Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

In the front yard, Yan Bugui, who was painstakingly wiping down his old bicycle in front of his house, suddenly twitched his nose twice. That smell… it’s the aroma of fried food! Such a strong, oily fragrance!

The old man suddenly raised his head and looked towards the central courtyard, or more precisely, towards the east wing where the central and back courtyards met. His throat bobbed involuntarily; the joy from yesterday's piece of dried meat hadn't faded yet, and now the domineering aroma of fried meat was making his mouth water again.

He clicked his tongue and muttered under his breath, "This Wei Chen family... is really celebrating the New Year..." His tone was complicated, with envy, a hint of jealousy, but mostly relief at his "wise decision" last night—at least his family had meat, although it couldn't compare to the aroma of freshly fried dough sticks.

In the middle courtyard, at the Jia family's residence, Jia Zhangshi sat cross-legged on the kang (a heated brick bed), eating thin porridge with some pickled vegetables. Banggeng and Xiaodang stared longingly at the cornbread on the table, their appetites whetted. Just then, the aroma of fried food wafted in.

Banggeng sniffed hard: "Grandma, it smells so good! It smells like fried dough sticks!"

Madam Jia Zhang also smelled it, and a glint of greed and resentment flashed in her triangular eyes. She chewed hard, dry cornbread in her mouth as if she were chewing on some enemy, muttering indistinctly, "Eat, eat, all you know is eating! That selfish, damned bastard, doesn't even know how to help the neighbors! Even if you have oil, you shouldn't waste it like this! That damned Wei Chen, that good-for-nothing! He has no compassion at all! He doesn't even send us any! Sigh… good-for-nothing, we're poor and destitute, just smelling it is enough!"

Even so, she couldn't help but stretch her neck and sniff hard in the direction the fragrance was coming from, swallowing hard with a "gulp" sound.

She felt a pang of unease, like being scratched by a cat. It was Wei Chen's family again! How come they always got all the good things? Meat, noodles, and now fried dough sticks! Wasn't this just showing off and trying to infuriate her? But she only dared to mutter to herself in her own room. After being turned down several times before, she knew that Wei Chen was not someone to mess with. That kid looked young, but he was ruthless.

Qin Huairu was washing clothes outside the door, the icy water making her fingers turn red. Smelling the fragrance, she paused, her eyes dimming.

Both women were widowed and raising their children alone, and their lives used to be even worse than hers. But now? Her son is capable, and they live a prosperous life, eating white flour steamed buns, big chunks of meat, and now they even have oily fried dough sticks.

As for herself… She looked down at the tattered clothes in the basin, then thought of the empty grain jar and the bare oil bottle at home, and a wave of indescribable bitterness and helplessness washed over her. She silently quickened her scrubbing movements, as if that would wash away those unpleasant contrasts and scents from her mind.

In the backyard, Liu Haizhong paced restlessly in his house, hands behind his back. He too had smelled the aroma, and his brows furrowed even more. The scene of Wei Chen bringing home an excessive amount of New Year's gifts yesterday was still vivid in his mind, and now they were frying dough sticks! This was blatant showing off!

He snorted heavily and said to his second aunt, who was sewing shoe soles, "Can you smell that? Frying dough sticks! How big of a pot, how much oil? Doesn't he know how to manage money? He's showing off just because he has something. He'll get what's coming to him sooner or later!" His second aunt glanced at him but didn't say anything. In her heart, she thought: He has the right to show off, but do you? If you're so capable, why don't you fry some too? But she didn't dare say it out loud.

Inside the east courtyard, however, a bustling scene unfolded, filled with the aroma of cooking.

In the oil pan, golden-brown fried dough sticks sizzled and puffed up, releasing an enticing aroma. Wang Xiulan skillfully flipped them with long chopsticks, ensuring each side was fried evenly and crispy.

Wei Chen held a bamboo strainer and stood by the pot. He waited for the dough sticks to fry until they were golden brown and crispy, then quickly scooped them out, drained the oil, and placed them in a bamboo basket lined with absorbent paper.

"Keep the fire low, Ranran. Now we need to fry it over low heat so that it's cooked through inside," Wang Xiulan instructed.

"Yes!" Wei Ran responded crisply, skillfully pulling out a few pieces of firewood to reduce the flames in the stove.

The freshly fried dough sticks were steaming hot, golden in color, plump, and emitted an incredibly tempting aroma. Wei Ran couldn't resist moving closer to the bamboo basket and taking a deep breath: "It smells so good! Mom, can I have one? Just one!"

"Little glutton, these are piping hot, let them cool a bit before you eat them," Wang Xiulan said with a smile, a satisfied look on her face. Watching the fried dough sticks turn golden and crispy in the oil, smelling the rich aroma, although she felt bad about wasting oil, the sense of accomplishment from making delicious food and making her family happy still overshadowed the regret.

"Here, have a taste, be careful, it's hot." Wei Chen picked up a slightly cooled fried dough stick with his chopsticks, broke it in two, and handed one piece to his sister and the other to his mother.

Wei Ran took it, carefully blew on it, and took a small bite. With a soft "crunch," the outer layer was crispy, while the inside was soft and chewy, with a unique salty aroma from the mixture of alkali and salt, blended with the rich flavor of peanut oil. It melted in her mouth, simply a delicacy! She happily squinted her eyes, eating it in small bites, reluctant to finish it all at once.

Wang Xiulan took the fried dough stick, took a bite, and chewed it carefully. It was indeed fragrant, even more fragrant than the one she remembered eating at her parents' home when she was young. Looking at her children's satisfied smiles, she felt that this occasional "luxury" was worthwhile.

After frying a basin of dough, a small mountain of golden, crispy fried dough sticks piled up in the bamboo basket. Wang Xiulan estimated the amount of oil and reluctantly stopped frying. "That's enough, enough for several meals. If we fry any more, the oil will get too dark and it'll be a waste." She said, carefully scooping the remaining oil into a clean earthenware jar to save for later use in stir-fries. The remaining oil at the bottom of the pan wasn't wasted either; it was saved for frying or stir-frying to add flavor next time.

After frying the dough sticks, it was already noon. After a quick clean-up, Wei Chenlan used some of the leftover oil to stir-fry some cabbage and glass noodles, and also made a sour soup with eggs and vegetables. The steaming hot sour soup, paired with freshly steamed white flour buns and golden, crispy dough sticks, made for a "luxurious" lunch in the cold winter of 59.

The sour soup was appetizing, the steamed buns were soft and fluffy, and the fried dough sticks were crispy and fragrant. The family of three sat around the table, eating with great relish. Wei Ran held a steamed bun in one hand and a fried dough stick in the other, stuffing her little mouth full.

Watching the children eat so heartily, Wang Xiulan felt as sweet as if she had drunk honey. Wei Chen took a sip of the sour soup, the warmth going straight to his stomach. Seeing his mother and sister's satisfied expressions, he felt that all the hard work and planning had been worthwhile.

"Mom, these fried dough sticks are really good, they smell even better than the ones sold outside," Wei Chen praised.

"That's right, your mother used to help with the cooking back in my parents' home." Wang Xiulan said with a hint of pride. "But this oil is too precious. I won't dare to eat like this again."

"It's just once in a while, it's fine," Wei Chen laughed. "It's the New Year, so we should eat something good. I'll figure out how to get some oil after the New Year."

"You're just trying to flatter me," Wang Xiulan said playfully, though her eyes were full of laughter.

After clearing away the dishes and resting for a while, Wang Xiulan and Wei Chen started preparing the meat.

The pork, beef, and mutton, which had been soaking for most of the day, had already been scooped out by Wei Chen, drained, and arranged neatly on the cutting board, like pieces of uncut jade waiting to be carved. Sunlight streamed in through the window, sparingly casting a few rays that shone on the bright red lean meat and white fat, giving them an enticing sheen.

"Mom, let's process this pork belly first. We can braise it; it'll keep longer and be easier to eat." Wei Chen picked up a sharp cleaver and rubbed it against the whetstone a few times, the blade gleaming coldly. He skillfully pressed the large piece of pork belly skin-side down onto the cutting board, his wrist steady and powerful, his cuts precise.

With a flash of the knife, square pieces of meat, each with distinct layers of fat and lean, and almost identical in size, were cut out and neatly arranged in a ceramic bowl beside them. Each piece of meat was about the size of a child's fist, thick and plump, with clear distinction between skin, fat, and lean meat; just looking at it made one's mouth water.

"Your knife skills are just as good as your father's back in the day," Wang Xiulan said, watching from the side, her eyes filled with nostalgia and pride. She took the cut pieces of meat and began preparing to blanch them. She poured cold water into a large iron pot, added the meat pieces, a few slices of ginger, a section of scallion, and a spoonful of Shaoxing wine. This was a crucial step to remove the gamey smell and enhance the aroma, and it couldn't be taken lightly.

Inside the stove, Wei Ran had already added more firewood. The little girl knew that meat was going to be cooked, so she worked extra hard, her face flushed red in the firelight, her eyes sparkling as she stared at the pot.

The beef brisket and lamb leg were also carefully cleaned. The beef brisket was cut into large chunks, while the lamb leg was cut into smaller chunks along the grain. They were placed in separate bowls, sprinkled with some coarse salt, and simply marinated to make them easier to preserve and to impart some flavor.

The winter sun, peeking through the clouds, sparingly cast a sliver of light into the courtyard. On the stone platform beside the well, neatly cut pieces of meat, washed clean, gleamed healthily in the clear water. The air seemed to still carry the lingering aroma of fried food, mingled with the faint, raw smell of meat, creating a uniquely festive and bustling atmosphere characteristic of the year-end season.

Wei Chen straightened up, wiped his hands, and looked at the fruits of his labor, a smile appearing on his lips. With this meat, he finally felt confident about celebrating the New Year.

As the water temperature gradually rises, the blood and impurities in the meat are slowly forced out, forming grayish foam. Wei Chen carefully skims off the foam with a spoon until the soup becomes clear. The blanched meat pieces are then removed and rinsed with warm water to remove the surface foam; each piece becomes firm and pinkish-white.

"Ranran, turn the fire down, it's time to caramelize the sugar," Wei Chen instructed. He picked up a smaller iron pot and put in a small spoonful of the incredibly precious white sugar that Wei Chen had brought back. In an era of extreme scarcity, sugar was a luxury, and caramelizing sugar was a technique that only wealthier families could afford to use during the New Year or major festivals.