Whether it was true or not, Song Qinghuan’s spirits lifted instantly. She quickly washed the meat, fished it out, gave it a simple trim, then placed it in a frying pan with cooking oil to sear on both sides.
Just before taking it off the heat, she used scissors to cut the meat into bite-sized pieces, then sprinkled cumin, Sichuan peppercorn, ground pepper, and chili powder over the top.
Spotting a bottle labeled “Barbecue Sauce” on the condiment rack, she scooped out a spoonful on a whim and brushed it evenly over the meat with a small pastry brush.
She picked up a piece with her chopsticks and took a bite. The pork belly had a lightly crisp outer layer—with one gentle bite, the inside was tender, springy, and brimming with juicy goodness.
Combined with the barbecue sauce and the blend of seasonings, a savory, spicy, and fragrant taste instantly filled her mouth.
Is this what thick-seared pork belly tastes like?
Perhaps because the meat from her space was special, it turned out even more delicious than she’d imagined!
One bite was all it took—she wanted another immediately.
No one was watching her, no one was stopping her, and no one would snatch meat from her bowl to give to someone else. Song Qinghuan let herself go, putting piece after piece into her mouth, completely lost in the rich, spicy, mouthwatering flavor—so captivated she felt almost weightless.
In the Song family’s living room.
Song Yunfei glared at the door to Song Qinghuan’s room.
“That woman—what’s she playing at, holing up in there pretending to be quiet? Why doesn’t she come out and cook?”
Zhao Yufang was about to chime in, but the moment she opened her mouth, she remembered the slap she’d received.
The stinging heat on her cheek was still vivid in her mind—just thinking about it made her face tingle with phantom pain.
For once, Zhao Yufang didn’t kick up a fuss. She moistened her lips, waved her hand, and tried to soothe her son.
“Never mind her. She said she was dizzy this morning—who knows what other illness she’s caught. Let her deal with it herself. She’s getting married soon anyway; she won’t be under our feet for much longer.”
With that, she pulled out a round little object from her pocket, held it out to Song Yunfei like a prized treasure, and opened her palm.
“Look at this, son!”
Song Yunfei thought it was something good—until he looked closely.
“An egg?”
“Why is it so tiny?”
It was smaller than the ones he usually ate.
Zhao Yufang smiled sheepishly.
“We’ve nearly run out of money lately. This hen from next door laid it on our roof—I managed to sneak it over.”
“It’s free, so we might as well eat it.”
“Look at you—you’ve lost weight. Mom hates seeing you like this.”
She put on a doting expression and pinched the flesh on Song Yunfei’s cheek.
“Your face is thinner than before.”
She glanced quickly at Song Qinghuan’s door, then lowered her voice.
“I saved this just for you. Only you get it—we won’t even give her the white. So what if she’s sick? She can drink thin porridge for all I care!”
Hearing her obvious favoritism, Song Yunfei felt a surge of satisfaction.
“But what can I do with just one egg? I don’t want just one dish. I’ve been yelling and running around all day—I’m exhausted. We should have at least four dishes and a soup!”
“And I don’t want anything bland. If it’s all vegetables, I’m not eating.”
In other words, every dish and the soup needed to have at least some egg in it.
Truth be told, he still thought one egg was nowhere near enough—four dishes and a soup would take four or five eggs, easy.
“Four dishes and a soup…” Zhao Yufang hesitated for a moment, then seemed to think of something else. She smiled and nodded firmly.
“Fine! Mom will make you four dishes and a soup!”
Assuming she’d go out to buy more eggs, Song Yunfei leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up happily, and listened to storytelling on the radio while he waited for dinner.
But before he’d finished one story segment, Zhao Yufang came beaming over with four dishes and a soup set on the table.
Song Yunfei pulled his stool over at once, beaming with excitement.
When he looked closely, however, all the dishes were watery and plain—apart from a few specks of egg in the pan-fried dumplings, there was barely any egg at all.
He slammed his chopsticks down onto the table.
“Mom! I wanted four dishes and a soup with egg! Are you trying to fob me off with all these vegetables?”
“And look at the spinach in this soup, the chives in these dumplings, the cabbage in these potstickers—none of it looks fresh! Where did you even get this stuff?”
Zhao Yufang hurried to explain.
“But these do have egg! Look—tomato scrambled with egg, chive dumplings with egg, cabbage-and-egg potstickers, and spinach-and-egg soup!”
Song Yunfei checked each one as she listed them, his brows knitting tightly together.
“Other than the potstickers, where’s the egg in the rest?”
“It’s there!” Zhao Yufang stirred vigorously through the other three dishes with her chopsticks, picking out tiny flecks of egg in each one.
She gave a slightly guilty smile under her son’s skeptical gaze.
There wasn’t much egg to see, she reasoned, but it still tasted like egg.
She explained: she’d scrambled the egg with tomatoes first, fished the egg bits out to boil with spinach for the soup, then pulled them out again to mix with chives for the dumplings, and finally mixed what was left with cabbage for the potstickers.
Song Yunfei stared at her in disbelief.
This wasn’t four dishes and a soup made with egg—it was four dishes and a soup that smelled vaguely of egg!
Zhao Yufang didn’t seem to notice his displeasure, grinning cheerfully.
“See? Mom loves you most of all. No matter how tight things are, if you want it, Mom will find a way to make it for you—you’ll never go without!”
Seeing Song Yunfei’s mood sour, Song Shouyang, who’d just come out of the back room, quickly added his praise.
“That’s right—we haven’t had four dishes and a soup in ages. Your mom did all this just for you.”
He jerked his chin toward Song Qinghuan’s room and curled his lip.
“That useless girl in there? She’ll be lucky to get leftovers, let alone four dishes and a soup!”
“Your mom worked hard to make this for you—go on, eat up!”
Zhao Yufang and Song Shouyang both urged him to try it.
Skeptical, Song Yunfei took a few bites and sipped the soup, half-hoping he was wrong.
But he wasn’t.
There was barely a hint of egg flavor—and the vegetables really were stale!
He ate just enough to stop his stomach from growling, then set his chopsticks down silently, his appetite gone.
He was still annoyed about the meal, but the thought that Song Qinghuan was stuck with nothing even this good—sick and going hungry—lifted his spirits again.
What he didn’t know was that Song Qinghuan hadn’t just eaten those eggs—she’d eaten two.
After finishing both eggs, she’d gone on to have pan-seared thick-cut pork belly, spicy shredded beef, and a proper egg-drop soup made with a whole fresh egg.