the supply and marketing cooperative. He used to work in the logistics department of the army and is a very honest man."

The soy milk quickly boiled, and steaming white mist filled the kitchen, carrying a rich aroma of soybeans. Lin Wanqiu turned off the heat and, after the soy milk cooled slightly, slowly poured the prepared gypsum water into the pot, stirring gently as she poured. As the gypsum water was added, the soy milk gradually coagulated into a flocculent state, eventually turning into tender white tofu pudding. Shen Nian'an couldn't resist scooping up a little with a small spoon, blowing on it to cool it before putting it in her mouth. Her eyes instantly lit up: "Mom, it's so tender! It's even better than the tofu pudding Aunt Li gave us last time!"

Next, the tofu pudding was poured into a wooden frame lined with gauze and weighed down to drain. Shen Tingzhou found a flat bluestone slab and carefully placed it on the gauze. The weight of the slab caused the water in the tofu pudding to slowly seep out and drip onto the ground through the gaps in the wooden frame. The two sat on the stone bench in the courtyard, watching the tofu pudding gradually take shape in the wooden frame. The warm sunlight shone on them, and an occasional breeze carried the scent of wheat from the fields. Time seemed to stretch out exceptionally long at this moment.

"Tingzhou, do you think Zhao Jianjun will cause us trouble again because of Lin Moli?" Lin Wanqiu suddenly remembered what happened last night, and her brows furrowed slightly. Although Shen Tingzhou had found some clues, Zhao Jianjun was, after all, the son of the brigade secretary and had considerable influence in the village. She was worried that it would bring new trouble to her family.

Shen Tingzhou held her hand, the warmth of his palm calming her down considerably: "Don't worry, I've already had my comrades investigate Zhao Jianjun's connections with the neighboring county. He and Lin Moli's father might have known each other for a long time. Besides, everyone in the village is on your side now. If he dares to openly cause trouble, he'll have to think twice." He paused, then added, "I'll be spending more time in the village lately, so I can get there promptly if anything happens."

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