Chapter 210: Grand Opening

“Hehe, hehe.”

“What are you grinning about?”

“Hehe, hehehe.”

“Stop it, you fool. Spit it out—what evil scheme are you plotting?”

“Ow, hehehe.”

The chubby boy sitting across from Lin Fang, wolfing down the donkey meat sandwich Lin Tuo had specially bought to celebrate her recovery, kept staring at her with that idiotic grin. It irritated her so much that she rapped his head with her chopsticks. He yelped half-heartedly, then resumed his giggling.

“Will you ever stop?!” Lin Fang was genuinely annoyed now. She grabbed a date pit from the table and hurled it at him.

At first, she threw casually, and he dodged every one. But instead of letting it go, he taunted:

“Huh? Missed.”

“Huh? Missed again.”

“Huh? You can’t hit me.”

“Huh? Can’t land a shot—must be driving you crazy.”

“Ow!”

“Yikes!”

“Ouch, that hurts!”

“Skinny, take it easy!”

“Geez—what’d I ever do to you? Throwing so hard!”

“Hey hey hey, stop stop stop, no more! I surrender!”

“Ow, fine, I give up, okay?”

The chubby boy darted around the room, smug at first because Lin Fang couldn’t hit him. But soon, he couldn’t dodge her date pits anymore—because she’d gotten serious, unconsciously using the same force and precision as when she threw needles. It wouldn’t hurt him, but date pits had sharp ends, and getting pelted on the head wasn’t exactly pleasant.

Once she ran out of pits, Lin Fang started collecting the ones her father had spat out. Seeing the situation escalate, the chubby boy ducked behind Dong Huixin.

Dong Huixin had suffered from an illness in her youth that left her with a ruddy complexion and an increasingly plump figure. Yet she felt weak all over, aching everywhere. When she described her symptoms, people scoffed, saying someone so well-fed had no right to complain.

Back then, the family barely had enough food. Whatever little good food they had, Dong Huixin gave to the children. It wasn’t as if she hogged all the food, as the villagers claimed.

When Old Ouyang was sent down to Yiping Village, the villagers were too afraid of being implicated to seek his medical help—even when sick. But Dong Huixin, believing Old Ouyang’s expertise as a big-city hospital doctor, went to him despite the risks.

At the time, Old Ouyang simply diagnosed her with obesity without explaining the cause. After a course of herbal medicine, her weakness improved, but she never slimmed down. Now, with the chubby boy hiding behind her broad frame, Lin Fang had no choice but to relent.

Peeking out and seeing Lin Fang nibbling her sandwich and sipping rice soup—utterly ignoring him—the boy quickly swept all the date pits from the table into his hands. Then he pouted dramatically:

“Lin Fang, since when did you get so good at hitting people? That was scarily accurate.”

Lin Fang shot him a sidelong glance as she fished out a red date from her bowl. “There’s a lot you haven’t seen. I’ve been spending time with Chen Dong—picked up a thing or two from her. Never had a chance to show off her tricks before. But you had to provoke me today, so of course I’d test them out on you. Hmm, seems they work pretty well.”

“Ugh, of all people to learn from, why her? She’s a total ruffian. Don’t let her corrupt you.” As he spoke, he swiftly confiscated the pit Lin Fang had just spat out, preventing any sneak attacks.

Lin Fang brandished her chopsticks threateningly, but he dodged. “Don’t talk nonsense. Bad-mouthing people behind their back isn’t right.”

The boy huffed. “How is it nonsense? What other girl is as ruthless as her? Tiny as she is, she left a scar on Pi Xinhong, who’s twice her size. Plus, she smokes and drinks—total delinquent.”

Lin Fang sighed. “That toughness is just an act. Chen Dong told me herself—when she hurt Pi Xinhong, she was putting on a front, pretending to be some gangster. Inside, she was terrified. Luckily, Pi Xinhong’s parents were divorcing then, so no one came after her. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have known what to do.”

“Hah? She gets scared too? I thought she feared nothing.”

His exaggerated shock made Lin Fang’s fingers itch. Sadly, her bowl was out of dates, and wasting peanuts as projectiles was too much. She settled for glaring at him. “Enough. What were you grinning about earlier?”

“Ai—”

With an overly dramatic sigh, the boy slumped back into his seat, chugged a mouthful of rice soup, and grumbled, “You’ve bullied me since we were kids, but I let it slide because you were sick. Now that you’re getting better, I was looking forward to finally getting payback. The more I thought about it, the happier I got. But then you pelted me with date pits—ruined my whole mood.”

“Hahaha.” Lin Yuanmin and Dong Huixin, who’d been watching their antics, burst out laughing at his theatrics.

Lin Tuo had already finished eating and left to tend to the fuel tanks outside. Lin Yuanmin had urged him to wait indoors—customers would call if they needed diesel. But it was only Lin Tuo’s second day in the business, and his impatience got the better of him.

Dong Huixin had woken just before dinner. Worried she might still be weak, Lin Yuanmin had her rest while he cleaned up. The chubby boy eagerly brewed tea for him, while Lin Fang, bored, teased the boy about the earlier incident.

“Boss, got anything to eat?”

A man’s voice called from the restaurant entrance. Dong Huixin hurried out, responding, “Yes, yes! What would you like?”

Lin Tuo followed the man in, standing at the door. “Ma, get this driver some hot tea first. Must be freezing in that truck.” Then he headed back out to refuel the man’s vehicle.

“Coming!”

Before Dong Huixin could reply, the chubby boy dashed out, wielding a rag. He briskly wiped a table, ushering the driver to sit. “What kind of tea would you like, sir? We’ve got chrysanthemum, jasmine, coarse-leaf, and brick tea—all the common folks’ favorites. Just say the word, and I’ll brew it for you.”

Lin Fang barely stifled a laugh. In reality, the shop only sold brick tea—hard as a rock, sold by the pound. Locals who wanted smaller portions had to hammer it apart. At three yuan a pound, it was cheap.

The boy had gone home earlier and brought back all his family’s tea, claiming it’d go bad unused. He’d insisted Lin Yuanmin drink it. Lin Yuanmin had planned to brew coarse-leaf tea after dinner to aid digestion, but the boy had already advertised their nonexistent selection.

The driver didn’t sit. Instead, he strode into the inner room like he owned the place, warming himself by the stove. “Brick tea, please—make it strong. Need to warm my gut. Damn, that cold wind turned my insides to ice.”

Lin Fang, seated near the stove, replied, “Sure, just a moment.” She got up to fetch the tea leaves. This was their first customer in two days—no room for mistakes.

Dong Huixin followed the driver in. “What would you like to eat, sir? We’ve got home-style dishes—whatever you’d find at a regular diner. But if you’re after a feast, our selection’s limited.”

“Who needs a feast? Driving in this cold, I just want something hearty. How about sour-spicy dough drops? Two bowls. Toss in some fatty meat if you’ve got it—pork belly’s fine. Lean meat’s too dry. No meat’s fine too.” The driver was straightforward.

“Coming right up!” The boy took over dishwashing, Lin Yuanmin started on the dough, and Dong Huixin prepped the ingredients.

Sour-spicy dough drops, locally called “sour-spicy fish noodles,” were made by stirring flour and water into a thick paste—thick enough that tilting the bowl wouldn’t make it flow but slowly creep toward the edge. The pot’s water shouldn’t boil vigorously, just simmer lightly.

Once boiling, the bowl was tilted, and chopsticks scraped the paste into strips that dropped into the pot. The heat instantly set the surface, and the strips tumbled in the water like swimming fish—about the thickness of a pinky finger.

When the noodles turned gelatinous and semi-transparent, sour-spicy seasoning was added. A few stirs later, the dish was ready. Overcooking would turn it mushy.

The more vigorously and longer the paste was stirred, the chewier the noodles. Lin Yuanmin was a master at this.

By the time his noodles were done, Dong Huixin had the seasoning ready.

Sour-spicy dough drops required vinegar, chili oil, salt, soy sauce, and scallions. The soy sauce wasn’t store-bought but brewed by Dong Huixin from homemade fermented paste.

She’d braised a pot of pork belly the night before. At the driver’s request, she sliced some into the seasoning bowl. No extra oil was needed—the chili oil was ample, and the braising liquid had enough fat. More would’ve made it greasy.

Lin Yuanmin ladled some braising liquid into the pot, then carried it to the table with a grin. “All set! Sour-spicy dough drops are served!”

The driver, who’d been watching by the stove, salivated at the aroma. Before anyone could serve him, he rummaged through the cupboard for a large enamel bowl and dumped the entire pot’s contents into it.

“Mmm, delicious! Perfectly tangy and spicy, noodles are chewy, pork belly’s tender and rich—way better than any fancy restaurant. Theirs is just bland soup with mushy noodles.”

Between voracious mouthfuls, the driver mumbled praises. The others stifled laughs at his ravenous eating. Lin Yuanmin chuckled. “Slow down, it’s piping hot.”

“Not hot—just right like this,” the driver mumbled, undeterred.