Chapter 38: Inheritance (Please keep reading!)

Old Comrade Zhang Shufen proved through her actions that the intimate bond between grandmother and grandson could not withstand the test of this pot of old brine.

*Clang!*

The lid was slammed shut. The old lady guarded that pot of old brine as if she were protecting her own cub.

But...

He was a cub, too.

She had just called him her "precious grandson," hadn't she?

"Get lost," Old Comrade Zhang Shufen waved her hand in warning. "If you dare touch my old brine, I'll call Tieying and Zhou Miao immediately to give you a two-on-one beatdown."

"I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare! Grandma, I was joking," Zhou Yan said, hurriedly waving his hands.

He had no doubt that if Auntie Zhao and Comrade Old Zhou were successfully summoned, he might cry even harder than Fanwa.

After all, even Comrade Old Zhou was afraid of getting beaten up.

This pot of old brine was the old lady's heart and soul. She had nurtured it for over ten years, boiling and maintaining it every few days.

Eating the braised delicacies made by the old lady during festivals was the greatest anticipation for the whole family.

This task triggered by the system seemed simple, but in reality, it was impossible to complete.

Unless he came to steal it in the middle of the night.

But if he did that, it wouldn't just be a matter of his parents giving him a two-on-one beatdown.

When filming videos, Zhou Yan had encountered many cold dish chefs, and more than one had said: "Pickles, chili oil, and brine are the three treasures of a cold dish chef. Ordinary people aren't even allowed to touch them. It's just like Dunzi's knife—if you touch it, you're fighting for your life."

This was actually easy to understand.

A pot of old brine is nurtured day after day; the time and effort invested are unknown to outsiders.

But if it fell into the hands of a novice or someone who didn't cherish it, they could ruin it in three days.

Anyone would explode.

The old lady looked at him and asked, "Do you want to sell braised food?"

"Yes. Right now, there's no one selling braised food in front of the textile factory entrance. The factory workers have high incomes; they'll definitely be willing to bring home a delicious cold dish after work." Zhou Yan nodded with a smile. "The braised food you make is definitely the best in Suji."

"You brat, you brag without even thinking," the old lady laughed, a hint of playful pride appearing on her face. "Last time when Zhou Laoqi's son got married and held a village banquet, the local chef they invited made beef and pig ears that were quite mediocre. They weren't as good as mine."

"When Zhou Laoqi's son got married, they invited the best village chef in Suji. Everyone said the braised dishes he made were great. But even at that level, it's still far from your pot of old brine." Zhou Yan took the opportunity to flatter her, his face full of sycophancy. "It's at least ten stories below your level. Tell me, how high is your skill?"

"Of all my grandchildren, you're the best at storytelling." The old lady beamed, looking at the pot of brine with a hint of nostalgia. "After I married your grandfather at eighteen, he would slaughter cattle, and I would set up a stall to sell braised beef offal, braised ox tongue, and braised pig head meat. Business grew until it was the best in Suji; people even came all the way from Jiazhou to buy it, and restaurants would come to me for orders.

This braising skill was passed down to me by your great-great-grandmother. Her father used to be a chef in the household of a high official in Chengdu; he was a renowned master of the red kitchen.

In those days, women weren't allowed to learn cooking, but the country was in turmoil and survival was hard. So, my maternal grandfather secretly passed the secret brine recipe to my mother, which allowed our family to survive.

I relied on this skill to raise five sons and marry them all wives. Later, when street stalls were no longer allowed and we had to eat in communal canteens, when that pot of thirty-year-old brine was poured out, my heart ached so much I couldn't bear it; I couldn't sleep for a whole week."

Zhou Yan listened intently, not realizing there was such a profound history behind it. This was a story even Little Zhou had never heard.

"Grandma, the national policies have changed now. They encourage the development of the private economy. There are more and more individual businesses setting up stalls and shops on the streets now, and life will get better and better," Zhou Yan said softly.

Having experienced the most turbulent half-century, this pot of old brine indeed held extraordinary significance for her.

"Do you want to learn?" The old lady looked into his eyes.

Wrinkles had climbed the corners of her eyes, but her gaze remained clear.

"I do," Zhou Yan nodded without hesitation.

"If you want to, I'll teach you. This skill shouldn't end with me; it must be passed down," the old lady nodded with a smile.

Zhou Yan's eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together. "Grandma, then this pot of old brine..."

"Don't even think about it!" The old lady curled her lip. "As long as I am not dead, you won't get this old brine."

"Is... is this the throne of the King of Braised Food?" Zhou Yan couldn't hold it together, feeling an inexplicable urge to laugh.

"Brine tastes best when you nurture it yourself. It becomes whatever you make it." The old lady looked at Zhou Yan. "If you really want to learn, I'll teach you how to boil brine and how to maintain it."

"Grandma, you are forever my best grandma." Zhou Yan felt like he wanted to kowtow to her.

To give away such a good recipe just like that—only his real grandma could do this.

The old lady said, "I'll write a list for you this afternoon. Buy everything on it. Whenever you're ready to boil brine, come pick me up and take me to your shop to teach you."

"Will do," Zhou Yan nodded. "Then I'll also need to build another pot, specifically for making braised food."

Although he couldn't take the old lady's brine, being mentored by her personally, with on-site guidance and teaching, made Zhou Yan extremely satisfied.

The system task could be temporarily set aside. Once he slowly nurtured his own pot of old brine and learned the essence of braising from the old lady, the result would be the same.

This was inheritance.

As the ribs simmered in the pot, Zhou Yan estimated the time, carried a wooden bucket to the well in the courtyard, and began cleaning the fish.

Footsteps came from the courtyard gate, and Zhou Yan looked back.

A tall, thin young man stood at the gate carrying a hoe. He had a buzz cut and deep features, looking sixty to seventy percent like Zhou Yan. A fierce scar at the corner of his eye made him look a bit more menacing. His left sleeve of his sailor shirt hung empty, swaying slightly in the wind.

His back was straight, and with the hoe on his shoulder, he gave off the illusion of carrying a rifle.

"Uncle, you're back," Zhou Yan stood up and smiled.

"Mm, went to the field to hoe the weeds. Zhou Yan, you haven't been by in a while." Zhou Weiguo nodded, but his gaze drifted toward the main hall.

As if seeing something, the corners of his mouth curled up slightly, and his cold temperament melted away.

"Uncle!" Zhou Momo rushed out from the main hall, running toward Zhou Weiguo. She stopped in front of him and held her small hand high. "Here, have some candy! It's a big bunny candy, so sweet!"

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

"No way! You eat one, I'll feed you." Zhou Momo shook her head, tore open the wrapper, and reached up on her tiptoes.

"Alright, I'll eat it." Zhou Weiguo smiled helplessly and leaned down to take the candy from Momo's hand.

"Is it sweet?" Zhou Momo looked at him expectantly.

Zhou Weiguo nodded with a smile. "It's sweet. Very sweet."

"Hehe!" Zhou Momo laughed along, saying, "Come on, there are oranges too. Oranges are yummy too!"

"Alright," Zhou Weiguo replied. He placed the hoe behind the door and followed Zhou Momo into the main hall, a smile remaining on his face.

As he walked, it became apparent that his left leg was slightly lame, yet every step he took was very steady.

Zhou Yan quietly squatted back down to clean the fish.

His uncle was thirty-four this year. He joined the army at eighteen and was discharged after being wounded in the 1979 Sino-Vietnamese War.

Two plaques for "Family of a First-Class Merit Hero" hung in the old house.

One was for the old man.

The other was for his uncle.

This, too, was inheritance.