Chapter 29: Dinner at the Old House

At noon, Madam Luo did not return home. Wenyao cut a small piece of pork head, chopped it finely, and made meat patties. Luo watched her granddaughter work with all her might, using so much meat, and couldn't help but think that this girl truly took after her mother.

Yet, for all her grumbling, when the meat patties were ready, the old woman ate with great relish.

In the afternoon, Wenyao lifted out the first batch of marinated goods. The pig intestines, once foul-smelling, had changed not only in color but in aroma as well; there was no trace of their former stench.

Luo was astonished.

“There really isn’t any bad smell left—actually, it smells rather good.”

Wenyao sliced several pieces, placed them on a plate, and handed Luo a pair of chopsticks. “Grandmother, please try some.”

Luo hesitated, but Da Tou, unable to wait, had already snatched a piece and stuffed it in his mouth.

His little face became more and more animated with each bite, and even without a word, his expressions alone revealed just how delicious the pig intestines were.

“Is it really that tasty?” Luo, still skeptical, picked up a piece and put it in her mouth.

The odor that should have been there was gone, replaced by a unique and savory flavor—not only was it not unpleasant, it was actually very good.

Luo’s eyes brightened; she chewed carefully, the flavor growing richer with each bite.

“It’s quite good,” she nodded approvingly as she ate.

Wenyao tried a piece herself. Indeed, the taste was just as she remembered—truly delicious.

After sampling the finished product, Wenyao quickly picked out a long strand, chopped it all into small pieces, and filled a large bowl.

“Grandmother, take these home and give Grandfather and the others a special dish for dinner.”

Seeing the large amount, Luo immediately put down her chopsticks and fretted, “Oh, you silly girl, why did you cut so much? This is something to be sold for money! Are they royalty, to eat so much at once?”

Wenyao set the bowl down, leaving no room for argument. “These things are made for eating, and there’s plenty more. Business is important, but family is more so. If you don’t take it, I’ll let Da Tou eat it all.”

Da Tou’s eyes sparkled as he gazed hopefully at Luo, wishing she would refuse.

Luo saw through the boy’s thoughts at once. She pulled the bowl toward herself, feigning annoyance. “You only know how to eat! You’re still little—how could you eat so much? You’ll upset your stomach.”

Da Tou didn’t mind. He scampered around to the other side, clung to the table, and eyed the remaining bowlful with longing. He even raised his chin at Luo smugly, as if to say: I still have more, and plenty of it.

“This is tasty, but not easy to digest. Da Tou is young—he mustn’t eat too much,” Luo warned, fearing Wenyao might spoil him endlessly.

Wenyao patted Da Tou’s head; she understood perfectly well. Da Tou had seldom tasted meat since he was little—if he ate too much at once, his stomach would surely protest.

“All right, I won’t let him have too much.”

As Wenyao spoke, they saw Da Tou’s mouth immediately pout, and he refused to look at them.

Luo gazed at the back of his head, sighed softly, and a look of tenderness welled up in her eyes.

Was the child truly mute? Nearly four years old and still not a single word spoken.

At that thought, Luo’s eyes grew moist. She pretended to rub her face casually, then picked up the bowl and prepared to leave.

“I’m heading back. Don’t bother cooking tonight—wait for your father and brother to return, and all of you come to the old house for supper.” If nothing else, the large bowl of meat Wenyao had sent was reason enough—pig intestines or not, it was still meat.

Tonight, she would stir-fry a dish with it, stew some cabbage and tofu, make a few pancakes, and it would be more than enough for the whole family.

This was, in Wenyao’s memory, the first time since the family split that the old lady had invited their branch back to the ancestral house for a meal. The bowl of pig intestines had not been sent in vain.

“All right, Grandmother, I’ll be sure to tell Father that you’ve invited him home for dinner,” Wenyao replied with a bright smile.

The word “home” pricked a little at the old lady’s heart. Thinking of the past and looking at the present, if her wayward eldest son truly had changed, that would be a good thing.

After seeing the old lady off, Wenyao busied herself once more. This invitation was a crucial moment for mending family ties, and she must seize it.

As the saying goes, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach—but it works just as well for everyone, young and old, men and women alike!

Wenyao wasn’t planning to take any more pork head or intestines. Though it wasn’t much, she’d already given a bowl to the old lady; it wouldn’t do to bring more meat now.

What she wanted was a genuine reconciliation with the main family, not a temporary one bought by a dish or two of meat.

Still, she could bring some marinated vegetables—there was plenty of dried tofu, after all.

When Wen Xiuyi and Wen Jun returned, they hadn’t even reached the door before they caught the rich aroma of stewed meat drifting everywhere.

They pushed their cart inside and hurried straight to the kitchen.

As soon as Da Tou saw Wen Xiuyi, he scampered over on his short legs, grasped his father’s sleeve, and tugged him toward the kitchen, all the while pointing and babbling excitedly.

Wen Xiuyi followed him in and saw a bowl of marinated delicacies on the table. Da Tou clung to his hand, pointing first at the food, then at Wenyao, his cheeks puffed with indignation, his face full of protest.

“What’s going on?” Wen Xiuyi asked Wenyao.

Wenyao, amused by Da Tou’s sulking, explained, “Grandmother was afraid Da Tou would have trouble digesting if he ate too much, so she wouldn’t let him overindulge. He’s sulking at me now.”

“I see.” Wen Xiuyi picked up a small piece, tasted it, and nodded. “It really is delicious.”

Da Tou watched eagerly, almost drooling, and tugged at his father’s hand.

Wen Xiuyi swallowed the marinated intestine, looked down at his youngest son, and said with a laugh, “Grandmother is right, you mustn’t eat too much.”

Furious, Da Tou let go of Wen Xiuyi’s hand and went to sulk in a corner.

Wen Xiuyi chuckled indulgently and helplessly. “Daughter, we have some leftover rice. I’ll fry it for you all tonight—we’ll make do.”

At the mention of dinner, Wenyao spoke up. “Father, Grandmother said we’re to have supper at the old house tonight. Look, I’ve already prepared our dish to bring.”

A plate of marinated dried tofu—cheap, tasty, and delicious.

In truth, Wen Xiuyi still felt uneasy about returning to the old house. After all, his predecessor had been such a scoundrel, and those at the old house couldn’t be expected to welcome him warmly.

But now that things had changed, it was time to mend those relationships.

“All right, I’ll fry up the leftover rice and bring it along. With so many people, we’ll finish it easily, and you two won’t have to eat leftovers at home tomorrow,” he declared, rolling up his sleeves and getting ready to cook.