Chapter 87 Rongrong's Ghost Story
As dusk turned the sycamore leaves at the alley entrance a deep brown, steam rose from Su Yingxue's tin stall.
She had just poured the last spoonful of braising sauce over the tofu when she heard that familiar, clear voice—He Rongrong was wearing a moon-white sweater, the hem tucked into her jeans, and when the wind blew, the hem of her sweater fluttered like a cloud.
"Boss, bring it on quickly." He Rongrong sat down on a small stool and casually tossed her canvas bag aside.
Su Yingxue looked up, her gaze first falling on He Rongrong's back: a tall man, almost reaching the streetlight, stood there, his muscular legs wrapped in black work pants, his hands clutching an old canvas bag, his knuckles white.
He looked down at the stove in front of the stall, his eyelashes casting a faint shadow under his eyes, like a stone sculpture that was not moving much.
"Hey, you brought a brother with you today?" Su Yingxue glanced at the man while scooping the freshly heated rice into a bowl.
There was no response from the other party. Only when He Rongrong patted his arm did he belatedly raise his eyes, then quickly lower his head again, his ear tips turning slightly red.
"Yes, my friend helps carry coffins. He just finished a job with me." He Rongrong took the rice, her eyes crinkling with laughter.
"Oh, by the way, I've closed another deal—the Zhang family in the east of the city needs a funeral director. I recently learned a bit from the master and plan to sneak in as an assistant, mainly so I can get some good meals. That old man's family is incredibly rich, but he hasn't eaten or drunk anything for two days, and his family is quietly preparing for his funeral."
"Oh, I see." Su Yingxue didn't ask any more questions, and took the golden-fried chicken cutlet over. The lunchbox hit the corner of the table with a crisp sound.
He Rongrong took a bite of rice and started talking: "Let me tell you, the old man's shops could stretch from one end of the alley to the other. That unfinished building next to us was built by his family. It's a pity that the old man got sick and there was no one in the family who could handle things, only a kid in junior high school was left to take care of it."
She paused, lowering her voice, "That child's parents died in a plane crash last year. The old man wasn't in good health to begin with, and after all that, he collapsed before he even turned seventy. It's pitiful."
Su Yingxue paused, spoon in her hand, about to reply, when He Rongrong suddenly leaned closer, her eyes gleaming with mischief: "Speaking of that unfinished building, I heard a ghost story—last month a homeless man went in to take shelter from the rain, and in the middle of the night he heard footsteps inside. He followed the sound and saw a woman in a white dress walking up the stairs, taking a few steps and then turning back to smile, but her face was blurry..."
"Stop talking!" Su Yingxue shivered suddenly, almost dropping her chopsticks on the table. The wind from the intersection swirled fallen leaves, and she instinctively moved closer to the stove, her fingertips numb with cold.
He Rongrong laughed so hard she slapped the table, then put some vegetables on her plate: "Just kidding! Look how scared you are."
After everyone finished their rice in silence, He Rongrong put her empty bowl on the table and gave a thumbs up: "This rice is amazing! If you opened a restaurant, I'd come here every day. The beef is so fragrant and delicious, even the rice smells better than other places."
The man next to her didn't say anything, but simply pushed his empty bowl in front of Su Yingxue—the bowl was completely clean, not even a single grain of rice was left, as if silently agreeing.
Su Yingxue chuckled and patted He Rongrong's hand, saying, "You're so good at talking. It's getting late, you should head back now."
"Haha, be careful on the road. We're off now. I'll introduce you to some new friends next time." He Rongrong's personality became quite lively after getting to know people. After saying goodbye, she skipped and hopped, pulling the hand of the tall guy next to her and walking outside.
Su Yingxue shook her head. Watching the two figures disappear, she smiled as she cleared away the dishes and wiped the small table spotless. She was ready to go home.
Watching the two walk away, Su Yingxue pushed the tin cart home. The night wind blew on her face, carrying the chill of autumn. She suddenly remembered the "warm food on an autumn night" that the guests had been talking about yesterday, and her pace quickened involuntarily—there were still a few free-range chickens at home, just enough to make a pot of soup.
The next day, as the sun set, Su Yingxue first took the free-range chicken out of the refrigerator to thaw. While the chicken soaked in cold water, she turned to wash the yams: the thick, long iron yams were covered in mud.
She gently scrubbed off the outer skin with a steel wool pad, leaving her fingertips sticky with a layer of mucus. She then cut the washed yams into chunks and soaked them in water to prevent oxidation and discoloration.
Next, she prepared the chicken: she chopped the soaked chicken into pieces, put them in a pot of cold water, added two slices of ginger and a spoonful of cooking wine. She brought the water to a boil, and a layer of grayish-white foam floated to the surface. She gently skimmed it off with a spoon, then took out the chicken pieces and rinsed them with warm water to remove any remaining residue—this way, the soup would be clear and free of any fishy smell.
Wash the casserole dish, put in the blanched chicken pieces, then add crushed ginger pieces and two sections of scallion whites. Pour in enough boiling water to cover the chicken pieces by about two fingers.
Bring it to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a simmer. Thin wisps of steam rise from the cracks in the lid, carrying the aroma of chicken, slowly filling the entire kitchen.
While the chicken was stewing, she started preparing "Ants Climbing a Tree" (a dish of vermicelli). First, she soaked the vermicelli in warm water until soft, then took it out and cut it into long sections with scissors. Next, she minced the pork, added a little soy sauce, cooking wine, and cornstarch, and marinated it for ten minutes by hand.
Heat oil in a wok, then add minced ginger and garlic and sauté until fragrant. Add the marinated minced meat and stir-fry quickly with a spatula. As the minced meat gradually changes color and releases oil, she adds two spoonfuls of fermented bean paste and stir-fries until the oil turns red. Finally, she adds a little light soy sauce and dark soy sauce for seasoning.
Finally, put the soaked glass noodles into the pot, add a little half a bowl of water, and stir constantly with a spatula to coat the noodles with the sauce. Once the liquid has reduced, sprinkle with chopped green onions, and a plate of glossy and fragrant "Ants Climbing a Tree" is ready.
By this time, the chicken soup in the casserole was almost ready. She lifted the lid, put in the soaked yam chunks, and simmered it over medium heat for another twenty minutes. The yam absorbed the savory flavor of the chicken soup, becoming soft and tender, easily pierced with chopsticks.
She tasted the soup, added a little salt and white pepper to taste, and finally sprinkled on a handful of goji berries. She turned off the heat and let it simmer for five minutes—the aroma of the yam and chicken soup instantly intensified, warming her heart with sweetness.
Finally, make stir-fried cabbage: Wash the cabbage, tear it into large pieces, separating the stalks from the leaves. Heat oil in a wok, add minced garlic and sauté until fragrant. First, add the cabbage stalks and stir-fry until softened, then add the leaves and stir-fry.
Once the cabbage leaves have softened, add a little salt and light soy sauce, stir-fry quickly and evenly, and a plate of crisp and refreshing stir-fried cabbage is ready.
By the time the three dishes were ready, it was completely dark. It was already six o'clock in the afternoon. Su Yingxue ladled out half a bowl of chicken soup, blew on it to warm it up, and took a sip—the delicious soup slid down her throat, warming her entire body.
She thought of He Rongrong and that silent friend, and suddenly smiled.
Su Yingxue remembered that He Rongrong had mentioned she would be working part-time as an etiquette consultant assistant the next day. This meant she could bring two extra lunchboxes.
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