In the fiery red era of the heavens, refrigerators are refreshed daily.

Chapter 112, Section 111: The Shikumen Amidst Laughter and Joy

When Yang Guangming returned to the courtyard of the Shikumen with his bulging canvas bag, it was nearly noon.

The courtyard was unusually lively and bustling at the moment, like a pot of porridge boiling over.

Almost all the neighbors had returned, their faces showing exhaustion from queuing and shopping sprees, glistening with sweat, yet also radiating a sense of satisfaction after a "victorious battle" and an excitement to share and show off their spoils.

The small courtyard space was crammed full of things that everyone had bought, leaving almost no room to step.

The brand-new thermos liner gleamed silver and was carefully placed on the windowsill by its owner.
Two or three brand-new white enamel basins with blue flowers were stacked together, their smooth glaze reflecting the midday sun.
Bundles of tonifying soap, emitting a clean and pleasant soapy smell, were piled up in the corner;
There were also glistening, oily ribs tied with straw ropes, palm-sized pieces of white, fatty meat, and even a small, rare, shimmering ribbonfish held like a precious treasure in someone's hand...

"Oh my, Aunt Xiuying, you bought some ribs?"

Mrs. Feng had sharp eyes and a loud voice. She had just put down the tofu knots and tofu in her hand when she pointed to the piece of meat that Zhang Xiuying had just placed next to the public cement sink, half-covered by oil paper.

She exclaimed sincerely, "Look at this fat, so thick! It's perfect for rendering oil! The rendered oil will be snow-white!"

Zhang Xiuying was wiping the sweat from her forehead and neck with a damp towel when she heard this, her face immediately lit up with a smile, tinged with a hint of barely perceptible pride, and her voice rose as well:
"The line was so long! My legs were about to give out! By the time it was my turn, there were only a few pieces left. This piece of fat was the best I could get! I'll render some lard, and then stir-fry the cracklings with vegetables. It'll smell amazing!"

Her tone was full of relief and lingering fear, as if snatching this piece of meat was the result of a thrilling battle in which she had ultimately triumphed.

Li Guihua had just finished arranging a heavy basket of black coal briquettes in the corner of her house when she was panting heavily, her hair sticking to her rosy cheeks with sweat.

She wiped her sweat and said breathlessly, "Finally, the coal briquettes are back! Forty pounds! They were so heavy! My legs were weak from waiting in line, it was like fighting a war!"

She rubbed her aching back and glanced at the noisy, crowded courtyard. She saw her brother-in-law, Yang Guangming, carrying a bulging old canvas bag, squeezing through the crowd and clutter to enter the room.

"Oh, Mingming's back?" she called out, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

But her attention was quickly drawn to the new thermos liner that Granny Chen next door was carefully showing off—the shiny silver liner was dazzling in the sunlight.

With a gentle smile on her face, Yang Guangming replied, "Yes, sister-in-law."

His gaze swept calmly across the bustling, lively scene.

The neighbors chattered noisily about the hardships of queuing, the thrills of the shopping spree, and the quality of the goods, comparing whose pork belly was thicker and whose washbasin had the freshest and brightest colors.

Amidst the clamor of this "harvest," no one paid any special attention to what was inside the unassuming, bulging old canvas bag on his shoulder.

In these days when every household is "returning home laden with goods" and their hands are full, it's perfectly normal for him to be carrying a few things, blending perfectly into this lively scene composed of various items and sweat.

He slipped through the courtyard, carried the canvas bag back to the front of his house, and gently placed it in the inconspicuous shadows behind the door, as if it were a routine shopping trip.

The faded wooden door in the front building creaked shut, shutting out the bustling noise and mixed smells from the courtyard.

Zhang Xiuying and Li Guihua also put away the rapeseed oil, salt, soy sauce, matches, and the precious piece of rib meat they had bought in the kitchen. Only then did the family's attention truly focus on the canvas bag that Yang Guangming had brought back, which was quietly waiting behind the door.

Zhuangzhuang was held in Yangguanghui's arms, blinking his big, dark eyes curiously, pointing his little finger at the bulging bag, and babbling.

The room was filled with the smell of coal smoke, the earthy smell of new coal briquettes, and a faint, peculiar aroma that stubbornly wafted out despite being wrapped in canvas—a rich, tantalizing scent that blended oil, braised flavors, and nuts.

"Mingming, did your friend manage to get anything good?"

Zhang Xiuying wiped her hands on her faded apron, her eyes filled with anticipation and a hint of barely perceptible nervousness, her heart pounding a few times.

The taste of the ham and salted duck my son brought back last time still seems to linger on my tongue.

Yang Guangming didn't say anything, but just smiled, a smile that carried a reassuring calmness.

He walked behind the door, bent down, picked up the heavy canvas bag, and walked back to place it on the square table in the center of the room, which was covered in peeling paint and had been polished to a shine.

The table, though small, has now become a stage for the display.

Under the watchful eyes of the whole family,

Like a composed magician, he slowly untied the hemp rope from the opening of the bag.

Then, the breathtaking array of ingredients hidden within this simple canvas wrapping was revealed.

The thick kraft paper package was opened first, revealing the snow-white, slender, and distinct rice noodles inside, which exuded a fresh rice aroma.

Next was a heavy, rough pottery jar.

As Yang Ming carefully lifted the lid, a rich, mellow, and domineering aroma of meat instantly broke free of the canvas and violently dispelled the smell of coal smoke in the room!
Inside was solidified, snow-white, and delicate lard, just like the finest mutton fat jade!

In an era of extreme scarcity, a large jar of pure white lard brought a sense of satisfaction and security no less than holding a jar of gold.

The third one is the old glass jar with the faded word "Guangming" printed on it.

The lid was unscrewed, revealing fine, slightly yellow milk powder inside.

A sweet, milky aroma wafted through the air, carrying a comforting power. Zhuangzhuang seemed to have a natural affinity for this smell, babbling in his father's arms, his little hands eagerly reaching for the jar, his little mouth smacking.

Two square packages wrapped in rough yellow straw paper were unfolded.

One is a deep red, glossy sausage with firm flesh, exuding a rich aroma of wine and the unique meaty fragrance of sun-dried meat; the other is a golden, plump chestnut kernel with a glossy sheen and a sweet, nutty aroma.

Finally, Yang Guangming carefully peeled away the thick oil paper that was wrapped tightly, layer by layer—a large, plump, and incredibly rich braised pork knuckle appeared before everyone's eyes!

The trembling, translucent gelatinous layer is as tempting as amber, the firm and distinct lean meat texture is clearly visible, and the thick, dark brown, glistening braising sauce adhering to the surface silently proclaims its deliciousness and its "luxurious" status in this era.

"Oh my! Mother's winter vegetables!"

Li Guihua was the first to exclaim in surprise, her voice trembling with excitement, her eyes wide as she stared intently at the tempting pork knuckle and the jar of dazzling white lard.

She subconsciously swallowed hard, as if trying to swallow the overwhelming aroma. "Rice noodles! Lard! Milk powder! Sausage... and this huge pork knuckle! Your friend... your friend is really generous! So many good things! Much better than what I bought!"

The shock on her face was quickly replaced by immense joy, and her eyes were filled with undisguised admiration and gratitude as she looked at Yang Guangming.

Zhang Xiuying was so surprised that she couldn't speak for a moment. Her lips moved slightly, and her fingers trembled almost imperceptibly. She first gently touched the jar of delicate, cool, solidified lard, feeling the peace of mind brought by its heavy solidity.

She then lovingly stroked the white, soft rice noodles, which were fragrant with rice.

Finally, her gaze fell on the can of fine milk powder, and her eyes involuntarily reddened, her voice choked with emotion and deep affection:

"The milk powder... is it for Zhuangzhuang? That little guy is so lucky! This lard... is rendered so well, snow-white! Not a single impurity! It must smell incredibly delicious after it's rendered! And this pork knuckle..."

She looked up at Yang Ming, her eyes filled with relief, pride, and a hint of unbelievable excitement. "Mingming, you...you're really capable, and you make reliable friends! This friendship...is immense! It's truly immense!"

She repeated it, seemingly unable to find a more fitting word to express the shock in her heart.

Even Yang Yongkang, who had been sitting silently at the table as if in deep meditation, put down the half-rolled "trumpet pipe" cigarette in his hand.

A rare and clear emotion appeared on his wrinkled face, as if sculpted by the passage of time. He stretched out his large, calloused hands, with deep, indelible black oil stains between his fingers, picked up a dark red, oily, and firm sausage, and brought it to his nose for a deep sniff.

The unique aroma, a blend of sorghum liquor, carefully selected pork, and the scent of sun-dried meat, caused his tightly pursed lips, as sharp as cracks in rock, to relax almost imperceptibly. He slowly nodded, uttering two heavy, warm words from deep within his throat: "Mm, good."

This is a highly significant affirmation from the taciturn head of the family, representing the highest level of recognition.

His gaze then fell on the can of milk powder, and then on his grandson Zhuangzhuang, who was babbling in Yang Guanghui's arms and curiously trying to grab the oil paper on the table.

The gentleness in his eyes deepened, as if a corner of the ice had quietly melted under the warm sun, revealing a hidden tenderness.

Yang Guanghui held his increasingly restless son, his honest face filled with pure joy and heartfelt admiration for his younger brother.

He picked up a golden, shiny chestnut kernel and carefully placed it into Zhuangzhuang's curiously waving little hand: "Zhuangzhuang, smell it, isn't it fragrant? Isn't it fragrant? Your uncle is really something! He always thinks of us when he has good things!"

Zhuangzhuang grabbed a round chestnut kernel and tried to stuff it into his little mouth, but Yang Guanghui stopped him with a smile. The little guy twisted his body in dissatisfaction and made a protesting hum, which made Zhang Xiuying and Li Guihua laugh.

In the small front building, several fragrances intertwined, collided, and rose, creating an almost luxurious and comforting sense of abundance that warmly and generously enveloped everyone in the house, as if even the low roof had become taller and wider.

From the courtyard of the Shikumen house outside the window, the enticing aromas of families preparing their lunches with all their might were rising and falling.

The sizzling sound of rendering lard, the crackling sound of stir-frying vegetables, the aroma of steaming rice, and the occasional whiff of meat intertwine to create a symphony of life's hope.

In the kitchen, Zhang Xiuying and Li Guihua seemed to have been injected with new energy, sweeping away the fatigue of queuing in the morning, and their hands and feet were as quick as if they were wound up.

The clattering of pots and pans carried a cheerful rhythm, echoing the commotion emanating from the courtyard.

The heavy, glistening, dark red braised pork knuckle was carefully placed in the only small iron pot in the house, with a little half a bowl of water added, and then gently placed on the hottest flame of the coal stove to reheat it.

As the water temperature rises, the rich aroma of the braising sauce is once again fully released, rising domineeringly and so intensely that it almost lifts the low ceiling of the kitchen. It stubbornly permeates outwards through the cracks in the doors and windows, joining the "aroma chorus" in the courtyard.

Li Guihua was completely focused, occasionally poking it with her chopsticks. Only when she felt that the skin and flesh were tender and the gelatinous texture was soft and glutinous did she take it out of the pot and place it on a thick wooden cutting board.

She picked up the sharpest, thick-backed kitchen knife in the house, and the blade fell steadily, making a few light and crisp "thud, thud, thud" sounds.

The pork knuckle slices, evenly sliced ​​and shimmering with an alluring amber-like gelatinous sheen, were neatly arranged on the finest white porcelain plate in the house.

The deep red lean meat texture and the translucent aspic are beautifully interspersed, and when drizzled with a little hot, thick, and fragrant original braising sauce, the visual and olfactory impact is enough to entice you.

"Mom, let's scoop out some lard now and render some scallion oil to mix with rice noodles. It'll smell amazing! The rice noodles can be eaten after just blanching them in boiling water, it's the easiest way!"

Li Guihua suggested with shining eyes, and deftly chopped the bright green scallions into fine pieces.

The thought of the snow-white lard melting in the hot pan and simmering into scallion oil made her swallow hard again, her stomach rumbling.

"Good! Good!"

Zhang Xiuying responded repeatedly, her face beaming with undisguised joy and the efficiency of a matriarch.

She took a clean aluminum spoon and carefully scooped a large chunk of creamy, snow-white lard from the earthenware jar, then placed it into a heated small iron pot.

The milky white solid grease sizzled at the bottom of the pot, melting quickly into a clear, slightly yellow, shiny liquid with an enticing sheen.

The pure and domineering aroma of meat instantly spread, more directly hitting people's most primal craving for fat than any expensive spice.

When the chopped scallions are sprinkled in, they sizzle and burst, releasing an even stronger aroma that blends and swirls with the rich and savory fragrance of lard, creating an irresistible and mouthwatering aroma of scallion oil.

This aroma is the most soul-stirring and comforting temptation in times of scarcity.

On the other side, the deep red sausages have been sliced ​​into even, thin slices and laid out one by one on the aluminum rice cooker with freshly rinsed rice and the right amount of water added.

The rice grains tumble in the boiling water, gradually absorbing the moisture and becoming plump and translucent.

The oil and saltiness of the sausage seep silently into every grain of rice along with the steam.

The aroma of rice, mixed with the unique, aged fragrance of wine and oil from the sausage, stubbornly wafts out from the gaps in the pot lid, vying for attention with the aroma of scallion oil and braised meat, equally captivating.

Zhang Xiuying grabbed a handful of golden chestnut kernels, and carefully added a few pieces of the salty and savory scraps she had carefully removed from the Jinhua ham last time, before throwing them into a small pot of boiling clear soup.

The sweet and glutinous texture of chestnuts and the salty and savory flavor of ham blend and settle in the soup, gradually simmering into a pot of rich, warm, and golden-yellow broth.

The bright green and crisp bok choy is washed clean and ready to be quickly blanched in boiling water. It will then take on a vibrant spring color, adding a refreshing touch to the upcoming feast.

In Zhuangzhuang's special little enamel bowl, Li Guihua scooped out a few spoonfuls of precious milk powder, carefully stirred it with chopsticks, and then added an appropriate amount of warm water.

The milky white liquid gradually spread out, emitting a warm and sweet milky aroma.

Zhuangzhuang seemed to have a natural affinity for this delicious treat that was exclusively for him. He excitedly kicked his little legs in his father's arms, babbling and reaching towards the milk bowl, his little mouth smacking and drooling.

Yang Guangming helped wipe the small square table again and again, and arranged the rough porcelain bowls and chopsticks that were washed white and had small chips on the edges. He also carefully placed a small dish of vinegar in front of each one.

Yang Guanghui, holding Zhuangzhuang who was becoming increasingly restless and wriggling like a little fish, wandered around the limited space in the room, but his gaze couldn't help but drift towards the kitchen, where aromas were constantly exploding like bombs. His Adam's apple bobbed quietly and uncontrollably.

Yang Yongkang sat silently on the old stool against the wall, rolling a cigarette. But in his eyes, which had seen the vicissitudes of life and were usually as deep as an ancient well, the orange-red flames leaping from the stove were now clearly reflected, as were the busy and lively figures of his family members.

A heavy feeling called "peace" spread slowly in his heart like a silent but warm tide, dispelling his daily worries.

When everything was ready, and the dishes were served one by one on the square table with its peeling paint but gleaming shine, the small tabletop was filled with so much food that it looked like an unreal, glossy dream, dazzling in this impoverished era.

The rich and robust flavor of braised dishes, the savory and oily texture of sausage rice, the intense aroma of scallion oil, the mellow sweetness of chestnut soup, and the delicate sweetness of milk—

Intertwined within this small, low-ceilinged front building space, a captivating and almost tangible atmosphere of abundance is created, so intense it's almost impenetrable, gently isolating the poverty and clamor of the outside world for a temporary moment.

Outside the window, the aromas of food from each household in the Shikumen (stone-framed gate) houses stubbornly wafted through the cracks in the doors and windows, joining this midday olfactory feast.
The rich, savory aroma of braised pork belly, the caramelized fragrance of pan-fried yellow croaker, the oily aroma of stir-fried pickled mustard greens and edamame, the refreshing taste of stir-fried bok choy... one after another, some strong, some mild.

Yang Guangming picked up his chopsticks and steadily picked up a mouthful of rice noodles coated with golden scallion oil.

The piping hot, slippery rice noodles, with the natural sweetness of the grains, are completely enveloped and infused with the aroma of scallion oil and the rich, savory flavor of lard that penetrates to the bone.

He put it in his mouth, and a sense of satisfaction that struck his soul exploded from the tip of his tongue, quickly spreading to every part of his body.

This seemingly simple rice noodle dish with scallion oil, with the ultimate enhancement of a spoonful of precious, snow-white lard, releases an unparalleled, almost luxurious allure in this era of poverty where oil and fat are so precious.

It's more than just a bowl of noodles; it's oil, calories, and the ultimate satisfaction of one's appetite.

It is also the warmest and most reassuring taste of happiness that an ordinary family can experience in this difficult era, within their small space.

Yang Guangming lowered his head and continued eating the fragrant scallion oil rice noodles in his bowl, a warm smile slowly curving his lips.

(End of this chapter)