Chapter 17: The Foodie Zhou Sinian

The educated youth quarters in the front courtyard was buzzing with activity.

The older educated youths had brought back the three who had been beaten into swollen-faced messes, using an oil lamp to light the way.

Seeing that the three of them were still fully dressed and had no intention of going to sleep, Zhang Xiaojun realized that they had been deliberately targeted.

But at this moment, the pain was too overwhelming to care about anything else.

The older youths held up the oil lamp, carefully examining their injuries.

“This time, they really got beaten badly. Tsk, tsk, tsk… That must hurt like hell!”

“Yeah, even the girl got it bad this time. Usually, they go easier on the women.”

“Hey, where’s that other shorty?”

Ming Dai: Your whole family is short!

“No idea… Could she be dead?”

“Should we go check?”

“I’m not going! You go!”

Fang Mingyang’s eyes flickered, but he stayed silent.

In the end, no one went to check on Ming Dai.

Lying in the mudbrick house, Fang Mingyang thought about the big tile-roofed house in the backyard.

If Zhou Sinian really killed someone, wouldn’t he be sent away?

Then… wouldn’t they be able to move in?

Having been thrown out into the cold, Liu Daye and the other two had no bedding. They could only borrow padded coats from the other educated youths to survive the night.

Low groans and muffled cries of pain echoed through the night, yet no one found them bothersome or disruptive.

Instead, they fell asleep to those sounds, as if restoring the balance that had once been lost.

The next morning, the front courtyard was already stirring. Some of the educated youths had woken up early, sneaking glances toward the backyard, but none of them dared to actually go past the screen wall to check.

Ming Dai had also woken up.

She first entered her personal space to freshen up, then climbed off the kang and neatly folded her bedding.

The troublemakers were finally gone. Tonight, she could properly tidy up the room.

But first, she needed to solve the firewood problem.

Stepping out of the room, she glanced around. The small courtyard was still a mess.

She walked into the kitchen and inspected the stove. Sure enough, Liu Daye and his group hadn’t even bothered to wash the pot after eating. The food, however, had been completely wiped clean.

Shameless!

She looked at the pile of firewood on the ground. It seemed like Zhou Sinian had gathered some fresh wood yesterday—some of the branches were still green.

The water vat beside it was also empty. It was obvious that those three hadn’t refilled it after using up the water.

She thought for a moment, then turned toward the east wing.

Standing before the tightly shut door, she knocked.

“I’m going to use some of the firewood you brought, alright? I’ll make breakfast and save some for you.”

Silence.

She knocked again and repeated herself.

“I’ll return the firewood tonight. If you don’t come out, I’ll take that as a yes, okay?”

She waited a little longer, but there was still no response.

So, Ming Dai turned and headed back to the kitchen.

She picked out the damp firewood and placed it in a corner to dry. Then, she grabbed a bucket and walked toward the well at the edge of the courtyard.

This house had its own well. The educated youths used to come here for water, but ever since Zhou Sinian took over, they no longer dared to approach and had to fetch water from the village instead.

That was one of the reasons they wanted Zhou Sinian gone.

The well hadn’t frozen over yet. When she tossed the bucket down, the splash of water sounded crisp in the morning air.

She only hauled up half a bucket each time. Though her body had improved, she still wasn’t very strong.

Since she planned to go into the mountains to collect firewood later, she didn’t take too much. Even so, after four or five trips, she was already exhausted.

At least she managed to scrub the pot clean.

She tidied up the stove and cleared out the ashes, piling them in the corner. As expected, the fire burned much better now.

After adding water, Ming Dai clapped the dust off her hands. Luckily, she had experienced rural life during a previous trip. Otherwise, she wouldn’t even know how to start a fire.

She pulled the bellows, increasing the flames, then added another piece of firewood to keep it burning.

Standing up, she returned to her room and carried the food she had received yesterday into the kitchen.

Just as she set everything down, a shadow appeared at the kitchen door.

Ming Dai looked up to see a tall, lean man—easily around 1.9 meters—staring at her.

This was Zhou Sinian.

He was thin—almost skin and bones—his face gaunt and sharp.

But despite his frail appearance, he was remarkably neat. His hair was uneven, as if hacked away, but it wasn’t messy or greasy.

His clothes were tattered, with many parts torn open, exposing tufts of cotton. However, they were clean—only the fabric showed signs of fading in different shades.

Something felt off.

Ming Dai took a closer look—his cotton coat’s left sleeve and right collar were wet!

His pant legs and shoes were also damp!

The spot where he stood had already formed a ring of water stains!

Did he… wash his winter coat?!

This guy was absolutely insane!

Who in their right mind washed cotton-padded clothes in the dead of winter?

They wouldn’t dry at all!

Judging by his appearance, he didn’t seem to have any spare cotton-padded clothing either. Ming Dai felt a headache coming on.

But she didn’t dare provoke him, so she asked softly, “Are you hungry?”

Zhou Sinian still didn’t respond, just continued staring at her.

Ming Dai showed him her bag of food. “I’ll use my own rations to make breakfast. Let’s eat together, okay?”

The man remained standing in the doorway, silent. His eyes were locked onto her, making her skin prickle with goosebumps.

Ming Dai didn’t say more. She picked up the bag of cornmeal, poured some into a ceramic bowl she had brought, sprinkled in some yeast, and added water, kneading the dough until smooth.

Lifting the pot lid, she flipped it upside down and placed the ceramic bowl on top, covering it securely.

Next, she pulled out two large potatoes from her bag, scooped some water to rinse them, and used a bottle cap from an old drink to scrape off the skin.

After searching for a while, she realized there was no cutting board or knife.

She looked at the man standing at the door. “Can I go out for a bit? I need to get some cooking tools and seasoning.”

The man stared at her, motionless.

Ming Dai held back her impatience and repeated herself once more.

A few minutes later, Zhou Sinian moved aside, leaving a narrow gap.

The corner of Ming Dai’s mouth twitched. With such a small opening, only someone with her bean sprout-like frame could squeeze through.

Once inside her room, she quickly moved to her space and gathered the items she needed.

After a moment of thought, she considered Zhou Sinian’s height and selected a set of clothes and shoes before carrying them over.

When she entered the kitchen again, Zhou Sinian was already crouching by the stove for warmth, his head almost buried inside the fire pit.

Ming Dai did not stop him—at least, not until the front of his hair began to curl, and the distinct smell of burning protein filled the air.

Then, the man withdrew his head and touched his hair.

The instinct to avoid harm—such was human nature.

Ming Dai walked to the left front side of Zhou Sinian and placed the clothes and shoes on the firewood.

“Your clothes and shoes are wet. Why don’t you change? These are my dad’s clothes. You can borrow them, and in return, take me to collect firewood.”

After repeating it twice, Ming Dai turned around and began washing the cutting board to slice the potatoes.

By the time she finished and turned back, both the man and the clothes by the stove were gone.

Satisfied, she nodded, took out a small pot, cleaned it thoroughly, and placed it on the smaller stove beside the large one.

This house had once been the residence of a landlord’s long-term workers, which was why it had multiple stoves. Ordinary households typically had only one.

Pots were expensive—some families even avoided splitting up because they only had one pot.

This house, however, had a stove setup with three burners—one large and two small.

Because there were many people to feed, unlike other families who cooked by the heated brick bed in the main hall, this house had a large kitchen built specifically for both cooking and dining.

Ming Dai soaked the shredded potatoes in cold water, chopped the dried chili peppers and garlic into slices, and set them aside. Then, she carefully took down the hot ceramic bowl and placed it on the cutting board.

There was too much water in the pot, so she added more firewood to bring it to a boil.

Taking advantage of this gap, she took the fermented cornmeal dough, shaped it into rounds, and stuck them onto the inner wall of the large pot.

A full circle—exactly sixteen pieces. A perfectly satisfying number.

While waiting for the water to boil, she lit the other stove.

Once the pot was hot, she poured in the oil and added the garlic slices and dried chili peppers.

“Sizzle!”

A delightful sound echoed through the kitchen as the aroma spread into the air.

Soon, a dark figure darted over, staring straight at the small pot she was stir-frying, his head almost dipping into it.

It was Zhou Sinian, now dressed in clean clothes.