RBI1960 Chapter 29 V1

The county town was busier in the morning than it had been the last time Jiang Yiliu visited.

Many workers were rushing to the factories, walking briskly with their heads down, afraid of being late. Those who had bicycles were more relaxed, ringing their bells from time to time with a sense of pride as envious pedestrians looked on. The crisp ding-ding of the bells echoed from one end of the alley to the other, but no one found it annoying.

Gu Xiashi parked his bicycle beside the state-run restaurant and unhooked the chain from the handlebars. He carefully locked the rear wheel to a nearby pole and tucked the key into the pocket on his chest.

Before he could help him down, Jiang Yiliu, who was sitting on the back seat, jumped off on his own, startling Gu Xiashi.

“You think you’re still a young lad, huh? If you scrape your knee, your grandma will have my head! Let’s see if I ever take you out with me again.” Gu Xiashi tapped his little nephew on the head, putting on a mock-stern face.

Before Jiang Yiliu could even react, Gu Xiashi burst out laughing at himself.

“Come on, Uncle’s treating you to something good today.” He ruffled the boy’s messy hair, took his hand, and led him into the restaurant.

The state-run restaurant wasn’t big—just one open room with five tables. Behind the counter sat a plump middle-aged woman, cracking sunflower seeds as if no one else were around. Even when the two walked in, she didn’t so much as lift an eyelid.

“Excuse me, miss, do you have plain noodles here?” A man in his forties, who had come in ahead of them, asked nervously. His clothes were neat, but he looked a little anxious.

“Miss? Are you calling me Miss? Are you blind?” the woman snapped, slamming her hand on the counter. Several seeds were scattered across the floor as she stood up, her thick fingers nearly jabbing the man in the face.

Startled, the man recoiled and then timidly rephrased, “Uh, ma’am, do you have any plain noodles?”

“Are you blind? Can’t you read the big sign over there? What a hick.” The woman slowly sat back down, her oversized backside making the wooden chair creak under the weight.

The man’s face turned red. After a long pause, he mumbled, “I… I don’t know how to read.”

“Hahaha! A grown man who’s illiterate dares to eat in our state-run restaurant? Can’t read? Then get lost! You think I’ve got time to read the menu out loud for you?” She laughed heartily, chomping sunflower seeds at an increasing pace. Soon, the floor beneath her was littered with shells.

“Uncle, plain noodles cost two taels of ration coupons and eight cents,” Jiang Yiliu whispered, seeing how embarrassed the man was.

In those days, people who worked in state-owned units generally thought they were a cut above the rest, especially those in supply cooperatives and the like. Supplies were limited, and they knew people had no choice but to suck up to them. The idea that “the customer is always right” didn’t exist yet—if anything, it was the other way around.

“Thank you, little guy,” the man blinked in surprise when he realized the speaker was a four- or five-year-old child. He gave Jiang Yiliu a grateful nod, glanced warily at the woman at the counter, shook his head, and left without ordering the noodles he had wanted.

“Pfft. What a joke.” The woman spat a sunflower seed shell onto the floor with disgust, launching it a surprising distance.

“You’re something else, kid—smarter than your uncle,” Gu Xiashi said, clearly impressed. He came into town often, so scenes like this didn’t faze him anymore. What surprised him was how his young nephew already knew so many characters. At his age, Gu himself had probably been running around with a snotty nose, digging in the dirt.

Pleased with himself, Gu Xiashi looked at the boy, who resembled him closely. If he could, he’d snatch the kid back from his sister and raise him as his own. It’s not like he had a wife—he was probably destined to be a lifelong bachelor. Having Xiaobao as a son wouldn’t be a bad deal.

Of course, that was just wishful thinking. If that idea ever got out, the old folks in the Jiang family would probably skin him alive. Just thinking about it gave Gu Xiashi a chill.

“What do you want to eat?” he asked, pointing to the menu on the wall.

Back then, state-run restaurants had limited menu options. The dishes changed daily, depending on what came in from the collective farms.

Jiang Yiliu had no idea what kind of scheme his uncle was up to lately, but judging by his demeanor, it looked like he’d struck a bit of luck. Still, Jiang didn’t want him to spend too much, so he looked for the cheapest dish on the menu.

“There’s beef noodles today? Must’ve been an old cow from one of the farms that finally kicked the bucket,” Gu Xiashi said, surprised. At the time, cattle were essential for plowing fields and highly valued by every production team. They weren’t butchered unless they died of old age.

“The people are the true heroes. Comrade, we’ll take two bowls of beef noodles and a bowl of mixed stew,” Gu Xiashi declared, then turned to his nephew. “Beef noodles like this don’t come around often. We’re getting some today.”

Jiang Yiliu still had high-grade beef in his spatial supermarket, but he couldn’t bring it out. Thankfully, time inside the space was frozen. In his previous life, he’d been so frugal that he could split a single penny in two. The thought of wasting anything would’ve made his heart ache.

Back in America, where he’d lived for over a decade, beef was the cheapest meat. A pound of ordinary quality cost only three or four dollars, and during supermarket sales, prices dipped even lower. He’d eaten so much of it that just seeing beef used to make him nauseous. Vegetables, on the other hand, were pricey. To get vitamins, he often had to rely on cheap fruit.

In the five years since his rebirth, he’d rarely had meat. Now, just seeing beef noodles made his mouth water. When he saw the price—three taels of ration coupons and ten cents a bowl—it wasn’t that much more expensive than the plain noodles, so he didn’t object.

“Long live the people! That’ll be seven taels of ration coupons and twenty-five cents,” the woman said with visible annoyance. She finally put down her sunflower seeds and scribbled something on a slip of paper, which she tore off and handed to Gu Xiashi.

“Times have changed. Men and women are equal now. Go to the pick-up window and get it yourself,” she said after counting the ration coupons and dropping them into the metal box on the counter.

Jiang Yiliu couldn’t help smiling at how full of the times the whole exchange was. Back then, no matter what you did, you had to start with a Chairman Mao quote—even if it had nothing to do with the situation.

“Come on, let’s go pick up the food,” Gu Xiashi said, holding his nephew’s hand and handing the slip to the person behind the other window. The worker inside silently took it and walked off. About ten minutes later, they came back with two steaming bowls of noodles and one of stew.

There were no other customers, so they picked a table at random. Each table had a bucket of chopsticks, a few spoons, and some condiments: chili sauce, chopped cilantro, and garlic cloves—all self-serve.

Jiang Yiliu’s eyes widened when he saw the bowl—it was bigger than his whole face. Portions in this era were seriously generous. Each bowl had two thick slices of beef, each the size of half his hand and as thick as his thumb. Given the price, it was a bargain—meat coupons were scarce, but ration coupons were easier for most families to manage.

He was a little confused—if the food here wasn’t expensive, why was the place so empty? He glanced at the woman at the counter and realized the answer might be obvious: people probably got scared off.

“Eat up while it’s hot, or the noodles will get soggy,” Gu Xiashi said as he added a handful of chopped cilantro and a spoonful of chili sauce to his bowl. “Cilantro makes the flavor pop. You want some?” he asked, already reaching for Jiang’s bowl.

Jiang quickly covered his bowl with both hands. Cilantro—known in modern times as coriander—was one of those things people either loved or hated. Jiang was firmly in the hate camp.

“I like it plain,” he said. He considered adding chili sauce but remembered that Grandpa Bai’s health tonic required him to avoid strong flavors.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Gu Xiashi muttered, shaking his head and slurping down his noodles. “This mixed stew’s good too—just leftovers thrown together with some meat and veggies. Costs half as much as a meat dish and tastes great.”

The beef had been simmered until tender and practically melted in his mouth, soaked through with rich spices. Jiang Yiliu couldn’t tell whether the chef was that good or if it had just been so long since he’d had meat that he was imagining it.

He finished off the two slices of beef before even touching the noodles underneath.

The noodles were handmade, springy and chewy, and the broth had been boiled from beef bones. In ten or twenty years, when machines took over everything, you wouldn’t find handmade noodles like these anymore.

Even though it tasted amazing, Jiang Yiliu’s small stomach could only handle so much. After about half a bowl, he was full.

Gu Xiashi didn’t mind. He polished off his nephew’s leftovers in a few big bites, along with the rest of the stew, and didn’t leave a drop. He burped, wiped his mouth, and stood up.

“Uncle’s taking you somewhere special,” he said mysteriously, leading Jiang Yiliu down several winding alleys.

They walked for over twenty minutes. Jiang Yiliu had already run laps around the village and squatted in a horse stance that morning. His legs were like noodles. But his uncle’s tone piqued his curiosity. He patted his round belly, gritted his teeth, and held tightly to his uncle’s hand, keeping pace.

Fortunately, they arrived soon.

It was a courtyard surrounded by high walls, with a crooked sign out front that read: Scrap Collection Station. A slightly plump woman in an army green padded jacket sat on a low stool outside. When she saw Gu Xiashi, her eyes lit up, and she stood to greet him enthusiastically.

“Well, well, look who’s back! Looking for more picture books for the kid, huh?” Her eyes shifted to Jiang Yiliu and lit up even more. She crouched down and pinched his cheek affectionately.

“This must be that precious son you’re always talking about. He looks just like you! If I had such a handsome boy, I wouldn’t let him suffer either.”