Chapter 350 - 189: This Is a Restaurant, Not a Cafeteria?

Chapter 350: Chapter 189: This Is a Restaurant, Not a Cafeteria?

A dimly lit bedroom.

Zhou Jie was leaning over the edge of the bed, head down, writing out the next day’s purchase order.

His wife, Wang Manlin, sat on the edge of the bed knitting. She said with a beaming smile, "This is great. Fourth Uncle and Fourth Auntie’s lives are getting better and better. Zhou Yan is really amazing! He’s only twenty, but he’s already supporting the whole family."

"Of course," Zhou Jie closed his notebook and said with a laugh. "Zhou Yan’s been smart since he was a kid, and Fourth Auntie and Fourth Uncle are so capable. Plus, Momo is such a sweet-talker. With the whole family running the restaurant together, it’d be strange if they *didn’t* do well." He continued, "We’ve benefited from his success, too. Our lives are also getting better and better."

"Exactly!" Wang Manlin’s hands didn’t stop moving. "We have to remember this kindness and find a way to repay it someday. This skill is enough to feed us for a lifetime."

"We’re family, so we don’t need to talk about that. Just keep it in your heart," Zhou Jie said, shaking his head with a smile. "Aren’t you knitting that sweater for Momo?"

"This is nothing. Momo is so well-behaved, I wanted to knit one for her anyway." Wang Manlin shot him a playful glare.

Zhou Jie nodded. "That’s true. It’s fine for Feiyang and Feihong to wear their older cousins’ hand-me-down sweaters."

The two brothers, Zhou Feiyang and Zhou Feihong, who were sleeping soundly on the bed, rolled over, mumbled a few words, and fell back asleep.

Wang Manlin looked at Zhou Jie and said, "Let’s get new outfits for Feiyang and Feihong for the New Year, too. I saw how nice the new clothes Fourth Auntie had Tailor Jia make for Momo and Zhou Yan were. The boy is six years old now; he’s starting to understand these things."

Zhou Jie looked at her, smiled, and nodded. "Okay. Later, I’ll take you to the department store in Jiazhou to buy fabric and cotton. We’ll have a new outfit made for you too. It’s been two years since you’ve had anything new, hasn’t it?"

"Really?" Wang Manlin’s hands gradually slowed, a hint of pleasant surprise in her eyes.

"Of course. We’ve managed to save some money recently, so it’s only right to get you a new outfit for the New Year." Zhou Jie nodded with a smile, his voice softening. "You’ve been working so hard lately, taking care of the kids and helping out at the stall."

"Jie, you’re the one who’s truly exhausted. You get up at three every day to help slaughter the cattle, and then you have to run the stall." Wang Manlin put down her knitting, reached out to cup his round face, and said with a catch in her voice, "You should get a new one made too. You’re the one who hasn’t had new clothes in years. That cotton jacket of yours is covered in patches, and the cotton inside isn’t even warm anymore."

"What are you talking about? It’s plenty warm," Zhou Jie shook his head, gazing at her tenderly. The atmosphere grew intimate, and he leaned in to kiss her, tumbling onto the bed.

CREAK.

The wooden bed, unable to bear the weight, let out a sharp noise.

"The bed collapsed!"

"Earthquake!"

The two brothers, Zhou Feiyang and Zhou Feihong, sat up at the same time, looking utterly confused and bewildered.

Zhou Jie and Wang Manlin awkwardly pulled apart. One flopped back down and pretended to be asleep, while the other frantically pushed the two little ones back under the covers. "Go to sleep! It’s the middle of the night! Magic Cloak!"

Children wake up fast, but they fall asleep just as quickly. Tucked back into the quilt, they were instantly out again.

But after such a rude awakening, the couple had lost all interest.

"Tomorrow, I’m cleaning out the storage room next door, building them a bed, and making those two little bastards go sleep in there!" Zhou Jie said, grinding his teeth.

Wang Manlin hugged him from behind and chuckled softly. "Okay. The two of them are brothers, so they won’t be scared together. It’s about time they slept in a different room anyway. We just don’t have a spare quilt. How about we buy some new cotton, mix it with the old, and have a new one made?"

"Let’s get a new quilt made for ourselves. They can sleep with the old one, just in case they wet the bed and ruin the new one." Zhou Jie reached out and pulled the light cord. There was a RUSTLE of movement as his hands started to roam, and he whispered, "We have over two hundred yuan in savings now. We make over ten yuan a day from the hot pot stall. After setting aside money for your mom’s medicine, we can still save a good amount each month."

"Mmm... I’ll... I’ll listen to you." Wang Manlin turned to her side, her voice trembling slightly. The wooden bed began to creak softly.

...

At the crack of dawn the next day, Comrade Zhou and Old Zhou went out to buy groceries.

Worried he wouldn’t be able to get any winter bamboo shoots if he went too late, Zhou Yan made a stop at the morning market first.

The farmers had just set down their wicker baskets and were spreading urea sacks and oilcloths on the ground. Then, one by one, they began taking out the fresh vegetables and various dried goods from their baskets, arranging them in neat displays.

Winter bamboo shoots had just come into season, so not many people were selling them yet.

As Zhou Yan walked along, he saw only three old men selling them, and they all looked quite fresh.

Anyone who could dig up winter bamboo shoots at this point in the season, and have enough to sell, was definitely an expert at it.

[A winter bamboo shoot of excellent quality]

[A baby winter bamboo shoot]

[An over-matured winter bamboo shoot]

"You’ve dug up so many winter bamboo shoots so early in the season! Sir, you’re really good at this!" After looking around, Zhou Yan crouched in front of a tan, wiry old man, picked up the bamboo shoot of excellent quality, and asked, "How much are winter bamboo shoots per pound?"

The old man had a pile of forty or fifty bamboo shoots on his urea sack. They were all relatively uniform in size. He had dug up the most out of anyone at the morning market today.

"This is nothing," the old man said with a wide grin. "In a little while, when they’re in peak season, I can fill two wicker baskets on a single trip up the mountain and still have to be picky. It’s fifty cents a pound if they’re shelled, twenty cents if they’re not. As the old saying goes, less than half of a winter bamboo shoot is edible flesh—the rest is all shell."

The price was the same as what Zhou Yan had been quoted yesterday—the normal market rate. He asked, "So, can I pick them out myself?"

"Pick whichever ones you want. The kind you’re holding right now is the best—lots of flesh, and tender too. You can’t go wrong if you pick ones that look like that," the old man said.

"Alright," Zhou Yan replied with a smile. ’This old man is really honest.’ He immediately started picking through the pile of bamboo shoots, specifically choosing the ones of ’excellent quality.’ In no time, he had built a small mound of them in front of him.