Thinking that the Qingming Festival was approaching, and that river snails during Qingming were said to be as plump as geese, Su Mo considered that Linshui County, with its many rivers, must have plenty of snails—perfect as a snack to accompany drinks. She could give it a try. However, given her recent near-drowning incident, her parents would surely not allow her to go catch snails herself. With this in mind, Su Mo tentatively asked, "Father, could you gather some river snails tomorrow?"
"What do you need those for?" Zhou Yunniang frowned. "They're fishy, full of mud and sand, and don't taste good."
"If we raise them for a few days and let them purge themselves clean, they'll be fine," Su Mo said. "I want to try making a new dish."
"What kind of dish can you make with river snails?" Zhou Yunniang shook her head. "Only the poor gather them for a meager treat—they're not fit for proper dining."
Su Dashan, looking at his daughter's earnest face, nodded and said, "Alright, I'll get some for you tomorrow. Do you need anything else?"
"Not for now. The snails need to be raised for a couple of days first, to purge all the mud and sand," Su Mo shook her head.
Early in the morning, Su Mo was in the back kitchen kneading dough and cooking porridge, preparing ingredients for breakfast.
Afraid of delaying his daughter's plans, Su Dashan went to catch river snails before dawn. Returning to Su Ji, he poured the snails into a large wooden basin and filled it with water. Raising his voice, he called to Su Mo in the kitchen, "Nian He, I've soaked the snails in water. What else needs to be done?"
"We need to sprinkle some salt. I'll be right there—I've already prepared everything here," Su Mo replied, running out of the kitchen with a salt jar.
"Hey, hey, slow down, be careful not to fall!" Zhou Yunniang shouted from the kitchen.
"It's fine, Mother," Su Mo said as she sprinkled a handful of salt into the basin. Startled, the snails retracted into their shells. After a while, they slowly extended their bodies again, crawling along the bottom of the basin and leaving faint trails of mud.
After sprinkling the salt, Su Mo turned to Su Dashan and said, "Father, please move the basin to a shady spot. We'll need to change the water every day for the next couple of days."
"Alright, understood."
Over the next two days, Su Mo changed the water for the snails twice daily. The water gradually cleared, and the mud and sand at the bottom of the basin diminished. By the third day, when the snails crawled, they no longer left muddy trails. She soaked them in saltwater for another half day, then began clipping off the tips of their shells one by one—this was the most laborious task. The snails were small, their shells hard, requiring precise cuts and even pressure. Sitting on a small stool in the backyard, she worked from afternoon until sunset, her fingertips reddened from the effort, having only finished clipping about half of them.
Su Dashan came out to dump water and saw her bent over, her hands moving steadily. He walked over and said, "Let me help."
"No need, Father. Please tend to your own tasks."
Without another word, Su Dashan turned back into the house, fetched a pair of scissors, and crouched beside her. Picking up a snail, he examined its tip against the light and made a clean cut—snip—neat and precise. Father and daughter worked in silence, clipping away. The setting sun stretched their shadows long, and the only sound in the yard was the soft, rhythmic snip-snip of scissors. When they finished, Su Mo washed the snails several more times until the water ran completely clear. She sniffed them—no muddy fishiness, just a faint aquatic scent.
"Done," she said.
Su Dashan glanced over. "How do you plan to cook them?"
"Stir-fry," Su Mo stood up, stretching her sore wrists. "Use strong seasonings to remove the fishiness and enhance the freshness."
The next day at the lunch market, a new wooden sign appeared on the wall of Su Ji Eatery:
"Stir-Fried River Snails, six coins per plate."
A regular customer came in, saw the sign, and chuckled, "Shopkeeper Su, even selling river snails now? Do people actually eat these things?"
Zhou Yunniang felt a bit uneasy but maintained a smile on her face. "Give it a try—they're fresh! We've raised them for several days, so they're clean!"
"Six wen…" the man hesitated. "Let me try a plate."
"Coming right up!"
In the kitchen, Su Mo had already heated the wok. She poured in a generous amount of oil, and once it was hot, added slices of ginger, garlic cloves, and dried chili peppers, stir-frying until fragrant. The aroma sizzled and burst forth, spicy and pungent. She quickly poured in the drained river snails and stir-fried them over high heat. The snails tumbled in the hot oil, their dark green shells instantly becoming glossy.
She drizzled yellow wine along the edge of the wok, the scent of alcohol mingling with the spiciness as it steamed. Soy sauce and a little sugar were added, and she continued stir-frying. Finally, she sprinkled in a handful of perilla leaves. As the perilla hit the wok, its unique pungent aroma instantly burst forth, blending with the river snails' briny scent and the savory spiciness of the seasonings, all swirling and melding together in the wok. The plate of stir-fried river snails was ready—dark green shells glistening with oil, coated in sauce, garnished with perilla leaves, steaming hot and fragrant.
When Zhou Yunniang carried it out, the regular customer was still joking with his companion: "Can this thing even be eaten…"
Before he could finish, the aroma wafted over. He paused, looked down at the plate. The river snails were steaming, the sauce thick, the perilla bright green—it actually looked… somewhat tempting. Hesitantly, he picked one up, brought it to his mouth, and carefully sucked—the snail meat slid smoothly into his mouth. First came the savory, spicy flavor of the sauce, then the tender, springy texture of the snail meat, and finally the unique pungent aroma of the perilla. The three flavors exploded in his mouth. He paused, then sucked another.
"How is it?" his companion asked.
"…Delicious," he mumbled, picking up another.
This time, he sucked harder. The snail meat, along with the broth, slid into his mouth—spicy, savory, fragrant, and springy, all mixed together, creating an indescribable satisfaction. He ate until his forehead was sweaty and his lips tingling, but he couldn't stop. The plate of river snails was soon empty. He smacked his lips, still craving more: "Proprietor, another plate!"
"Coming right up!"
This shout caught the attention of other customers.
"Is it really that good?"
"Let me try a plate too!"
"Me too!"
In the kitchen, Su Mo stir-fried one plate after another. High heat, generous oil, bold seasonings, quick stir-frying. Each plate that came out carried that unique, appetite-whetting aroma.
The dining hall gradually grew lively. The sound of sucking river snails rose and fell, occasionally punctuated by someone gasping from the spiciness but unwilling to stop eating.
"This flavor is amazing!" someone praised. "Spicy and savory, perfect with wine!"
"Proprietor, will you have this tomorrow?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" Zhou Yunniang beamed. "As long as there are snails in the river, we'll have them every day!"
Lin Wenxuan arrived after school. As soon as he entered, he heard the chorus of sucking sounds throughout the hall and paused in surprise. The dining hall was packed, everyone enjoying a plate of dark green, steaming-hot food with great relish.
He walked to the counter, where Zhou Yunniang was busy collecting money. She looked up and saw him, smiling. "Wenxuan, you're here? What would you like to eat?"
Lin Wenxuan glanced at the new wooden sign on the wall—"Stir-Fried River Snails, six wen a plate."
River snails? Those things found everywhere on riverbanks, something the poor gathered for a cheap meal?
As he wondered, the kitchen curtain was pushed aside, and Su Mo walked out carrying a plate of river snails. Her face was sweaty, stray hairs stuck to her temples, but her eyes were bright. She placed the snails in front of a table of customers, turned, saw him, nodded in greeting, then hurried back to the kitchen.
Her movements were crisp and efficient.
Lin Wenxuan stared blankly at the swaying curtain. This girl from the neighborhood was becoming more and more… different.
"Wenxuan?" Zhou Yunniang called him.
"Ah," he snapped back to attention, "I'll have… a plate of snails and a bowl of Yangchun Noodles."
"Coming right up!"
He found an empty table and sat down. Soon, the snails and noodles arrived. The snails were served on a coarse porcelain plate, their dark green shells glistening with oil and coated in a rich, dark sauce, dotted with vibrant purple perilla leaves. Steam rose from the dish, carrying a peculiar, pungent aroma. Hesitantly, he picked up his chopsticks. In the past, he would never have touched such a thing—it was too "common," too "lowly," unfit for a scholar's status. But now, smelling that fragrance and watching the people around him eating with such gusto, he felt a flicker of… curiosity.
He picked up a snail, imitating the others, brought it to his lips, and carefully sucked. The tender snail meat slid into his mouth along with a scalding broth. Spicy, savory, fragrant, and springy—the flavors exploded in his mouth all at once. Caught off guard, he coughed from the spiciness, but that unique umami taste hooked him, and he couldn't resist sucking another.
This time, he savored it more carefully. The snail meat was tender and chewy, soaked in the broth, blending salty, savory, and spicy notes with the distinct pungency of perilla. It was a peculiar flavor, yet deeply satisfying. He lowered his head, sucking one snail after another. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his lips tingled, yet he couldn’t stop. That unrestrained, exhilarating feeling was something he had never experienced before. Studying required propriety, eating demanded elegance, speaking needed decorum—in over a decade of living, he had never been so "undignified."
But here, in this bustling eatery, facing this plate of "unrefined" snails, he felt… liberated. After finishing the plate, still craving more, he asked Zhou Yunniang for another. Paired with the Yangchun Noodles, he ate until his forehead was damp with sweat and his whole body felt warm.
When settling the bill, he counted out the copper coins and placed them on the counter, where they clinked crisply. As he reached the door, he glanced back. The curtain to the kitchen swayed, faintly revealing the busy figures inside.
That vague, indescribable emotion stirred within him again. This time, it wasn’t pity, nor superiority, nor surprise or admiration—it was something more complex, something even he couldn’t quite name. Suddenly, he recalled a line from the Book of Songs: "The water plants are of varying lengths; to left and right we gather them." In the past, reading it, he had thought it merely described scenery. But now, it seemed that what "flows to left and right" wasn’t just the water plants but all the myriad forms of the world, the flavors of life. And he, it seemed, had just tasted a hint of it.
After closing up, Zhou Yunniang counted the money, grinning from ear to ear. "Today, we sold over sixty plates of snails alone! Nian He, how does your mind work? Even snails can be made this delicious!"
Su Mo smiled. "It’s the snails themselves that are fresh."
"You still have to know how to prepare them," Su Dashan said suddenly while sweeping the floor. "Tomorrow, I’ll go gather them. Your hands are all red from cutting."
Su Mo paused, looking down at her fingers—they were indeed red, with two small blisters forming.
"Mm, thank you, Dad."
Outside the window, the night deepened. Stars lit up one by one, quietly dotting the sky. The lantern of Su Ji Eatery swayed gently in the breeze, its warm, yellow light feeling cozy and reassuring.