After the divorce, he took care of his child and sold fried rice; his ex-wife was filled with regret

Lin Fan gripped the steering wheel, his expression calm:

"Okay, calm down first. Take a rest these two days. We'll talk about opening the shop after things have calmed down completely."

"Okay!"

The car drove north, slowly making its way back to Phoenix Golden Street in the old town before the sun dipped below the horizon.

After passing through two somewhat narrow old streets, the Wuling Hongguang stopped at the east entrance of Jin Street.

The street corner was very quiet.

The scene that used to throng the morning market with dozens of online influencers and onlookers has completely disappeared.

The blue mobile law enforcement station set up by the street office is parked at the street corner. Two joint defense team members wearing reflective vests are on duty and patrolling at the intersection. The snow on the street has been cleared to both sides of the curb by the sanitation truck, revealing the dry and blackened bluestone pavement.

Lin Fan smoothly reversed the car into the open space in the back alley and turned off the engine.

"We're home, get off the bus."

Lin Fan got out of the car, and the cold wind blowing against his face invigorated him.

He went to the back row and pulled Tuantuan, who was dressed warmly, down with his arms.

Su Xiaoxiao jumped off the bus with her backpack, still carrying the brand-new children's clothing bags she had bought at the China World Trade Center that morning.

The three of them entered the store through the back door.

"Click".

The iron bolt on the back door was locked again, instantly shutting out the wind and cold air from outside.

The lobby was warm and cozy, with the chandeliers casting a soft, warm glow.

Lin Yi remained quietly in the shadows beside the bar, reading a book. Hearing the noise, he walked steadily forward, took the paper bag and backpack from Su Xiaoxiao, and neatly placed them on the shelf behind him.

Once Tuantuan landed, she immediately pulled the orange cat to the soft cushion in the corner to play with building blocks.

Su Xiaoxiao took off her down jacket and hung it on the wooden coat rack behind the door. She washed her hands, walked to the bar, and opened her laptop.

"Brother Lin, what are we having for dinner tonight?" Su Xiaoxiao asked, rubbing her slightly flat stomach.

Lin Fan rolled up his sweater sleeves and went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.

"Okay, that sounds nice!" Su Xiaoxiao replied with a smile.

Lin Fan tied on a white cloth apron, pushed open the door of the small storeroom, and went inside.

He locked the door bolt with his backhand, and with a thought, he was already standing in the Spirit Field Farm.

The farm was quiet and peaceful.

On the red soil, several rows of purple bamboo shoots and Chinese cabbages stretch out their emerald green leaves in the constant temperature environment.

Lin Fan walked to the edge of the vegetable garden and pulled up two plump, white, fresh-skinned radishes from the Spirit Spring.

The radishes were plump and thick, with smooth, firm skin, and they had a fresh, earthy sweetness as soon as they were pulled out. I also picked a small handful of tender, juicy green shoots.

Next, he went to the chilled food section, picked out a fresh rack of black mountain pork ribs, and used a food processor to neatly chop them into two-inch square pieces.

After packing the ingredients, Lin Fan left the farm.

Back in the kitchen, he put the ribs into a large iron basin and soaked and rinsed them three times with cool spring water to thoroughly wash away any remaining blood foam from the crevices of the bones, then drained the water.

Bring water to a boil in a pot.

Put the pork ribs in a pot of cold water, add two slices of flattened ginger and a small spoonful of pure grain rice wine.

As the water temperature slowly rose, a few wisps of grayish-white foam floated to the surface, which Lin Fan deftly skimmed off with a slotted spoon.

After boiling for two minutes, remove the ribs and rinse off the surface oil with warm water.

A thick, black clay pot was placed on the stove.

Pour the ribs into a clay pot, add more than half a pot of spring water, and throw in two red dates and a small piece of scallion.

"Smack."

Blue flames leaped from the stove core, steadily licking the thick bottom of the casserole.

The fire was brought to a boil, and billowing white steam rose from the edge of the pot. Lin Fan turned the heat down to a simmer, covered the pot with a thick lid, and let the soup simmer slowly inside.

While the soup was simmering, he picked up a peeler, peeled off the outer skin of the two white radishes, and cut them into large, evenly sized chunks.

On the other side of the stove, Lin Fan washed the Xiangshui tribute rice, added water, and put it into the steamer to steam over high heat.

Half an hour later, a pure and mild aroma of pork bones wafted from the casserole.

The flavor wasn't greasy at all; it was the pure meaty aroma that the bone marrow and meat of the Black Mountain Pig released little by little over a slow fire.

Lin Fan lifted the lid, slid the chopped white radish pieces into the soup, sprinkled in a small spoonful of salt for seasoning, put the lid back on, and continued to simmer for fifteen minutes.

The white radish softens when heated, quickly absorbing the umami flavor from the broth, while also infusing its own sweetness into the soup, gradually turning the originally slightly yellow broth into a clear and lustrous color.

Finally, Lin Fan picked up another cast iron wok, scooped in half a spoonful of black mountain lard and heated it, then poured the washed and drained green vegetable shoots into the hot wok.

"Sizzle—"

Stir-fry the rapeseed over high heat for a couple of seconds until it quickly becomes shiny and soft in the hot oil. Sprinkle with a pinch of salt, then remove from the pan and plate.

"Dinner's ready."

Lin Fan carried the steaming black clay pot and stir-fried rapeseed out of the kitchen and placed them steadily on the small square table next to the bar.

In the casserole, large, tender pork ribs are soaked in clear, transparent broth, while snow-white radish chunks are stewed until almost translucent. A small handful of tender green chopped scallions is sprinkled on top, emitting a fragrant aroma.

Lin Yi had already placed four bowls of rice on the table.

"Tuantuan, time to eat," Lin Fan called out to the corner.

The little girl placed a yellow building block on top of the pile, clapped her hands, and ran over with light, quick steps.

Su Xiaoxiao lifted her onto a high chair and carefully wiped her little hands clean with a warm towel.

"It smells so good, Daddy!" Tuantuan sniffed, her big eyes fixed on the large clay pot on the table.

Lin Fan served his daughter half a bowl of warm radish and pork rib soup in a porcelain bowl. He picked out a piece of tender pork rib that had been stewed until it fell off the bone, and used chopsticks to cut the meat into small strips. He then mixed it into the glistening, soft, and sticky rice.

"Eat slowly, be careful it's hot." Lin Fan handed the small wooden spoon to his daughter.

Tuantuan scooped up a spoonful of rice soaked in meat broth and put it in her mouth, chewing until her little cheeks were bulging: "The radish is so sweet!"

Su Xiaoxiao also ladled out a bowl of soup and took a sip.

The soup is warm and smooth. The first taste is the sweetness of the radish, followed by the rich and fresh flavor of the black mountain pork ribs. There is no excess oil that makes your mouth feel sticky. It goes down into your stomach warm and comforting, making you want to let out a sigh of relief.

"Brother Lin, this pork rib soup is cooked to perfection." Su Xiaoxiao picked up a piece of radish and put it in her mouth. It was soft, juicy, and melted on her tongue with almost no chewing.

"Although the lunch I had at the mall was quite substantial, I still felt heavy in my stomach afterward. It's the home-cooked meals you make, Brother Lin, that are truly nourishing."

Lin Fan picked up the bowl and took a sip of soup, his expression gentle: "High-end restaurants emphasize rich, dark sauces and presentation, using a lot of ingredients. It's fine to eat there occasionally to satisfy a craving, but your stomach can't handle it every day. For everyday life, we still need simple, warm food with its original flavor."

The four of them sat around a small table, quietly eating their dinner.