Chapter 272: Zhang Guafu's Hot-Oil Noodles

But he was afraid of trouble; Zhang Guafu wasn't, and she grabbed Ye Cheng,

If you've just come back from sea, you definitely haven't eaten—let's go, to aunt's house to eat.

Ye Cheng felt embarrassed, couldn't pull away, but not pulling away wasn't right either, so he could only be dragged home by Zhang Guafu.

Although the home was still that run-down, you could tell Zhang Guafu's mood was much better now.

Especially Xiao Liang; this kid is now almost like a normal person, jumping around.

"Xiao Liang's surgery recovery is going well," Ye Cheng said.

Zhang Guafu looked fondly at her son, "Mm, his recovery is great, now there's no problem at all; this is all thanks to you lending me money, yet you still complain about coming over for a meal—are you afraid I'll eat you?"

Ye Cheng felt a bit overwhelmed; this middle-aged woman could be bold at times, making him a little nervous, so he could only sit properly.

"A Cheng, what would you like to eat?" Zhang Guafu said warmly, sitting opposite Ye Cheng.

"Aunt, just throw something together; I'm not that picky." Zhang Guafu wasn't wearing much, and as she bent her head, her bosom heaved, making Ye Cheng feel embarrassed.

Zhang Guafu herself knew this, chuckling, "Then aunt will make you some pulled-noodle with hot oil, you want that?"

"What? Pulled-noodle with hot oil? You can still make that?" Ye Cheng looked astonished.

Pulled-noodle with hot oil is a northwestern specialty noodle; here in the south, although some sell it, few actually know how to make it.

Zhang Guafu's face showed a trace of reminiscence as she sighed, "Aunt is from the northwest; this handmade noodle is still good—just wait, it'll be ready soon."

Hearing about the pulled-noodle with hot oil, Ye Cheng felt a bit eager; in his previous life he attended university in the northwest, where the rice was truly awful and the dishes were mainly Sichuan style.

But he truly loves this noodle—pulled noodles, hot-oil noodles, sour-soup noodles—all are noodles where the focus is the noodle itself, unlike southern noodles which are mainly about toppings and seafood.

Ye Cheng just likes this pure kind of noodle, especially hot-oil noodles; though the seasoning is simple, it's delicious.

"Aunt, can you pull the noodles wider?" Ye Cheng shouted.

"Sure, aunt can pull even trouser-belt noodles; just wait." Zhang Guafu was busy in the kitchen.

Xiao Liang glanced at Ye Cheng, still a bit unfamiliar, didn't dare speak to him, and slipped off to help his mother make noodles.

Zhang Guafu's home was tidy enough, just the furniture was old.

The kitchen also had a lot of stuff for preparing crayfish, neatly arranged and clean.

Hand-pulled noodles can't be made by those who don't know how, but for those who do, it's quick—Zhang Guafu had a big bowl ready in just ten-odd minutes.

Served in a large soup bowl, it was only half a bowl of noodles; the noodles were wide, standard belt-noodles, topped with chili and greens drenched in hot oil.

Ye Cheng tossed the noodles, and instantly the color came up—it looked right.

"A Cheng, eat up, aunt's noodles are absolutely delicious." Zhang Guafu and Xiao Liang had already eaten, sitting aside watching Ye Cheng eat.

A slurp of the noodles mixed the chili's fragrance with the vinegar's tartness, coating the noodles and making Ye Cheng's eyes light up—this was the flavor.

The noodles themselves were pulled well, quite chewy, thickness just right—won't turn mushy if too thin, nor stay undercooked if too thick.

"Aunt, this is really good; you should open a shop with these skills," Ye Cheng praised.

Zhang Guafu brushed the sweat-soaked hair from her forehead, "I'd also like to open a shop, but our village is small, few people come, and selling noodles wouldn't make much money either."

If it weren't for you, A Cheng, helping me think of this crayfish business, I would have collapsed long ago.

Speaking of crayfish, Ye Cheng casually asked, "Aunt, are crayfish still easy to sell now?"

"They sell well; city folks love them, but the supply is dwindling—the Chen brothers have gone far afield, scouring nearby villages, and there's not much left; now they can only sell about eighty catties a day."

Ye Cheng nodded; crayfish are seasonal, and since we never farmed them, the wild stock will eventually run out.

But these noodles reminded Ye Cheng of two other foods that were also popular for a long time; if crayfish sales ever drop, we could have Zhang Guafu open a shop and run a restaurant.

But this raises another issue—the village committee; if we want to make such a big change, the committee definitely needs to have a say.

A couple days ago, Li Quezi seemed to come say that Chen Jinhai still wants to run for office, so I should prepare as well.

Zhang Guafu saw Ye Cheng suddenly go quiet, thought her cooking wasn't tasty, and quickly pulled out two cloves of garlic, testing the waters:

"Or you could add some garlic; where we're from, eating noodles without garlic loses half the flavor."

Ye Cheng looked—damn, purple-skinned garlic, this is top-notch spicy stuff.

"Aunt, you really have everything covered."

Eating garlic like this—before Ye Cheng went to university in the northwest, he didn't get it, but after going there and trying it a few times, he instantly fell in love.

The texture is stimulating, the aroma unique; paired with grilled meat and noodles, it's truly perfect.

Ye Cheng took a clove of garlic, bit into it, tears nearly welled up—damn, purple-skinned garlic lives up to its reputation.

He quickly took another bite of noodles to catch that spicy kick—this flavor was amazing.

Some say eating garlic is unsophisticated, but the mustard in sushi is garlicky too—why is eating sushi and raw fish not considered unsophisticated? It's all the harm of blindly worshipping foreign things.

Ye Cheng ate a whole bowl of hot-oil noodles, feeling completely full.

"A Cheng, want some more?" Zhang Guafu looked at Ye Cheng as he finished, quite happy.

Ye Cheng has helped me so much, yet I never had a chance to repay him; seeing him like this, he still seems to like noodles, so next time I'll make him some extra.

"Aunt, I can't eat more; next time do you have meat-sauce noodles or cold skin?" Ye Cheng joked offhand.

"Sure, next time you come, aunt will prepare it." I didn't expect Zhang Guafu to agree so readily.

Having something to eat isn't bad—just treat it as collecting interest.

Having eaten and drunk his fill, Ye Cheng patted his butt and left under Zhang Guafu's reluctant gaze, giving off a bit of a jerk vibe.

After the meal, Ye Cheng went to his older brother's place; as soon as he entered, Jiang Yunxiang asked if he had eaten.

"I ate, had a bowl of noodles at Zhang Guafu's, and it was pretty good," Ye Cheng also didn't hide.

But as soon as he spoke, Jiang Yunxiang's brows furrowed, "You ate garlic, huh?"

"Ah, I ate two cloves; the flavor's a bit strong, right?"

Garlic's just like that—the breath is too heavy.

"It is a bit strong." Jiang Yunxiang wasn't used to this flavor.

Ye Cheng quickly stepped back two paces, "Brother, sister-in-law, any plans tomorrow? If not, let's go out to sea together."