Qin Mu was still staring blankly at Han Jiaojiao, but his two lackeys beside him were quick-witted and immediately dragged him away.
Han Jiaojiao turned around and pulled up the little boy, her tone instantly softening: “A-Fang, are you okay?”
The little boy was named Han Fang, her younger brother.
He was only eleven years old but already in the sixth grade of elementary school.
He was usually a precocious little rascal who seemed aloof and uninterested in others, but he was actually very good to her, always saving his pocket money to buy her hawthorn candies.
“What were you doing in the courtyard? Why didn’t you go home after school?” Han Jiaojiao asked.
“I came down to fetch water with the bucket. It’s Tuesday today—the water gets cut off after five o’clock. You forgot again, didn’t you?” Han Fang sighed. “Forget it, I didn’t expect you to remember anyway.”
Han Fang took a good look at her clothes, and his little face immediately scrunched up: “You’re dressed so nicely—you’re not going to go flirt with those educated youths again, are you? I’m telling you, stop dreaming. You better live well with brother-in-law, or else I… I won’t talk to you anymore, got it!”
Han Jiaojiao’s head ached.
A child this young was already worrying about her marriage—what a sin.
Han Jiaojiao gave a silly smile: “I dressed up in new clothes specifically for Junshan to see. He even complimented me at noon, saying I looked pretty.”
“Really?”
“Of course it’s true. I even went to buy meat, planning to cook something nice to celebrate.”
When Han Fang heard there was meat to eat, he forgot to ask what they were celebrating. His eyes and heart were filled with nothing but meat.
Han Jiaojiao smiled.
Kids were easy to please—much easier to handle than Shen Junshan.
She and Han Fang carried the bucket and basin upstairs together. After returning home, she boiled water, added cooking wine and ginger slices, and put the whole piece of meat into the pot to blanch.
Han Fang was stunned: “You’re cooking? Do you even know how? You put the whole piece of meat in the water—are you crazy?”
Han Jiaojiao: ??
“You should slice it thin and mix it with some greens. One cut of meat can last more than half a month.”
“Feeling sorry for the meat?” Han Jiaojiao laughed. “But it’s already in the pot now. What should we do about that?”
Han Fang stared longingly at the meat, barely able to swallow his saliva fast enough.
He was clearly dying of craving, but he still put on the air of a little adult and said: “Well… then just cook it. But don’t waste it like this next time. Brother-in-law works hard to earn money.”
“Got it. I promise I’ll make it smell delicious and not let this piece of meat down.”
After she coaxed Han Fang out of the kitchen, she worried that one jin of meat wouldn’t be enough for four people, so she took a small box from the Chaoshi Xitong and tossed it into the pot to process together.
Han Jiaojiao fished out the processed meat from the pot and rinsed off the scum on the surface.
The household only had oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar, plus some basic ginger, cooking wine, garlic, and scallions—not even a single chili pepper.
She took out some Sichuan peppercorns and star anise, along with pork belly seasoning, and boiled them together to make a broth. Then she placed the sliced pork belly skin-side up, turned the heat to low, and let it braise on the charcoal stove.
Then she kneaded dough, added scallions and black pepper, and made a few cornmeal cakes.
She wasn’t very good at using the coal stove—the fire was still the one Shen Junshan had left burning before he left at noon, keeping water warm.
When grilling the cakes, Han Jiaojiao also didn’t master the heat well and ruined two before she found the trick.
After finishing all that, Han Jiaojiao, while her brother wasn’t paying attention, took out two bottles of Beibingyang and poured them into four bowls.
She hid the glass bottles in a bag tucked in the corner.
Just as she came out carrying the orange soda, Shen Junshan pushed open the door and walked in.
He caught sight of Han Jiaojiao standing there in an apron holding a bowl, and for a moment, he was transfixed…
“You’re back! You’re earlier than usual today.” Han Jiaojiao was the first to break the silence.
“I picked up the documents and came straight back.”
Shen Junshan composed himself, hung up his coat, and washed his hands, then glanced at the four bowls on the table.
She noticed that Shen Junshan seemed to have something on his mind, but he swallowed it back down.
Her heart was in turmoil.
Could he have seen through her?
That shouldn’t be possible—the orange soda from Beibingyang was exactly the same as the three-cent ones on the market now, just with a slightly better taste.
Had he noticed something off, or was he annoyed that she was wasting money?
Han Jiaojiao spoke timidly, “Do you not like drinking this? Should I brew you a cup of tea?”
“I like it, but you only need to pour three servings.”
Three servings?
Wasn’t there four people in the house?
Who wasn’t being counted as a person?
Han Jiaojiao was full of question marks.
Shen Junshan said, “Xiaoniu went to the capital to participate in an event and won’t be home for three weeks. She left the day before yesterday—you forgot again.”
“Sister’s husband, my sister’s brain doesn’t work well. She can’t even remember how old I am, so how could she remember things like this? Just forgive her and don’t hold it against her.”
Han Jiaojiao’s mouth twitched.
Before she transmigrated, she could memorize an entire university English vocabulary book in a week.
After transmigrating, she was a brainless fool who couldn’t even remember what happened two days ago.
Her younger brother’s added jab was even more lethal, giving her the illusion of being dragged down into the mud.
Han Jiaojiao forced a smile: “I forgot about that. Let’s just split it evenly—we’ll each drink a couple extra sips.”
Han Jiaojiao crouched in front of the table to divide the soda evenly, and when it was about to overflow, she quickly took two gulps.
It was ice-cold and refreshing—absolutely wonderful.
He watched her silly smile, and a hint of a smile involuntarily tugged at the corner of his mouth.
When he went to the kitchen to get the bowls and chopsticks, he noticed something on the ground wrapped in a black plastic bag.
Shen Junshan crouched down.
After a while, the dishes were all brought to the table. Han Jiaojiao first served Shen Junshan a large portion of white rice, picked out two pieces of braised pork, mixed in some sauce and stirred it together, then laid two more pieces of meat on top.
“Try it—I made it.”
Shen Junshan took a bite, and his cold eyes slowly darkened again.
He didn’t remember Han Jiaojiao knowing how to cook, let alone being able to make something this delicious.
Shen Junshan then thought about what happened this afternoon. He really wanted to ask.
But he pressed his lips together and swallowed the words back down.
There would be plenty of time ahead—he’d figure it out slowly.
Han Jiaojiao saw that he wasn’t speaking, so she tried a piece herself: “It’s not bad. Afang, is it bad?”
“Huh… what… me, what?”
He had already eaten himself into a mess, with sauce smeared all around his mouth.
She grew even more puzzled.
It was clearly delicious—why did his expression look so grim?
Han Jiaojiao probed cautiously: “Honey, are you thinking I spent too much money? Don’t worry, I’ve been careful with my spending—I haven’t wasted anything. If you don’t believe me, I can give you an itemized account.”
“The money is yours to spend. But from now on, when no one’s home, don’t use the charcoal stove—last time you burned down the kitchen.”
Han Jiaojiao: …
She managed to burn down the kitchen just by lighting a stove—the original owner was truly reckless…
She was so embarrassed she could dig out a three-bedroom apartment with her toes.
Shen Junshan sensed her disappointment, and seeing that she liked meat, he picked up the biggest piece and placed it in her bowl: “This darker piece is better.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah, it’s firmer and springier.”
Han Jiaojiao suddenly remembered that the original cut of meat was ordinary pork bought from the butcher shop.
The extra half catty she added later was black pork she had taken from her space.
She didn’t know whether to call him sensitive or perceptive.
Han Jiaojiao pressed her lips together, not daring to say anything more.