Chapter 9: Fragrant, Truly Fragrant

Pour in mountain spring water.

Finally add that huge handful of vermicelli, "What a pity, if the vermicelli were soaked beforehand, it would taste even better."

"He's someone who can make pork stewed with vermicelli," Mi Long muttered at this moment.

The pork stewed with vermicelli on the opposite side is far more authentic than ours.

Here it's truly a big mixed stew; the point is there are so many people but only this little amount, definitely not enough to eat; everyone just gets a small bowl, with a bit more broth.

"One pot enough to choke them to death," Meng Fanle said jealously, looking at the pot opposite; not even counting them, even fifty more people would be enough.

Of course, it's exaggerated; don't be fooled by these sickly broken soldiers, when they actually eat heartily, this one pot is probably insufficient.

The aroma also attracted broken soldiers from other areas, but none dared to come in; among this group, the toughest is Mi Long, and these people are scared of Mi Long's fighting, so they don't dare enter.

A group of people has a leader; Mi Long looks like he doesn't get along with anyone, but precisely because Mi Long is in this courtyard, people from other courtyards don't dare act recklessly.

"Fragrant, truly fragrant." Even Jiang Anguo kept nodding, amazed by his own cooking.

Just remembered he forgot the salt, "Xiao Si, bring the salt over."

In fact it's already salty; soy sauce is salty.

"Now that's the right flavor," Jiang Anguo shouted, "If this pot were only for the people in this courtyard, it would be enough, but with so many wanting to eat, it certainly isn't enough."

These are all his own troops, so Jiang Anguo naturally has his own plans.

Taming a group of broken soldiers is not easy.

"Xiao Si, bring a bowl, why are you just standing there watching?" Jiang Anguo saw Xiao Si's mouth watering.

"Coming, commander." Xiao Si's speed had never been this fast, faster than a rabbit.

"This bowl is so small, it's for the kids!"

Jiang Anguo swapped Xiao Si for a large bowl, filling it with plenty of pork belly, then vermicelli and cabbage; this pork stewed with vermicelli is meant to be eaten with pork belly together with the vermicelli and cabbage.

Everyone in the courtyard stared at Jiang Anguo's huge pot of pork stewed with vermicelli, it was about to overflow.

"Stop staring, bring a bowl. From now on I'm your superior, I won't let you starve."

"Oh!"

The crowd in the courtyard went crazy, crowding with their cracked bowls, quickly surrounding Jiang Anguo's side.

"What are you shoving for? Platoon line up one by one," Jiang Anguo shouted loudly.

But his shout seemed useless; instead a scramble for food erupted.

Unable to think further, he drew the m1911 at his waist and fired three shots into the sky, "Bang, bang, bang."

This was Jiang Anguo's first time firing a gun; fortunately, having mastered firearms, his hand was steady.

The chaotic scene instantly quieted.

Everyone stayed where they were; most of those inside didn't even have guns, and seeing Jiang Anguo's pistol they were naturally frightened; these people had long lost their courage.

A rush forward could easily snatch this pot of pork stewed with vermicelli, but this is a Shelter, and a Shelter has its own rules.

If you beat or kill the superior, you'll be in big trouble.

"Now it's quiet, look at yourselves, say it nicely, you're still wearing military uniforms, you're soldiers; I see you as a bunch of bandits in uniform," Jiang Anguo shouted loudly.

"You damn it, line up one by one for me, what do you look like, never seen food, line up in two rows, line up for me, Xiao Si, come help."

"Those watching from Outside, each house sends a representative inside, takes a big bowl, reports the headcount; I will be your commander from now on, don't give me false reports, military law applies."

The seventy jin of pork he brought is obviously insufficient; this place has eight hundred broken soldiers registered. Jiang Anguo now understands why he feels there are more than eight hundred, because the wounded aren't counted.

The wounded, to put it bluntly, if they don't recover, they're no different from the dead.

In the courtyard there are seven or eight wounded, among them two have malaria; if not treated, death is near.

"Veterinarian, what should we do?" Kang Ya looked at her pot of pork stewed with vermicelli, which lacked the aroma of the opposite side.

Mi Long glared and immediately said, "What, my dish isn't tasty? Everyone go get a bowl, we'll eat too."

"My version is the authentic pork stewed with vermicelli; that kid is just buying hearts, understand?" Mi Long said bluntly, but it was true.

Meng Fanle, also unbothered, said, "That pretty face, you can tell he has no good intentions."

Lin Yi, the veterinarian, Li Liansheng, not spicy, Yao Ma, Dou Bing, She Pigu, each person was deep in thought.

She Pigu gave each person a bowl of pork stewed with vermicelli, or rather a broth‑filled pork stewed with vermicelli, with Beef mixed in.

Fortunately, there were no people teaming up in the courtyard; when they came to Jiang Anguo's side, otherwise it truly wouldn't be enough to share.

Jiang Anguo naturally heard it and smiled faintly.

But he didn't mind; while handing out pork stewed with vermicelli, he said, "What's your name?"

"Sir, I'm Chen Shaoyun, from Zhejiang," the soldier holding the bowl said.

Zhejiang troops were the first batch to be wiped out; reaching Yunnan alive is not easy.

Jiang Anguo nodded, "Next."

He could have handed this task to others, but he chose to do it himself; he wanted these broken soldiers to know him, giving each a fair spoonful, each bowl also containing a few pieces of meat.

Soon, word spread throughout Mi Long's courtyard about the distribution of pork stewed with vermicelli.

More and more broken soldiers crowded into this courtyard; Mi Long couldn't curb his urge, but with hundreds present, his cracked mouth was useless.

Jiang Anguo also saw the camp's condition firsthand: messy, chaotic; these soldiers, as he thought, had lost their souls.

These people would surely lose in battle; one must admire how Long Wen Zhang led them to Myanmar, leaving only a dozen or so to return to Chanda.

A few could only hide in the Corner, eating vermicelli.

"Sir, let me help you."

Jiang Anguo turned around and saw it was Chen Shaoyun, the one who had just asked for his name.

"Ningbo person," Jiang Anguo thought the accent sounded like.

"Yes, Sir," Chen Shaoyun replied.

"Xiao Si, go rest aside, let Chen Shaoyun distribute, remember, be fair."

Xiao Si sprang to his feet and said, "Camp commander, you should go rest."

"If I let you rest, then rest; why are you so talkative?" Jiang Anguo kicked Xiao Si with his foot.

Xiao Si properly crouched to the side and began eating; the bowl he had before was poured back and reheated, and Jiang Anguo served him a steaming bowl of pork stewed with vermicelli.

Xiao Si felt tears well up again; it was truly delicious. He sipped a mouthful, yet he didn't touch the pork, wanting to save the pork for the very end.