Facing such a large sack of flour, why settle for dry, bland steamed buns?
Su Zhi remembered there were still some beans left from the morning when she and Yue Tiantian had picked them in the garden, and an idea came to her.
She smiled brightly, “How about I make noodles for you? We can use the beans to make a sauce—how about noodles with minced pork and bean sauce?”
Yue Tiantian had seen other village children eating noodles with sauce before, but she had only stood by, drooling and smelling the aroma, never tasting them herself. Hearing Su Zhi’s suggestion, her eyes immediately lit up, and she nodded vigorously, “Yes, yes! Auntie, I’ll eat anything you make!”
Yue Chunhan glanced down at her, looking disdainful at the sight of her drooling like a little glutton. When he lifted his eyes to Su Zhi again, his expression returned to normal, indifferent as ever. “I’m fine with anything.”
Making noodles by hand was time-consuming, but since it was already late afternoon, approaching evening, Su Zhi decided to start preparing dinner—making noodles.
Su Zhi had always bought pre-cut, machine-made noodles from the market before and had no experience making them from scratch. Now, under the gaze of two pairs of eyes, one large and one small, she couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous.
Considering Yue Chunhan’s tall and sturdy build, which suggested a hearty appetite, Su Zhi scooped several ladles of flour into a large basin, then struggled to fetch an egg from the chicken coop. After washing it, she cracked it into the basin.
Su Zhi washed her hands very carefully. Her slender, fair hands, as delicate as peeled spring onions, were a delight to behold. When she placed such beautiful hands into the flour basin, her skin was so pale it almost matched the color of the flour, leaving Yue Tiantian in awe beside her.
Using cold water to knead the dough would make it chewier. Without much experience, Su Zhi cautiously poured a little water into the basin, stirred it evenly, and was about to start kneading when Yue Chunhan stopped her just in time.
Yue Chunhan grasped Su Zhi’s hand and, under her puzzled gaze, lowered his head to roll up her sleeves.
The sleeves of Su Zhi’s red polka-dot top were quite long. She had only pushed them up earlier, but her wrists were slender, and with a little movement, the sleeves slid down again.
Yue Chunhan seemed to have a touch of obsessive-compulsiveness and found this very uncomfortable. He firmly turned Su Zhi’s shoulder and carefully rolled up her sleeves for her.
The cotton-linen fabric wasn’t particularly thick. Yue Chunhan rolled them up meticulously, his unfairly long eyelashes casting shadows as his light breathing brushed against Su Zhi’s face. She stiffened her body, tightly pursed her lower lip, and didn’t dare to move.
His cool fingers occasionally brushed against her arm, sending a chill that tingled and made her want to pull away. But Su Zhi restrained herself, knowing Yue Chunhan was only helping her—after all, if the sleeves weren’t properly rolled up, they would get covered in flour, wasting it and creating a mess to clean up.
But… he was so close.
Su Zhi bit her lower lip, unconsciously holding her breath. From this proximity, she could even catch a faint scent of pine wood on Yue Chunhan.
Just as Su Zhi was spacing out, Yue Chunhan’s cool voice sounded near her ear, “Done.”
Yue Chunhan took a slight step back, pleased with his work. Su Zhi looked down and saw the sleeves he had rolled up were perfectly neat—both sides were rolled up the same number of times, without a single wrinkle on the polka-dot fabric. Su Zhi wondered if Yue Chunhan really had obsessive-compulsive disorder.
But moving around like this was indeed more comfortable than before. Su Zhi flexed her arm, thanked Yue Chunhan, and pursed her lips to focus her attention on the flour basin.
Rolling out dough was a skill, especially when it came to the amount of water added—the ratio was crucial.
Too little water, and the dough wouldn’t come together—dry and crumbly, impossible to knead properly. Too much water, and it would be too sticky, clinging to hands and surfaces, impossible to shape into a proper dough.
Su Zhi, having no prior experience, could only add water bit by bit, adjusting until she found the perfect consistency before starting to knead.
Kneading dough required a lot of strength. If she were using a dedicated kneading basin—which were typically heavy and sturdy—she might have managed on her own. But Su Zhi was using a makeshift iron basin that was very light and thin, shifting around with the slightest pressure. It needed someone to hold both sides steady.
This task naturally fell to Yue Chunhan.
He stood opposite Su Zhi, his broad hands gripping the sides of the iron basin. His knuckles stood out from the effort, his fingers long and slender, perfectly solving Su Zhi’s problem.
Yue Chunhan’s head was opposite Su Zhi’s. As she bent over to knead the dough, her disheveled hair occasionally brushed against him. Yue Chunhan lowered his gaze slightly, catching sight of the expanse of Su Zhi’s fair neck and the skin trailing down into her clothes.
He paused briefly, quickly shifting his gaze away, but his grip on the edges of the iron basin tightened.
Su Zhi was grateful she had eaten well at noon. If she were as weak as before, after skipping several meals, she might not even have had the strength to knead the dough.
To knead dough properly, there was a “three smooth” principle: the dough should be smooth, the basin should be clean, and the hands should be free of residue.
“Dough smooth” meant the surface of the dough should be smooth, without rough lumps. “Basin smooth” meant no leftover dough or flour should stick to the edges or bottom of the basin. “Hands smooth” meant the palms and backs of the hands should be clean, without any flour or dough sticking to them.
Su Zhi kneaded for a long time, starting with a crumbly mess and gradually smoothing it out, putting in considerable effort. By the time she finished, sweat beaded on her forehead, and she was panting from exhaustion.
Although this was her first time trying to knead dough by hand, the result was quite good. Both the smoothness and the firmness of the dough left Su Zhi very satisfied.
“Wow!”
Yue Tiantian, who had witnessed the transformation of dry flour into a smooth dough, couldn’t help but exclaim with admiration, her voice sweet as she praised Su Zhi, “Auntie, you’re amazing! So talented!”
Su Zhi felt a bit embarrassed by Yue Tiantian’s praise. She washed her hands in a basin of water, then found a lid to cover the basin, letting the dough rest.
Once the dough had rested, it would be time to roll it out and make the noodles with sauce!
Su Zhi was enthusiastic about it, but she soon encountered her first setback.
It was said that dough for noodles should be kneaded firmer, so Su Zhi hadn’t added too much water while kneading. An old saying went, “Soft dough for dumplings, hard dough for soup,” meaning dumpling dough could be softer, but noodle dough should be firmer for a chewier, tastier texture.
But while the dough was firm, rolling it out became a challenge.
No matter how hard Su Zhi tried, she couldn’t roll out the dough. Her strength simply wasn’t enough, and after much effort, the dough hadn’t changed much.
Su Zhi was at a loss.
Yue Chunhan, who had been watching for a while, let out a deep sigh. He walked over, took hold of Su Zhi’s slender arm, his expression cool and profound.
He raised an eyebrow slightly. “Let me handle it.”