Coming Back Is Just a Small Fish

Lunch was quite a feast.

There was half a salted ginger-baked capon, along with Grandma’s signature taro cakes with river snails.

Lin Mo ate happily, while Feng Binbin watched him, noticing that Lin Mo’s appetite had grown significantly. He couldn’t help but say, “No wonder you’ve grown so tall—you’re eating way more than before.”

Lin Mo nodded, “Yeah, I definitely eat more than I used to.”

Grandma’s smile remained unchanged. “Now that you’re in high school, you’ve become more mature. Unlike Binbin—when he was in high school, he still hadn’t grown into himself.”

Of course, Feng Binbin was already in college, studying civil engineering. He chose this because his uncles on his mother’s side were all in the engineering business, and naturally, they hoped their nephew could help manage things.

But Lin Mo thought to himself: the future for a construction worker is to start as a laborer in a state-owned company, and the best path is to work abroad. After a few years, you come back as management.

There was no other way. Since Lin Mo’s uncle was in prison, most of Feng Binbin’s living and tuition expenses came from his mother’s family.

Feng Binbin’s uncles were actually quite wealthy—they paid their sister ten thousand yuan a month to take care of their mother.

Of course, it wasn’t exactly a formal employment, but having the sister care for their mother was a win-win situation.

So Feng Binbin’s life was not bad at all.

It was just that Lin Mo’s aunt rarely came back here.

“Bin, you’ve been in college for a while now—have you found a granddaughter-in-law for my second uncle’s wife yet?” Lin Mo teased casually.

At school, Lin Mo generally kept a low profile.

But here, he could completely relax.

Feng Binbin waved his hand dismissively. “Civil engineering? Where are the girls? It’s all Shaolin Temple stuff.”

Lin Mo shrugged. He was just joking around—he knew exactly who his future sister-in-law would be. It was just not the right time yet; no need to ruin his brother’s destined relationship.

“Yuzi, in a couple of days, I’m planning to invite some high school classmates over for a barbecue. Is that okay?” Feng Binbin looked at Lin Mo.

“Yuzi” was Lin Mo’s childhood nickname. Besides Grandma calling him “Zaizai,” most relatives called him Yuzi.

Lin Mo shrugged.

“The more people at the barbecue, the better. What problem could I possibly have?”

Lin Mo hadn’t come to this barbecue in his previous life because he only returned a few days later.

After the last holiday, Lin Mo had spent more than a week hanging out with Fang Junshuang in Goat City.

So, in fact, he never took part in that barbecue.

But thinking about it, it was just an ordinary barbecue.

……

The happiest thing at Grandma’s house was just the comfort.

Lin Mo woke up in the morning, and outside there were no insects chirping. Although the village now used gas for cooking, many people still preferred to burn firewood.

For example, Grandma loved to use firewood to make soup and porridge, cooking in a large clay pot. The fire wasn’t too strong, and it didn’t need constant attention—it wouldn’t burn dry.

Grandma’s house was a three-story small building, built when the uncles were still well-off.

The first floor had two rooms: a storage room and the master bedroom, though the master bedroom wasn’t often occupied.

The second floor also had two rooms: one with a single bed, and the other with two beds.

Usually, Grandma and Feng Binbin shared the room with two beds, so Lin Mo slept alone in the other room.

After Lin Mo went downstairs, he headed toward the front yard.

There was still a large front yard here. The barbecue that Feng Binbin mentioned was held in this very spot. Nearby stood a yellow-skinned fruit tree planted by Lin Mo’s grandfather. Every summer, it would bear a bunch of yellow-skinned fruits.

This southern specialty was quite rare up north, but its taste was a delightful mix of sweet and sour—a fruit full of flavor.

Of course, occasionally there would be some “yellow-skinned assassins,” who used the fruit’s sourness as a deadly weapon in secret attacks.

“Good morning, Second Uncle’s wife. What kind of porridge are you cooking so early?” Lin Mo greeted.

In this village, Lin Mo’s grandfather was respectfully called “Second Uncle,” so naturally, his wife was known as “Second Uncle’s wife.”

Everyone addressed Lin Mo’s grandmother this way, and over time, Lin Mo and Feng Binbin had come to use the same title.

“Fish fillet and lean pork porridge,” Grandma looked up and saw Lin Mo leaning against the doorframe. She couldn’t help but ask, “Why are you up so early? Why not sleep a little longer?”

“Got used to it. Ever since I started high school, my schedule has been set. Getting up early has its benefits,” Lin Mo replied.

“The porridge won’t be ready that quickly. How about I make you some shrimp roe noodles instead?”

Hearing this, Lin Mo nodded happily.

When he was a child, he’d come back to Grandma’s place every summer and winter break. Whenever he got hungry at night, Grandma would make him shrimp roe noodles.

And they had to be served with Grandma’s homemade chili soy sauce.

“Great! I’ll go to Shuangqiao to buy some pork meatballs. When I get back, I’ll wake up Bin,” Grandma said.

The time it took to cook the noodles was just enough for Lin Mo to make a round trip.

So, wearing slippers, Lin Mo set off toward Shuangqiao.

Shuangqiao was essentially a market street less than five hundred meters long, lined with shops on both sides, and some vendors selling their own fresh produce.

But the busiest place in the morning was the breakfast stalls along Shuangqiao.

Calling them breakfast shops was a bit of a stretch; they were more like spots where villagers gathered to drink tea and eat snacks.

The most famous delicacy there was the Shuangqiao fish skin dumplings.

These Shuangqiao fish skin dumplings were different from the Shunde style. The original Shuangqiao version truly used fish skin to wrap the meat filling before steaming.

However, after years of material shortages, the Shuangqiao fish skin dumplings had gradually evolved. Now, they featured a semi-transparent outer skin made from tapioca starch and wheat starch, wrapping a filling of fish meat mixed with half-fat, half-lean pork, shiitake mushrooms, water chestnuts, and dried tangerine peel.

Of course, there were also versions with pure fish meat fillings.

Lin Mo wasn’t particularly fond of those. If the chef wasn’t careful, the dumplings could contain tiny fish bones, making them unpleasant to eat.

Lin Mo bought some pork meatballs, a box of fish and pork-filled fish skin dumplings, and a box of steamed dim sum.

All of it cost just under twenty yuan.

Prices in 2012 were quite low.

Declining the soy sauce from the vendor, Lin Mo carried his purchases back home.

He woke Feng Binbin, who was still asleep, and they went downstairs to eat breakfast.

Opening the box revealed the translucent fish skin dumplings inside.

Because they used wheat starch, the dumplings were transparent.

Wheat starch dumplings are made from a type of flour without gluten. Regular flour comes in low, medium, and high gluten varieties, but wheat starch is gluten-free.

This starch is pure starch, and the dough made from it has a translucent quality.

It’s similar to the cold noodles many people enjoy, which are also made from wheat starch.

Some people wash out the gluten from ordinary flour and then use the leftover starchy water to make cold noodles.

The process is different, but the result is the same.

Dipped in the chili soy sauce that grandma ferments, it tastes extraordinary.

Although people in eastern Guangdong are said not to eat chili peppers, in reality, eating chili in this region is quite uncomfortable.

Due to geographical reasons, the humidity here remains consistently high.

From a traditional Chinese medicine perspective, the people here tend to accumulate dampness in their bodies, leading to a heavy and sluggish spleen and stomach.

Eating chili peppers doesn’t have the same drying effect as it does in Sichuan; instead, the heat intensifies without dispelling the dampness, making symptoms even worse.

But now Lin Mo is different. He can eat chili freely without getting a sore throat or breaking out in pimples from internal heat.

System: Just this one change alone makes your cultivation worth it.

Lin Mo: Snow Leopard, shut up!