New undertakings, new journey
cluck cluck
A sharp rooster crow broke the tranquility of a winter morning in Beijing. Lin Shaocheng took out two bowls of noodles from the stove. The noodles were white, the vegetables were green and yellow, the eggs were yellow and white, and the sauce was dark brown. The room was filled with the aroma of wheat and sauce.
Li Guorong dried her face; her eyes were slightly squinted, as if she hadn't woken up yet.
Lin Shaocheng put down the bowl, touched the side of the bowl with his hand, and said, "Eat quickly, the noodles will get cold and won't taste good."
Li Guorong stirs the noodles, and the sauce fully coats every strand of noodle—it's delicious!
"Shaocheng, if you go and sell noodles, you'll definitely make a lot of money."
Lin Shaocheng stretched out his index finger to wipe the corner of Li Guorong's mouth and put it in his own mouth. "That would definitely be a huge loss. I only use the best pork belly."
Li Guorong blushed slightly. Why were these old married couples doing this?
Lin Shaocheng stood by the window. The north wind, carrying fine ice shards, lashed wildly at the tree branches. Beijing's winter was like a knife, slicing everything in its sharpness, unlike the winter in Chongchuan, where the dense drizzle gently pattered on pedestrians.
"Guorong, this is your first winter in Beijing. Let's do business again next spring."
Li Guorong put down his bowl, put on an even thicker coat, and said, "I need to earn money. I'm so annoyed at home. You're always at work and never spend time with me."
Lin Shaocheng's gaze remained fixed on the book. He pursed his lips, not wanting Li Guorong to see his expression. After a long pause, he finally replied, "Then hurry up and pack. Didn't we say we were going to the farmers' market and the state-run store later? You ride your bicycle, and I'll bring the tricycle I bought back when I come back."
Li Guorong, carrying a net bag, rode his bicycle towards the market, waving his hand.
Lin Shaocheng couldn't help but say worriedly, "Be careful on the road."
Li Guorong waved his hand again, he was really being long-winded.
Arriving at the farmers' market, with the end of the year approaching, every stall was packed with people, and the customers inside were practically glued to each other. I gave 5 cents to the person watching my car in front of me to watch it, took my number, and hurried inside.
The dark-skinned man, dressed in a tattered cotton coat, had his hands tucked into his pockets. At his feet were several spirited roosters, their feet bound, still trying to sneak around. The hens, being more docile, squatted beside their owner.
Several pork patties were hanging on the pork stall. Pork belly and fatty pork were always the most expensive and best-selling. Pork intestines also sold well. Old Beijing-style braised pork was a favorite among many Beijingers.
Li Guorong has been planning to sell fried potatoes and "bobo chicken" these days. Fried potatoes require potatoes, chili powder, sugar, and cooking oil.
The most important part of Bo Bo Chicken is the soup base, which is made by simmering old hens and chicken feet to enhance the umami flavor and gelatinous texture.
More importantly, the spice oil inside needs to be made by heating and cooling rapeseed oil, adding a mixture of Erjingtiao chili peppers, Sichuan peppercorns, star anise, cinnamon, cardamom, and other spices, and frying it slowly over low heat. Remove the waste ingredients, and pour the hot oil into a bowl mixed with chili powder, Sichuan peppercorn powder, and white sesame seeds in batches, stirring constantly while pouring.
Next, combine the cooled chicken broth with the spiced oil, and add salt, sugar, MSG, and Sichuan peppercorn oil to create a perfect soup base.
"How much is this?" Li Guorong asked, pointing to the old hen.
"Four yuan per kilogram." The man's dark face turned slightly red.
Li Guorong rolled his eyes, put his hands on his hips, and shouted, "The state-run stores only sell it for 2 yuan per kilogram, yours is too expensive."
Free-range hens are more expensive than regular white-feathered chickens sold in state-run stores. White-feathered chickens are fast-growing chickens, and free-range chickens are generally raised two to three times longer than white-feathered chickens.
The farmer said in a low voice, "This is an old hen, not the same as the chickens in the store."
Li Guorong continued to haggle, saying, "Other people have more chicken meat, but your chicken only has about 2 ounces of meat left, except for soup."
The farmer had no choice but to say, "3.2 yuan per kilogram, it really can't be less."
Once the price was right in his budget, Li Guorong nodded and paid. He then bought half a sack of chicken feet for a few dollars from a stall selling white-feathered chickens.
She haggled with the butcher to buy top-quality pork belly, purchased pig lungs and hearts at a low price, and forced the butcher to give her all the pork bones. The butcher's dog had nothing to eat that day.
When Li Guorong arrived at the spice stall, the stall owner, who was in his forties, had the spices neatly arranged in cloth bags, each covered with a waterproof cloth.
"Hey little sister, what would you like to buy?"
Li Guorong grabbed a handful of spices, dried them thoroughly without any dampness, proving the pork vendor was right – the quality was good.
"Bring me all the chili peppers."
The stall owner recognized his big customer and brought out all kinds of chili peppers. Li Guorong picked up the peppers and stuffed them into his mouth, then chose the two he needed.
The stall owner didn't even dare to look at her mouth, and couldn't help but ask, "Little sister, don't you mind the spiciness?"
Li Guorong raised his head and said, "I've been eating spicy food since I was a child, so this is nothing to me."
The stall owner pointed to one of the chili peppers she needed, saying, "This one is too spicy, not many people need it, so we don't have much stock."
Li Guorong decided to make do for now, saying, "Then I'll take whatever you have." She then pointed out the spices she needed, which included a variety of types, making the stall owner beam with joy.
Li Guorong asked, "Do you know where I can buy rapeseed oil?"
The stall owner replied, "In Beijing, people don't really like rapeseed oil. State-run stores might have it."
The basket on Li Guorong's back is very tall; she brought it specially from Chongchuan. From behind, you can only see two legs growing from the bottom of the tall basket, with a chicken in her left hand and a piece of meat in her right.
People around whispered among themselves, saying that this woman was really capable.
Li Guorong was calculating the cost in her mind. She was only missing rapeseed oil, so she decided to leave all the other things at home for now.
State-run stores were bustling with people buying snacks and fabrics. As the economy developed further north, people's desire to buy things also increased.
Li Guorong felt even more anxious. After years of living in a daze, she felt the pulse of the times for the first time. With economic development and everything moving forward, she could only go faster and faster.
A woman bumped into her and cursed, "Why are you blocking the way if you're not buying anything? You stinky out-of-towner."
Li Guorong snapped out of his daze. It was Li Jiaoniang, the one who lied to him that Lin's mother liked big red flowers, which caused Lin's mother to dislike her from the start.
She pointed at Li Jiaoniang's face and said, "You wretched woman, you made me look bad when I met my mother-in-law, and you even dared to call me a stinking outsider."
When Li Jiaoniang saw that it was Li Guorong, her expression changed, but she regained her composure and covered her nose with her hand. "I thought it was someone else. Isn't this just a vagrant going to the shelter?"
Upon hearing this, the others quickly moved away.
Seeing everyone's actions, Li Jiaoniang's confidence soared. She pointed at Li Guorong and said, "Now that you've married a Beijinger, you're a Beijinger yourself. Wash away your stale, impoverished air before you speak."
Li Guorong was panting heavily, rolled up his sleeves, and prepared for battle.
Li Jiaoniang's eyes darted around, as if she had thought of something, and she giggled, "You don't want to hit me, do you? It's broad daylight, and the police will be here soon. My family will be able to pick me up soon, but you'll probably have to wait until evening. After all, Brother Lin will be busy with his love life and won't have time for you."
Li Jiaoniang's face contorted for a moment as she finished speaking, then she patted her clothes and casually went into the store.
Li Guorong's face turned from red to white. What happened to Lin Shaocheng? "Adding fragrance to the red sleeves"—what does that mean? Li Jiaoniang rushed into the store. It's too late for her to chase after her now. Buying rapeseed oil is more important.
This kind of gossip spread faster than a telegram, and the oil shop clerk looked at her with pity, saying, "You are so virtuous, still thinking of buying oil to cook."
Li Guorong asked, "What happened to me?"
The shop assistant noticed Li Guorong's young face and rough hands, assuming she was another poor woman searching for her husband in the countryside. She couldn't help but remind her, "You should pay attention to your husband's recent condition."
Li Guorong rode his bicycle home in a daze, passing by the Beijing Library. "Wow, this library is huge!" he thought.
If she studied hard in the village, maybe she could come here too. But then she thought of Lin Shaocheng's incomprehensible books, and her confidence deflated like a balloon. She should just focus on making money; having a skill and a business is the foundation for making a living.
At the library entrance, two men and a woman were talking. Li Xiangxi was on the woman's side, his face slightly flushed as he looked down at his book, appearing both simple-minded and dull.
Lin Shaocheng was discussing a physics problem with the woman, who had willow-leaf eyebrows, short hair around her neck, and an air of scholarly refinement. It was Zhao Wanyin.
On the high steps, the north wind rustled the pages of books, and young men and women engaged in lively conversation, discussing international affairs and policy interpretations, creating their own world.
A strong gust of wind blew past the bottom of the steps, lifting a corner of Li Guorong's scarf. He picked up the rapeseed oil, got on his bicycle, and left only shallow tire tracks.
Lin Shaocheng had a sudden thought and took a few steps down. Li Xiangxi asked, "Brother, what's wrong?"
Lin Shaocheng shook his head. "Let's go to the library and read some books."
In the empty room, Li Guorong washed the potatoes. These were yellow-fleshed potatoes that she had searched for a long time to buy. She cut them into thick strips, but unfortunately she didn't have a wavy cutter. After cutting them, she immediately soaked them in clean water, changing the water every 15 minutes to prevent them from oxidizing and turning black. Then she took the potatoes out and let them dry.
Fry the potatoes over medium-low heat until cooked through. Once the potato strips float to the surface, remove them. Increase the oil temperature and fry over high heat for 30 to 60 seconds to form a crispy outer shell.
Add chili powder, Sichuan peppercorn powder, salt, sugar, MSG, cumin powder, chopped green onions, cilantro, minced garlic, chopped bird's eye chili, and light soy sauce, and mix well.
The room was filled with aromas of oil, meat, chili, and broth. The strong scents of the out-of-town dishes whetted everyone's appetite. Several children sniffed the air, wanting to eat, but were scolded and cried out in pain.
Li Guorong took a bite of the fried potato. It was crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, spicy and fragrant. It had to be Beijing style, with plenty of seasoning, but there wasn't enough chili and rapeseed oil.
Pick up a skewer of marinated chicken, and you'll taste just like it.
Lin Shaocheng smelled the enticing aroma at the alley entrance. He rode the tricycle he had bought through connections, with a large package on it and several books he had recently borrowed from the library beside it. He quickened his pace, preparing to take Li Guorong to a state-run restaurant for a good meal.
As Lin Shaocheng got closer to his house, several families outside the door came out, smelling the aroma and trying to find its source. The smell grew stronger and stronger. He opened his eyes wide. Could it be his grave?
Lin Shaocheng opened the door, and Li Guorong placed a bowl of potatoes in her left hand and a large bowl of Sichuan-style boiled chicken on the table with her right. She turned her head, her smile like a plum blossom in the snow, "You're back? Go wash your hands and eat."
Lin Shaocheng's fatigue vanished instantly, and he replied, "I'm back."
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