Ink River sweltered in the peak of summer, the heat rising like a furnace. Dong Xiaojuan’s previous business came in handy, as she had connections to wholesale ice pops privately. She directly carried a bag of over twenty ice pops to the Feng Family Home.
“Your place has a freezer, so store them and eat them slowly.” Her merchant’s habit of calculating costs showed through. “It’s ten cents cheaper per pop than buying outside!”
After Feng Man had stirred up trouble between Zhao Gang and the brothers he had betrayed, she was in a good mood. Her eyes lit up at the sight of so many ice pops. “Cousin-in-law, you’re so thoughtful. Thanks~ By the way, your lease is up soon. Hurry and move over. We can eat ice pops together.”
“It’s almost time, but there’s still half a month left.” Dong Xiaojuan calculated meticulously. “We have to stay until the very last day, or it feels like a loss no matter how you look at it.”
“Hahaha, that does make some sense.” Feng Man praised her cousin-in-law as a shrewd businesswoman.
The two finished their ice pops and got to work. The day before, Fan Zhenghua had offered to order some food to treat the miners to a good meal. Mining was hard labor, and eating canteen food day in and day out got tiresome. They needed occasional incentives.
When Dong Xiaojuan heard that Feng Man had agreed, she prepared some new dishes and asked curiously, “How should we charge for it?”
After all, the Mine District was contracted by Feng Man’s man, and her own husband was now a minor manager. They were relatives, so talking money might be awkward…
Feng Man was boiling a large pot of noodles. When they reached eighty percent doneness, she fished them out and rinsed them in cold water. She smiled at the question. “Cousin-in-law, even close brothers must settle accounts clearly. We’re no exception as a married couple.”
Dong Xiaojuan nodded. “You’re right! Not overcharging them is already good enough.”
Feng Man and Dong Xiaojuan handled it strictly as business, providing a delicious meal for the miners in Cheng Lang’s Mine District.
One hundred braised eggs, twenty jin of braised pork, fifty sesame flatbreads, plus two large buckets of peanut porridge—all packed full into the back of the small truck driven by Song Guodong.
He Chunsheng rode in the cargo bed to secure the load, mainly to prevent the fragrant goodies from spilling on the bumpy mountain road. But smelling without eating was pure torture.
Feng Man and Dong Xiaojuan had spent the whole day preparing this meal, so they hadn’t set up their stall. Now they rode along to deliver it, squeezing into the truck cab with the driver. The three chatted and laughed as they headed to the mine.
“Boss Cheng, here’s the invoice. Inspect it, and if everything’s good, we’ll complete the transaction.” Feng Man stood facing Cheng Lang, who wore a red safety helmet and deep blue work uniform. He had personally led the team that afternoon, and though he was covered in dust, it couldn’t hide his handsome features.
Feng Man kept it strictly business without extra chit-chat, handing over the goods with one hand and taking payment with the other.
Cheng Lang clearly hadn’t expected his wife to be so rigorous. He hooked the corner of his thin lips and pretended to seriously scan the simple duty shack built halfway up the mine slope. The food was neatly arranged on the long table—vibrant red in color and irresistibly fragrant. The miners would surely work with renewed vigor after eating it.
“Boss Feng, everything checks out. I’ll have Chunsheng settle the bill with you.”
“Sure.” Feng Man winked at him, her pretty almond eyes sparkling with mischief. “Since you’re a big client, here’s an extra meal on the house.”
The metal lunchbox was still warm, feeling almost scalding in Cheng Lang’s palm.
“Just for me?” Cheng Lang raised his sword-like brows, his phoenix eyes roaming Feng Man’s face, searching for clues.
“My cousin-in-law got one for Cousin too.” Feng Man curved her lips and urged him to eat quickly.
He lifted the metal lid to reveal a full box of stir-fried noodles. The wok-fried strands were chewy and flavorful, rich and oily with intense salty-savory notes. Paired with bean sprouts and onion shreds, it was refreshing. Considering Cheng Lang’s line of work, Feng Man had specially added three liang of shredded meat, making it filling and satisfying.
The miners rushed forward eagerly to get their meals. Cheng Lang’s Mine District canteen hired the miners’ wives, providing jobs that helped subsidize their households.
That day, the canteen only cooked two buckets of rice. The other dishes were bought from Feng Man and Dong Xiaojuan. The three canteen staff bustled serving rice and sides.
The miners were eating heartily when they saw the boss getting special treatment. They felt both envious and jealous.
But this was no ordinary case—the boss’s wife was treating her own husband. No one could complain!
……
During the shift change at Laifeng Mountain, the aroma wafted everywhere. Workers at the base and halfway up the slope also received the steaming food. They stood or squatted by the roadside, devouring it.
Not far away, miners coming down from Red Mountain during their shift change passed by, their eyes widening.
The familiar sesame flatbread scent from the nearby Mine District was enticing, and the domineering braised pork aroma drilled straight into their noses. The Liberation Mine District workers quickened their steps to leave. When they reached their duty shack and saw the sticky, blackened mess in the pot—rice and dishes that looked worse than slop—their faces turned darker than the food.
“Look at what the neighbors are eating versus our crap! It pisses me off!”
“Cheng Lang’s at least a former miner himself. He doesn’t skimp on his crew—the canteen food there is decent usually. But our head? Serving this garbage… If his uncle weren’t the deputy mine chief, who’d listen to him!”
“Hey, watch what you say! If that big shot hears you, you’re done for!”
The three grumbled for a while but couldn’t stand the lingering aroma from next door. They slammed the door shut and squatted to wolf down their own Mine District slop.
……
Cheng Lang polished off every last bit of the stir-fried noodles Feng Man had made. Back home later, he still asked about it. “It’s different from boiled noodles, but just as good.”
Stir-fried noodles had their own unique flavor. Feng Man recalled loving them back in university days. The noodles were already chewy, and frying them with seasonings and veggies made them irresistibly fragrant. How could they not be delicious?
“I’m planning to sell stir-fried noodles to expand the menu.” The iron wok heated up under the stove flames. She boiled the noodles to eighty percent doneness, rinsed them in cold water, drained them, and tossed them in. They flipped amid the ingredients, gradually turning from white to red.
The basin of stir-fried noodles gleamed with oil, the strands swirling amid tender yellow bean sprouts, golden fried eggs, vibrant greens of baby bok choy, and light purple onion bits. The colors were vivid and pretty, the aroma mouthwatering. A final sprinkle of crisp green onions made it look irresistible—who wouldn’t pay for that?
Dong Xiaojuan swallowed hard just looking at it, already tasting the oily, slick noodles in her mind. So fragrant!
They brought the basin to the stall, where the glossy red noodles immediately drew eyes. Repeat customers asked, and soon folks shelled out fifty cents for a plain veggie stir-fried noodle bowl—three liang portions.
The stir-fried noodles were boldly flavorful, slick on the tongue with rich texture, generous portions that filled you up. Half the basin sold in a flash.
Miners from Cheng Lang’s Mine District usually greeted Feng Man when they came by, and she was generous, often adding extra toppings.
Miners from the Liberation Mine District showed up too. With their canteen food growing worse—barely better than pig slop—they couldn’t take it anymore and often came out for a treat.
Several masters heading to Red Mountain for their shift bought five portions of stir-fried noodles to take up, and brought one for Guo Da Hai in the duty shack.
“Da Hai, good stuff today. Come try it!”
Tired of the Mine District canteen slop, they savored the fragrant sesame flatbreads and stir-fried noodles bought from outside, plus occasional slices of braised pig head meat. Their taste buds were delighted, the day’s fatigue eased. Finally, some relief.
“Our Mine District’s shitty canteen is a real pain—stuff no one can stomach! If he’s got the guts, make You Jianyuan try it!”
“Him?” The miners scoffed, slurping down the noodles as salty-savory flavors burst in their mouths—utterly refreshing. “These leaders definitely get special treatment, eating and drinking the best.”
You Jianyuan, new to his post, occasionally wore a safety helmet to inspect operations. But with no frontline experience, he just put on a show, summoning workers anytime for pep talks. The Mine District scribes snapped photos for the records.
Over time, he avoided the dusty mines, preferring reports from his underlings. But this time, he heard something off.
“You say the workers keep going to Cheng Lang’s wife’s stall for food?” You Jianyuan bristled at the name Cheng Lang.
“Yes, every few days. They even chat about it during work—how capable Cheng Lang is, and his wife’s cooking is surprisingly good.”
Cheng Lang’s very existence irked You Jianyuan, a constant reminder that he’d stolen the credit back then. Now Cheng Lang was gone, yet the workers still remembered him—even his wife was gaining fame in his own Mine District.
He slammed his teacup on the desk and issued a strict order. “Pass the word: No workers in Liberation Mine District are allowed to buy random junk from outside. Isn’t the canteen enough? Wasting money on unclean street food! Anyone caught buying sesame flatbreads or braised pork gets fined!”
Once the notice went out, everyone knew “random junk” meant one stall—Cheng Lang’s wife’s.
……
Feng Man and Dong Xiaojuan soon noticed something amiss. Foot traffic at the stall dropped sharply. During peak meal times, workers used to swarm for food, but now it wasn’t as crowded.
Other nearby Mine Districts and local residents kept them busy, and the food still sold out—just not as quickly.
“What’s going on?” After two days, Dong Xiaojuan sensed it. “Manman, notice anything? The Liberation Mine District workers are acting weird. None have come these past few days. They used to love buying from us.”
Feng Man saw through it. Not only did they not come, but passersby eyed the stall hungrily, swallowing hard—clearly tempted—but still didn’t buy.
That was what made it strange.