Zhou Jiuzhen held a large enamel basin filled with greasy pig's trotters, while Ling Huanwu used a spoon to add the trotters one spoonful at a time into the villagers' bowls of rice.
The original pearl-like white rice is topped with a thick red broth and a large pig's trotter, making the whole bowl of fragrant rice even more appetizing and tempting.
Zhou Shuyao and Qin Jinshen squeezed shoulder to shoulder to the front row, almost pulling each other's hair out in their struggle to be the first to get the pig's trotters.
The guard darted forward and seized the opportunity, getting the first serving of pig's trotters.
One bite, and your mouth is filled with oil, a feeling of pure bliss washes over you, and all your unhappiness vanishes instantly.
When the pig's trotters were placed in front of Zhao Jingxiang, Ling Huanwu didn't look to see who he was. She just held up the large ladle used to scoop the trotters, her eyes crinkling into slits as she smiled, "You must be a new educated youth who doesn't have a bowl, right? We do."
As she spoke, she huffed and puffed as she ran back to the stove, grabbed a large bowl, filled it with white rice, poured a generous spoonful of pig's trotters over it, and stuffed it into his hand.
Zhou Jiuzhen, standing to the side, felt a pang of jealousy and muttered in dissatisfaction, "Why are you so biased towards the new educated youth, giving him so much..."
Zhou Jiuzhen held the enamel basin containing pig's trotters, his gaze unconsciously sweeping towards the man in front of him.
The moment Zhou Jiuzhen's eyes met Zhao Jingxiang's, a look of surprise flashed across his face, followed by a blank expression.
The man in front of him looked strangely familiar, and his features resembled his by about 50%.
Just as he was puzzled, Ling Huanwu pulled him away, which eased the awkwardness of the two grown men staring at each other.
Zhao Jingxiang held the large bowl he had never seen before in his hands, picked up his chopsticks and ate a few mouthfuls.
As the tender, savory meat melted between his lips and teeth, something seemed to explode in his mind, and his taste buds experienced such a wonderful sensation for the first time.
As Zhao Jingxiang watched the two figures depart and listened to the envious comments from those around him about how well-matched they were, he felt a moment of daze.
After finishing the meal.
The villagers gathered around the campfire and began to chat.
The village chief suggested that the newly arrived educated youth come up and perform their talents.
Some went up to play the accordion, and some went up to sing.
When it was Zhao Jingxiang's turn, he sullenly snorted, "Boring."
Zhou Shuyao peeked out and clicked his tongue twice, "Another pretentious guy!"
As he spoke, he nudged Qin Jinshen beside him, "You're thinking of saying it's boring too, right? You're a peasant, you probably don't have any talents, your only talent is laziness, haha..."
Before Zhou Shuyao could finish laughing, Qin Jinshen strode to the center of the crowd, poured a few bowls of water, and started tapping out "Why Are the Flowers So Red" with his chopsticks.
As the music ended, its melodious aftertaste lingered around the drying ground, and the entire area fell silent.
Sitting by the campfire, Ling Huanwu squinted at the unremarkable-looking man in front of her, her brows furrowing slightly.
It's quite suspicious that a country bumpkin who calls himself "Er Gou" could play such a complex and beautiful song with a bowl.
The villagers below erupted in enthusiastic applause, with Ma, the bodyguard, clapping the loudest.
Zhou Shuyao's face darkened when he saw Qin Jinshen, who was standing tall and grinning smugly at him.
It's a pity he's tone-deaf, otherwise he would have definitely gone up and competed with this conspicuous bag in a talent show until they were dead.
Song Yaoyao, hiding in a corner, suggested in a low voice that Ling Huanwu should also go up and dance.
People around them joined in the commotion and jumped up to do it.
Ling Huanwu snapped out of her daze and quickly waved her hand in refusal.
Hiding in the shadows, Song Yaoyao unconsciously curled up the corners of her lips.
Because she had learned from Ling Huanwu's diary that she had injured her foot after being taken away by Qin Jinshen, and her foot would shake uncontrollably every time she danced.
The fact that the woman who was said to shine on the stage of the girls' school in the port city could no longer dance was the biggest blow to her.
Song Yaoyao had been eagerly anticipating seeing her make a fool of herself.
As more and more villagers joined in the commotion, the situation became increasingly chaotic.
Ling Huanwu's face also turned from white to red, as if she was struggling internally.
Song Yaoyao smiled and waited for her to get angry.
Under the glow of the campfire, Ling Huanwu hesitated for only a moment before confidently walking into the middle of the crowd. She whispered a few words to the man playing the accordion and then began her performance.
The warm light of the campfire flickered on everyone's faces. Song Yaoyao sneered and touched her belly, waiting for the show to begin.
She had secretly watched Ling Huanwu dance in the room.
She would fall down every time she spun around after losing her toenail.
What kind of dance can you do with feet like that?
In the corner, some people were eating sunflower seeds, while others were laughing and talking loudly, until the accordion playing the accompaniment suddenly changed its tune, and everyone's attention turned to the center.
The air was filled with youthful, slightly playful dance music.
When Ling Huanwu stood in the center of the field wearing the floral shirt most commonly seen on country girls and holding a red silk ribbon, she was still so beautiful that it was impossible to look away.
Many people stopped what they were doing and turned to look at her.
The moment the music started and she lightly touched the ground with her toes, the entire venue fell silent.
The red silk in her hands was as red as a burning fire.
With a flick of her arm, she sometimes twirled it into beautiful flowers, and sometimes spun it into a circle.
As she bent and spun, her waist was as supple as a willow in the spring breeze, her hips swaying gently with the rhythm, each step perfectly timed, yet carrying a wild energy.
It's like the carefree and lively feeling of chasing butterflies on a field ridge, with the freshness of the earth.
Some people dropped their melon seeds all over the ground, and others forgot that their enamel mugs were tilted and water spilled on their trouser legs without them noticing.
As the last note faded, Ling Huanwu smiled and put away the silk. Fine beads of sweat clung to her bangs, and her cheeks were flushed, like plump, juicy red cherries.
There was a two-second silence, then someone started clapping, and then the applause surged up like a tide, shaking the dust off the roof of the drying yard.
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