Chapter 039: House Hunting in High Spirits

Weekend morning. The sky was just beginning to brighten, but Zhao Ming was already awake.

The first thing he did after getting up was to sweep the dust from inside the house. After cleaning, he mopped the floors of the living room and bedrooms until they gleamed, not forgetting to wipe down the furniture with a clean cloth, making sure everything was spotless, just as he had done in the army—so clean that even a white-gloved inspection would find not a speck of dust.

While tidying the room, since his wife and son were still asleep, he moved carefully, wary of waking them and disturbing their rest.

The pristine, orderly home filled him with joy. Daily cleaning had become a vital routine for him, keeping the house spotless and providing a bit of exercise—a double benefit.

He wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, then, after finishing with the house, swiftly washed away the scent of perspiration.

Changing into fresh clothes, he began preparing breakfast for his wife and child.

On weekdays, he would rise early, finish the cleaning, and then take his son to school. On weekends, he would make sure to prepare all the breakfast ingredients the night before.

Mother and son most cherished these weekend mornings, when they could savor Zhao Ming’s chef-like skills—wontons, cold noodles, and Chi’s fried rice were their favorites for breakfast.

During workdays, pressed for time, they had no opportunity to enjoy these treats. So, each weekend’s meal became something they looked forward to, a small anticipation.

Zhao Ming entered the kitchen and took from the fridge the ingredients he’d prepared last night: tomatoes, onions, smoked tofu, cured sausage, lean pork, eggs, along with ginger, garlic, mushroom sauce, and scallions.

The glass dish for serving the cold noodles was already filled with cool, boiled water.

Focused and intent, Zhao Ming stood at the stove, making breakfast for his wife and son.

The noodles, boiled in water, needed to be rinsed at precisely the right moment with cold drinking water. While cooking, Zhao Ming paid close attention to the timing—the noodles, if boiled too long, would lose their firmness, but if undercooked, they would be unpleasantly raw.

He finally rinsed the noodles in the glass dish with cold water, exhaled in relief, washed his hands, and began to prepare the sauce for the cold noodles.

Ever since primary school, Zhao Ming had been in the habit of cooking for himself. Back then, his parents worked tirelessly from dawn till dusk to earn work points. To ensure they could have hot food upon returning home, Zhao Ming learned to cook.

During his years in the army’s communal life, whenever he had the chance, he would cook his favorite dishes. Once, his sweet-and-sour ribs were so delicious that his superior bit through his chopsticks. Such was the reputation of Zhao Ming’s cooking.

He chopped the prepared ingredients finely and placed them in a large stainless steel bowl.

The stove fire burned brightly, blue flames tinged with a hint of gas. The technician who had visited a few days before had said that the incomplete combustion was due to the stove’s age, and suggested it was time to replace it.

But now, every penny mattered. With the urgent business of raising funds for a new house, the stove would have to wait a while longer, Zhao Ming thought, shaking his head.

He poured oil into the pan, waited until it shimmered with rippling patterns, then added the prepared ingredients, stir-frying them with seasonings. Finally, he thickened the sauce, making it rich and glossy, and sprinkled scallions on top.

The aroma of the sauce filled the house, waking Xi Yu, who slept behind the wardrobe.

Xi Yu dressed in casual sportswear and his favorite flip-flops, then ran to Du Juan’s bedside.

“Wake up, wake up, Mommy, wake up! Can’t you smell your favorite cold noodle sauce?” Xi Yu said as he gently patted Du Juan’s cheek. “Didn’t we agree to go house hunting after breakfast today?” Hearing this, Du Juan replied, “Oh, yes. We promised, today we’ll go look at houses.”

Du Juan sat up, pinched Xi Yu’s nose playfully. “Oh my, my little darling, you remembered our house-hunting plans?”

“Of course! All my classmates have their own rooms and even studies. Our house is so tiny, I don’t even have a proper place to study. How can my grades improve?” Xi Yu complained about his study environment.

“All right, all right, after breakfast we’ll go look at houses. Let’s try to buy a home as soon as possible, okay, my little master?”

“When you actually buy the house, then it counts, my dear mommy.” Xi Yu hopped out of the bedroom.

He closed the door softly behind him and entered the kitchen, gazing at his father preparing the cold noodles. He walked over to the stove, shook his head, closed his eyes, and took in the aroma. “Wow, it smells amazing! I need to hurry and wash up so I can devour this pot of noodles.”

He rushed off to brush his teeth and wash his face, visibly in a good mood.

Once finished, he returned like a hungry tiger, took the cold noodles his father handed him, and ate them voraciously.

Du Juan emerged from her room and saw Xi Yu wolfing down his food. She looked at him with eyes full of tenderness. “Are the noodles really that good?” she asked.

“Dad’s noodles are unbeatable. These must be the best cold noodles in the world.” Xi Yu praised his father as he ate. “I think Dad should quit his job and open a noodle shop. It would be packed with customers and the money would flow in.”

“Just noodles?” Du Juan asked.

“Not just cold noodles! Don’t you think Dad’s wontons are amazing too? Honestly, my gut tells me Dad has a rare talent for this. There was a news story recently about a college professor earning less than a street vendor selling flatbreads. Dad is way better than the flatbread guy. If he opened a noodle shop, maybe we’d have bought our house already, instead of waiting until now.”

“Don’t be silly. Your dad doing catering—does he really have the temperament for it? I know he’s talented, but his gift is for us alone, not for the masses. His main job is in cultural work, which he loves. He’d never want to quit and run a restaurant.” Du Juan tapped her cold noodle bowl with her chopsticks.

“Careful! This is such a nice set of bowls, don’t break them, it’s hard to replace, and most importantly, it would waste these delicious noodles,” Xi Yu cautioned. “Let’s stop talking nonsense and eat. We need to go house hunting.”

Xi Yu continued to eat ravenously. Du Juan watched him, unable to suppress her smile. “Is it hunger or are the noodles just that irresistible?”

“Of course it’s because they’re delicious! These must be the best cold noodles in the world.” Xi Yu pointed to the bowl in front of Du Juan. “Quick, try them. If you can’t finish, give me half—I still don’t feel full.”

Du Juan let Xi Yu finish the noodles on the table. He protested, “I’m not a bottomless pit! I can’t eat two big bowls. Just share a bit with me.” He placed his bowl in front of her.

Du Juan used her chopsticks to transfer noodles to his bowl. “Is that enough? If not, I’ll give you more. I don’t seem to have much appetite this morning.”

“That’s plenty, you want to stuff your son to death?” Xi Yu felt he had too much and returned some noodles to Du Juan.

After finishing, Xi Yu patted his belly. “Now I feel satisfied!” He took his bowl and chopsticks to the kitchen, washed them clean, and put them back in the cabinet.

Zhao Ming and Du Juan quickly finished breakfast, tidied up, and the family prepared to go out.

Meanwhile, Ming Yue was setting up her stall at the market, beginning another day of toil.

The lettuce sold quickly, gone in no time. Ming Yue tidied the leaves left from the sale, placing them in an empty basket on the side. To save money, these would be part of dinner.

She stood and stretched, looking a bit weary, and from afar spotted her eldest brother, Zhao Ming, approaching.

Zhao Ming had already seen Ming Yue standing there and hurried to her stall. He handed her two packs of Wahaha drinks, and Ming Yue asked, “How come you have time to visit me today? Aren’t you working?”

“I just have some errands near the market today. In a few days I’ll be traveling for work—gone for almost a month—so I wanted to check in on you and Si Tu Cong,” Zhao Ming replied.

“Oh, do you want to have lunch here? I can make a few dishes to go with drinks, you and Si Tu can share a few.” Ming Yue hadn’t seen her brother for a while and hoped he’d stay for a meal.

“Sure. My colleagues are still recording the show on site; they won’t be leaving anytime soon,” Zhao Ming replied. Not seeing Si Tu, he asked, “Where is he? I don’t see him around.”

“He was called away by his older brother today, about the house we live in. His brother mentioned a while ago that, since we need money to buy a house, they’re planning to sell the one we live in. We probably won’t stay here much longer. Besides, it’s so hard to make a living selling vegetables,” Ming Yue sighed, speaking of her husband.