Inheritance

Comrade Zhang Shufen proved through her actions that the close bond between grandmother and grandson could not withstand the test of this pot of aged brine.

Clang!

The lid was slammed shut. The old lady guarded that pot of aged brine like a mother cow protecting her calf.

But...

He was a calf too.

She had just called him her good grandson.

"Get lost, you little brat." Comrade Zhang Shufen waved a hand and warned, "If you dare touch my aged brine, I'll call Tie Ying and Zhou Miao over to give you a double beating."

"I wouldn't dare, Grandma. I was just joking." Zhou Yan hurriedly waved his hands.

He had no doubt that if Auntie Zhao and Old Zhou were successfully summoned, he might cry even harder than Fanwa.

After all, even Old Zhou was afraid of getting beaten.

This pot of aged brine was the old lady's most precious treasure. She had maintained it for over a decade, boiling it every few days to keep it going.

During holidays and festivals, the whole family's greatest anticipation was eating the braised dishes she made.

The task triggered by the system looked simple, but it was actually impossible to complete.

Unless he sneaked in during the middle of the night and carried the whole pot away.

But then it would no longer just be a matter of his parents giving him a double beating.

When Zhou Yan had filmed videos before, he had met quite a few cold-dish chefs. More than one had said, "Pickles, chili oil, and brine are a cold-dish chef's three treasures. Ordinary people aren't even allowed to touch them. It's like a chopping-block chef's knife—touch it, and they'll fight you to the death."

That was not hard to understand.

A pot of aged brine was built up through daily care, with time and effort poured into it that outsiders could never know.

But if it fell into the hands of a novice or someone who did not cherish it, they could ruin it in three days.

Anyone would lose their temper.

The old lady looked at him and asked, "You want to sell braised dishes?"

"Yes. There's no one selling braised dishes outside the Textile Factory yet. The workers earn well, and there'll definitely be people willing to bring home a tasty cold dish after work." Zhou Yan smiled and nodded. "The braised dishes you make are absolutely the best in all of Suji."

"You little rascal, you're making things up without even drafting a script." The old lady smiled, a touch of pride appearing on her face. "Last time, when Zhou Lao Qi's son got married and held a courtyard banquet, the country chef they hired braised beef and pig ears that were really quite ordinary. They didn't taste as good as mine."

"When Zhou Lao Qi's son got married, he hired the best country chef in Suji for courtyard banquets. Everyone said the braised dishes he made were good. But even at that level, he was still far behind this pot of aged brine of yours." Zhou Yan immediately played along, wearing an eager-to-please expression. "At least ten stories behind. Tell me, Grandma, just how high is your level?"

"Out of all my grandsons, you're the best at sweet-talking." The old lady beamed. Looking at the pot of brine, her expression grew nostalgic. "After I married your grandfather at eighteen, he slaughtered cattle while I set up a stall selling braised beef offal, braised beef tongue, and braised pig head. The business grew until it was the best in Suji. People even came all the way from Jiazhou to buy it, and restaurants came to place orders.

I learned this braising craft from your great-grandmother. Your great-grandmother's husband had once been the head chef in the household of a high-ranking official in Chengdu. He was a renowned master of red-cooking cuisine.

Back then, women were not allowed to learn cooking. But the country was in turmoil and survival was difficult, so my grandfather secretly passed the braising recipe to my mother. That was how our family survived.

I relied on this craft to raise five sons and marry wives for every one of them. Later, stalls were no longer allowed, and everyone ate from communal kitchens. When that pot of aged brine, which I had used for thirty years, was poured out, my heart hurt so badly that I couldn't sleep properly for an entire week."

Zhou Yan listened with rapt attention. He had not expected such history behind it. Even Little Zhou had never heard about these events.

"Grandma, national policy has changed now. Individual businesses are encouraged to develop. There are more and more self-employed people setting up stalls and opening shops on the streets, and life will only get better." Zhou Yan spoke gently.

The old lady had lived through the most turbulent half-century. This pot of aged brine truly held extraordinary meaning for her.

"Do you want to learn?" The old lady looked into his eyes.

The corners of her eyes were already covered in wrinkles, but her gaze remained clear and bright.

"I do." Zhou Yan nodded without hesitation.

"If you want to learn, then I'll teach you. This craft can't die with me. It should be passed on." The old lady smiled and nodded.

Zhou Yan's eyes lit up. Rubbing his hands together, he said, "Grandma, then this pot of aged brine..."

"Don't even think about it!" The old lady curled her lip. "As long as I'm still alive, you won't get this aged brine."

"Is this... the throne of the King of Braised Dishes?" Zhou Yan could not hold it in any longer and inexplicably wanted to laugh.

"You have to cultivate your own brine for it to taste right. How you treat it is what it will become." The old lady looked at Zhou Yan. "If you truly want to learn, I'll teach you how to make brine and how to maintain aged brine."

"Grandma, you'll always be my best grandma." Zhou Yan practically wanted to kowtow to her.

She was willing to teach him such a wonderful recipe just like that. Only his own grandmother would do such a thing.

The old lady said, "This afternoon, I'll write you a list. Buy everything on it, and whenever you're ready to make brine, come pick me up and bring me to your shop. I'll teach you there."

"Alright." Zhou Yan nodded. "Then I'll need to build another stove, one specially for making braised dishes."

Although he had failed to carry off the old lady's aged brine, he was already very satisfied to have her personally guide and teach him on the spot.

This system task could only be put aside for now. Once he slowly cultivated a pot of aged brine and learned the essence of braising from the old lady, the result would be the same.

This was inheritance.

The ribs were stewing in the pot. Estimating the time, Zhou Yan carried a wooden bucket to the well in the courtyard and began cleaning fish.

Footsteps sounded at the courtyard gate. Zhou Yan turned to look.

A tall, lean young man stood at the gate with a hoe over his shoulder. He had a close-cropped haircut and deep-set features, looking sixty to seventy percent like Zhou Yan. A vicious scar at the corner of his eye made him seem somewhat fierce. The left sleeve of his short-sleeved navy shirt hung empty, swaying gently in the wind.

His back was straight as he carried the hoe, giving people the hazy impression that he was carrying a rifle instead.

"Uncle, you're back." Zhou Yan stood up and smiled.

"Mm. I went to weed the fields. Zhou Yan, you haven't come by in a long time." Zhou Weiguo nodded, but his gaze drifted toward the main hall.

As if he had spotted something, the corners of his lips rose slightly, and his cold aura melted away.

"Little Uncle!" Zhou Momo rushed out of the main hall and toddled over to Zhou Weiguo. Stopping in front of him, she held up her little hand high. "Have some candy! It's a big rabbit candy, super, super sweet!"

"You eat it, Momo. Little Uncle doesn't like candy." Zhou Weiguo smiled indulgently.

"No, you eat one. I'll feed you." Zhou Momo shook her head, tore open the wrapper herself, and stood on tiptoe to offer it to him.

"Alright, I'll eat it." Zhou Weiguo smiled helplessly and bent down to take the candy from Zhou Momo's hand.

"Is it sweet?" Zhou Momo looked at him expectantly.

Zhou Weiguo smiled and nodded. "Sweet. Super, super sweet."

"Hehe." Zhou Momo smiled along with him and said, "Come on, there are oranges too. Oranges are yummy too."

"Alright." Zhou Weiguo replied. He set the hoe behind the door and followed Zhou Momo toward the main hall, a smile remaining on his face the whole time.

Only when he began walking did Zhou Yan notice that he limped slightly on his left leg, though every step he took was steady.

Zhou Yan silently crouched back down and continued cleaning the fish.

His uncle was thirty-four this year. He had enlisted at eighteen and was wounded and discharged during the Sino-Vietnamese War in 1979.

Two plaques reading "Family of a First-Class Merit Recipient" hung in the old house.

One belonged to his grandfather.

The other belonged to his uncle.

This, too, was inheritance.