Chapter 7: Chapter Seven: Cradled by the Taihe River

Jiang Yuan changed into casual clothes, mounted his electric scooter, and drove home slowly.

The advantage of working in his hometown is how close it is—even if you live outside the city, an electric scooter gets you there in minutes, letting you enjoy the riverside scenery without traffic jams.

As for urban landscaping, Ningtai County has done quite well. Especially along the Taihe River, great effort went into its design, construction, and maintenance, evident from one statistic: in just the half-month since Jiang Yuan joined, authorities had fined five couples for sex in cars along the riverbank—all of them outsiders drawn by the view. Locals who wanted to do such things knew to go to Mount Sining, where the scenery was equally beautiful and dramatic, the terrain more complex, the crowds thinner, and enforcement nearly nonexistent.

Jiangjia Village sits at the foot of Mount Sining, cradled by the Taihe River. Once famous throughout the region for its dense paddy fields, it is now known locally for its demolition as part of a scenic zone.

Jiang Yuan’s family land had all been seized; their new housing units were scattered across multiple neighborhoods inside and outside the city. Jiang’s father lived in Jiangcun Neighborhood, closest to the original site of Jiangjia Village—the neighborhood with the highest concentration of Jiang family members, where every floor and stairwell was filled with villagers who, aside from no longer tilling the land, lived just as they had in the village.

Comrade Jiang Fuzhen had built a large earthen stove in his own kitchen. Aside from modifying the chimney and installing a powerful exhaust hood, he still used firewood and coal as fuel. The cast-iron pot in the center was wide enough for a whole sheep and deep enough for a goose—imposing… and delicious.

When Jiang Yuan entered Jiangcun Neighborhood, he kept nodding to people on both sides, parked his scooter downstairs, then returned to the elevator, where he found someone already waiting.

“Aunt Hua,” Jiang Yuan greeted. A middle-aged woman from the same village and surname but outside the five degrees of kinship was uniformly addressed as “Aunt” or “Auntie” plus her given name.

Aunt Hua smiled, then blurted out: “Did your Seventeenth Aunt kill your Seventeenth Uncle?”

Jiang Yuan froze. “The case is still under investigation. I can’t say anything.”

“So it’s true?” Aunt Hua clenched her fists, her toes already twitching with the urge to spread the news.

Jiang Yuan recalled how every holiday homecoming brought him a barrage of rumors—he knew he must give no hint, and repeated patiently: “The case is still under investigation. I can’t tell you the details. I can’t tell you whether the rumors you heard are true or not…”

“So it’s false?” Aunt Hua clearly wasn’t giving up.

Pfft.

The elevator doors opened.

Jiang Yuan seized the chance to step out, then yanked open his own door—residents of Jiangcun Neighborhood all left their doors unlocked during the day, so visiting required no knocking, just a shout to announce yourself.

Jiang Yuan shouted as he entered: “Dad, I’m back!”

This apartment had been created by merging four entire units. Jiang Fuzhen’s beloved traditional wood-fired stove stood in the eastern kitchen; if you stood inside, you had to shout to be heard.

“I heard,” his father Jiang Fuzhen said, emerging with a towel, wiping his hands. He called out from afar: “Auntie, come on in!”

“I ran into Yuanwa on the way,” Aunt Hua said, following Jiang Yuan in, greeting him casually, then plopping onto the sofa.

The complete annihilation of Seventeenth Uncle’s family was not the same as gossip about Old Han’s daughter-in-law cheating or Old Liu’s son getting caught soliciting. Aunt Hua now felt a sense of mission: she must ensure every villager in Jiangcun received the accurate news.

“Have some tea, eat some sunflower seeds. We didn’t prepare anything…” Jiang Fuzhen was plump in build and spoke in a slow, unhurried tone.

Aunt Hua waved dismissively, fixed her gaze on Jiang Yuan, and pressed on: “I heard your Seventeenth Uncle’s shop closed, people searched his house, his wife’s phone is unreachable, and when I left messages on her WeChat, she didn’t reply. What’s going on?”

“I can’t explain,” Jiang Yuan thought. The questions gave him more information than he had. All he could do was stay calm.

Creak.

Someone else walked straight in.

“Uncle. Brother. Auntie. What are you talking about? Are you talking about Seventeenth Uncle?” This newcomer was Jiang Yuan’s peer, Jiang Yongxin, who ran a car wash downstairs.

Aunt Hua glanced at Jiang Yuan, winked mysteriously, and laughed: “Just chatting.”

Jiang Yongxin chuckled twice, turned to Jiang Yuan, and said: “Brother, tell me about Seventeenth Uncle.”

“Can’t talk about it…” Jiang Yuan repeated the same words he’d just told Aunt Hua.

Jiang Yongxin listened intently, then grinned excitedly: “So you really know what happened—but you can’t say?”

Jiang Yuan sighed. He might as well have spoken to empty air.

He stood up and waved his hand: “I’ll go help in the kitchen.”

His father Jiang Fuzhen chuckled and followed, calling back to the two: “Help yourselves to food and drink.”

Aunt Hua and Jiang Yongxin paid no mind, quickly launching into heated discussion. Before Jiang Yuan even reached the kitchen, the front door creaked again, and a familiar yet unfamiliar voice called out: “Fuzhen home? I’m just popping by.”

Jiang Yuan and his father pretended not to hear, quietly entering the kitchen.

Sure enough, the living room erupted into even louder chatter.

Inside the wood-fired pot, beef bubbled steadily. Slightly yellowed fat from the meat trembled gently in the boiling water.

“Hungry? Want some meat?” Jiang Fuzhen asked his son.

Jiang Yuan patted his stomach and nodded. Today’s autopsy had been thorough, the workload immense. The single-serving egg fried rice at the funeral parlor was too oily, too sparse in egg—hardly enough to sustain him.

Jiang Fuzhen chuckled, took a small knife and a pair of chopsticks from the stove, plunged the chopsticks into the pot, lifted out a piece of tender beef, sliced it slowly with the knife, and handed it to Jiang Yuan.

Jiang Yuan had already held out a plate. He took it, blew on it, and began eating.

His mother had died early; he’d been raised by his father. Braised meats were his favorite, and the dish Jiang Fuzhen had always cooked best.

Unlike many parents, Jiang Fuzhen, having become financially free from early demolition compensation, had ample time to study cooking. Over the years, his skills had steadily improved—he was now a culinary connoisseur among Ningtai’s displaced families.

Today’s beef was cooked exceptionally well: mild, not greasy, seasoned simply with salt, satisfying both palate and stomach.

“Tired?” Jiang Fuzhen opened a can of beer, handed one to Jiang Yuan, then opened another for himself, gulping it down.

Jiang Yuan shook his head: “Not really. Plenty of people are more tired than me.”

Jiang Fuzhen laughed: “There aren’t many people in China lazier than me. Sometimes I even feel tired… Anyway, if you really don’t want to keep working, buy a sports car, get married like the other young folks in the village, and just drift through life.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jiang Yuan knew his father was joking. Compared to himself, Jiang Fuzhen cared more about having a formal position. To get him to agree to resignation, he’d need at least two grandchildren as bargaining chips.

“Fuzhen! Fuzhen!” Someone shouted outside: “Your Third Uncle’s here!”

"Help yourself to the meat; today’s celebration is like when Seventeenth Uncle passed away in our house," Jiang Fuzhen wiped his hands on his pants and told Jiang Yuan, then returned to the living room to greet the guest.

Soon, visitors kept arriving, filling the house with a clamor of voices.

Jiang Yuan sighed, walked out the back door, and took the fire escape elevator to the rooftop. The rooftop apartment had been renovated according to his suggestion, fancifully called a “wedding suite,” but remained a bachelor’s room—perfect now for Jiang Yuan to escape the noise and practice his new technique while reading a novel.