Her Cultivation Diary
Chapter 1046 - 1026. Dinner is served

Chapter 1046: 1026. Dinner is served

As night fell, the temperature dropped sharply, and standing in the empty courtyard felt chillier than ever.

Yet, no one in the group was willing to go inside to warm up by the fire, which left Wu Lan feeling a bit embarrassed. She hurriedly urged them:

"Come inside and sit! It’s warmer inside—don’t catch a chill."

"Oh, no, it’s fine!" Old Li paced around the courtyard, eventually circling back near the kitchen door. He couldn’t resist taking a deep breath and exclaiming:

"You put scallions in the fish dish, didn’t you? It smells amazing!"

Another person had unknowingly wandered over and was now staring at the kitchen, looking wistful: "Why do I sniff a hint of sourness... What’s that dish? Feels so familiar."

Xiaodu couldn’t hold back either. He ambled over together with Lao Zhu and casually sidled away while pretending to be nonchalant, all the while chiming in: "That smell—it’s green tomatoes. In the summer, when it’s hot, we stir-fry them with chili and fish chunks. Perfect match with rice."

As soon as he said this, several people who had already been drawn in by the kitchen’s aromas turned to look at him intently.

At that moment, Secretary Xiaozu happened to stroll over at a leisurely pace, prompting the whole group to pull long faces, their expressions suddenly sour and dejected:

"Xiaojun, let me ask you—ever since you were little, running around this courtyard, I’ve seen you as close as my own granddaughter. So why are you favoring someone else so much?"

"Exactly, Xiaojun! Remember when you were a kid and smashed my dinner table playing ball? Did I ever say a word about it? You can’t just think of Lao Zhu when you’ve got good stuff!"

"Right! Young people shouldn’t let blood ties restrict them! What’s so great about Lao Zhu anyway? He doesn’t even recognize you when he sees you coming..."

"He doesn’t care about you at all..."

What on earth...?

A bewildered Secretary Xiaozu hurried to defend herself: "How am I favoring anyone? I’m not!"

Even if she were, she couldn’t admit it now!

Old Wang pointed at Lao Zhu, who was now staring at the sky and ground while circling the scene: "Now, just earlier we were discussing the smell. He immediately said it was green tomato. Tell me—how could he know if he hadn’t eaten it before?"

Well, this.

Secretary Xiaozu turned to look at Lao Zhu—Why are you like this?

Lao Zhu, however, stood tall: "What? You’re telling me you haven’t eaten green tomatoes when you were younger? Only I did? And just because I can recognize the smell, you’re making this a problem? I’m staying true to my roots—so what?"

Such a feeble excuse! Even the smug curl of his lips seemed brazen.

And after glaring at him for a moment, the crowd’s gaze shifted to Xiaodu. Then someone promptly commanded: "Take a good look at Xiaodu—his figure, his face. Next time he receives a delivery, all of you follow close behind. If it’s sent from around here, just open it. If you find something nice, the rest of us will share! Leave him out!"

It was, of course, an obvious joke. If mountain deliveries were constantly pilfered, chaos would surely break loose.

But Lao Zhu knew all too well—this gang of ruffians wouldn’t let him off easily. Even if they didn’t tear open packages immediately, they’d likely gather in his courtyard to watch him unpack.

How quickly vengeance swelled! Thinking about the future left him mildly terrified.

At that moment, he turned his pleading gaze towards his own grandchild.

But what could he say?

Secretary Xiaozu was at her wit’s end, too. She could only lift two bottles of wine: "Smell the aroma already?"

...

Tonight, Lao Song’s family brought out their giant round dining table—the one that could seat thirty—and it was once again set up, decked out to the brim.

The people filled every seat; the dishes filled every inch of space.

When Seventh Uncle washed his hands and delivered the final platter to the table, the swiveling centerpiece groaned under the weight.

The group stared at the large serving bowls before them—they’d eaten plenty of countryside meals before, but no other family’s food had ever been this authentically rustic.

Look at that—the dishes were served in basins!

The occasional smaller plate dotted here and there held the fish they’d caught themselves—what could they do? The fish variety was too scattered to make up a full basin.

The crowd nervously held their composure, hoping to retain some dignity as guests. And yet, the enticing aromas permeated their nostrils, stirring an intense craving in their bellies—as if there were a miniature Sun Wukong wreaking havoc inside.

Song Youde was invited to join tonight’s gathering once again, and after some polite refusals, he finally sat at the head seat—but only because Song Tan said:

"Grandpa, you’re the elder. I’ll serve your rice for you; you just take this seat."

The head seat, inconveniently, happened to be situated at the most cramped spot.

But the old man hardly minded. He was thrilled to steal a sip of his coveted little wine this evening, unabashedly cheerful, and uncharacteristically confident enough to say something polite:

"Well, our Secretary Xiaozu is good—I treat her like family. You’re all family, too, so don’t mind the rough dishes. Eat up! Can’t reach? Stand up and grab what you want!"

"Alright, alright!"

Everyone nodded hastily, thinking to themselves—Why does he need to give such a long speech before eating? And after the customary back-and-forth of polite restraint, finally, guest Lao Zhu set the first chopsticks down!

In that instant, it was like a dam burst open—a frenzy swept across the table!

Especially among the ten new arrivals.

The five elderly in their group might have seemed frail with their advanced years, but their movements were anything but slow—hungrily, they dove in from all directions, unstoppable and jubilant. It was as if they hadn’t eaten at home for days, leaving onlookers shaken!

And fiercer still were the relatives they’d brought along. Slim-waisted, long-legged, upright-looking individuals who were meticulous and considerate with their speech and demeanor... They’d even lent a helping hand in the courtyard earlier in the afternoon.

Wu Lan had thought: Despite their polished appearances, they must be scholarly types.

But now, those "refined" individuals wielded chopsticks like weapons—with the skillful intensity of a whirlwind! Seventh Uncle’s cooked rice seemed doomed to vanish in gulps and heaps—it was so ravenously consumed it made everyone incredulous.

When it came to eating, no one could compete with their efficiency. Fast, sharp, and relentless were their basic moves.

Oh dear! Oh dear! That sight left Lao Song’s family dumbfounded. They couldn’t help but grow tense—as if wondering:

Would they even savor the flavors? Don’t just wolf things down and overstuff yourselves!

Qiaoqiao, sitting near the door, was wide-eyed and tongue-tied. After stumbling over her words for a good while, she finally got up and said, "I’ll go grab some digestive tablets..."

The group turned their imploring gaze to Song Tan, while Secretary Xiaozu had already lowered her head, wishing she could bury herself in the ground like an ostrich.

Ah, good thing no one here knew their identities—otherwise, the eating manners...what an embarrassment!

Song Tan, on the other hand, stood up, picked up a liquor bottle from the center of the table, and popped off the lid: "Alright, don’t just focus on eating—I’ll pour you all some wine."

At last, everyone’s aggressive movements slowed down.

Moments later, the liquor bottle was passed to Secretary Xiaozu: "Let me handle it! You, as the host, are too considerate—you probably don’t realize what kind of tricks my grandpa and the others might pull to get more wine. At least I can guarantee everyone gets the same amount."

She was firm about it, leaving Song Tan no choice but to let go. Then Secretary Xiaozu began gathering all the glasses toward her in one spot.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go around the table to pour—it was just that the wine was too fragrant, too tempting! If she went seat by seat, there was no doubt that by the time she got back around the table, everyone’s glasses would already be empty once again.

As the aroma spread, every person at the table sat fixated on the wine bottle, their eyes glued to it, fearing any one of those precious two-ounce liquor glasses might fail to be filled to the brim.

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