After buying the tofu, Fang Qiao went to the meat stall and bought a pound of pork belly and a small piece of pork fat to season the newly bought large iron pot before going back with Chen Guizhi.
On the way back, Fang Qiao asked, "Sister-in-law Guizhi, do you know where the nearest post office is around here?"
"You want to send a letter?" Chen Guizhi said, "You can just put it in the mailbox outside the factory."
Fang Qiao said, "It's not just about sending letters; I also want to send some packages back to my hometown in a few days."
Chen Guizhi nodded: "The post office is far away. You have to take the bus. Take bus number 27 from the bus stop in front of the ironworks residential compound. Go three stops ahead, get off and walk one intersection north.
"Okay, thank you, I'll go another day."
As they talked, the two entered the family compound together.
As soon as Chen Guizhi entered the residential compound, she ran into several acquaintances. After exchanging greetings, they would all ask her, "Who is this? I've never seen her before."
At this point, Chen Guizhi would reply, "He's the wife of the newly appointed Director Cheng of the Special Research Department, our new neighbor."
Cheng Baidong's special research department had just been established, and many people in the factory didn't know about it. Once they started talking, the floodgates opened.
Unfortunately, Fang Qiao knew nothing when asked, and the others couldn't get the answers they wanted, so they gradually dispersed.
The conversation took quite a while, and by the time Fang Qiao got home, it was already 10:30.
As soon as she pushed open the courtyard gate, she saw freshly washed clothes hanging all over the yard, some of hers, some of Cheng Bodong's, and some of Tian Tian's.
Xiao Jing was still squatting next to the tap, washing a small quilt cover in the basin. It was the quilt cover from An An's quilt, which she had peed on on the train yesterday.
Fang Qiao quickly put down the vegetables in her hand and said, "Oh, Xiao Jing, why are you washing clothes? You've been looking after the kids all morning, so just leave this duvet cover here. I'll wash it myself later."
"Sister-in-law, I'm not tired. An'an eats and then sleeps. She doesn't make a fuss at all." Xiao Jing shook her head and continued washing.
Cheng Baidong came out of the kitchen and called to Fang Qiao: "If Xiaojing wants to take a shower, just let her. Come over here and help me out."
"What can I do to help?" Fang Qiao walked over and noticed that Cheng Baidong's hands were covered in mud.
"Come in and speak."
Cheng Baidong went into the kitchen first.
Fang Qiao followed.
Cheng Baidong then lowered his voice and said, "If Xiaojing wants to work, just let her. Don't treat her like a guest. At times like this, the more you stop her from working, the more uncomfortable she will feel."
"Seeing her taking care of our children and doing our laundry makes me feel uneasy," Fang Qiao sighed. "I brought her to the capital hoping to give her a way to make a living, so she wouldn't be driven to death by the gossip in the countryside. Although my third aunt said she wanted her to be our nanny when she came, she is still my cousin, so how could I feel at ease making her do chores?"
“She’ll be fine in a while. After all, she just arrived here yesterday, and she’s still feeling anxious,” Cheng Bodong said. “Working is her way of proving herself. The more work she does, the more she feels useful to the family. We didn’t lose out by bringing her here. The less you let her work, the less secure she feels.”
"Oh well."
Fang Qiao looked out the kitchen window and saw Xiao Jing still washing An An's soiled quilt cover: "Then let her keep washing it?"
"Go ahead and wash it. Don't worry about it. Just think: even if she doesn't come here, she still has to do laundry at home." Cheng Baidong comforted her.
Fang Qiao nodded: "Okay."
Cheng Baidong rinsed the bowls, chopsticks and plates with hot water and put them in the cupboard. The oil, salt, soy sauce and vinegar she bought were also laid out on the cutting board next to the stove.
Fang Qiao checked everything and realized that this time she had not only forgotten to buy a chopstick holder, but also a small basket for holding steamed buns.
It's okay, you can't buy everything for a new house all at once; you always have to add things gradually, one step at a time.
After tidying up the kitchen, Fang Qiao prepared to season the large iron pot.
The firewood was from a crippled bench that no one wanted in the house. It was so old that the remaining three legs were starting to rot and crumbled when touched. Cheng Baidong simply chopped it up to use as firewood.
Cheng Baidong started the fire, and Fang Qiao used pork fat to heat the pot.
She first washed the iron pot clean, then instructed Cheng Baidong to heat it over a low flame. After the pot was dry, she used a spatula to press the pork fat into the pot, spreading it from the inner circle to the outer circle in a spiral motion, continuously rubbing it against the already heated inner wall of the pot so that the overflowing pork fat would evenly cover the entire surface of the pot. She continued heating the pot until it started to smoke slightly before scooping out the remaining pork fat.
Then wash the pot and repeat the above steps until the oil in the pot no longer turns black, then the iron pot is ready.
After boiling the pot, Cheng Baidong placed it on the stove and used pre-mixed clay to seal the gap between the pot and the stove to prevent smoke from seeping out and irritating his nose while cooking.
The first meal after moving into the new house had to be a good one. For lunch, Fang Qiao made braised pork belly with cabbage and vermicelli, cornbread, and a cold dish of tofu with scallions.
The rice is made by pouring boiling water over egg flowers, adding a few grains of salt and two drops of sesame oil. It's delicious and helps to cool you down.
After dinner, Fang Qiao began unpacking her luggage.
Cheng Baidong also went out and found a secluded spot, took out all the large items from the space, and brought them back in a car.
After tidying up her own things, Fang Qiao sighed as she looked at the large bundle that her third aunt had stuffed into the car before leaving.
She opened it and found quite a few things inside.
There were clothes made for children, ranging from very small to one or two years old, a total of seven or eight pieces, all made of new cotton fabric, which felt very soft to the touch, obviously washed several times in advance.
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