Chapter 72 It's snowing. Time to get up. Once you're up, there's food to eat.

Sniffling and wiping away her tears, Mingdai forced down the lump in her throat and turned to leave without a word.

She lit the small stove, set a pot on top, and took out her own little oil bottle and spice jar. After pouring in the oil, she made an excuse to head to the back where the miscellaneous items were piled, and from her space, she retrieved five wild eggs and a large handful of dried noodles.

Auntie Huang had just finished washing up and came over, about to speak when she saw Mingdai’s red-rimmed eyes.

“Ming, what’s wrong?” Auntie Huang asked hurriedly, surprised that after such a short time, Mingdai’s eyes were already so puffy.

Mingdai shook her head silently. When the oil was hot, she started cracking eggs into the pot.

A sizzling sound burst forth as the scalding oil enveloped the eggs, and in the symphony of crackling, golden blossoms unfurled in the pan.

Auntie Huang watched in a daze as Mingdai, the young intellectual, cracked five eggs in one go. Her own mother-in-law always called her wasteful, but she had clearly never seen someone truly extravagant!

Behind the woodpile, Zhou Sinian’s ears perked up and he sniffed the air. The familiar sound and aroma left him bewildered. Snow was falling—how could there possibly be food to eat?

When each egg was fried to a golden brown, Mingdai ladled boiling water from the big pot into the small stove. In just a few moments, the water turned milky white, and the poached eggs floated up and down, like five little golden fish playing in the water—utterly delightful.

The fragrance drifted out, and Zhou Sinian, lying wrapped in his quilt, instinctively placed his hand over his stomach. After a long, hungry night, his belly was hollow, waiting to be filled.

She sprinkled the noodles into the pot, each strand falling in neat, distinct lines along the rim. Auntie Huang swallowed hard. That had to be at least a pound of noodles—she put them all in at once?

Heavens! Look at this—she truly wasn’t the most reckless daughter-in-law, after all!

Mingdai prepared the meal with sincerity; she wanted to show Zhou Sinian through her actions that even when it snowed, one could still eat their fill.

The noodles bobbed in the pot, and soon the whole kitchen was filled with their tantalizing aroma. Mingdai pinched off some garlic sprouts she’d grown herself, chopped them fine, and scattered them atop the soup.

White broth, pale noodles, golden eggs, and fresh green garlic—Auntie Huang’s mouth watered uncontrollably.

Then Mingdai brought out a little bottle. The moment she opened it, Auntie Huang couldn’t help but gulp.

A few drops of fragrant sesame oil fell into the pot, and instantly, the whole dish was elevated.

Liu Guoqiang, drawn by the smell, wandered over, staring in astonishment at the heaping pot of noodles. Had Mingdai gone mad?

Mingdai was satisfied. She found Zhou Sinian’s food canister, filled it with a generous heap of noodles, added all the eggs, and ladled in two spoonfuls of soup.

Content with her work, she carried the canister into the little shack in the back.

Zhou Sinian was still lying on the ground, his brow furrowed as if plagued by some troubling thought.

Mingdai, freeing one hand, turned on the emergency lamp by his side. Instantly, the little shed was awash in light.

Zhou Sinian gazed quietly at her, at the steaming food canister in her hands.

Mingdai bent down so he could see inside; right away, a layer of golden fried eggs came into view.

A moment later, his stomach rumbled, and Zhou Sinian swallowed hard.

Mingdai looked at him gently and whispered, “Zhou Sinian, it’s snowing. Time to get up. And when you get up, there’s food to eat.”

He stared at her in a daze, watching as her face was gradually blurred by the rising steam.

Sitting up, he reached out and touched the side of the canister. The searing heat made his fingertips tremble.

Slowly, Mingdai handed him the canister. Zhou Sinian held it for a while, inhaling the rich aroma.

A wave of joy surged through his chest, rising into his throat and mouth, finally breaking out as a broad smile on his face.

Mingdai passed him a pair of chopsticks and said softly, “Eat.”

Then she turned and left.

Zhou Sinian, wholly absorbed, picked up a piece of fried egg with his chopsticks and took a cautious bite. The familiar flavor bloomed in his mouth, and he couldn’t help but eat mouthful after mouthful, chopstick after chopstick, until he’d finished every last drop of soup.

It’s snowing, time to get up, and when you get up, there’s food to eat.

On this first snowy day with Mingdai by his side, Zhou Sinian memorized those words.

Standing behind the woodpile, Mingdai listened to the sound of him slurping noodles, and silent tears streamed down her face.

She knew she’d lost control, lost her composure, but she was just so heartbroken, so full of sorrow and concern.

Auntie Huang glanced worriedly toward the shack, unsure what had happened, but instinctively feeling she ought not to intrude.

Soon, Mingdai came out. Though her eyes were still red, her face was now wreathed in smiles.

“Sister-in-law, Accountant Liu! Quick, grab a bowl—the noodles are about to stick to the pot!”

Auntie Huang and Accountant Liu were surprised there was any left for them, embarrassed to accept. Usually, they’d just eat dry rations—dried noodles like these were too generous a gift, one they could never repay.

Mingdai simply smiled and shook her head. “It’s snowing today, and I’m happy! It’s my treat—please, give me the honor, and let’s celebrate with a meal of noodles together!”

With that, she fetched three bowls for them.

Auntie Huang looked at the snow still falling outside, puzzled as to what there was to celebrate about a snowy day. Yet that meal of noodles remained in their memories for many years to come, something they would long for every winter.

Once the three of them had their noodles, Zhou Sinian came out with his food canister. Mingdai slurped her noodles as she watched him, her eyes curving into a smile. “We’ve fished out all the noodles. Do you want some more soup?”

Zhou Sinian nodded obediently and went to pour all the leftover broth from the small pot into his canister.

Then he sat beside Mingdai, clutching his canister, gazing at the fire in the stove as he drank his soup.

Auntie Huang, watching the two of them, couldn’t help but smile. Despite the stark contrast in their heights, somehow, together, they just looked right.

How strange!

That day, Mingdai made sure Zhou Sinian was well fed in every way—offering him roasted candied chestnuts, already shelled and handed to him in a small bowl, steaming corn buns and sponge cake placed at his side to eat whenever he pleased, and even a big bag of pine nut candy, which she’d always rationed before, but now gave freely, without caution.

Zhou Sinian followed her around happily, feeling there was nothing more wonderful than a snowy day.

So much food—he wished for snow again tomorrow, and every day after!

Seeing the emptiness and desolation fade from Zhou Sinian’s eyes, replaced by joy, Mingdai finally relaxed. Together, they brought out the charcoal they’d stored, found a chipped enamel basin to hold the burning coals, and filled a pot with water, added a packet of dried ginger and two pieces of fresh ginger, boiling it for twenty minutes before transferring it to a large clay jar.

With the fire banked, Zhou Sinian hugged the clay jar, Liu Guoqiang carried the basin of coals, and Auntie Huang and Mingdai brought a stack of bowls and a ladle. Bracing themselves against the wind and snow, they headed for the construction site.

Along the way, the cold wind bit at them, snowflakes swayed in the gusts, reluctant to settle on the ground. The snow beneath their feet was thick, crunching with each step. Mingdai walked steadily, placing her feet in Zhou Sinian’s tracks, following him forward, step by measured step.