After a bout of autumn rain, most of the leaves had fallen, and people were already wrapping themselves in winter clothes.
In the early morning, Qiao Man opened the door and returned home quietly. Carrying a bag, she headed into the kitchen and pushed open the window.
She pulled a free-range chicken from the bag, washed it, and threw it into a clay pot along with ginger slices. She brought it to a boil over high heat before turning it down to a simmer. Then, she began to methodically knead the dough, wash the vegetables, and roll out the noodles.
This was the first meal she had prepared since coming to this world, and it was also a housewarming meal for her and An’an.
To celebrate having a home of their own, Qiao Man had specifically woken up at four in the morning to go to the vegetable market. She had picked the freshest and best free-range chicken to prepare chicken soup noodles.
Yesterday, she had seen An’an staring fixedly at the fried chicken on the street corner, but she hadn’t bought any.
The child hadn’t eaten meat for a long time; eating greasy fried chicken so suddenly would surely make her sick. It was better to make something light and proceed step-by-step.
Today, she had carefully selected this chicken. She didn’t choose an old hen, but specifically picked one with tender meat.
Amidst the rising white steam, the morning sunlight fell upon Qiao Man. At that moment, the scene left An’an, who was standing at the kitchen door, in a daze.
Two days ago, when her aunt picked her up from her father’s house, she hadn’t felt much. Yesterday, when her aunt bought her new clothes, took her to eat delicious little wontons, and gave her a room of her own, she felt joy—but even more so, she felt apprehension.
This morning, seeing a silhouette that looked so much like her mother’s and smelling the rich, familiar scent of chicken soup, her eyes suddenly grew hot. Her throat felt as if it were stuffed with heaps of cotton; she wanted to call out “Auntie,” but she couldn’t make a sound.
It was Qiao Man who noticed someone behind her. She turned to see the thin, small girl leaning against the doorframe. Her dark, skinny little hands were gripping the wood tightly. her short hair was withered and messy, and her yellowish-dark little face was full of grievance.
In her heart, Qiao Man cursed the scumbag father, Liang Zhendong, once again. She turned around and smiled at the little girl. “An’an, go wash your face and brush your teeth. How about chicken soup noodles for breakfast?”
An’an nodded vigorously and, with her two small arms outspread, “flew” toward the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, two bowls of noodles—one large and one small—were placed on the kitchen table. A handful of scallions was scattered over the rich, golden chicken broth. The finely cut noodles were neatly arranged in the bowls, and a chicken leg was tucked into the side of each person’s bowl. The chicken was tender and smooth, the skin succulent and soft. It was a sight that made one’s mouth water.
An’an stared at the noodles and the chicken leg; her eyes couldn’t take it all in, and the thick fragrance of the chicken soup kept drifting stubbornly into her nose.
Qiao Man had been observing An’an. Seeing that no matter how much she craved it, the girl didn’t dare pick up her chopsticks, Qiao Man sighed internally. If Sister Ya knew that her daughter had been raised by that scumbag to be so malnourished and timid, she would surely be angry enough to return from the end of the world to personally kill her ex-husband.
But she was back now, and there would be plenty of time to deal with him later.
Qiao Man pulled back her thoughts, rolled up An’an’s sleeves, and stroked her messy, withered short hair. “Eat slowly, be careful not to burn yourself.”
An’an pursed her lips and nodded earnestly. She hesitated for a moment, then clumsily used her chopsticks to pick up the chicken leg, intending to put it in Qiao Man’s bowl, her eyes full of reluctance.
Qiao Man stopped her. “No need to give it to me. See? Auntie has a chicken leg in her bowl, too. From now on, whether it’s delicious or not, we’ll split everything equally, okay?”
She realized that An’an’s habit of giving up food had also been formed at her scumbag father’s house, adding another debt to Liang Zhendong’s account in her mind.
An’an nodded hard, gave Qiao Man a shy smile, then quickly lowered her head to blow along the edge of the bowl and took a sip of the chicken soup.
With just that one sip, her large eyes immediately brightened. Ignoring the heat, she took a few more gulps and then impatiently picked up a mouthful of fine noodles and stuffed them into her mouth.
When kneading the dough, Qiao Man had specifically made it softer and cut the noodles very thin, fearing that An’an wouldn’t be able to digest them.
Seeing how much An’an liked it, Qiao Man felt relieved enough to take a bite herself. After the first mouthful, she couldn’t help but marvel: as expected, the resources of this world were much richer than those in the post-apocalyptic world. Even with just ordinary fresh ingredients, it could achieve eighty percent of the flavor of high-quality ingredients from the end of the world.
She was born in the end times and lived there for eleven years, eating the lowest-tier food until she was picked up by Qiao Ya. Qiao Ya was like a mother and a sister to her, taming her wild, wolf-like self into what she was now.
Qiao Ya taught her culinary arts, taught her how to get through her period, taught her how to make friends, and led her to fight alongside their companions. Whenever they obtained ingredients, she would make extra meals for the team members.
It was only then that she realized the end of the world wasn’t devoid of resources or fresh ingredients—they just never reached their hands.
She often heard Qiao Ya talk about her own world, where ordinary people could buy fresh vegetables and meat. At that time, Qiao Man didn’t understand and thought it was unbelievable.
Qiao Man snapped out of her thoughts and turned to see An’an with her two cheeks puffed out, chewing like a little hamster. She couldn’t help but burst into a laugh.
“Eat slowly, no one is going to take it from you.”
An’an struggled to swallow the noodles in her mouth. Her dark, thin cheeks were flushed with a shy red. Looking at her with bright, large eyes, she suddenly spoke: “Auntie, it’s so delicious!”
Today was the third day since she had brought An’an back, and it was the first time An’an had spoken to her.
Qiao Man restrained her hand from pinching the girl’s cheek. “If it’s delicious, eat slowly. I’ll put the remaining meat and soup in the fridge and make you chicken soup wontons tonight. After we finish eating in a bit, we’ll go to the school first to handle your transfer procedures, and then buy you some school supplies.”
An’an suddenly paused. She hesitated for a moment and whispered, “Auntie, can I change my name back?”
“Change it to what?”
“Grandpa used to call me Qiao Yanning. After Mama passed away, my dad changed my name to Liang Ting…”
Qiao Man understood. She had heard Qiao Ya say that her ex-husband was a matrilocal son-in-law. This man had waited until the Qiao family was gone to betray their trust and change the child’s name.
“Alright, we’ll go change your name first.”
An’an blinked her eyes, which were becoming hot, and lowered her head to continue eating the noodles.
Today’s chicken soup noodles were so fragrant. She never knew chicken soup could be this delicious. The chicken leg was tasty, and the noodles were fragrant. Eating it made her stomach feel warm. An’an felt like she had the strength to walk today!
Even as they were heading out the door, An’an was still savoring this morning’s meal.
The October weather was already cold. The heating in the building hadn’t been turned on yet, making the indoors colder than the outdoors. When the sun was out, the open spaces of the Happiness Community were filled with elderly men and women.
In the evening, some played chess while others chatted.
Grandma Zhang asked Grandma Li, “Is that apartment on the fourth floor belonging to Xiong Mei’s son rented out?”
Grandma Li’s daughter lived across from Xiong Mei. Breaking off cabbage leaves, she said, “It’s rented out. It’s a young woman with a little girl. The woman is in her twenties and says she’s a chef. The little girl looks four at most. I always say young girls don’t know how to raise children; she keeps herself quite tidy and is pretty, but that child is skin and bones. Her hair is withered and yellow like straw, her head is big and her body is thin—she looks like a little radish head. It breaks my heart to see it.”
At this point, Old Man Xu, who was playing Xiangqi nearby, suddenly turned his head and asked, “Is that child her own? I used to handle many similar cases; there’s a gang of human traffickers who specifically kidnap children, break their legs or raise them poorly, then take them to the streets to beg for money.”
As soon as these words came out, Grandma Li stopped peeling cabbage, Grandma Zhang stopped adjusting her radio, and those playing chess or cards put down what they were doing.
Someone said, “This is a police family residential compound. Even a human trafficker wouldn’t dare, right?”
Another person said, “That was twenty years ago. Now this has long been changed to Happiness Community; anyone can live here.”
“But there are many retired police officers here—local police and criminal investigators alike. Only the young people moved away. People nearby all know about this place.”
Then, Grandma Zhang suddenly asked Grandma Li, “You said she’s a chef?”
Auntie Qi, who had been silent, suddenly chimed in: “She should be a chef. She definitely didn’t lie about that.”
The others were puzzled. “How do you know?”
“I live in the unit above her,” Auntie Qi said as if it were obvious. “This morning when I went to the kitchen to heat milk for my granddaughter, I smelled a fragrance. It was the scent of meat, and it was incredibly fragrant. But it wasn’t quite the same as the smell in a restaurant. Anyway, I haven’t smelled anything that good in my life.”
The buildings in their community were twenty or thirty years old. Back then, there were no flues, so the range hood pipes were drilled directly through the outer wall. When it was mealtime and the windows were opened, you could pretty much tell what was being eaten downstairs.
However, Auntie Qi always liked to exaggerate. Her cooking skills were famously poor; she could steam buns into bricks and bake pancakes into charcoal. What she called delicious might just be average.
Auntie Qi’s husband, surnamed Zhao, was the polar opposite of her. He usually didn’t say a word for half the day, only watching people play chess on the side. Hearing Auntie Qi mention the business downstairs today, he actually leaned in, pushed up his glasses, and said, “It really was quite fragrant. It smelled like chicken soup. Twenty years ago, there was a restaurant in the north of the city; the chicken soup there was eighty percent similar to this. This morning, our family even ate while smelling that scent; my granddaughter ate half a bun more than usual.”
Now everyone was curious: just how good was this chicken soup?
Grandma Zhang saw that the topic had been derailed by Auntie Qi. She quietly swallowed her saliva and interrupted Auntie Qi’s description of the fragrance: “Then I think we still need to talk to Xiao Jiang about this. You can’t be too careful…”
“Sister Zhang, Xiao Jiang is a criminal investigator; I heard he’s away on a business trip. We might as well tell the neighborhood committee first.”
“Or how about one of us goes to her house later to scout things out?”
Many people disagreed. Some feared alerting the target, but most simply didn’t dare.
Suddenly, the noisy crowd fell silent—the central figure of today’s gossip had returned.
Everyone watched silently as the large and small figures passed by them, carrying a heap of things. No one dared to speak first.
Just as they were about to walk away, someone suddenly said, “Young lady, you’re the new tenant in 403, aren’t you?”
Amidst everyone’s admiring gazes, Auntie Qi squeezed out from the crowd and gave Qiao Man a brilliant smile. “I’m your neighbor from upstairs, surnamed Qi. What did you make this morning? The scent filled our whole house!”
The crowd: “???”