Chương 38: Inheritance

Comrade Zhang Shufen has proved with practical actions that their close relationship between ancestors and grandchildren cannot stand the test in the face of this pot of old brine. Bang! The lid of the pot was closed, and the old lady protected the pot of old brine like a calf. But... he is also a brat. You just called him your good grandson.

"Get lost." Old comrade Zhang Shufen waved his hand and warned: "If you dare to touch my old brine, I will immediately call Tie Ying and Zhou Miao to come for a mixed doubles match."

"Don't you dare, grandma, I'm just kidding." Zhou Yan waved his hand quickly. He had no doubt that if Madam Zhao and Comrade Lao Zhou were successfully summoned, he might cry even harder than Fanwa. After all, Comrade Zhou was also afraid of being beaten. This pot of old brine is the old lady's favorite. She has kept it for more than ten years and needs to be boiled and maintained every few days. Eating braised meat made by the old lady during the holidays is the biggest expectation of the whole family.

The task triggered by the system seems simple, but in fact it is impossible to complete. Unless he sneaks in at night and takes it away. But then it won't be a case of his parents getting a double beating. Zhou Yan met many cold dish chefs while filming his videos, and more than one of them said, "Kimchi, chili oil, and braising liquid are the three treasures of a cold dish chef. Ordinary people aren't allowed to touch them; they're like the cleaver on the chopping block—if you touch them, you'll be killed."

This isn't hard to understand. A pot of old braising liquid is nurtured day after day; the time and effort invested are unknown to outsiders. But if it falls into the hands of a novice or someone who doesn't appreciate it, they can ruin it in three days. Anyone would be furious. The old lady looked at him and asked, "You want to sell braised food?"

"Yes, there aren't any braised food vendors outside the textile factory right now. Factory workers earn high wages, so there's bound to be someone who wants to take a nice cold dish home after work." Zhou Yan nodded with a smile, "Your braised food is absolutely the best in Suji."

"You kid, you're just bragging without thinking." The old lady laughed, a hint of smugness on her face.

"Last time Zhou Laoqi's son got married and had a banquet, the chef he hired, the beef and pig ears he braised, were really just average, not as good as mine."

"Zhou Laoqi's son got married, and the chef he hired was the best at organizing banquets in Suji. Everyone who ate his braised dishes said they were delicious. But even that level is far inferior to your pot of old-fashioned braising liquid." Zhou Yan seized the opportunity, his face full of sycophancy, "At least ten stories lower, you tell me, how good is yours?"

"Of all my grandchildren, you're the best at telling stories." The old lady smiled, looking at the pot of braising liquid with a hint of reminiscence.

"After I married your grandfather when I was eighteen, he slaughtered cattle, and I set up a stall selling braised beef offal, beef tongue, and pig's head. My business grew to be the best in Suzhou, and even people from Jiaozhou would come specifically to buy from me. Restaurants would place orders with me. This braising technique was passed down to me by your great-grandfather.

Your great-grandfather used to be the head chef in a high-ranking official's household in Chengdu; he was a renowned master of braised dishes."

"Back then, women weren't allowed to learn to cook, but the country was in turmoil, and survival was difficult. So my grandfather secretly passed on the secret recipe for braised food to my mother, which allowed our family to survive. I supported five sons with this skill and helped them all get married. Later, street vending was banned, and we had to eat at collective restaurants. When that pot of 30-year-old braising liquid was thrown away, I was heartbroken and couldn't sleep for a week."

Zhou Yan listened intently, never expecting such a story, a tale even he had never heard before.

"Grandma, the national policy has changed now, encouraging the development of the individual economy. There are more and more individual business owners setting up stalls and opening shops on the streets, and life will get better and better." Zhou Yan said gently. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work. The old lady had lived through the most turbulent half-century, and that pot of old braising liquid truly held extraordinary significance for her.

"Do you want to learn?" The old lady looked into his eyes. Her eyes were already full of wrinkles, but they were still bright.

"Yes." Zhou Yan nodded without hesitation.

"If you want, I'll teach you. This craft can't die out in my hands; it should be passed down," the old lady nodded with a smile. Zhou Yan's eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together, saying, "Grandma, what about this pot of old braising liquid..."

"Don't even think about it!" the old lady pouted.

"As long as I'm alive, you won't get this old braising liquid."

"Is this... the throne of the king of braised food?" Zhou Yan couldn't help but laugh for no reason.

"The braising liquid has to be grown by yourself to be the most flavorful. How you treat it will determine its flavor," the old lady said, looking at Zhou Yan.

"If you really want to learn, I'll teach you how to cook braising liquid and how to grow it."

"Grandma, you'll always be my best grandma." Zhou Yan almost wanted to kowtow to the old lady. Such a good recipe, and she's willing to teach him so readily—only his own grandmother could do that. The old lady said, "I'll write you a list this afternoon. Buy everything you need. Whenever you want to make braising liquid, come pick me up and I'll take you to your shop to teach you."

"Okay," Zhou Yan nodded.

"Then I'll build another pot specifically for making braising liquid." Although he couldn't take away the old lady's old braising liquid, being taught and guided by her was already very satisfying for Zhou Yan. This system task had to be temporarily put on hold. He could slowly cultivate his own pot of old braising liquid and learn the essence of braising from the old lady; the result would be the same. This was inheritance. The ribs were simmering in the pot.

Zhou Yan estimated the time, carried the wooden bucket to the well in the yard, and began to kill the fish. Footsteps came from the courtyard gate, and Zhou Yan turned around. A tall, thin young man stood at the doorway, carrying a hoe. He had a buzz cut, deep-set features, and resembled Zhou Yan by about six or seven points. A menacing scar near his eye added to his fierce appearance. His short-sleeved sailor shirt hung loosely on the left arm, swaying slightly in the wind.

He stood ramrod straight, carrying the hoe, giving the impression that he was carrying a gun.

"Uncle, you're back," Zhou Yan said, getting up and smiling.

"Yeah, I went to the fields to weed. Zhou Yan, it's been so long," Zhou Weiguo nodded, his gaze drifting towards the main room. As if he had noticed something, a slight smile appeared on his lips, and his cold demeanor melted away.

"Uncle!" Zhou Momo rushed out of the main room, skipping towards Zhou Weiguo. She stopped in front of him, her little hand raised high:"Here's some candy! Big bunny, so sweet!"

"Momo, eat it. Uncle doesn't like candy," Zhou Weiguo said with a doting smile.

"No, you eat one, I'll feed you." Zhou Momo shook her head, tore open the candy wrapper, and tiptoed to offer it to him.

"Okay, I'll eat it." Zhou Weiguo smiled helplessly, bent down, and took the candy from Zhou Momo's hand.

"Is it sweet?" Zhou Momo looked at him expectantly. Zhou Weiguo nodded with a smile: "Sweet, very sweet."

"Hehe." Zhou Momo laughed along, saying, "Come on, there are oranges too, oranges are delicious too."

"Okay." Zhou Weiguo replied, put the hoe behind the door, and followed Zhou Momo into the main room, a smile always on his face. When he started walking, it became clear that his left leg was slightly lame, but he walked with steady steps. Zhou Yan silently squatted back down to clean the fish. His uncle was thirty-four this year, joined the army at eighteen, and was wounded and discharged during the 1979 Sino-Vietnamese War. Two plaques reading "Family of a First-Class Hero" hung in the old house.

One was for his grandfather, and the other for his uncle. This was also a kind of inheritance.