Zhou Yan put the noodles in the pot, washed and dried his hands, then took out Zhou Momo's drawing and opened it, his eyes widening slightly.
It was clearly a charcoal drawing, depicting a small courtyard with a little girl with two ponytails, a cat crouching beside her feet, and a goose following behind.
In the corner was a small, dark handprint, probably Zhou Momo's unique signature.
Charcoal isn't a pen, so the little girl's features were blurry and not particularly beautiful, but upon closer inspection, there was a certain charm, a childlike innocence.
Zhou Momo was only three and a half years old!
The little one usually liked to draw on the sand with a twig; no one had ever taught her how to draw.
Unexpectedly, she had this talent.
Zhou Yan thought it was wonderful, filled with affection. He carefully folded it up and put it in his pocket, then quickly scooped the noodles out of the pot.
After breakfast, Zhou Yan went upstairs to get the letter he had written the night before, adding a note that it was a drawing Zhou Momo had made for her. He then put it back in the envelope, sealed it with rice, and went to the factory gate to drop it into the mailbox.
Clang.
The letter landed in the empty mailbox with a soft sound.
Zhou Momo, who had followed him unnoticed, stood on tiptoe and asked curiously, "Guo Guo, does Sister Yaoyao live in the mailbox? Can you hold me so I can see?"
"Let you see mah." Zhou Yan said with a smile, picking her up and letting her peek through the long, narrow opening of the mailbox.
"Sister Yaoyao, turn on the light! I can't see you!" Zhou Momo cried out into the mailbox after looking for a while, cupping her hands into a small megaphone.
This scene amused the security guards standing watch at the factory gate.
"This is a mailbox, where can put the letters." Zhou Yan said with a smile, setting her down and explaining, "If you put your letter in here, a postman will come and take it, then he'll travel over mountains and valleys to deliver it to Sister Yaoyao, so she can see your letter."
"Does she live in a very, very far place?" Zhou Momo asked, seemingly understanding but not quite.
"Yes, it's really far now, over 300 kilometers. We need to get to Jiazhou first, then take a bus to Chongqing. It'll be a bumpy ride, probably take a whole day." Zhou Yan nodded with a smile.
Zhou Momo thought for a moment, then looked up at him: "When are we leaving?"
"Huh?" Zhou Yan looked at her.
"A day, we'll be there after a nap." Zhou Momo shook his hand, saying in a childish voice, "I want to go play with Sister Yaoyao, Guo Guo, take me!"
"We can't go right now. Your brother Hao is getting married tomorrow, and you're going to be a flower girl, plus there's a banquet. Aren't you going to eat?" Zhou Yan looked at her and said.
Zhou Momo only thought for a second: "Then let's eat the banquet first."
"Okay, next time I have time, I'll take you to Jiazhou for a trip. Chongqing is too far." Zhou Yan reached out and patted her head, then turned and walked towards the restaurant.
"Okay!" Zhou Momo skipped along behind him. "I want to eat a popsicle."
"Then go tell Aunt Zhao."
"I...I don't want to eat anymore."
...
The workers gradually arrived at work, and the restaurant slowly became busier.
Zhou Lihui was now a very competent fire-starter, able to control the heat of the two noodle pots steadily and even help with seasoning.
Zhou Yan noticed that his hands were quite steady, and he had a precise control over the amount of seasoning. After watching him for a few days, he gradually learned to control the amount as well.
A talent for seasoning is quite important for a chef.
Some salt king can make their customers drink two extra bottles of water a day.
Participating in tasks beyond fetching water and starting the fire greatly excited Zhou Lihui.
Even if it was just adjusting the flavor, at least he was deeply involved in the cooking process of a bowl of noodles.
Zhou Yan looked at him, a smile in his eyes. Huihui possessed a patience rarely seen in a young man, a crucial quality for the tedious task of learning to cook.
After all, not everyone is like him, perfectly inheriting the foundation laid by little Zhou over two and a half years, making becoming a chef effortless.
At 7:30 sharp, Zhou Lihui slung his school bag over his shoulder and headed to school.
Recently, he'd been helping out at the shop, doing mostly physical labor, but his enthusiasm for learning had actually increased considerably.
According to Zhao Hong, he memorized his lessons in the morning and practiced calligraphy at night—he was incredibly diligent.
This left Zhou Yan unsure whether to be happy or worried. If Huihui truly took it seriously, unlocked his learning potential, and his grades skyrocketed, he really wouldn't want him to finish junior high and become an apprentice at the restaurant.
In this era, being able to study was undoubtedly the most promising path.
As for cooking, it doesn't matter when you start learning.
These days, Zhou Yan is quite adept at making eighty bowls of noodles every morning. Even if orders doubled, he could probably handle it. It's just a pity that the number of workers that eat noodles has reached its limit; maintaining eighty bowls is already quite good, and he's content.
A bicycle stopped in front of the restaurant.
An old woman got off the bicycle, carrying a ceramic jar, and walked into the shop, saying, "Zhou Yan, your grandma's here."
Zhou Weiguo parked his bicycle and followed her in. He wasn't wearing his Zhongshan suit today; he'd changed back into his military uniform, which made him look more energetic.
"Mom? What brings you here?" Aunt Zhao came out carrying noodles, and was stunned to see the old lady.
"Grandma?!" Zhou Yan, hearing the voice, immediately came out of the kitchen, and was equally stunned to see the old lady and Uncle following behind.
My goodness?
Are these two really that wild?
One-handed and lame, daring to ride his 75 years old mother all the way from the village's terrible roads to town?
One dared to ride, and the other dared to sit on it?
"Come on, take the caramelized sugar inside." the old lady called out.
Zhou Yan quickly stepped forward, took the jar from the old lady's hands, and looked at Zhou Weiguo to confirm, "Uncle, you brought Grandma here?"
"Yes." Zhou Weiguo nodded.
"What's the big deal? He rides his bicycle very steadily." The old lady said calmly.
The customers in the restaurant glanced at the two, somewhat surprised.
On the other hand, the two people involved felt it was reasonable.
"Grandma! Uncle!" Zhou Momo slid down from the high stool and ran over to hug the old lady's leg.
"Good girl." The old lady reached out and patted her head, smiling, "Hmm, your braids are so pretty today, you look so cute."
"Really!" Zhou Momo's eyes lit up, and she proudly touched her braids, "Mommy braided them for me."
"Tie Ying's skills are really good, she dressed you up so well." The old lady said with a smile.
"Yes, yes, Tie Ying is the best!" Zhou Momo nodded.
This made everyone laugh; the little one really dared to imitate anything.
Aunt Zhao, standing nearby, beamed and quickly invited the old lady to sit down.
The old lady curiously examined the newly built stove by the door. It wasn't there when she last came. However, with so many customers, she didn't ask further. Instead, she looked at the menu on the wall, glanced at it for a moment, and said, "Give me two liang of braised beef with bamboo shoot noodles. Weiguo said your noodles are delicious; I want to try them and see if they're really that good."
"I want minced beef noodles." Zhou Weiguo said.
"Okay, I'll make them for you both right away." Zhou Yan carried the jar into the kitchen, quickly pulling the noodles, cooking them, and preparing them.
Soon, two bowls of noodles were on the table.
The old lady picked up her chopsticks, first tasting a piece of beef, nodding slightly, then eating a piece of bamboo shoot, a smile appearing on her lips. She then tasted a bite of noodles, her eyes brightening. Finally, she took a sip of the broth before saying, "These noodles are truly excellent; the best in Suji."
Aunt Zhao, standing to the side, breathed a sigh of relief, a smile spreading across her face.
The old lady loved to cook, so she rarely praised other people's cooking. For Zhou Yan to receive such praise from her meant that the noodles truly touched her heart.
Zhou Yan, hearing this from the kitchen, smiled smugly.
Zhou Weiguo finished eating and went to work.
The old lady ate slowly, finishing not only the noodles but also the soup.
After she finished, there were no other customers in the restaurant. Zhao Hong went to collect the bowls and took them to the kitchen.
"That stove is for making soup of soup pot?" the old lady asked, looking at Zhou Yan.
"Yes, but in my shop, it's called Cross-legged Beef." Zhou Yan nodded.
"You even know this old-fashioned way of calling it?" The old lady smiled, got up and walked to the pot, gently fanning the steam with her hand, nodding, "Hmm, the soup tastes authentic, smells so fresh. Zhou Jie said he learned to make soup pot from you, and now his business is booming."
Zhou Yan smiled and said, "Brother Jie is good with words, and he makes good soup pot too. His business was already the best at the docks. Learning from me just means he can raise the price per unit, and the profit is higher than before."
"His is nowhere near as good as yours. I can tell just by the smell. It's his good fortune that you're willing to teach him." The old lady shook her head, turned and walked towards the kitchen, "Come on, let's make the braising liquid. I need to go check on my second son this afternoon."
"Okay!" Zhou Yan eagerly followed.
The old lady first examined the aluminum pot Zhou Yan had prepared, nodding and saying, "This pot is perfect. Even after long cooking, the braising liquid won't easily turn black. Some people who don't know any better use iron pots, and their braising liquid turns black after just a few uses, making the braised meat look dark and unappetizing."
"Come on, pour the braising liquid into the pot."
Zhou Yan immediately went over, lifted the gauze covering the lid, and carefully poured the braising liquid into the aluminum pot.
The braising liquid was a bright reddish-brown, a natural and beautiful color achieved through caramel coloring.
As soon as it was poured out, the aroma filled the room.
Zhou Yan loved braised food, especially braised duck, rabbit heads, and, most of all, the juicy braised pork intestines.
But those shops that claimed to have century-old braising liquid couldn't compare to the rich, mellow flavor of the old lady's pot of old braising liquid—a natural flavor without any high-tech additives.