Lin Yong listed the advantages of opening a restaurant but then reconsidered: “But we only know how to make home-style dishes, and we don’t have the money for expensive ingredients. Those truck drivers have seen it all—what kind of dishes haven’t they tried? Would they even like what we cook?”
“Exactly because they’ve eaten so much restaurant food, they’d crave home-style dishes. People who are always on the road long for a sense of home, and our cooking would hit the spot for them. Oh, speaking of which, Big Brother’s comment just gave me an idea—let’s name our restaurant ‘Lin’s Home-style Cuisine.’ It’s catchy, don’t you think? Haha.”
All the businesses of the Lin family in the other world were prefixed with “Lin’s,” so why not do the same in this life? Lin Fang smiled outwardly, but her heart ached. *Father, Mother, Eldest Brother… let me stay connected to you this way.*
“Heh.” Seeing his younger sister’s triumphant grin, like a child who’d just gotten candy, Lin Yong found it amusing. Lin Fang was nearly ten years younger than him, and in his eyes, she would always be a kid.
Dropping the idea of asking their mother to babysit, Lin Yong started chatting casually with his mother and sister. Little Yuanyuan babbled and made funny faces, making everyone laugh. The house was so lively that when Lin Yuanmin entered the yard, he was immediately swept up in the cheerful atmosphere, smiling even before stepping inside.
Lin Yuanmin and Lin Tuo had discussed it, and Lin Tuo also thought Lin Fang’s suggestion was feasible.
The store was spacious—five shopfronts facing the highway on the south side, with two smaller connected rooms to the east. Behind the store was a large courtyard of nearly three acres. Along the north side stood six warehouses, and to the east were five rooms—two of which were Lin Tuo’s and another employee’s bedrooms (the latter hired to man the counter). The west side had no buildings, but the courtyard gate was located there.
Lin Tuo planned to clear out the two small rooms beside the store, open a new door facing the highway, and try running a restaurant for a while. If business was decent, they could convert part of the store for dining—after all, the warehouses had enough space, and the store only needed samples on display. If the restaurant failed, it wouldn’t matter much since all the equipment and ingredients were from home, so there’d be no real loss.
When it came to naming the restaurant, Lin Fang eagerly suggested “Lin’s Home-style Cuisine,” and Lin Yuanmin let her have her way.
The name didn’t matter much anyway. Many restaurants in town just had the word “Restaurant” scrawled crookedly on their signs, sometimes with the type of food listed—like beef noodles, mutton soup, or flatbread. Some didn’t even bother with a sign, relying on passersby to figure it out.
After discussing more details, Lin Fang asked her father, “Dad, did you talk to Second Brother about clearing the warehouse to grow mushrooms?”
“I did. He said he’d start clearing it tomorrow after delivering tofu. Right now, not many people here know how to grow mushrooms. Ordering mushrooms in a restaurant costs about as much as ordering meat—sometimes even more. He’s heard a lot of people talking about wanting to grow them, so if we’re going to do it, we should start early. Once more people learn, prices will drop hard. I’ll go get the materials tomorrow.”
The “materials” Lin Yuanmin mentioned were cottonseed meal, the residue left after oil extraction—ideal for growing mushrooms.
Most locals used cottonseed oil. Before retiring, Lin Yuanmin had worked at a cotton station, which sent processed cottonseeds directly to the oil mill. The cotton station and oil mill were part of the same supply and marketing cooperative. Even after restructuring, his old connections meant he could get the materials for free.
Lin Fang proposed, “Dad, why not teach Eldest Brother how to grow mushrooms? He can handle that while we focus on the restaurant.”
She’d been considering this idea for a while.
Her suggestion for Sister-in-law to alter and sell clothes had been met with resistance. Even if Sister-in-law later came around—whether on her own or through Eldest Brother’s persuasion—now that the family was opening a restaurant and couldn’t help with childcare, altering clothes would be hard to manage. Though it wasn’t exactly going back on their word, Sister-in-law wouldn’t see it that way and would likely make a scene.
Plus, once the restaurant opened—whether it made money or not, whether Sister-in-law helped or not—her calculating nature would demand a share. To avoid future conflicts, it was better to give her a way to earn money now and shut her up.
Besides, growing mushrooms was labor-intensive.
Lin Fang remembered when their father had grown mushrooms years ago—carrying a 40-50-pound sprayer twice a day left him drenched in sweat and exhausted. Now in his sixties, with heart disease, he couldn’t handle such heavy work. It was better left to Eldest Brother.
Lin Yuanmin agreed without hesitation. “Sure. Your Second Brother just said the same thing—that I’m too old for this and Eldest Brother should do it. If the restaurant serves mushrooms, we’ll use his—freshly picked and cooked, which’ll attract repeat customers.”
Lin Fang added, “But the accounts need to be clear. If we use Eldest Brother’s mushrooms, we have to pay him.”
“Do we really have to be so strict as a family?”
Before Lin Yong could voice his opinion, his father and sister had already decided. Now she wanted to settle accounts? It frustrated him—was this still a family?
Dong Huixin interjected, “It’s better to keep the accounts clear. It’ll save you from your wife’s tantrums. Being clear doesn’t mean we’re not family.”
Hearing his mother say this, Lin Yong deflated.
Second Brother was sharp-tongued, and his wife didn’t dare cross him. Their parents were easygoing and ignored her provocations, leaving her frustrated. Only Lin Fang, young and fiery, had clashed with her. Now that she’d recovered and mellowed, even suggesting a way for Sister-in-law to earn money, only to distance herself—and with their mother’s support—Lin Yong felt hurt.
Picking up the drowsy Yuanyuan, Lin Yong prepared to leave. Lin Fang hugged his arm and pleaded sweetly, “Eldest Brother, it’s been so long since I’ve ridden your motorcycle. Could you borrow one and take me to school the day after tomorrow?”
Lin Yong grinned instantly. “Sure, if Mom and Dad agree.” His tone was indulgent, as if humoring a child.
“No way!”
“Who dares?!”
Lin Yuanmin and Dong Huixin shouted in unison. This time, it was Lin Fang’s turn to wilt, while Lin Yong burst into laughter.
Late at night, Lin Fang lay awake, her heart aching. She didn’t know why she’d returned, but she knew she’d never see her parents and brother from the other world again. Qi Biao’s perpetually unsmiling face kept flashing before her eyes.
*Brother Yi, from now on, there’s no more entanglement between us. You don’t owe me any promises, nor will you suffer because of me. Let me forever be your Eighth Sister in your heart, while you remain in mine as the brother who meant more than family.*
Early the next morning, Lin Tuo brought back a pound of pork—fresh and cheap, bought from the slaughterhouse while picking up tofu. Dong Huixin marinated it with homemade sauce, planning to serve Lin Fang a little with each meal.
After breakfast, Lin Fang went to the alley behind their house to look for Meatball, but his door was locked—he must’ve skipped going home again. Every winter, Meatball’s mother stayed at the mine with his father, leaving him to eat at his grandmother’s on weekends. But he disliked her cooking and shamelessly ate all his meals at the Lin household, acting as if he were their own son.
Meatball and Yan Ping didn’t get along, bickering whenever they met. With Lin Fang hospitalized and her parents at her side, Meatball probably figured there’d be no food at home and stayed at school. Or maybe—since midterms were approaching—he was cramming for exams.
Leaving Meatball’s alley, Lin Fang wasn’t sure where to go. Chen Dong was definitely still at school. Aside from being forced home during holidays, she acted like she had no family, burying herself in books and disappearing on weekends. Thinking of her fierce older sisters, Lin Fang shook her head—*better to stay away.*
Lin Fang remembered Chen Dong smoking and acting like a delinquent in high school. By the second semester, she’d gotten worse—fighting anyone, male or female, big or small, whenever she was in a bad mood, never backing down even when outmatched.
Now, Chen Dong had transmigrated into Sima Rusu in the other world, gaining a beloved younger brother, her father Sima Xin’s affection, and true love as Lin Wu’s fiancée. Lin Fang regretted not being able to see their happy life together, but with Lin Wu’s nature and Sima Rusu’s longing for family, they’d surely be happy. She silently blessed them.
Visiting other classmates? Lin Fang dismissed the idea.
In rural areas, people married young. Those who didn’t attend school started dating at 15 or 16, preparing for marriage and gossiping about neighbors.
Of her 60+ classmates (including repeaters), only a dozen had made it to high school. The rest were already engaged. Though Lin Fang had been popular in class, she found less and less in common with them after entering high school. They weren’t interested in school life, and she disliked gossip, so they gradually drifted apart.
Only one classmate who’d left school still visited her—Lan Xiang, who lived in the alley ahead and had dropped out during middle school.
Recalling yesterday’s conversation, Lin Fang finally understood why Lan Xiang always asked about Second Brother and lingered near him—she’d been interested in him all along, using Lin Fang as an excuse. And Lin Fang had naively asked if she should play matchmaker!
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