Old Deng is reborn in the 1980s, and he starts by severing his father-son relationship!

Chen Limei's face turned green; she was extremely embarrassed.

She's so old now; she's no longer the little girl who used to follow Chen Deshun around begging for candy.

Upon hearing his son's words, Huang Xumin's eyes lit up inexplicably, and he subtly glanced at his wife.

The second and third brothers, who were watching the show from inside the house, smirked and chuckled, their shoulders twitching.

The eldest sister has really run into trouble, but their nephew also said something astonishing and outrageous.

Chen Deshun picked at his ear, staring at Chen Limei and her husband with a half-smile, without saying a word.

Chen Limei had been waiting for her father to step in and smooth things over, but Chen Deshun remained silent for a long time.

Feeling a little embarrassed, she grabbed Huang Hui and scolded him sharply, "You brat, what kind of nonsense are you spouting? If you can't speak properly, then shut up, lest you make people feel uncomfortable."

Chen Deshun's face was gloomy. Although his words sounded like he was scolding his son, he always felt that Chen Limei was making veiled attacks.

Huang Hui burst into tears, and Huang Xumin quickly pulled Chen Limei aside to calm him down: "Alright, alright, Dad's still here. How can you scold the child like that?"

Huang Xumin tried to comfort Huang Hui with a few perfunctory words. Although the little brat stopped crying, he still snuggled into his mother's arms, looking terrified, and mumbled, "Mom, Grandpa... I'm hungry..."

Who isn't hungry?!

Chen Deshun was starving; if his wife hadn't come, the meal would have been ready by now.

Of all things under heaven, eating is the most important.

Chen Deshun was too lazy to pay attention to them anymore. He snorted coldly and turned to walk straight to the kitchen.

Seeing this, Chen Limei assumed that Chen Deshun was backing down but was just afraid of losing face, so she immediately smiled and invited the whole family to sit down.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly relaxed.

Huang Xumin took out a cigarette, lit it, and began to puff out smoke.

Chen Limei sat with her legs crossed, cracking sunflower seeds, and occasionally exchanging a few words with her husband.

"See? I told you Dad wasn't really angry at all. Look, he's gone to cook obediently."

"I wonder what he's up to. Hopefully there's some meat in it. We've come all this way; we can't just be eating cornbread, can we?"

"I already hinted to him. Don't let my dad's quiet demeanor fool you; he's got a sharp mind. He'll definitely cook meat for us!"

These days, meat purchases are regulated, with supplies limited by ration coupons or certificates. We haven't reached the point of complete "freedom to eat meat" yet.

Ordinary families wouldn't buy them often, and even if they did, they would only choose the fattest ones to render oil and increase its oil content.

These two are something else; they start by clamoring for meat.

Luckily, Chen Deshun didn't hear those words, otherwise he would have definitely slapped them both across the face.

Eat meat? Ha, go eat shit!

The other people in the room chatted or read books, and no one mentioned anything like "we should go to the kitchen and lend a hand." They all acted as if it was Chen Deshun's duty to cook and serve them.

Chen Deshun went into the kitchen, lifted the vegetable basket and saw two cucumbers with flowers and thorns on top, and a few wilted green vegetable leaves. This amount of food was not enough to feed eight people, let alone fill a gap between their teeth.

He scoffed, not caring at all; he hadn't planned to make it for Chen Limei's family or her second and third sons anyway.

Chen Lihua and her fourth son, Chen Sanqi, are still in school and are minors, so he can't just ignore them.

But his other children are all adults, capable of doing anything. Why should he be made to serve them like a beast of burden? He has no responsibility, much less an obligation!

"Let's be self-reliant and have plenty to eat!"

There was still some flour at home, so Chen Deshun planned to roll out some noodles himself. It wasn't a lot for three people, and it wouldn't take long.

Chen Deshun washed the cucumbers clean, cut them into thin strips, and then turned around and knocked on the door of Wang Ma's house next door: "Little sister, could you lend me some soybean paste, chopped green onions, and a couple of heads of greens?"

He found it hard to call Wang Xiuying "Wang Ma" (a term of endearment for a woman), as they were only two years apart in age. He usually called her "Lao Mei" (older sister) or "Xiuying Meizi" (younger sister Xiuying).

Aunt Wang poked her head out and asked with a smile, "Haven't you started cooking yet? Are you making noodles with soybean paste?"

"Of course! We don't have enough ingredients at home, so I'll share some with you. I'll bring you a bowl when it's done, so you can try my cooking."

"No, no, we just ate at home. Wait a moment, I'll go get it for you."

Aunt Wang waved her hand and turned to get her things.

In my memory, Chen Deshun's wife was always the one cooking. It was only after she left that he had to cook for himself.

However, his cooking skills are really mediocre, so it's best to skip the meal.

I found a bag, packed the ingredients Chen Deshun needed, and handed it to him.

Although Wang Xiuying didn't say it, Chen Deshun could tell that she wasn't just being polite; she simply thought his cooking was terrible. He didn't argue and just smiled and thanked her.

"I'll take this first, and bring you something nice later!"

On his way back, Chen Deshun thought about some things from his previous life.

Back then, he really did cook haphazardly. He had too many things to worry about every day; even a donkey pulling a millstone wasn't as busy as him. He was lucky if he could just get enough to eat, so he didn't care about whether the food was good or not. No wonder Wang Xiuying looked down on him.

Because it really is just average.

However, that only applies to his past self and does not apply to his present self.

In the 1980s, with the opening up of policies, he followed the trend and set up a food stall.

Therefore, he specifically learned the craft from a master chef, and his cooking skills improved greatly.

They can make all sorts of classic Beijing dishes, such as fried noodles with soybean paste, braised pork, and braised pork with soy sauce.

Although I wouldn't dare claim it's 100% authentic, customers who ate there back then all praised the taste as genuine, and many longtime neighbors even made a special detour to eat his Zhajiangmian!

Chen Deshun worked quickly and efficiently, heating oil in a wok to sauté chopped scallions until fragrant, then adding soybean paste and stir-frying until it released its rich aroma. Finally, he drizzled some sesame oil to enhance the flavor, and the fried sauce was ready.

Cook the noodles, rinse them in cold water, put them in a bowl, pour on the fried sauce, and top with some shredded cucumber. A bowl of authentic old Beijing fried sauce noodles is ready.

He slowly ate his meal as he walked home, holding his bowl.

At this time, Chen Deshun was still living in a bungalow allocated by the factory, and the conditions were only so-so.

There was no central heating in winter, so we had to burn coal in the stove, and we had to keep adding coal and cleaning out the ashes morning and night. There was no separate kitchen, so we had to go to the public water tap to get water, and we had to go to the public toilet at the entrance of the alley to use the toilet.

However, people who live in single-story houses usually prepare chamber pots for use when they get up at night, and then empty them in the public toilet the next morning.

Chen Deshun suddenly remembered a report he had read years ago, though he couldn't remember which year it was. The reporter photographed Dou Wei emptying a spittoon and Faye Wong covering her nose while using the toilet. The caption read: "The fragrance of public toilets can also be romantic."

Yes, it's quite romantic in this day and age.

Getting back to the main point, because he doesn't have a separate kitchen, Chen Deshun usually has to either borrow a neighbor's stove or go to a shared kitchen for several households to cook, which is quite troublesome.

Chen Deshun plans to build a small kitchen and a toilet, and install a separate water tap, after he finishes paying off his family's debts.

Life should be convenient and comfortable.

As Chen Deshun was making plans, he stepped into his house with a bowl in his hand. A wave of smoke hit him, completely overpowering the aroma of the fried sauce noodles.

Looking down at the ground, he saw a mess, with sunflower seed shells scattered all over the floor. If he hadn't seen Chen Limei sitting with her legs crossed, happily munching on sunflower seeds, he would have thought he had entered the wrong house.

His good mood vanished instantly, his brows furrowed, and before he could even lash out, the sharp-eyed Chen Limei shamelessly approached and reached for the bowl in Chen Deshun's hand:

"Xiao Hui, come and eat! Your grandpa has brought your food."

"Are you sick?" Chen Deshun frowned and slapped away her outstretched hand.

Chen Limei's hand froze in mid-air, stunned for a full two seconds, her face full of astonishment: "Dad, isn't that Xiaohui's food you're holding?"

Chen Deshun took a bite of noodles with soybean paste, swallowed it, and then slowly said, "What a big face you have, making me serve him food? Aren't you afraid of shortening your lifespan? Besides, if you want to eat, go to your own house. This is my house!"

He glanced at the sunflower seed shells scattered on the floor, and without looking up, reminded her, "Remember to clean up my house before you leave, don't leave me with a mess."