Chapter 86: Trip to Haicheng (4)

“It’s almost mealtime. Everyone must be hungry by now.”

The old woman, Weng Hong, having admired the scenery along the way, now turned her attention to the most pressing matter: feeding her grandson. She rubbed Chouchou’s round little belly and asked the others in the compartment about food.

Jiang Dahai and Huo Wu, lying on the top bunks, replied, “It’s time to eat. I just asked the train attendant. They can heat up the food we brought for just a dime. The train also has a dining car, serving steamed buns, rice, and noodles you just need ration tickets and money.”

They had inquired carefully, knowing the next few meals would all be on the train.

“What a waste to spend money,” Weng Hong said, rummaging through her large cloth bag. “Steamed buns are convenient and filling, even if the taste is ordinary. I brought plenty. Let’s all share.”

She had brought a whole bag of buns, made from a mixture of white flour and cornmeal, some slightly yellow. At this time, even a bun with white flour mixed in was considered a rare treat.

Her willingness to share showed both generosity and that her family was likely well-off most grandmothers wouldn’t splurge like this otherwise.

“We also brought some things from home, Grandma. Let’s share them too,” Jiang Dahai said, producing a package his mother had prepared before their departure.

Inside the deep blue cloth bag were two small tin cans of biscuits, carefully wrapped in yellow paper to prevent spills. Jiang Yiliu opened one, revealing it filled not with biscuits but a deep-red chili paste studded with finely chopped cured meat. The spicy aroma immediately filled the compartment.

“Mom really thought ahead worried we wouldn’t be used to it so she sent along chili paste,” Jiang Dahai said, eyeing a thick stack of pancakes inside the bag. Pancakes and chili paste were the perfect match.

If only they had more ingredients scallions, wood ear mushrooms, and shredded fillings it would have been even better.

The pancakes, made by Grandma Miao, were chewy and fragrant, lightly scented with grains. A single large pancake, spread with her homemade sauce, was enough for even Ruanruan’s small appetite to consume two in one sitting.

“There’s also mushroom sauce,” Ruanruan said. She couldn’t handle spicy food. Her favorite was the mushroom sauce Grandma Miao made herself, combining soybeans and assorted mountain mushrooms, savory and unforgettable.

“Let’s have pancakes and buns for lunch. You two can check the dining car for some side dishes sauce alone isn’t enough. The kids still need to grow.”

Ruan Yuangjiang glanced at the food on the table: “The pancakes and buns are cold, too. Let’s heat them all together.”

For one day, there was no need for pretentious distinctions they would share a meal together.

Weng Hong agreed cheerfully. Jiang Dahai and Huo Wu gathered the portions for everyone and headed to the dining car.

“Wait, Dad,” Jiang Yiliu stopped him. The chili paste could be spread directly on the pancakes, but the mushroom sauce needed heating. Cold mushroom sauce in winter would upset Ruanruan’s stomach.

Ruan Yuangjiang smiled; this grandfather clearly lacked the careful attention of a child-caretaker.

Estimating their food intake, Jiang Yiliu scooped a small amount of mushroom sauce onto the biscuit tin lid just the right depth. The rest of the sauce remained under the protective yellow paper until it was time to eat.

Soon after, the young pair returned.

“Bang!” Qianqian slammed the door and plopped onto her bed, ignoring everyone in the compartment.

“The food on this train is awful salty and spicy. I just want a bowl of braised pork, all fat, disgusting. I wouldn’t even feed this to a dog.”

The pampered girl pouted and complained endlessly to her boyfriend.

“Tomorrow we’ll reach Haicheng. Your aunt will have a table full of good food ready. For today, just endure it,” Pei Qing said. He couldn’t tell her that the fatty pork she scorned was once a rare treat he himself couldn’t get.

Coming from different households, it was clear that life experiences shaped tastes. Pei Qing’s eyes glinted with ambition this was the life he wanted. Qianqian’s father, Director of Haicheng Revolutionary Committee, had amassed influence and wealth; her mother was deputy director of a food factory. Qianqian, their only daughter, would inherit it all.

Pei Qing remembered what Fang Changzheng had said before leaving Haicheng: even as a live-in son-in-law, he could rise. He saw himself no less capable. His gaze softened toward Qianqian.

“My parents adore me. They’ll definitely prepare a full table of food,” Qianqian said proudly, glancing at the Jiang family, convinced they couldn’t afford even the train’s plain braised pork.

She despised these rustic, country-bred people, believing a “clay chicken” shouldn’t dream of flying.

Her thoughts turned to cousins who had moved in last year, especially the seemingly clever cousin girl she was furious.

“I’ll kick that woman out when we return. Just a country bumpkin, barely into university, making my life miserable since she arrived,” she fumed.

Pei Qing knew who she meant, having heard her complaints before. Yet clearly, that girl was superior. She had climbed from a sent-down youth to a university scholarship a formidable woman.

Qianqian felt she and Fang Xiuxiu were fated to clash; her presence highlighted Qianqian’s flaws. Their father scolded them repeatedly. But these were relatives she barely knew why should she care for the children of her late uncle?

“Meal’s ready!”

Jiang Dahai carried in tin lunchboxes, steaming buns and pancakes emitting fragrant aromas.

The heated mushroom sauce released an enticing aroma, blending the earthiness of mushrooms with the savory soybean paste.

“The dining car chef loved our pancakes,” Jiang Dahai said. They had exchanged three pancakes for more dishes and received a large bowl of pork stewed with vermicelli.

Still, Grandma Miao’s handiwork impressed so much so that the chef sampled the pancakes, enjoyed the chewy texture, and shamelessly took extra mushroom sauce while inviting them to heat meals free of charge during the journey.

Jiang Dahai felt proud; they had always known Grandma’s cooking was good, but this recognition on the train made it vivid.

Sharing three pancakes for such a feast was a bargain.

Jiang Yiliu arranged the stools, placed pancakes and buns on the table, with mushroom and chili sauces and scallions nearby for self-serving. The pork stew occupied the center.

“Old Ruan is fortunate; your wife’s cooking is impeccable,” Weng Hong said, tearing a pancake in half. She spread mushroom sauce on the smaller piece, rolled it with scallions, and handed it to Chouchou. She took the other half, spread with spicy chili paste, rolled with scallions, and ate heartily herself.

As she ate, she couldn’t help but compare cooking skills. Even the city’s supply and marketing master chef couldn’t match this pancake; no wonder the chef traded pork stew for them.

Weng Hong’s comment embarrassed Jiang Dahai these pancakes were his mother’s, not related to Uncle Ruan.

“Grandma, you misunderstood. I’m not Uncle Ruan’s son. The pancakes are my mom’s,” he explained.

“So that’s why you don’t resemble Old Ruan or Xiaobao. Your features are too coarse.”

Coarse!

Weng Hong’s blunt words stung Jiang Dahai.

“Xiaobao is my son,” he nearly choked on emotion. Sons resembling a refined uncle could still be doubted by others.

“Oh dear, old age makes memory bad. I forgot again,” the old woman patted her head, recalling that morning’s mix-up.

Jiang Yiliu helped Ruanruan roll her pancake into bite-sized portions. Watching her sweet smile, with mushroom sauce at the corners of her mouth, he gently wiped it off, quietly determined to treat her well so she wouldn’t hold grudges next mealtime.

Everyone enjoyed the meal thoroughly. Meanwhile, the other two, dissatisfied with the train’s food, barely ate. Qianqian had two bites, refused more, and sulked in her bed, covering herself with the blanket.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Pei Qing tidied up her shoes, apologized to the others, and climbed to his middle bunk.

The train journey passed quickly. Thanks to Grandma Miao’s provisions, everyone adapted easily. Each meal included pancakes exchanged for a few dishes in the dining car tasty food without spending a cent. Weng Hong’s steamed buns were eaten with chili and mushroom sauce, never wasted.

Qianqian and her companion, having learned their lesson, avoided conflict during meals the following day.

After over thirty hours, the train finally arrived in Haicheng. Jiang Yiliu pressed his face to the window, gazing at the rising metropolis as the dust kicked up by the train revealed its first glimpses.

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Chapter 86: Trip to Haicheng (4)

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