Chapter 81

Next, Su Xinghui began teaching Xia Zhu sketching; today he brought her some soft pencils and some white paper he used for his own sketching practice—this paper had a slightly rough surface, perfect for beginners like Xia Zhu.

Indeed, with the soft pencils used together with her original harder ones, Xia Zhu's still-life drawings improved today: the soft pencils suited darker areas, while the harder ones suited lighter areas; used in tandem, the sketches appeared far more realistic.

The greatest benefit of learning sketching was further enhancing Xia Zhu's modeling skills and her artistic literacy; once her sketching became more proficient, Su Xinghui would teach her Chinese painting, and with broader abilities, her ability to create bamboo-weave paintings would grow stronger.

Su Xinghui's first art teacher was, of course, Teacher Pan Yuxuan; Su Xinghui's artistic talent was undeniable—he had always excelled at drawing since childhood.

In elementary school, drawing lessons generally focused on watercolors and sketching, since these painting methods required simple conditions; later, Su Xinghui began learning Chinese painting from his uncle-by-marriage, Yu Maode.

In his past life, when Su Xinghui's career stalled, he poured his emotions into calligraphy, seal carving, painting, and musical instruments, devoting immense energy to these pursuits; though multi-talented, he grew increasingly despised by his former wife, who accused him of neglecting his duties and wasting his spirit on frivolities.

After his rebirth, he simply used these very talents to teach Xia Zhu.

Watching Xia Zhu's talent, Su Xinghui's mood was naturally excellent.

After teaching for an hour, Su Xinghui went into the kitchen; Xia Zhu's mother had already prepared all the dishes—the fish had been cleaned and laid out on the cutting board.

Su Xinghui began slicing meat and filleting fish; Xia Zhu stood beside him to assist. She had offered to cook, but Su Xinghui insisted on preparing a meal for their family, so she could only let him; she was also curious—could such a great talent actually cook?

Su Xinghui moved swiftly—he made stir-fried green peppers with pork, boiled fish slices, simmered tofu with fish bones into soup, and a few greens, which he stir-fried with lard until the aroma filled the air; Xia Zhu, standing nearby, beamed with delight.

Su Xinghui was quite satisfied with his own cooking today; the Xia family's stove was a large earthen hearth with a big iron pot, fueled by firewood—food cooked in such a pot was especially fragrant, especially since he had used lard today.

In another small iron pot, a pot of rice had also steamed perfectly; rice steamed over firewood in an iron pot was especially fragrant—he scooped up the soft upper layer of rice, leaving only a crisp, golden crust at the bottom, a delicacy; he ladled a large gourdful of mountain spring water into the pot, let the firewood smolder slowly, and when the fire died out, a pot of delicious rice-crust porridge was ready.

When the rice-crust porridge was done, it was just time to finish the meal; then, sipping a bowl of it, it was simply heavenly.

Xia Zhu was surprised Su Xinghui could even make rice-crust porridge; he explained he had seen Huang Sao cook it at the township government canteen and learned from her—this was no lie, though it had happened in his past life.

All dishes were ready; it was time to eat. The Xia family always ate at a small table placed on Xia Zhu's father's bed for his convenience; today, with Su Xinghui present, Xia Zhu's father insisted they eat at the large table in the main room, otherwise it would be impolite.

But Su Xinghui carried the small table himself to his bed, brought the dishes over, and ate just as they normally did.

This deeply moved Xia Zhu's parents; they lifted their bowls, and tears streamed down uncontrollably.

Xia Zhu's father's name was Xia Shisheng; he had once been an excellent herb collector, often gathering rare medicinal plants from the mountains, enough to support his family; now, after a fall that left him injured and unable to afford treatment, he lay paralyzed in bed, and the family had fallen into difficulty.

A man in his forties, facing such a plight, even had to consider marrying off his daughter to a cripple to change their fate—his inner torment was unimaginable; had it not been for his children, he might have already taken his own life.

These past days, Su Xinghui's arrival had reignited hope for the Xia family; their daughter, once perpetually gloomy, now smiled sweetly; today, Su Xinghui had even bought ingredients to cook for them—how could they not be grateful?

Xia Shisheng choked out: "Comrade Su, you are our family's benefactor!"

Su Xinghui hurriedly replied: "Uncle Xia, don't say that—it's what township government cadres are supposed to do! Please, eat more dishes—how do my stir-fries taste? Do they suit your palates?"

Everyone picked up chopsticks, tasted the food, and nodded together: "Delicious! Extremely delicious!"

How could it not be delicious? The Xia family hadn't tasted fish or meat in over a month; and today's meal was meticulously prepared by Su Xinghui—it was nothing short of rare delicacies to them!

Su Xinghui smiled: "If it's delicious, eat more!"

Su Xinghui urged them to eat more, but ate little of the fish or meat himself—he mostly ate greens and tofu; yet even these tasted quite good.

Su Xinghui told Xia Zhu's mother: "Auntie, eat more—I saved some meat and fish to cook for Xia Zhu's younger siblings when they get home from school; no need to save any now, I'll buy more next time."

Xia Zhu's younger siblings attended middle school in town, so they didn't come home for lunch.

Xia Zhu's mother gasped: "Comrade Su, you mustn't! Today you've already spent too much—how could we let you buy groceries again?"

Su Xinghui laughed: "It's fine, Auntie—I just have a craving. Next time I come, I'll still be eating here anyway—I'll buy good ingredients for myself too! Besides, I don't use my family's money; my salary covers just my own meals."

Xia Shisheng said: "Comrade Su, you eating at our home is our honor—we should be buying the groceries! This is truly shameful! It's all my damned injury!"

Su Xinghui asked: "Uncle, can your injury be treated?"

Xia Shisheng replied: "I went to the hospital—they said it could be treated. Something about nerves not being completely dead—there's a hematoma pressing on the nerves, and surgery could restore function, followed by rehabilitation. The best outcome would restore most mobility. But we have no money, so…"

He shook his head. Xia Zhu said: "Dad, don't worry—I'll earn money and get you treated. You'll recover!"

Xia Shisheng shook his head sadly; such illness required long-term treatment and a great deal of money—he didn't believe Xia Zhu could earn that sum so quickly. Now he only hoped the family could just get by—he no longer dared dream of miracles.