Lin Wanqiu squatted in front of the stove, her eyes quickly glancing at the slightly ajar door of the courtyard gate as she added firewood. The afternoon sun was scorching, and the cicadas' chirping, carrying waves of heat, seeped into the house, making the air feel sticky. Yet, her palms were covered in a thin layer of sweat—not from the heat, but from nervousness.
The flames in the stove crackled and licked the bottom of the pot, and a thin wisp of white steam condensed around the edge of the iron pot. What was simmering in the pot was half a piece of hind leg meat that she had just taken out of her spatial storage.
This meat was lean cuts stored in her spatial warehouse, a vibrant red with a layer of fat as thin as a cicada's wing. Compared to the frozen meat from the supply and marketing cooperative, which required ration coupons and had a fishy smell, it was worlds apart. Ever since she unlocked "Basic Cooking" on her spatial skill panel yesterday, the idea of making jerky had been constantly popping into her head—Nian'an, that child, had barely eaten any meat in her four years of age. Last time during the grain distribution, she saw the neighbor's child gnawing on a meat bone, his eyes shining like stars, yet he sensibly clung to her clothes and shrank back. That sight made her heart ache.
"Mother, the fire needs to be put out."
A soft child's voice came from behind. Shen Nian'an tiptoed over, carefully holding a few dry twigs in her small hands. The child was a bit stronger than when she was first reborn, and her cheeks finally had some flesh color, but her arms and legs were still as thin as sticks. Wearing that faded little jacket, she swayed like a leaf that might drift away at any moment.
Lin Wanqiu quickly took the branch and put it into the stove. Her fingertips accidentally touched her son's slightly cool little hand, and her heart softened again. She turned around and touched Nian'an's head, her voice soft: "An'an, be good, wait a little longer, Mom will make you something delicious."
Nian'an blinked his big eyes, put his little head close to the stove and sniffed, his nose wrinkling into a little bun: "It smells so good, Mom, is it meat?" In all his life, he had only tasted a little bit of minced meat during the New Year. It was only when Grandma Shen secretly hid it away for her two grandsons that she would give him a spoonful of the last bit of oil she mixed into the porridge.
“It’s meat,” Lin Wanqiu said with a smile, gently pinching his little nose. “Once it’s cooked, An’an can eat a big piece.”
No sooner had she finished speaking than a series of footsteps came from outside the courtyard gate, accompanied by Zhang Lan's signature loud voice: "Wanqiu! Are you home? My Huzi says he smells meat coming from your house. You stingy thing, what good stuff are you hiding?"
Lin Wanqiu's heart skipped a beat, and she almost dropped the firewood in her hand. Zhang Lan, that shrew, had a nose sharper than a dog's! She quickly pressed the pot lid down on the pot, added two more bundles of firewood to the stove, and used the thick smoke to block out the noise from the pot before turning around and replying, "Sister-in-law, there's no meat smell at all. It's just some sweet potato porridge. Maybe it's been cooking for too long, and the aroma has drifted away."
The words had barely left her lips when the courtyard gate creaked open, and Zhang Lan swaggered in, carrying an empty basket, followed by her five-year-old son, Shen Xiaohu. As soon as Shen Xiaohu entered, he stared intently at the stove, drool practically dripping from his chin: "Mom, the meat smells amazing! I could smell it from the doorway, it smells even better than the meat Grandma gave me for Chinese New Year!"
Zhang Lan glanced sideways at Lin Wanqiu, looking her up and down, a mocking smile playing on her lips: "Wanqiu, it's not that I'm criticizing you, but we all know you're a widow with a child, and life is tough for you. But don't hide it like that. If you have any meat, you should give it to the boys in the family first. Look at my Huzi, he's at the age where he's growing, but he's as skinny as a monkey."
Lin Wanqiu sneered inwardly. Shen Xiaohu's round belly made him look much stronger than other children his age in the village. How dare he say he was thin? On the surface, she remained calm and moved closer to the stove, blocking Zhang Lan's view. "Sister-in-law, you're joking. Where would I get the money to buy meat? We've been given a lot of sweet potatoes these past few days, so I cooked them a little longer. Maybe the sweet potatoes were overcooked, because the aroma is a bit special."
"Sweet potato?" Zhang Lan obviously didn't believe it. She took two steps forward and was about to lift the lid of the pot. "Let me see. If it's sweet potato porridge, I'll serve my son a bowl. It's so hot, the child doesn't have an appetite."
Lin Wanqiu reacted quickly, pressing down on the pot lid. Her tone was firm: "Sister-in-law, this porridge is freshly cooked and piping hot. Besides, my An'an hasn't eaten yet. If it's not enough, the child will go hungry."
Zhang Lan's hand was blocked, and her face immediately darkened: "Lin Wanqiu, what do you mean by that? What's wrong with me eating a bowl of your sweet potato porridge? Back when Tingzhou was still alive, you ate and used the Shen family's food, but now that Tingzhou is gone, you're turning your back on us?"
She spoke loudly and deliberately, trying to attract the neighbors' attention. Lin Wanqiu knew what she was thinking, so she didn't argue about the past. She just said coldly, "Sister-in-law, I eat and use the Shen family's food because I worked hard in the fields from dawn till dusk with Tingzhou to earn work points. Now that Tingzhou is gone, An'an and I earn our own food. Why should your Tiger eat it?"
"You!" Zhang Lan choked for a moment, then rolled her eyes and looked at Shen Nian'an, forcing a fake smile: "An'an, look how stingy your mother is, she won't even give your brother Hu Zi a bowl of porridge. Tell your mother if there's meat in it? If you tell her, your aunt will give you candy next time."
Startled, Shen Nian'an hid behind Lin Wanqiu, clutching her clothes tightly with her small hands, and said softly but firmly, "There's no meat. Mother meant sweet potato porridge. Auntie, please don't bully my mother."
This child, who used to be so afraid to speak loudly under the nagging of Old Mrs. Shen and Zhang Lan, actually dared to speak up for her now. Lin Wanqiu felt a warmth in her heart, patted her son's head, and looked at Zhang Lan with even colder eyes: "Sister-in-law, my An'an has already said it's sweet potato porridge. If you don't believe me, there's nothing I can do. If you have nothing else to do, please leave. I still need to serve An'an some porridge."
Seeing that Lin Wanqiu was unyielding and that she hadn't been able to get any information out of Shen Nian'an, Zhang Lan felt increasingly frustrated. She moved closer to the stove, sniffing hard. The aroma of meat was faint, but she could still faintly smell it. She was even more certain that Lin Wanqiu had hidden meat, and she immediately became angry: "Lin Wanqiu, don't be so shameless! I think you've hidden meat and are deliberately not letting us eat it! Where did you, a widow, get the money to buy meat? Did you hook up with some random man and he gave it to you?"
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