Chapter 3.2

“I’m awake, no worries.” Su Ying said as she walked out of the room to wash up.

Ying’s father was busy in the kitchen making steamed buns. The night before, he had already left the dough to rise. Since autumn nights were chilly, he wrapped the dough in a quilt to ferment. When he lifted the cloth covering the bowl, he saw that the dough had risen perfectly. Pulling it apart revealed a honeycomb-like texture. He sprinkled flour on the board, flipped the dough out of the bowl, and began kneading it to release the air.

After a few turns, the dough became smooth again. Ying’s father set it aside and took out the vermicelli that had been soaked in hot water. He chopped it finely and mixed it into the prepared pork filling. The pork and vermicelli filling was ready.

He grabbed a piece of dough and divided it into small portions. Compared to the dumplings Su Ying had made last time, these portions were much larger. The dough was soft yet springy. He flattened each piece into a wrapper, stuffed it with a generous amount of filling, and shaped them into buns one by one. Each finished bun was placed into a steamer tray lined with breathable cloth, spaced a finger-width apart. One tray could hold more than ten buns. In no time, both trays were filled with plump, round buns. He covered them with a lid and placed them over a pot of boiling water. Steam rose up, and after more than twenty minutes, when the lid was lifted, the buns had become fat and puffy, all pressed together.

After washing up, Su Ying walked into the kitchen and saw the freshly steamed buns. She poked one with her finger, and the dough bounced right back. She wet her hand with cold water and began placing the buns onto a plate. Millet porridge was simmering on the stove, sweetened slightly with sugar so it could be eaten together with the buns.

Su Ying carried the plate of buns, while Ying’s father carried a large tray holding bowls of millet porridge. Each person got a share.

“Ying’s dad, your buns are the best. Even though you told me how to make them last time, I just couldn’t make mine as soft and fluffy.” Aunt Xiang tore open a bun in her hands. The pork juices had already seeped into the dough. She took a big slurp from the opening, savoring the savory broth.

The buns were beautifully risen and bigger than a fist, full of hearty filling. Ying’s father’s bun-making skills were widely praised in the village—anyone who had eaten them said they were delicious.

Su Ying held her bowl of millet porridge, taking a sip followed by a big bite of bun, feeling utterly content.

After finishing a bowl of porridge and two big buns, she felt completely satisfied.

When breakfast was over, the aunts and Ying’s parents were still eating slowly, chatting casually about family matters. Su Ying pulled out her phone and opened her account. Her video views had already reached almost ten thousand, though there weren’t many likes or comments.

Still, Su Ying was very pleased. In the comments section, people expressed their admiration for the beautiful scenery, and some reminisced about the beauty of their own hometowns.

Su Ying carefully liked and replied to the comments one by one, then started planning her next videos.

Aside from beautiful scenery, Su Ying thought her father’s cooking skills were also great material. He specialized in simple home-cooked dishes, but they were always delicious, making the best use of available ingredients with the simplest cooking methods.

After tidying up the room, the aunts said their goodbyes and left. Ying’s mother was knitting a sweater with a ball of beige yarn. When she saw Su Ying coming out, she called her over and held the sweater up against her to measure it.

The beige yarn was gradually taking the shape of a sweater in Ying’s mother’s skilled hands. When Su Ying was a child, she often watched her mother knit sweaters. Not only would she knit for Su Ying, but she also took on orders for handmade sweaters to help supplement the family income. Her mother’s knitting skills were exceptional; she could look at a sweater design and replicate it with ease.

In the afternoon, Ying’s father went to the village committee. They had arranged for harvesters to cut the wheat in the fields. Ying’s father said they would begin harvesting in two days. Su Ying also told him that she wanted to film a video of him cooking. Her father scratched his head shyly and said, “You want to film me? I’m not very good on camera, am I?”

Su Ying couldn’t help but laugh and replied, “Of course not, Dad. You look the best when you’re cooking.”

“What should we have for dinner, then? Tell your dad, and he’ll make it for you while you film.” Ying’s mother chimed in with a suggestion.

“Let’s check the vegetable garden. How about making a big mixed salad for dinner?” Su Ying proposed. Using their homegrown vegetables to make a sweet and sour salad would be refreshing and appetizing.

Her father was a man of action. Hearing this, he grabbed a basket and headed to the vegetable garden. Su Ying followed with her phone, already recording. In the video, her father squatted down in the garden, pulled out two carrots, picked two small cucumbers from the vines, and then plucked a few tomatoes. Su Ying also picked a tomato, wiped it on her shirt, and took a bite. The tangy juice burst in her mouth—it was so refreshing.

After gathering the vegetables, Ying’s father went to the freezer to retrieve some frozen tofu skins and soaked them in water to thaw. Tofu skins were a staple at home and perfect for salads. He then went down to the cellar to fetch a small basin of peanuts, over a pound in weight. The large red-skinned peanuts were plump and full. Su Ying followed behind her father, busy recording every step. Each scene captured the familiar rhythm of her life. As a child, she always trailed behind her father like a little tail, unable to help much but eager to be near him. When he cooked, he would often sneak her little treats—she was undoubtedly a foodie from a young age.

Once the tofu skins were cleaned, he blanched them briefly in hot water and then cooled them in ice water. The cucumbers and carrots were shredded into fine strips with his skilled knife work, and the tomatoes were sliced. The tofu skins were cut into strips of the same size and added to the mix.

Then came Ying’s father’s specialty: frying peanuts. He poured a generous amount of soybean oil into the wok, the rich aroma filling the air. He added the peanuts to the cold oil and slowly heated them over low heat, stirring continuously. As the oil drove out the moisture, the peanut skins darkened. Once done, he scooped them out with a strainer and spread them on a plate to cool. This method ensured the peanuts weren’t burnt and had just the right crunch. A pinch of salt added the perfect amount of flavor.

Finally, he prepared the dressing: the right amount of soy sauce, aromatic vinegar, a bit of salt, and some sugar. He mixed it thoroughly, poured it over the shredded vegetables, drizzled a little sesame oil, sprinkled in a handful of peanuts, and tossed it all together. The big mixed salad was ready—a huge plateful. Su Ying filmed a full circle around the dish, capturing the finished product.

Besides the salad, Ying’s father reheated the leftover steamed buns from the morning. It was another hearty meal.

Su Ying picked up a chopstick full of salad. It was cool and refreshing, the cucumber crisp, the tomatoes tangy, the tofu skins chewy, the carrot strips sweet and crunchy, and the fried peanuts fragrant and crispy. The sweet-and-sour dressing tied everything together. On this slightly hot autumn day, it was the perfect dish.

Su Ying also shared the video with her parents. Both Ying’s father and mother nodded in approval. Su Ying’s filming angles made the food look especially appetizing: the traditional countryside stove, her father’s exquisite knife skills, and the colorful finished dish all worked together beautifully.

After dinner, Su Ying returned to her room, hurriedly edited the video, and posted her second short video.