Chapter 1582 - 1562: Selling Red Dates, Buying a Detached Cottage

The night breeze blew from the valley, brushing past the window, and the wooden farmhouse was warm in winter and cool in summer. It was September at the foot of the mountain, and the weather was refreshing. Inside, the floor heating was off, and the man’s warm lips touched Adan’s forehead, carrying a scorching heat. His eyes were impressively bright.

Adan sensed the restrained tension in his arm muscles, his whole body exuding an air of aggression, causing her to release his arm in slight panic.

She unconsciously held her breath.

"You sleep first; we’ll talk tomorrow." Marcus Quinn’s voice was unusually deep, and then he got up like a breeze and entered the bathroom.

Adan lay wide awake, listening to the sounds of him showering. When he emerged, he lay down on a thin mattress spread on the floor, finally letting out a sigh of relief. She lay there wide awake and lost in thought for a long time before falling asleep.

Early the next morning, Marcus Quinn got up, gathered some tools and membranes, and went to harvest jujubes.

Since there were many jujube trees, and most of them were red like flames, Marcus Quinn and Irving Spencer spread white membranes on the ground and began using tools to hook the branches, shaking the jujube tree. The man was strong, and with skillful effort, the bright red jujubes fell like rain onto the membranes without bruising.

Harvesting jujubes was strenuous work. The two were busy all morning, harvesting a small grove. Only then did Marcus Quinn pick a basketful of jujubes the size of pigeon eggs, and upon realizing it was breakfast time, he returned to the farmhouse with Irving Spencer for a meal.

Adan, too, had developed the habit of going to bed early and waking up early. Particularly in the countryside, she was roused by the birds as soon as it became light. After living there for two days, she fell completely in love with the farmhouse. While the exterior featured white walls and black tiles, most of the structures within the farmhouse were made of wood. The houses as well, and the entire inner courtyard had wooden floors. The corridors were wooden floored, warm in winter and cool in summer, also very comfortable. The bathroom tub captured her heart. She had visited other homes in the village and found most were built of stone. The wooden architecture of this house was unique in the village.

Uncle Shui had gone to work in the fields early in the morning, and Aunt Shui was preparing breakfast. Adan lent a hand tidying up. Once Aunt Shui’s breakfast was ready, Marcus Quinn returned.

The man was dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, carrying a bamboo basket in hand. He handed her a basketful of red jujubes, each one looking fresh and sparkling.

"Keep these to eat. If they’re not enough, I’ll pick another box for you later." The man’s voice was deep and resonant, speaking close to her ear. Adan’s ears felt slightly warm, noticing Aunt Shui and Irving Spencer were holding back laughter. She softly responded, "Okay."

Although teased, Adan was still delighted as she washed a fruit plate full of jujubes, ate one; it was crisp and sweet, with an excellent texture.

Aunt Shui served breakfast, which included congee, steamed dumplings, chili pancakes, and mixed sauce noodles. These men exert themselves in labor, needing to eat well, so Aunt Shui cooked a pan of noodles.

Adan ate a fried dumpling and tasted pork with shepherd’s purse filling, made from the countryside’s own black pork and fresh shepherd’s purse. Wrapped into dumplings, then fried with rapeseed oil in a large iron pot on the earthen stove, the bottom of the dumpling turns golden, and the skin crisps, tender inside. The aroma of black pork, the sweetness of shepherd’s purse, and fresh rapeseed oil fragrance blend, juices splashing, better than any dumpling she’d eaten in Fountain City.

"Adan, eat more. These ingredients are all home-raised and home-grown here in the countryside, pure natural green food." Aunt Shui had become familiar enough to call Adan by name, watching her eyes, bright and pleased, squinting joyfully. She laughed, thinking this young girl eats delicately and cutely.

"Yes, yes, okay." Adan hadn’t grown tired of yesterday’s tofu-filled fried buns, and today the fried dumplings tasted exceptionally good. If Marcus Quinn were to cook, it would be even tastier.

When Marcus Quinn picked up a pair of chili pancakes for her, Adan instantly asked curiously, "What is this?"

"Aunt Shui’s exclusive skill, chili pancakes, made by chopping fresh long peppers, marinating and drying them for some time. When eating, mix with starch, then mold into thin pancakes, fry with oil in a pan. It’s somewhat salty and spicy, yet crispy and very fragrant." Marcus Quinn gave a slight smile, fearing she might find it too hot, and poured her a cup of freshly squeezed watermelon juice.

Adan lightly bit the pancake; it was crisp, spicy, fragrant, and slightly salty. Eating it, the more she ate, the spicier and more flavorful it became. Before she knew it, she’d finished the whole piece, her eyes widened, nodding in laughter, "This is delicious, I’ve never had it before."