Chapter 21: Pork Stewed with Vermicelli, One-Pot Hodgepodge Edition, Fresh from the Wok!
“Headcount inspection.”
A sharp, hurried knock rattled against the door.
Jia Wen pulled the door open. Two city guards in matching black uniforms stood outside.
After strictly checking the boys’ physical signs against their roster, the two guards scribbled a checkmark and moved on to the next shack.
Jia Wen shut the door, blew out the candle on the table, slipped off his shoes, and climbed into bed.
Dousing the lights right after the headcount was customary for everyone behind the walls.
Once under the covers, Jia Wen reached out and felt Jia Si’s forehead. It had clearly improved; it was only slightly warmer than his palm now.
About the same temperature as his own forehead.
“Still feeling sick anywhere?”
“Not anymore!” Jia Si pulled the quilt over his brother, his eyes sparkling in the dark. “Right after eating that pork crackling, I felt all better in a flash! It’s so amazing, Brother!”
“I think it’s amazing too.” Jia Wen tucked Jia Si in close, and the brothers began chatting under the covers.
“Brother, we made so much money today!”
“Yeah.” Jia Wen patted the cloth pouch tucked beneath his pillow, which held nine City Coins.
The two had run back and forth from the farm three times today, trading for nineteen coins in total! Adding the six coins Jia Si had held from the start brought their grand total to twenty-five City Coins.
After buying a portion of pork cracklings, each of them had eaten a roasted potato, leaving nine coins to spare.
Not only were their bellies full, but they had even saved up a reserve.
It was something they hadn’t dared dream of before.
“The roasted potatoes were so delicious… and the pork cracklings tasted so good, too.” Recalling the flavors, Jia Si smacked his lips. “Brother, let’s wake up super early tomorrow morning and go dig up vegetables!”
“Alright!” Jia Wen affectionately ruffled his brother’s hair.
Ever since their family died in the apocalypse, this was the very first night they could fall asleep on full stomachs.
Even with their eyes closed, the buzzing excitement kept bubbling up.
“Brother, I can’t sleep!”
“Why?”
“I can earn money now! This is the first time I’ve ever earned my own money!” Jia Si whispered eagerly.
He was still young. With the rations offering so little nutrition in the wasteland, he had been weak and sickly for years, rarely ever stepping beyond the walls.
While there were many things Jia Si didn’t understand, there was also plenty he did.
He knew the outside world was treacherous—countless adults ventured out and never returned. He also knew he was too small; going out would only drag his brother down.
So for most of his life, Jia Si had lived suspended in terror and waiting.
During the endless daylight hours, he had endured the torment of illness while consumed by dread over whether his brother would make it home alive.
But now, he finally had something he could do!
He could dig for vegetables alongside his brother. No more living in terror; he could earn money right beside him!
Earning delicious potatoes!
That roasted sweet potato had smelled so sweet and fragrant—he really wanted to try one tomorrow, too.
“You did great, Jia Si,” Jia Wen praised gently, his own heart swelling with warmth.
Though he was a few years older, in pre-apocalyptic times he would still have been two years shy of adulthood.
Having endured so many bitter years in this ruinous world, sudden warmth left him feeling just as disoriented as his little brother.
“That boss is so incredible, pulling off so many impossible things…”
“Mm-hmm! Never seen anything like it! I really hope Boss Sister stays forever.”
“She will, won’t she? ‘Chinese Restaurant’… even the name sounds so mystical.”
“And it sounds so pretty, too!” Jia Si chimed in.
Similar conversations played out across many other wooden shacks.
For a great many survivors, this was quite possibly the best sleep they had enjoyed in years.
Even in their dreams, words like “Chinese Restaurant” and “Miraculous Boss” tumbled from their lips.
Along with “roasted potato,” “roasted sweet potato,” and “pork crackling.”
Just saying them made your mouth water.
Morning arrived.
Some woke up in pure misery.
A new day meant heading beyond the walls once more to scavenge scraps.
It also meant staring down unknown horrors, not even knowing whether they would survive to hear the bells toll for their return.
Yet another group bounded out of bed brimming with energy, clutching their washbasins and briskly marching toward the west wall with fiery determination.
Time to make money!
Roasted potatoes, here I come—!
Beyond the walls:
Having finished washing up, Master Chef Ling kicked off another busy day.
She gave a long stretch, filling a freshly exchanged kettle with water to have on standby.
Pushing back the tent flap, she stepped up to the counter and began her prep work.
The newly exchanged cutting board was excellent, fitting snugly behind the gas range.
The scallions were chopped, while the ginger, garlic, and dried chili peppers purchased from the Mall were sliced and set aside.
Eggplants, string beans, cabbage, and potatoes were thoroughly rinsed and diced.
Ling Jing then brought out a generous slab of pork belly she had saved from yesterday and sliced it into thin ribbons.
This cut of pork belly was prime quality, perfectly marbled with alternating layers of lean and fat at an ideal six-to-four ratio.
She had even fattier cuts set aside for other meat dishes down the line.
With the meat sliced and the sweet potato vermicelli soaking, Ling Jing fired up the wok and heated the oil.
She used the lard rendered from yesterday. Scooping a generous dollop into the hot wok, the solid white lard melted away in an instant.
Once the oil was shimmering hot, Ling Jing leaned back and tossed the scallions, ginger, garlic, and dried chilies in with a sharp sizzle.
Fried in the hot lard, the scallions and garlic immediately released a mouthwatering, intoxicating fragrance.
Whoosh—
She dumped the pork belly slices into the wok, splashed in some soy sauce, and tossed everything with her wooden spatula.
Once the meat was browned, sizzling and rendering out its own savory juices, Ling Jing tipped in the cabbage, string beans, eggplants, and potatoes one by one.
Stir-frying until they began to soften, the appetizing vegetable aroma billowed upward across her arms.
String beans, eggplants, potatoes… no matter how you prepared these three, they were always heavenly.
Once the ingredients were evenly coated and stir-fried, she poured in a full kettle of water, stepped into the tent to grab another half-kettle, and emptied that in as well.
The water had to submerge the vegetables completely. This large iron wok was massive, much like the traditional earthen-stove cauldrons from her hometown.
She had added a mountain of vegetables, after all.
Clapping the lid on, she left the pot to simmer.
Ling Jing then turned around and flipped on the roaster, activating Auto-Refill, Auto-Roast, and Auto-Dispense all at once.
A warm red glow lit up from deep within the roaster as the potatoes and sweet potatoes began baking.
Having steady “suppliers” was truly a blessing; the raw stock in the Item Exchange Box was more than plentiful.
Ling Jing plucked a roasted potato from the roaster platform to have as breakfast.
Munching away, she lifted the lid of the clear storage container tucked into a corner of the tricycle.
Inside was the pickled radish she had prepared before bed last night.
She had used white daikon, slicing it into thin batons before salting and squeezing out the excess moisture.
The pickling brine consisted of an entire tub of soy sauce, ginger slices, garlic cloves, scallion shreds, bird’s-eye chilies, and a pinch of sugar.
Having sat overnight, it was time to see how it had turned out.
Ling Jing used a clean pair of chopsticks to pluck out a strip—crunch. Crisp and refreshing, salty with a spicy kick, accented by a hint of sweetness, all while retaining the radish’s natural crunch.
It paired wonderfully with the potato.
After eating plain potatoes for two straight days, she felt her palate had grown completely bland.
Before sleeping last night, between upgrading equipment and redeeming items, she had spent all her remaining time chopping radishes and making pickles.
A traditional pickling crock in the Mall cost thirty points, whereas a clear plastic storage container cost only five; Ling Jing had unhesitatingly chosen the latter.
Snap the lid shut, and wasn’t it just an oversized airtight food container?
Besides, with the system in play, food preservation wasn’t even a concern she needed to worry about.
By the time she finished her potato alongside the pickled radish, the one-pot stew in the wok had simmered to perfection.
Wisps of rich, savory stew fragrance escaped from the rim of the lid—a hearty braised aroma combining various garden vegetables.
Ling Jing lifted the lid and lowered the soaked sweet potato vermicelli into the bubbling broth.
Before long, amid the rhythmic, bubbling gurgles of the stew, the glass noodles softened completely.
They deepened in color, drinking in the rich, savory broth.
The cabbage, string beans, potatoes, and eggplants had long since simmered until fork-tender and deeply infused with flavor. In the thick, glossy broth, the pork belly slices were meltingly tender without a hint of greasiness, while the glass noodles turned entirely translucent.
Ling Jing gave the stew a gentle stir. A rolling cloud of fragrant white steam billowed into the air.
One whiff was enough to make anyone swoon on the spot.
Mhm, just about done.
She turned off the gas.
Pork stewed with vermicelli, one-pot hodgepodge edition, fresh from the wok!
