Her Cultivation Diary
Chapter 1060 - 1040. Many people make it lively.

Chapter 1060: 1040. Many people make it lively.

What won’t Lao Zhu eat?

He immediately responded, "Eat, eat, eat! This is delicious! Get me two more pounds—it’s on me!"

As he said that, he urged Xiaodu, "You do it, you pay."

Then he started discussing, "Decades ago, I went to a town in the blistering summer heat. The fan in the shop made our heads dizzy, and the state-run restaurant ran out of ingredients, so they served us tomato fried dough soup!"

It was both food and drink, and a mix of soup and dish. I had no appetite at the time, but I was starving beyond endurance! Sweating buckets, I downed a bowl—and boy, was I satisfied!

Lao Zhu still reminisces about it to this day!

But, up in the mountains, they forbid us from eating these fried things. Everything is light, bland, and geared toward health... But if you ask Lao Zhu, once you’ve boiled those fried dough pieces, what difference does it make from frying?

What’s the big deal about eating some?

Mr. Yang wholeheartedly agreed!

Not to mention, just that old variety of spinach—it’s truly delicious!

"When boiled into soup, it’s so fresh and sweet. But it grows low to the ground, has a low yield, and looks plain. You can’t even buy it anymore these days."

Lao Wang, on the other hand, was puzzled, "You folks use it for cooking? We just eat it raw—it’s so good, we’ll munch through three to five bunches at once!"

Watching them chat so animatedly, Secretary Xiaozu started suspecting that all their picky talk up in the mountains—complaining about upset stomachs today and having no appetite tomorrow—were total lies. Now that they’re here, everything seems new and fascinating!

Take those fried dough pieces! In the countryside, there’s no fancy process for them. The oil’s only been used a few times and is already burnt yellow! Just look at Brother Xiaodu, sweating buckets—how could he even dare eat them?

But Song Tan was thinking: listening to their conversations, these are folks who went through hard times and poverty in their youth. People from rural areas eat even more—it’s fine as long as their stomachs can handle it!

Sometimes, you’ve just got to be a bit rough around the edges!

Thus, with a big wave of his hand: "Qiaoqiao, buy ten pounds."

Qiaoqiao gleefully stepped up, honing her rather clumsy bargaining skills.

Meanwhile, over here, Old Li—who had been glancing around the entire time—suddenly asked, "Those crispy leaves smell amazing—buy a few, let’s taste them!"

Song Tan took a quick look: "That’s simple! When we get back, let Master Jiang fry them fresh for you!"

In this village, every household knows how to make them, and it’s easy—it just takes some flour and sesame. Heck, forget Master Jiang—Wu Lan could fry them up perfectly crisp, fragrant, and delicious!

Speaking of which, fry up a batch when we get back, we can even serve them at the pig-slaughter banquet!

Old Li nodded with satisfaction, "Exactly! Freshly fried ones are the best! Well then, buy some sugar dumplings—I haven’t had them in years..."

Beside him, Xiaowang was getting irritated and anxious at the sight of those excessively sweet sugar dumplings, practically losing it!

Song Tan also refused, "Save some room in your stomach—are you still gonna eat pumpkin and sweet potato later tonight?"

Fried dough can be eaten without issues, but sugar dumplings are too sweet. Nowadays, lots of older folks have high blood sugar and still crave sweets—she has to keep an eye on this.

Once she said that, it worked better than any persuasion.

Old Li quickly turned around, saying, "Right, right, at my age, snacking isn’t suitable. It’s better with natural flavor..."

Everyone: ...

Just then, Qiaoqiao returned with a big bag of fried dough pieces.

She was jubilant, like she’d struck gold:

"Sis! I bargained! Got 15 bucks off!"

Song Tan quickly praised her, "Good, good, good! Qiaoqiao is amazing! So, how much did you spend?"

Qiaoqiao was just about to answer when a loud rumble, like that of a tractor, came from up ahead. She instantly lit up:

"The rice husk press!"

And with the bag in hand, she staggered off excitedly!

Lao Zhu and the others immediately shuffled closer—after driving so far, they couldn’t miss witnessing this nostalgic scene!

The rice husk pressing machine was basic, a blackened chunk with a shiny, oversized funnel perched atop it, set on a cobalt-blue tricycle.

Nearby was a big sugar container, surrounded by three or four people. The owners were a husband-and-wife duo, chatting cheerfully with others—it was clear they weren’t short on business.

Amid the roaring machine sounds, long, soft, white rice husks slowly and steadily squeezed out from the machine.

The rough hands of the proprietress twisted and pinched them lightly—snap! They instantly broke, solidifying in mid-air into those long, thin white rice husks from memory.

Next to them was a young couple waiting for their rice husks. They joked, laughed, and filmed videos while holding open a large plastic bag—their setup was nearly identical to the heap Song Tan had in her arms.

Why, it was basically the standard rice husk storage method.

Though called a big bag, it barely weighed anything. A girl could lift it easily with one hand—light as a feather.

The machine kept roaring as the owner noticed this large group of newcomers. He grinned widely:

"Did you bring rice? If not, we’ve got some for sale here. We’ve got coarse grains too."

Of course, the rice and grains he provided were of mediocre quality—the rice husks it produced were dry, crisp, and thin, lacking any true flavor.

This was something Song Tan didn’t know, but Qiaoqiao understood perfectly.

She raised her hand, "We brought it, we brought it! Right here! White rice and coarse cornmeal—we need to mix them together."

The owner looked dumbfounded, while his wife grinned and approached cheerfully, saying, "Young man, you’ve never pressed rice husks, have you? That’s way too much—here, let me grab a bowl for just two servings."

"No no no!" Qiaoqiao shook her head wildly. "Our family has loads of people, and they all eat so much, so we need to make this entire big batch!"

She silently counted on her fingers, "Almost thirty people! And we’ve got to share with relatives!"

Last night’s meal on that big round table couldn’t even fit everyone! They had to grab narrow benches to sit, and that huge lazy Susan, usually stored against the warehouse wall, had to be pulled out—otherwise, there’d be no room!

Sigh!

The little girl worried to herself—everyone ate too much! Even the rice barely sufficed! So they had to press extra rice husks!

Still, even with dozens of people, the owner couldn’t grasp how much this bag of dozens of pounds of rice would produce!

"Uh, well..."

He stuttered for a good while before finally asking, "How are you going to take it all back home?"

Qiaoqiao set the rice down, stretched out her hand, and pointed at the throng of people, "The cars are over there, we’ve got several of them."

Owner: ...

He wasn’t trying to push this sale; it was just way too much! He panicked!

Finally, he proposed, "How about this: There’s still a market here today with plenty of people. Tomorrow there’s no market—I’ll drive over to your house to press it instead, alright?"

Qiaoqiao shook her head in disappointment, "But I want to eat it now..."

The proprietress almost reached into the bag to grab a couple of rice husks for her, only to hear Lao Zhu chiming in: "Right, right, it’s better to press rice husks when there’s a crowd—it smells better that way!"

"It’s too quiet back in our place—not as lively."

"Besides, come on, what kind of business practice is this, turning down customers when business comes knocking!"

Money is money—one person’s payment is so much easier! Naturally, the owner wasn’t about to refuse it. Seeing their determination, he gritted his teeth:

"Fine, let me finish pressing these two people’s rice husks first, then I’ll press all of yours! Just be sure to tell me when you think it’s too much, so I can stop, alright?"

"This rice is good—don’t waste it!"