Returning to the county opera troupe in 77

"Dongwa, come in, come in and get your food."

At the window, Qin Gang, who was serving food, saw Chen Xiangdong. Without touching his spoon, he winked at him and lowered his voice, "I've saved a few potatoes for you to roast in the stove. You can eat them if you get hungry tonight."

Chen Xiangdong glanced left and right subconsciously, then whispered, "Is it alright to go in now?"

Qin Gang waved his hand: "What's there to be afraid of? Who calls the shots in the kitchen? If I say we can go in, we can go in."

Chen Xiangdong chuckled, picked up his bowl, and sneaked into the kitchen through the small door next to the window.

As soon as he entered the door, he went straight to the stove.

The fire had gone out, so he picked up a fire poker and poked around in the ashes a few times. Sure enough, he pulled out four potatoes with charred skins.

Qin Gang stopped serving the food and let Yu Baoliang take over. He wiped his hands on his apron, walked over, and said with a smile, "Take these potatoes with you later. Don't let anyone see them."

Chen Xiangdong turned around and saw Qin Gang standing behind him with a smile. He quickly replied, "I know."

Qin Gang nudged his chin at the stove again and whispered, "I've already prepared your meal. I used the leftover pork cracklings from rendering lard to make you a bowl of noodles with fermented vegetable broth. Eat it behind the stove so no one outside can see you."

Chen Xiangdong's eyes lit up. Sure enough, there was a rough porcelain bowl hidden in the corner of the stove, with a plate upside down on top.

Lifting the plate, a tangy aroma mixed with the smoky fragrance of pork cracklings wafted into my nose, and a sprinkle of chopped scallions was sprinkled on top.

Chen Xiangdong's eyes widened. His body couldn't resist the allure of the pork lard noodles. He grabbed the bowl, crouched behind the stove, and started shoveling food into his mouth with chopsticks.

The fermented vegetable broth is tangy and refreshing, the noodles are chewy, and the fried pork cracklings are incredibly fragrant. One bite and your mouth is filled with oil droplets.

He twirled his chopsticks quickly, glancing at the kitchen door every now and then, as if afraid someone would barge in.

After finishing a bowl of hot noodles, not a single drop of soup was left in the large bowl; even a dog couldn't lick it clean.

It has to be said that while Fatty Qin's cooking skills are mediocre, his dough-making and noodle-making skills are quite good. Chen Xiangdong thoroughly enjoyed this bowl of fermented noodle soup.

Qin Gang looked over: "Did you eat the shredded potatoes I stir-fried for lunch?"

Chen Xiangdong slowly straightened up, clutching his stomach, thinking that after all that preamble, Fatty Qin had finally gotten to the point.

He wiped his mouth, feigning ignorance: "I ate, so what?"

Qin Gang rubbed his hands together, chuckled sheepishly, and leaned closer, "I ate some too... but why does it taste different from what I used to make?"

Chen Xiangdong knew perfectly well what was going on, but pretended to be confused: "Really? I think it's great."

Qin Gang scratched his head and recounted in detail how he had secretly tried to cook it that afternoon.

Even though the lard, scallions, and dried chili peppers are all the same, and even the potatoes are from the same bag, the result is still not right.

Later, after thinking it over and over again, he remembered the half bowl of vinegar that Chen Xiangdong had spilled, so he cooked it again.

The sourness is about right, but it still feels like something's missing.

At this point, Qin Gang stared at Chen Xiangdong, his eyes probing: "Dongwa, tell me honestly, you weren't doing this on purpose, were you? You can cook?"

Chen Xiangdong blinked and chuckled: "I used to read an old recipe book for propping up table legs back in my hometown, and that's where I learned all the recipes."

"You even looked at the recipe? I know you can add vinegar, but just adding vinegar isn't right..." Qin Gang frowned, completely baffled.

Seeing that he really couldn't figure it out, Chen Xiangdong casually said, "It's just a matter of heating the pan and then adding cold oil."

Qin Gang's eyes lit up: "Hot pan, cold oil?"

Chen Xiangdong laughed and said, "Broken life, crisp life."

Qin Gang suddenly realized, "So that's how it is."

Just then, a voice came from the window: "Hey, who's that kid? What's he doing in the kitchen?"

The two looked out the window at the same time and saw a bald old man wearing black-rimmed glasses looking at them with a frown.

It was him, Jia Dafang, the head of the county theater troupe!

As his name suggests, Jia Dafang was notoriously stingy in the theater troupe.

He was extremely strict with all the troupe's funds, trying to stretch every penny. From canteen purchases and prop acquisitions to rehearsal subsidies, everything required his approval, and the slightest mistake would result in a scolding.

The troupe members cursed him behind his back, but to his face they still had to respectfully call him "Director Jia".

Chen Xiangdong's heart skipped a beat, and he thought to himself that he was in trouble. This guy may have made a mess of the county troupe's leadership, but he was the most particular about official authority and pomp. "No unauthorized personnel are allowed to enter or leave the kitchen at will" was a rule he personally set. Could it be that he had walked into a trap?

As he was pondering how to explain, Fatty Qin spoke up first: "Commander Jia, this kid is a new inspector. I just asked him to help carry the bags of grain in."

Upon hearing this, Jia Dafang grunted in response, nodded expressionlessly, turned around, and slowly walked away with his hands behind his back.

Chen Xiangdong finally breathed a sigh of relief, picked up the bowl, and slipped out of the kitchen in a flash.

Before they even got back to the woodshed, they saw Lu Meiyin angrily heading towards Han Wenxue's room, clutching a small notebook. Her loud voice could be heard clearly throughout the entire courtyard.

"Han Wenxue, you get the hell out here!"

Chen Xiangdong wasn't in a hurry to go back, so he picked up a bowl and leaned against the corner of the wall to read.

Han Wenxue pushed open the door and came out, frowning: "Meiyin, what are you yelling about? Can't you talk things out?"

Lu Meiyin's eyes were red, as if she had just been crying.

In a fit of rage, she slammed the notebook in her hand onto Han Wenxue's face, making him cry out "Ouch!" and howl, clutching his face, "What are you doing?!"

Lu Meiyin's voice was even louder than his: "What am I doing? You dare ask me what I'm doing? I'm asking you, why isn't my name on the list of performers for tomorrow's rural tour?"

Han Wenxue rubbed his stinging face, his tone softening:

"You went home for a blind date, who knew you'd be back so soon? The troupe has a performance, we can't just stop rehearsing because you're not back. They've already advanced their budget, they need to find someone to play the lead role, the troupe has to go and perform for them, right?"

Lu Meiyin sneered: "So you just gave my role to someone else?"

Han Wenxue sighed, "Meiyin, you're a veteran in the group, you should know the rules. With you gone, someone has to fill in. If you had come back a few days earlier..."

Lu Meiyin, hands on her hips, raised her voice higher and higher: "A few days earlier? Wasn't it you who approved my leave for my blind date? I'm asking you, weren't you already having an affair with that Pan Jinlian? While I was on my blind date, you secretly switched places and ruined my chance!"

"What kind of talk is that!" Han Wenxue's face flushed red. "My relationship with that person is completely innocent, so don't spout nonsense!"

Just as the two were arguing fiercely, a person suddenly squeezed through the crowd. It was Pan Lanxiang, whom Lu Meiyin had called Pan Jinlian.

"Lu Meiyin, you can't just say whatever you want!" Pan Lanxiang's face flushed red, and her eyes welled up with tears. "Who are you saying is having an affair with Deputy Regiment Commander Han? I'm still a virgin, you've ruined my reputation, and I won't let you get away with it!"

As expected of the troupe's two mainstays, their voices were both incredibly loud. They stood face-to-face, hands on hips, exchanging barbs, neither giving an inch.

Lu Meiyin accused Pan Lanxiang of stealing roles while she was away, to which Pan Lanxiang replied that she had earned her place on stage through her own abilities and was completely innocent. Han Wenxue was caught in the middle, getting rebuffed when trying to advise one side and scolded when trying to advise the other, and was so anxious that he stomped his feet.

Most of the troupe gathered around; some tried to break up the fight, some watched the spectacle, and some whispered among themselves.

After arguing for most of the night, Liu Dezhu finally dragged Lu Meiyin away with a sheepish look on his face, and the farce temporarily came to an end.

Pan Lanxiang cried until everyone had left and gone back to their places. Only then did she wipe away her tears, and with a slight smile, she glanced at Lu Meiyin's tightly closed door.

Light shone through the crack in the door, and you could vaguely hear a noisy commotion inside.

Chen Xiangdong, who had been watching the commotion from a dark corner not far away, couldn't help but click his tongue.

Everyone in this compound is a cunning fox; there's not a single one who's easy to deal with.

Tomorrow they'll be singing "Liu Qiao'er," let's see who ends up on stage.