Chapter 71: Naughty

“Fool, what are you standing there for? Go make dinner already.”

Li Cuilan’s scolding snapped Zhang Tieshuan out of his daze. Scratching his head, he replied, “There’s no food at home.”

“Haha, brother-in-law,” teased Li Cuimei, “Isn’t your yard full of vegetables? Or are you just being stingy?”

“Oh, no,” Zhang Tieshuan’s face flushed red. “I meant there’s no meat at home.”

Li Cuilan laughed in exasperation. “Why buy meat? It’s already mealtime. By the time you get back with meat, it’ll be dark. We’re all family here—just make do with what we have. We’ll buy meat first thing tomorrow.”

Zhang Tieshuan grinned sheepishly. “Heh, then I’ll roll out some wide noodles. I remember you saying your sister likes wide noodles with pickles. And I’ll make some ‘fish rolls’ for Yinwei and Fang’er, topped with tomato and egg. How’s that?”

“Whatever you cook is delicious. Just hurry up—don’t let the kids starve.”

Zhang Tieshuan headed to the kitchen. Lin Fang whispered to Li Cuilan, “Auntie, isn’t it said that ‘a gentleman stays away from the kitchen’? How come Uncle knows how to cook? Are you oppressing the common folk? Does he usually do the cooking?”

Zhang Tieshuan was good in every way except for being lazy about tidying up. Li Cuilan had tried to teach him for decades without success. After just one day away, the house was a mess. As she began cleaning, she burst into laughter at Lin Fang’s question. “Haha, where did you pick up such strange phrases, little one? ‘Oppressing the common folk’? With your eldest cousin and his wife away, it’s just me and your uncle. We take turns cooking—whoever has time or is free does it. There’s no strict division. Just wait till you taste your uncle’s fish rolls—they’re chewy and springy, absolutely delicious.”

The so-called “fish rolls” were made by rolling dough into thin strips, cutting them into small pieces, and pressing them against a clean straw hat or any textured surface with a thumb. The pieces would curl into half-tubes with patterns on the outside. When boiled, they bobbed in the water like little fish, hence the name. Served with colorful vegetables, they were a feast for the eyes and palate—perfect for pleasing children.

Zhang Tieshuan worked efficiently. Soon, dinner was ready. True to Li Cuilan’s words, the fish rolls were chewy, springy, and rolled thin, almost like tubes—giving Lin Fang a taste of ancient-style “macaroni.”

And, alas, Li Cuilan’s prediction came true: Lin Fang overate again. Li Yinwei kept rubbing her belly, clearly having eaten her fill too. Even Li Cuimei had an extra half-bowl. Lin Fang mused, “No wonder most chefs are men—their strength makes all the difference in cooking.”

After dinner, Zhang Tieshuan told his wife to rest at home with their sister and the children. The bumpy carriage ride must have been exhausting. He then grabbed a hemp rope, put it in a basket, and prepared to head out.

Li Yinwei asked, “Uncle, are you going to work in the fields?”

“Yes, the weeds in the cotton field have grown.”

“Uncle, can I come with you?”

“No, the sun’s too harsh—you might get sunburned.”

“It’s fine. I came here to learn farming.”

Lin Fang, nearly asleep, perked up at the conversation. “Fang’er wants to go too!”

Li Cuilan laughed. “Haha, what would you do there? You’re shorter than the seedlings.”

That was likely true. Along the way, they’d seen how tall the cotton plants were. Even eight-year-old Li Yinwei might disappear among them, let alone five-year-old Lin Fang. Lin Fang fell silent.

Seeing her daughter’s pout, Li Cuimei softened. “It’s fine. I’ll go with them.” She’d come to relax with her daughter anyway.

Zhang Tieshuan hesitated, but Li Cuimei teased, “Brother-in-law, if we delay any longer, we might as well start preparing dinner. Sister’s fried dough twists—I haven’t had them in ages.”

“Smack!” Li Cuimei got a light swat from her sister. Li Cuilan chuckled. “Still so mischievous at your age.”

Zhang Tieshuan scratched his head. “Heheh, I’ll go buy meat early tomorrow. We’ll have fried dough twists for lunch.”

Huh? Why was Uncle blushing? Why did Aunt call Mom mischievous? Gossip—there had to be gossip! Lin Fang’s inner detective sparkled.

This was Lin Fang’s first real encounter with farmland. Excited, she ignored the path and stomped through the grass, giggling at the trail she left. She dragged Li Yinwei along, stomping circles in loose soil, leaving big and small footprints. Soon, Li Yinwei took the lead, chasing grasshoppers and toads, their laughter ringing as they ran, faces flushed but never tired.

The adults watched, amused. Lin Fang usually acted mature, and Li Yinwei was often serious—now they finally showed their childish playfulness.

At the field, Li Cuilan handed out scarves to cover their hair. Lin Fang immediately dashed into the cotton plants, startling Li Cuimei, who rushed after her. The dense, towering cotton stalks were unfamiliar terrain for Lin Fang, who’d never farmed before. If she fell, she might get scratched.

Inside, the tangled branches slowed Lin Fang down. She obediently crouched beside her mother to weed.

Outside, the breeze had been pleasant, but inside the field, it was damp and stuffy. Something felt off. Remembering her autumn breaks helping harvest cotton at home, Lin Fang realized: these plants were tall and sturdy but bore few bolls, with too many branches. So she stopped weeding and snapped off the smaller branches between the main stems. She’d heard her mom call this “pruning.” There was also “topping”—pinching the main stem’s tip to stop excessive growth.

Standing on tiptoe, she still couldn’t reach the tops. “Mom, help Fang’er pinch the tops.”

Li Cuimei, focused on weeding, only noticed when Lin Fang called out. Seeing the broken branches, she scolded, “Fang’er, stop fooling around.”

Lin Fang pouted. “Fang’er isn’t fooling around! Fang’er is copying Cousin trimming trees so we get more cotton bolls!” She stretched higher on her toes.

Li Cuimei fell silent, hesitantly helping pinch the tops before discussing it with her sister. Li Cuilan, pragmatic, marked a section to prune and top, planning to compare it with unpruned plants.

Lin Fang admired her aunt’s open-mindedness—no wonder she’d built greenhouses in winter. But pruning the cotton so late was a shame. Starting when the plants were waist-high would’ve yielded better results.

By break time, Lin Fang was exhausted, dozing in her mother’s arms. Ever the foodie, even half-asleep, she remembered the dough twists and her uncle’s blush. “Mom, why did Uncle blush at the mention of dough twists?”

Her murmur wasn’t loud, but Zhang Tieshuan heard it. “I set a trap yesterday—going to check it. Maybe we’ll have rabbit tonight.” He quickly left.

Once he was gone, Li Cuilan pinched Lin Fang’s nose. “Little busybody, always snooping into grown-up matters.”

“Ouch, that hurts!” Now fully awake.

“Auntie, Yinwei is curious too.”

Lin Fang grinned. Even the stoic one had a gossipy side.

“Heh, might as well tell you.” Li Cuilan smiled fondly. “At fifteen, my family owned much land. During busy seasons, we hired temporary workers. Your uncle always came. As the young mistress, others flattered me, but your uncle—this tall, strong man—just scratched his head and grinned. That first meeting, he was so flustered. After work, everyone got new clothes and food. That day, I’d fried dough twists. Others carefully took theirs home to share, but your uncle ate his right there—so fast he choked, coughing pitifully. Hahaha!”

Li Cuilan couldn’t stop laughing. Li Cuimei continued, “Seeing his poor manners, your second uncle scolded him: ‘Getting delicacies yet not sharing with parents or siblings—such greed makes you unworthy.’ But your uncle, still coughing, muttered sadly, ‘My parents are gone. I’m alone… It’s been so long since I ate something this good.'”

“So Auntie pitied him, then admired him, then loved him—finally making this fine young man family.”

“Thump!” A flick to Lin Fang’s forehead. Li Cuilan scolded playfully, “You little rascal, you know too much.”

Not far away, Zhang Tieshuan scratched his head, smiling happily as he walked toward his trap.

Unable to resist sleep, Lin Fang drifted off in her mother’s arms, dreaming of crispy, fragrant dough twists.

She woke to rich meaty aromas. Usually slow to rise, Lin Fang tumbled out of bed, barely awake, shoved her feet into shoes, and stumbled outside. Before napping, Uncle had gone to check his rabbit trap—that smell had to be stewed rabbit!

At home, meals were strictly controlled, especially hers. Even with game meat, the cook avoided strong spices to prevent aggravating her condition—safe but bland.

Tripping at the doorway jolted her fully awake. At home, thresholds were lowered or removed to prevent her falls. She’d forgotten this was Auntie’s house.

“Fang’er, are you hurt?”

Li Cuimei had sensed her daughter stirring and rushed from the kitchen, but Lin Fang was already sprawled on the ground. Though worried, she didn’t immediately help her up.

“Giggle! Mom, Auntie’s floor is soft—Fang’er’s fine!” Their own floors were tiled, but here it was just packed earth—dirty clothes, no injuries.

“You silly child.” Li Cuimei sighed. Her daughter was perfect, except for her gluttony.

Outside, Zhang Tieshuan was working on rabbit pelts—one gray, one white—rubbing them with something. Lin Fang asked, “Uncle, can you tan hides?”