Riding the wind of rebirth

The owner, who was also a shop assistant, happened to be bringing over the rice noodle rolls. Upon hearing this, he chuckled and said, "It's been a while since I've heard this song. Judging from your accents, you're not from Xichang. You even know this."

"It sounds fun, and we remembered it right away." Zhou Zhi laughed. "Your cold noodles taste so authentic that we remembered it right away. We'll definitely have to come to your shop every time we come to Xichang."

"I'm not bragging, but this shop has been open for thirty years. My dad took it over from my grandfather, so it's been a business for three generations. Most of our customers are repeat customers."

After saying that, he pointed to the owner of the guokui (a type of flatbread) shop next door and said, "When he can't work anymore, I'll take over his guokui shop too..."

"Get the hell out of here! Even if you can't work anymore, I can still. I'll take over your lousy cold noodle shop!" The owner of the guokui (a type of flatbread) shop retorted, and the two seemed to be used to bickering.

The regulars at several tables were still egging them on, urging the two to fight, saying they didn't even need to wait until tomorrow, they could make one of them unable to work today.

The boss said that wouldn't work; if one couldn't keep up, and the other ended up in jail, both shops would go out of business.

This noisy atmosphere is great; Zhou Zhi feels that the idea that dining needs to be quiet is just being pretentious.

In Chinese upbringing, etiquette should not be separated from its proper occasion. If the two do not match, it is "empty etiquette," no longer an expression of true emotions, and naturally becomes a mere formality, a shackle that purely restricts human nature.

It's clearly hypocrisy, yet it's being treated as a sign of civilization. Zhouzhi doesn't know what some people are thinking.

The two were extremely satisfied with their meal of cold noodles and flatbread, especially since they even used oil tea to cleanse themselves afterward. Apart from Zhouzhi's opinion that it was a little lacking in vitamins and fiber, it was practically perfect.

The last two issues were also easy to resolve; there were fruit vendors right outside the door, and old farmers strolled along the streets carrying their fruit—everything was just like it was back in the old days.

Varieties include navel oranges, tangerines, and ugly apples.

Mai Xiaomiao likes to eat navel oranges, but she doesn't like to peel them, so Zhou Zhi usually peels them for her with a knife.

The same goes for apples. Mai Xiaomiao liked watching Zhou Zhi peel an apple without breaking it, turning it into a long strip. Later, she stopped showing off her clumsy knife skills and just ate the apples directly.

It's not convenient to walk around on the street now, so Zhouzhi bought some tangerines. The two of them walked and ate them, and before they knew it, they had arrived at the Binhe Road Park.

It's called a small park, but it's actually just a section of river embankment. The embankment forms a square dead end at the confluence of the East River and the West River, and the relatively open area has become a place for citizens to relax.

Many retired elderly people play cards, chess, and exercise here, while some young couples cuddle up here, drinking tea and chatting.

Apart from two rows of willow trees and a stretch of lawn, the scenery along the river is actually quite unremarkable. In summer, the river water is extremely turbid, almost like mud, and often causes considerable flooding downstream.

But in winter, the entire riverbed is exposed, and the river is almost completely dry. There is only a small trickle of water, which in Zhouzhi County can hardly be called a stream. It is pitiful.

This also illustrates the urgent need to manage the ecological environment of the waters surrounding Qionghai Lake. The water conservation function of the entire basin has been almost lost, and the soil erosion is severe during the rainy season, posing a serious risk of natural disasters.

Fortunately, the leadership has realized the problem. At least in the conversation between Li Yutang and Zhou Zhi, it was clear that he attaches great importance to the management of the Qionghai Lake basin, which is a good sign.

The riverbed is now full of red mud and large rocks. It is clear that the local government has put a lot of effort into the river embankment, which is reinforced with stone blocks and cement. The reinforced embankment is very wide, wide enough to set up a market and form a spontaneous small park on the river embankment.

"How about we sit here for a while?" Zhou Zhi said with a smile, "Xiao Miao, you must be tired after walking all morning, right?" "Not at all, I walked slowly." Mai Xiaomiao took Zhou Zhi's arm, "But having afternoon tea would be nice."

"It's Chinese afternoon tea, which is different from what you're used to." The two found a seat next to the small teahouse, and the tea owner came over and set out two covered bowls and a pot of boiling water. He only charged them four yuan.

Zhou Zhi gave the shopkeeper ten yuan: "Keep the change, and give us some peanuts and melon seeds."

The boss went over and soon brought back a plate containing peanuts, melon seeds, peas, and broad beans.

“Oh right,” Zhou Zhi said, recognizing the broad beans. “Xiao Miao, try these. They’re a specialty of Xichang, called Jade Belt Broad Beans.”

Jade belt broad beans are a type of deep-fried broad beans, but the outer skin has been removed, leaving only a small ring of skin to wrap the two broad beans together. The broad beans are bright green and cute, and when you put them in your mouth, they are crispy, salty and fragrant, making them a delicious snack to accompany tea.

"Hmm, it's quite delicious." Mai Xiaomiao tasted one: "Is this tea good? I'm afraid you won't like it."

"It's alright," Zhou Zhi said with a smile. "Good tea has its own way of being enjoyed, and ordinary tea has its own way of being enjoyed. It's not important."

He looked at the color of the tea and smelled it: "This is made according to the method of Biluochun tea. The tea leaves are slender and curled into snails, covered with downy hairs, and have a silvery-green color with a hint of emerald. It smells elegant and fragrant..." He took a sip and said: "The aftertaste is also okay, about level three."

"How about we ask the boss to change it to the premium grade?" Mai Xiaomiao said with a smile. "I think I saw someone drinking it with more tender leaves."

“Little Miao is talking nonsense.” Zhou Zhi laughed: “The grading of Biluochun tea is a bit strange; the top grade is even worse than the third grade.”

"Ah? How come?"

"The grades of Biluochun tea are arranged as follows: Special Grade 1, Special Grade 2, then Grade 1, Grade 2, Grade 3, Grade 3 is Special Grade, and then Grade 1. However, the latter two have a suffix, 'fried green,' which means Special Grade Fried Green and Grade 1 Fried Green respectively. The first five are pre-Qingming tea, and the latter two are pre-rain tea, which are clearly divided."

“There are so many intricacies to drinking tea in China.” Mai Xiaomiao stuck out her tongue and laughed, “Unlike Europeans and Americans, who seem to only drink black tea, and even then, it’s the same old, ordinary black tea.”

“If tea that undergoes both withering and fermentation is called black tea, then there are many varieties of Chinese black tea.” Zhou Zhi also popped a broad bean into his mouth: “The old Tibetan tea I collected on the way here also counts.”

"Mmm, this old Tibetan tea is delicious! Especially after Azi made it into milk tea, it's the best milk tea I've ever had!"

Zhou Zhi couldn't help but chuckle. His collection of old Tibetan tea would easily fetch tens of thousands of yuan per cake in later generations, and even now it had aged quite well. However, since it was A Zi and Mai Xiaomiao who liked to cause trouble, Zhou Zhi indulged them. In any case, he had already sent the best ones to Suihuaxuan.

"What are those people doing?" The winter sun in Xichang was so enchanting that it made Mai Xiaomiao's voice sound soft, like she was humming.

In a corner of the teahouse, several elderly men were playing gongs and erhu.

“That’s called ‘playing the drums’,” Zhou Zhi said with a smile. “It’s an old tradition in Sichuan. It’s an activity where Sichuan opera fans gather in teahouses and courtyards to sing opera.”

"Isn't that similar to the concert we held at the hot springs in the back mountains?" Mai Xiaomiao asked, "Except the instruments are different?" (End of Chapter)