Uneasy daily life

Pasta-based foods, unlike various dishes, are a product that combines staple food with vegetables. Wheat, the raw material for these foods, is an extremely important part of the human diet. Because wheat has a lower starch content and a higher protein content than rice, it does not absorb water as easily as rice and is not as easy to cook until soft. It often requires slow cooking over low heat, which is time-consuming and laborious.

With the advancement of technology and tools, wheat has opened up another blue ocean in the human diet—pastry and other pasta dishes.

When wheat flour is finely ground and kneaded with water, the gluten formed by the proteins is the foundation of its extensibility and elasticity.

The key to good noodles is their resilience; otherwise, they won't be noodles, but rather crispy rice noodles made from rice flour.

Of course, a bowl of ramen can't just consist of noodles. It needs a broth that's always cooked to perfection and kept fresh, a few ingredients to cut through the richness, half a braised egg to enhance the flavor, and of course, the indispensable char siu pork. All these ingredients come together in the broth, and the noodles absorb the blended flavors while retaining their unique wheat aroma and chewiness—that's what ramen is all about.

The proprietress was busy at the counter.

The boys and girls sat in their seats, habitually picked up their schoolbags, took out paper, pens, textbooks, and test papers, and buried themselves in writing today's homework.

The boy frowned, seemingly lost in thought. Taking a moment to ponder, he glanced up at the girl who was diligently drafting her notes. Feeling as if he had made a mistake, he couldn't help but feel guilty, so he quickly looked away and gazed out the window.

The lazy sunset is slowly yawning, the sky is particularly tired, and it tries to close its eyelids from time to time, like a silent and solid classroom.

The girl puffed out her cheeks slightly, her pen scribbling across the formulas and numbers on her scratch paper, carelessly turning the draft into a ball of yarn. She hesitated for a moment, then looked up at the person opposite her and asked, "How do I do the fifth question?"

"This problem..." The boy suddenly became serious and straightened up, raised his hand and wrote down the process on the draft paper, his tone smug, "Here's a formula, here's a formula... As long as you add one more transformation step in the middle, you can get the answer."

girl:"……"

Boy: "Uh... you didn't understand that?"

"I understand—"

The girl drawled out her words and buried her head again.

The boy glanced at the solution, put down the test paper temporarily, and refined the process again, noting the name of each formula, its content, and how to apply the formulas to the problem. He tore off a piece of scratch paper and handed it over: "Here."

The girl looked up, took the item, examined it, and nodded slightly: "Oh..."

The atmosphere quieted down again. The girl felt as if she had made a mistake and couldn't help but feel guilty. She glanced furtively at the boy, who was engrossed in writing on his exam paper, his face completely focused, as if he were solving some important world problem. She looked down at the exam paper filled with numbers and lines, her feelings as complicated as her own.

You probably didn't notice that I accidentally peeked at you, right?

You probably didn't notice that I caught you stealing a glance, right?

A silent and quiet atmosphere prevailed as the pen moved back and forth between the draft paper and the exam paper, traversing mountains and rivers. The light and agitated mood gradually calmed down, and thoughts began to wander: How do I do this problem? This problem is so difficult; I should do that problem first.

It wasn't until the two large bowls landed on the table with a crisp sound and the rich aroma of broth awakened their hunger that the two snapped out of their study and homework.

"Please enjoy."

The proprietress left with a kind smile.

"Ugh..." The boy stretched, picked up his chopsticks, and said, "Eat up, eat up—I'm starting!"

"Mmm, I'm starting!"

The girl looked at the large bowl with slight excitement. "Is this ramen? It's the first time I've ever eaten it outside..."

Isn't this a bit too greasy?

Will I gain weight?

The girl glanced at the boy, who had already started eating his noodles. She cautiously ate a bite of vegetables first, then carefully picked up a noodle and put it in her mouth… Hmm, why is there so much soup in the bowl? It would be a bit embarrassing if she accidentally spilled it.

The boy seemed to instantly transform into a child who listened to his mother, chewing slowly and resisting the urge to slurp the noodles into his mouth. Even drinking the soup became gentle and refined, as if a shy little animal was sitting opposite him, and any sound he made might scare the other person away.

The two of them were like novices attending a banquet for the first time, surrounded by elders and relatives whose names they didn't know, obsequiously adhering to etiquette they didn't quite understand.

"Cough cough..." The girl choked, and the boy quickly pulled out a tissue and handed it to her, "Eat slowly, no need to rush."

"Eat slower, or the noodles will get soggy," the girl muttered. She glanced across at the other side of the table, suddenly feeling a bit more relaxed, and casually started a conversation, "What university are you planning to apply to?"

"Eastern University."

"what?"

"Just kidding, how could I possibly get into Tokyo University?" The boy chuckled. "I don't even know which universities there are, how would I know which one to apply to?"

The girl blinked: "Hmm... getting into a university in Tokyo would be really good, right?"

"Probably. My parents always tell me to go to Tokyo for university entrance exams, to be ambitious," the boy casually asked. "What about you?"

"I also want to take the exam to go to Tokyo."

The girl's eyes gleamed slightly. After replying, she lowered her head and began to eat her noodles in small bites.

"oh oh……"

The boy nodded blankly twice, unsure how to respond, and could only complain about studying: "Ugh, all I do is practice problems all day long. I had a nightmare before because I didn't do my winter break homework while doing problems, and in the dream I suddenly found myself in the classroom on the first day of school..."

"and then?"

"That was it, I was woken up in a fright."

"laugh……"

"I feel like senior year is different from before," the boy said with a hint of realization. "Before, I sometimes felt annoyed and tired from studying. But in senior year, even though I was doing practice problems, studying, and attending tutoring classes non-stop, I didn't feel that way anymore..."

"The harder and longer you chew something bitter, the more the bitterness will gradually disappear, just like bubble gum."

The girl gave an example.

"Yeah... Ah, the noodles are going to clump together!"

Amid the girl's amused expression, the boy struggled to eat the bloated noodles, glancing at the girl's bowl with a puzzled look: "Uh...you have quite an appetite."

Looking out the floor-to-ceiling window at the sky, I unconsciously closed my eyes.

The proprietress leaned her upper body on the counter, resting her cheek on her hand, watching the scene with a beaming smile.

The smile on her face gradually faded, and a slight change occurred, with a hint of nostalgia and doubt appearing in her otherwise cheerful and relaxed expression.

"It seems like something like that happened before, no wonder this restaurant looked so familiar..."

At the table, the man, dressed in a suit, exuded a capable air. His face hadn't changed much, but his demeanor and temperament were completely different, and his voice had also changed considerably, now tinged with the clamor of years and the world: "Then, ma'am, give me a bowl of tonkotsu ramen, and try to get it as quick as possible."

"OK, just a second."

The proprietress started preparing the noodles deftly, casually chatting as she asked, "Did you and that girl get into the same university later?"

"No." The man's voice was a little low. "I remember... well, during the holiday after the results came out, she seemed to have sent me a chat message, saying that her father didn't seem to support her or something. At that time, I didn't understand what she was talking about, so I comforted her with a few irrelevant words."

"I see..." The proprietress shook the noodles and said softly, "This isn't your fault. Back then, you were just a student who buried yourself in books every day... You probably didn't even know where she lived, let alone things that are complicated even for adults. Besides, you were probably enjoying your vacation after the college entrance exam..."

The man didn't speak, but glanced at his watch to see how much leeway the hands left him.

"What then?"

“I went to university in Tokyo and then lost contact with them. I came here this time because of a business trip.”

The man's tone sounded somewhat wistful.

The proprietress stopped chatting and quickly cooked the noodles, soon serving a bowl of ramen.

The man stirred the noodles and quickly ate them.

Snoring... Slurping... Slurping...

The man finished his ramen in no time, got up and went to the counter to pay.

"Here you go." The proprietress handed him an apple, "A comfort for someone heartbroken."

"Heartbroken?" The man asked, puzzled. "I've never been in a relationship before, although I do have some feelings for her..."

"Don't force yourself to go with the flow and act all melancholy and sighing," the proprietress sighed. "A breakup is a breakup; it's better to keep your tone normal and casual."

The man paused for a moment, then shook his head and chuckled, "Heartbreak should be about breaking up and pain, right? I haven't even gotten started..."

"A breakup is a breakup, there's no particular emotion involved," the proprietress said. "A breakup means you can only reminisce about the past, and you can't even muster the urge to pursue it."

The man silently accepted the apple from the proprietress, somewhat dazed.

The proprietress had already turned around and started washing and disinfecting the dishes.

Perhaps I'm just trying to remember her, to make myself seem deeply in love, to comfort myself, to affirm myself, and to move myself.

The man walked out of the store, somewhat lost in thought.

Two bouncy brown ponytails walked towards the store, as if time had awakened a miracle, and the past, carrying a faint fragrance, brushed past.

He looked back blankly from outside the store, at the closed French doors, on which hung today's menu and advertisements, obscuring the scene inside.

The harder and longer you chew something sweet, the less sweet it will taste, just like bubble gum.

The chewing gum can no longer be chewed and tasted; I guess I'll just have to spit it out.

The man took a bite of his apple, glanced at the time, grabbed his briefcase, and hurried away, his figure disappearing into the bustling night streets.

As if traversing time, a noticeable change, and the faint traces of her former voice, are heard in the soft singing of a girl.

Classmates at dusk, in big cities and small restaurants, gazing at each other amidst the sea of ​​questions and the boat of pens. Quietly, their eyes conceal the passing years; to answer this question, one must first be confused.

The night is cold, the stars are pale, emotions are heavy, and people are light; the past unfolds swiftly, then slowly rolls up. A lone sail disappears into the distance, a lone figure in the human world; it is said that love is easy to lose, but hard to cherish.

……

……

"Damn it! I knew it! This screenwriter is so damn good and damn toxic!"

The father, holding a bowl and chewing on a sausage, couldn't help but express his opinion. He even had the urge to take out his phone and start criticizing the screenwriter right then and there!

The mother said quietly, "Why are you so agitated?"

"I remembered my deskmate from junior high school," the father said, his voice heavy. "We got along really well back then, but then one day she suddenly stopped coming to school. At the time, I didn't understand what exactly happened in the car accident..."

"Life is unpredictable," the mother changed the subject. "How did An'an end up on TV?"

The father snapped out of his daze and asked in confusion, "Right, how did you end up on TV?"

"Uh... that screenwriter Bai Ying, she's in the same class as me, Sakurajima Mai, a senior who transferred here in the second year of high school."

The daughter quickly explained, "I was just strolling around the street when I saw that restaurant looked familiar. When I went over to take a look, the director invited me to play a role! Sakurajima-senpai was there too, so I took the role—it was just an ordinary part-time job!"

"Huh? You got a role because the director noticed you?" The father was stunned for a moment, then asked excitedly, "You have acting talent? What did the director say?"

"The acting is terrible, the emotions are too awkward, either too much or too little is shown..."

The daughter complained grumblingly, "Dad, even though it's just a short clip, I ate so many bowls of ramen those few days!"

The mother asked in confusion, "You ate the same amount of food for dinner those few days as usual."

"...Please don't delve into this topic."

A sad expression appeared on the daughter's face.

The mother laughed: "Mmm, let's not talk about it anymore."

After dinner, the mother was washing the dishes in the kitchen, while the father, holding his phone, went online and joined Dajun in commenting on the screenwriter surnamed Bai. He frowned, somewhat puzzled, which made his already limited online presence even more strained.

They acted so well on TV, with that shy, unspoken distance between them, like when you steal a glance...

Is this what you call bad acting?

Wait a minute! Could this be what they call a natural performance?

The father frowned, realizing that things were not so simple.

However, compared to that toxic screenwriter, it's really quite bad. Even without makeup, just by changing clothes, the screenwriter can still convey the change in age through tone of voice, expression, and posture.

Tsk! This toxic screenwriter, is your talent only good for hurting the audience?!

The father's fighting spirit was roused, and he focused intently on the keyboard.

……

……

Angelina lay face down on the bed, pressing a pillow against her chest, her hands supporting her chin. It felt so 'ordinary' during the shoot, yet so unfamiliar when it aired on television. Filming was truly a magical thing, just like photo editing…

So, where will Baiying University send students to for their entrance exams?

Uh... why am I thinking about this?

I'm only in my first year of high school now; that kind of thing will probably happen two years from now.

Only an idiot would think of something like that!

Angelina patted her cheeks and turned over to sit in front of the desk.

After you finish your homework, do a little preview.