Chapter 407
Gungun and Dandan's eyes went wide. Fang Zichen said, "Don't believe me? If you don't believe me, go ask your daddy. But your daddy wasn't fat when he was little—he was chubby and cute. Then he got captured by a tiger demon. Your daddy lived with those people for over half a year, and then he turned into a tigress. Now when your daddy gets angry, tell me—are you scared or not?"
"Scared," Gungun and Dandan said.
"So you two, ah, oh f*ck—" Before Fang Zichen could even finish his sentence, he suddenly jumped up. Zhao Ger had appeared behind him at some point, holding an embroidery needle in his hand.
"Who's the tigress?"
Fang Zichen felt a prick on his back. Zhao Ger hadn't stabbed him hard, so it didn't really hurt—just like an ant bite. He hurriedly said, "Me, it's me."
Zhao Ger glared at him hatefully.
This man—fine if he wanted to educate his sons, but he just had to spout nonsense. Truly infuriating.
"No stir-fried sour bamboo shoots for you tonight," Zhao Ger said sulkily.
How could that be allowed?
Fang Zichen leaned in and kissed him. "Don't be like that, my dear Bwother Zhao. Everything can be discussed nicely!"
Zhao Ger punched him and laughed. "Next time don't call me a tigress."
"If I don't say it, does that mean you're not one?"
"...Do you still want to eat sour bamboo shoots today or not!"
Fang Zichen didn't dare say another word. Although Uncle Tang could also stir-fry them, his cooking wasn't as good as Zhao Ger's. Before, he'd never even stir-fried this kind of pickled vegetable. Last time he dug some sour bamboo shoots out of the crock without even washing them and threw them straight into the wok. The result was so sour it nearly made his teeth fall out.
Guaizai went to dig up earthworms and came back. After dinner and a short rest, he started practicing with the long spear again, feeling quite pleased with himself.
The long spear was very difficult to handle. Some of the jumping and mid-air spinning moves made the whole practice much harder.
The back-thrust spear move—Guaizai had already been practicing it for three months. Now, holding the wooden stick Fang Zichen had specially made for him, he twirled it around his body. The whole routine had a very fast rhythm. At first, when he wasn't skilled yet, he would always end up hitting himself on the head mid-spin, giving himself a big bump on the forehead. Now when he practiced, it was already smooth and flowing.
Fang Zichen didn't know why he wanted to practice this. Later, when he asked, it turned out Guaizai had seen Old General Qin perform it and thought it was really cool and stylish, so he'd come back and pestered Fang Zichen to teach him. He thought Fang Zichen knew everything—but how could Fang Zichen possibly know it all! He only knew the back-thrust spear move.
But he also wanted to save face. Under his son's bright, eager gaze, he could only grit his teeth and give it a try.
Guaizai thought Fang Zichen's performance was even cooler than Old General Qin's moves, so he practiced even harder.
Fang Zichen watched and shook his head. This damn kid—just to look cool, he was really putting his life on the line.
Gungun and Dandan watched from the side, clapping and going "Wow, awesome!" from time to time, cheering their big brother on quite enthusiastically.
After Guaizai finished practicing, father and sons each grabbed a wooden stick and started playing in the courtyard. Fang Zichen played the Monkey King, Gungun and Dandan were crab soldiers and shrimp generals, and Guaizai was the Dragon King of the Sea. Who knew what story they were acting out—anyway, it was the Dragon King leading crab soldiers and shrimp generals trying to capture the Monkey King. Guaizai even ran to the kitchen to grab a pot lid as a shield and put two round plates on Gungun and Dandan's heads as helmets. The few of them chased and fought, the courtyard echoing with bangs and crashes like they were demolishing the house, their laughter carrying far into the distance.
"Monster, watch Guaizai's Ultraman light beam!"
"You fool, wrong show! You're the Dragon King of the Sea right now!"
"Oh, right right right. Fang Monkey, take this!"
Zhao Ger watched from the side, amused.
Fang Zichen didn't have many friends. The only one he was close to was Li Yisheng, but the two rarely had time to see each other. At first, Zhao Ger had worried Fang Zichen would feel lonely, but later, seeing him play with Guaizai even better than he played with Li Yisheng, Zhao Ger knew he'd been worrying over nothing.
Although father and son were a generation apart, they got along very well and surprisingly had a lot in common.
...
At the end of the eighth month, all the factories had finished loading their goods and were transporting them to Anping County one after another.
How much cargo to load, how many people to bring—Zhao Ger had already arranged everything properly.
Several horse-drawn carts traveled together. Sweet potato noodles and instant noodles weren't heavy, so to load more. The goods were piled up high and covered with oilcloth, so no one could tell what was inside.
"I heard it's instant noodles," someone said.
"Instant noodles? What's that?" But if it had 'noodles' in the name, it should be edible.
Sweet potato noodles they understood—they'd eaten them, they were delicious. But they weren't sold anymore, supposedly because stock was being saved to ship out.
The instant noodle factory was up north. The building was huge—even bigger than the paper mill. Every day, sugar, chili peppers, garlic, and peppercorns were carted into the factory by the cartload. Day after day, the fragrance drifted far and wide—people from ten li away could smell it. Everyone was incredibly curious, wandering around the factory entrance every day, but the factory was strictly managed. Except for employees, no outsiders were allowed in.
Since it was a food business, they hired more women and gers. They also signed contracts. Every day after work, they'd go home smelling fragrant. Family members would surely be curious and want to ask, but upon hearing their daughter say she couldn't tell—that talking would mean paying a fine and going to jail—the family immediately didn't dare ask anymore.
Later, during the Hungry Ghost Festival, the factory gave workers instant noodles—not many, just two bags each. Everyone practically carried them home in their hands like precious treasures.
[The Hungry Ghost Festival: a traditional Chinese festival celebrated on the 15th day of the 7th lunar month, when the gates of the underworld open and ghosts roam the earth; families honor their deceased ancestors with offerings of food, incense, and paper money, while also pacifying wandering spirits to avoid misfortune.]
Since the family's daughter started working at the factory, things had improved at home. That day, the whole family went to town to buy meat. In the evening, seeing their daughter bring something home, they were quite happy. Seeing her busy in the kitchen, not even stopping to eat, her mother and several sisters-in-law went in to lend a hand. But when they heard their daughter say it was flatbreads, everyone's interest dropped by half.
[The daughter said 麵餅, which literally means "flatbread" — a flat wheat food usually pan-fried or baked. She used the word because dried instant noodle blocks are also made from wheat flour and are fried.]
Around here, what they ate most was big flatbreads. Today the family had bought meat, so nobody was enthusiastic about some kind of noodles. They were just about to sit down in the main room when suddenly they smelled something—incredibly fragrant.
After that, the instant noodles were naturally snatched up clean. There were nine people in the family, and only two packs of instant noodles to split among them — just a few bites each, not even any soup left.
Every household was like this. The whole village smelled of instant noodles.
The next day, everyone knew. People gathered in groups to chat, and it turned out that what the young master's (Xiao Feng) factory made was instant noodles—so fragrant and delicious. They'd lived more than half their lives and it was their first time eating something so tasty.
Unfortunately, the young master said production was still low, so they weren't selling yet.
This year, with chemical fertilizer, the wheat harvest was also good. But the red chili oil in the instant noodles had to be rendered from beef tallow. Up north there weren't many cows, but Fang Zichen had given orders—now every household raised cattle. By year's end, they estimated they could produce in large quantities.
People up north understood, but the common folk down south had never even heard of it.
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