Chapter 127: Was She a Hercules?  

Just like that.  

For the entire morning, Song Qingqian had been teaching Jiang Rou pattern-making, sketching, and cutting. She demonstrated everything once.  

By noon, however, the situation had reversed.  

When Jiang Rou stepped into Song Qingqian’s kitchen, she was startled.  

This… this… this… this was way too messy!  

Song Qingqian had tidied up the entire house meticulously—everything was neat and spotless—except for the kitchen, which was in utter chaos.  

The proud young lady stood awkwardly to the side, looking like a student caught without their schoolbag during an inspection.  

However, there was no way Song Qingqian would admit defeat.  

She pressed her lips together and said firmly: “I never learned this since I was a child. I don’t know how to do it.”  

Jiang Rou quickly composed herself, setting aside her initial surprise.  

“It’s fine. You don’t know how to cook, and I don’t know how to make clothes. Everyone has things they aren’t good at. As long as we learn, we’ll know how to do it in the future.”  

She cheered them on with encouragement.  

Then, she got straight to work.  

The small kitchen actually didn’t have many things.  

The reason it looked so messy was because Song Qingqian didn’t know how to deal with the soot from the iron wok, had no idea what to do with the charcoal after burning wood, and didn’t even know how to properly arrange the firewood.  

Every time an iron wok was used on a stove, a layer of soot would accumulate on the bottom.  

The more it was used, the thicker the soot buildup became.  

Regular cleaning was necessary to remove the soot; otherwise, it would leave black residue in the food while cooking.  

After surveying the situation, Jiang Rou immediately took action.  

The first thing she did was remove the iron wok from the stove.  

She rolled up her sleeves, revealing her fair and slender arms, then firmly grasped both sides of the wok.  

And then—  

With just a simple lift—  

Song Qingqian’s eyes widened in shock.  

Her long, narrow phoenix eyes were about to turn into round copper bells.  

Jiang Rou… she… was she a Hercules?  

Or had she eaten some canned spinach?  

An absurd thought flashed through Song Qingqian’s mind—she suddenly recalled a foreign comic she had once read.

However, Jiang Rou effortlessly held the iron wok.  

She flipped it over, gripping the wok in one hand and a kitchen knife in the other.  

Using the back of the knife, she forcefully scraped the bottom of the wok.  

With a sharp rip, a thick layer of black soot came off just like that.  

Jiang Rou explained carefully,  

“The stove here uses firewood, which is different from the coal stoves in the city. Firewood produces a lot of soot, so it must be cleaned regularly. This takes physical strength, and since you’re not strong enough to handle it, just call Company Commander He when you need help. He’ll definitely be happy to assist you.”  

The scraping sound continued.  

Jiang Rou skillfully rotated the heavy wok with her wrist, making sure to scrape the entire bottom.  

A thick layer of black soot fell onto the floor.  

“This is charcoal ash. You can sprinkle it in the flower beds—it works as fertilizer. Don’t waste it.”  

“…I understand.”  

Song Qingqian listened attentively and silently committed it to memory.  

As the sounds of Jiang Rou tidying up filled the kitchen, Zhou Xiaochuan and Zhou Xiaohua stopped playing and came over to help.  

Song Qingqian watched the two children, following beside Jiang Rou, methodically handling small tasks.  

Meanwhile, as an adult, she could only stand there helplessly.  

Biting her lip, Song Qingqian finally took the initiative to speak.  

“Um… what should I do?”  

“Wash the dishes. I think some dust got on them earlier. Wash them again so we can use them for cooking later.”  

“Okay!”  

Song Qingqian responded loudly, her voice filled with excitement.  

At last, she had something useful to do. She was so thrilled that, for a moment, she completely forgot her upbringing as a pampered young lady—her voice even grew louder.  

Jiang Rou lifted her head and looked at Song Qingqian.  

Zhou Xiaohua and Zhou Xiaochuan also turned to look at her, their dark, shiny eyes fixed on her in unison.  

Song Qingqian, who had just breathed a sigh of relief, suddenly felt her chest tighten under the gaze of this mother and her two children. Nervousness crept up once again.  

Fortunately, Jiang Rou said nothing.  

She simply smiled, then lowered her head.  

“Let’s work hard. Once we finish tidying up, we can make lunch.”  

The thought of a delicious, fragrant lunch made the work feel even more rewarding.

Half an Hour Later  

The small kitchen had undergone a complete transformation.  

Jiang Rou had also taken the opportunity to rearrange the kitchen’s layout, placing pots, bowls, and utensils where they wouldn’t easily collect dust.  

On the stove, she neatly arranged various seasonings within easy reach.  

After all the work, the four of them had a thin layer of sweat on their foreheads.  

At noon on the island, the sun was at its peak, blazing down fiercely. The temperature was high, and the small kitchen felt stuffy and hot.  

Jiang Rou wiped her sweat, a slight frown forming between her brows.  

Because… there were no ingredients.  

Aside from some rice and flour, the only thing in the entire kitchen that could be considered food was a basket of potatoes.  

Jiang Rou turned to Song Qingqian and asked,  

“What do you usually eat for lunch?”  

“Steamed buns.”  

“You know how to make steamed buns?”  

“I don’t make them. He brings them back from the canteen.”  

“You don’t cook?”  

“I’m not good at it. If I cook, it’ll just be a waste of food.”  

In just a few sentences, Jiang Rou had gained a clear understanding of what Song Qingqian’s life had been like for the past half year.  

Perhaps realizing that her situation sounded a bit pitiful, Song Qingqian quickly added,  

“Sometimes, he also brings back some dishes from the military unit’s canteen. Having steamed buns is already good enough. At least I can eat my fill.”  

She wasn’t trying to defend her own way of living—it sounded more like she was defending He Donglai.  

Song Qingqian, without a doubt, still carried the demeanor of a pampered young lady, but in this aspect, she was exceptionally pragmatic.  

In this era, simply being able to eat well, survive, and have a courtyard of her own already made her more fortunate than many.  

That was why Song Qingqian never resented those around her, nor did she resent the past.  

Everyone was just a speck of dust in the tide of their times.  

She lived her life with both pride and practicality.  

This was what Jiang Rou admired about her.  

After a brief moment of thought, Jiang Rou spoke up.  

“Since we only have potatoes, then we’ll have a grand potato feast for lunch.”  

Who said potatoes could only be made into shredded potatoes with vinegar?  

Jiang Rou was determined to turn them into a delicious and abundant meal!