Chapter 42: Oil Painting of Roses
Huai Yu carried so many things that by the time she returned to the treehouse, it was already close to three o’clock.
The sky grew darker, and halfway through the bus ride, a fine drizzle started falling again.
Inside the bus, everyone grumbled, but their protective measures were impeccable—no one wanted to get wet.
Huai Yu had to pull out a newly bought bag to tightly wrap her basket. She also tied up all the other bags securely.
As for herself… she had no choice but to cover her hair with a plastic bag and carry the increasingly heavy basket back home.
Once she unloaded everything, she moved her aching shoulders, grabbed a handful of dry straw to start a fire, and soon a faint smoke and warmth filled the damp little house.
But the continuous rain had soaked the ground, and even the dry straw stored for kindling was damp, not to mention the firewood stacked outside.
The smoke was thick, and Huai Yu had to roll up all the doors to let it out.
The fire flickered, and as she slowly fed dry wood into the brazier, the fire grew brighter and quickly warmed up the entire house, bringing a sticky, unpleasant heat.
Huai Yu let out a long sigh of relief. She first changed into her newly bought loungewear before she began sorting out the items she had brought back.
She folded the coarse blue-striped sheet into a double layer and spread it over the straw bed. The free fluorescent pink pillowcase was stuffed full of straw. Finally, she carefully laid a blue-black floral quilt over it…
Only then did Huai Yu realize—she had forgotten to buy a quilt cover!
Actually, the silk quilt seemed designed for direct use, even washable in a machine. But since she had nothing else, if the quilt got wet, she wouldn’t even be able to lift it.
For now, she would have to make do and remember to buy a quilt cover next time.
Huai Yu also thought she should have bought a notebook and a pen—there were too many small things missing from her life. Having paper and a pen would at least help her keep track and avoid forgetfulness like today.
She silently made a note of it. Looking at the brand-new, fluffy bed, she couldn’t resist anymore and dove onto it!
Wuwuwu, so comfortable!
The quilt was so soft, so cozy!
If she had enough points, she could have bought two quilts—one to lie on and one to cover herself with. Waking up in a warm, fluffy bed every morning would be pure bliss!
But the reality was she only had 232—no, 222 points left.
It took great effort for Huai Yu to drag herself off the bed. Then she pulled out a small white vase.
The vase was finely crafted, smooth even on the inside, without a single rough spot.
Before the catastrophe, it would have been worth some money.
But now, being so small and impractical, it had become a bargain item for just ten points.
Huai Yu looked outside—the rain was still fine and misty. She gazed at the vase, pulled on her rain boots and raincoat, and walked into the rainy mist.
Against the dull, dark background, the rose corridor looked like an oil painting painted in heavy strokes, with the leaves so deep green they were almost black.
The tall wall of flowers blocked everything from the wasteland beyond and shielded the eyes of the city people from looking out.
Getting closer, she could see that the leaves were emerald green and the flowers were soft pink and white, clustered and hanging in thick bunches.
It really was romantic.
Huai Yu lowered her gaze and watched for a while before pulling out a pair of scissors. She gently touched a petal and whispered, “I bought a new vase, it’s really pretty. Can I cut another branch to take home?”
The roses swayed in the rain and wind, as if they didn’t mind such a small thing. But Huai Yu knew—they agreed.
The tiny thorns on the branches gleamed cold gray like metal, but they had never pricked her. Huai Yu carried a branch home, filled the vase with water, and placed the flower inside.
Very soon, on the bedside table made of blue bricks, there was a serene and gentle white porcelain vase with a slim, elegant flower branch. Dark green stems and bright green leaves intertwined, framing a few blossoms of varying shades of pink and white.
Huai Yu stared at it for a while, then picked up the small line of engraved ice-like letters next to it and solemnly placed it in front of the vase.
A sliver of cold wind blew in through the door. The thin flower branch swayed, the fire’s light dancing across it, making even the crystal-clear words sparkle:
[Thank you for the roses — Lin Xuefeng]
She remembered their conversation that night—a stranger she had never met used the most direct way to help her understand the world more clearly. She smiled again.
At six o’clock, it was completely dark outside. Huai Yu collected rainwater again and then regrettably realized she had forgotten to buy a chopping board.
No matter. The blue bricks Lin Xuefeng had carefully cleaned were extra clean. She laid a fresh plastic bag on top, and after thoroughly purifying two jin (about 1kg) of pork fatback, she cut it into even small cubes.
She mixed hot water to a warm temperature in a basin, added salt, and soaked the pork fat for a while longer. She made another mental note to buy white vinegar.
But thinking it over, vinegar wasn’t essential, so she let it go.
Without vinegar, the blood traces on the pork fat couldn’t be cleaned perfectly, but it was good enough.
As long as she didn’t have to eat those nutrient fluids anymore, Huai Yu felt she could easily ignore such minor flaws.
She hadn’t even considered that her cooking skills would be this decent. It might seem like a simple task to render pork lard, but not everyone could do it properly.
She felt proud of her versatility again.
The pot heated up nicely, and the stove fire blazed brightly.
Huai Yu added a little water to the pot before scooping the cleaned pork fat into it. As the water and pork fat cooked together, the pot quickly began to bubble and release a rich, fragrant aroma.
Huai Yu squatted by the pot, staring at the snowy white pork fat as it slowly turned golden at the edges, itching to grab chopsticks and sneak a taste!
Afraid of ruining the ingredients, she forced herself to pull out some rice and flour to purify instead, trying to distract herself.
But… after running around all day, purifying water, pork fat, and now even rice and flour, Huai Yu was exhausted. She lay limply by the fragrant pot, her eyes glued to it, unable to move!
She even started regretting not buying an extra pot. With a second stove setup, she could have cooked rice at the same time.
Finally, after a long, slow simmer, the golden-brown pork cracklings and golden pork lard were poured into a lunchbox, filling it completely!
Since she didn’t have more containers, the cracklings and lard were stored together. It didn’t matter, though—this weather would keep them from spoiling, and with that aroma, she swore she’d finish it fast.
It smelled so good!
