Her Cultivation Diary
Chapter 1066 - 1046. Burnt Leaves

Chapter 1066: 1046. Burnt Leaves

It was Song Sancheng who came out with some stuff and asked another question:

"Where’s Old Qian, the one who castrated pigs back in early summer? Didn’t he say to call him when the pigs are being butchered?"

Wu Lan hadn’t spoken yet when the butcher laughed out loud: "Oh, no! Don’t call Old Qian. He’s fine at castrating pigs, but his butchering skills are just plain lousy!"

"A few years back when he was still butchering, he couldn’t even kill a pig with one stab... I mean, it caused so much suffering to the pig! Talk about sinning!"

Song Sancheng: ...

Another person also laughed and patted his own round belly: "Just look at Old Qian’s scrawny frame and you’ll know his skills are no good—here in the countryside, butchering pigs means catching them first. He’s so scrawny; how much strength could he have?"

"You end up torturing the pig while trying to catch it. And then the meat turns out bad... That’s just unnecessary!"

Song Sancheng thought about the time he couldn’t kill a chicken properly and left a mess everywhere, and he fell silent again.

Wu Lan was quiet for a moment but then suddenly went back into the yard to ask Song Tan: "When you get a girlfriend, make sure she’s pretty, alright? Yesterday, I was reading a story, and someone ended up marrying a pork butcher—can you imagine... butchering pigs... Oh, my!"

Her face was full of indescribable expression.

Song Tan looked even more exasperated: "Mom, read your books if you want, but stop mixing reality into it. Don’t worry, there are no ugly ones in the books."

Readers these days are way too picky. Even male leads who are 1.8 meters tall aren’t good enough anymore, let alone someone who’s ugly. Being self-made is out too; they have to have a bit of a background at the very least.

Just as they were chatting, Zhang Yanping and Xin Jun came downstairs, carrying a list:

"Tantan, we’re heading to the urban area today to take care of hotel arrangements and transport vehicles."

They had advised the online followers not to come too early, and made it clear that food and lodging wouldn’t be covered beforehand. But if people were willing to travel from afar, they couldn’t just do nothing.

Besides, today was already the eighth. Early arrival tickets might be hard to get now, so whoever manages to get them, let it be.

He and Xin Jun would just go ahead and book the hotels in advance, and set up a shuttle bus so on the morning of the tenth, they could pick everyone up directly.

"Alright," Song Tan looked at the notes, "Make sure to buy disposable bowls and chopsticks too. Let me check if there’s anything else; I’ll send you the list later."

Using the village’s bowls and chopsticks for the feast adds to the vibe, but considering hygiene issues, they should just go with disposables when necessary.

As long as the food tastes good, that’s good enough.

At this point, Lao Zhu and a few others entered the yard too: "What are we working on? Just say the word!"

There was plenty of work to do at home, and Wu Lan wasn’t planning on being polite: "Old man, your household has young, strong lads. Those big tubs and door panels the pork butcher brought—get them scrubbed thoroughly while the weather’s good today, and scald them with hot water!"

Lao Zhu: ...

He had been ready to roll up his sleeves and get to work, but after hearing the task, he silently stepped back:

"Well, Xiaodu, you’re meticulous. Follow them and do a good job."

Still, Lao Zhu didn’t end up idle—there was dough to knead, hot water to boil repeatedly, and pots and pans to scrub and clean. There was plenty to do!

Just the dough alone filled up five or six big basins. If they made steamed buns, they could probably choke everyone from stomach to throat without finishing them!

"What’s all this for, making buns?"

Old Zhou was quite curious—he’d never cooked before, but kneading dough looked simple. He was intrigued.

Seventh Uncle walked over and placed ingredients next to each basin, explaining as he went: "Not buns. Yesterday I tasted those crispy leaves you folks brought; they were pretty good. Let’s fry some ourselves, and on the eighth, we can serve them as snacks for everyone."

"Alright, let me teach you; this isn’t hard. You don’t need to knead the dough too much—just mix it evenly."

Zhang Yanping, who had just been playing on his phone, suddenly snapped to attention after hearing this. He immediately yelled towards the house:

"Qiaoqiao, come out and start live streaming! Quick, we’ve got to tide over the viewing time! Don’t be careless! Insufficient time affects the revenue split!"

Qiaoqiao responded promptly, soon emerging with a basket of eggs and handing it over. Then he grabbed a phone and its stand, pointing the camera at the hands on the table.

"Ahem!" The old-timer Tian Group members straightened their backs and suddenly adopted a more serious expression.

They were aware that their faces wouldn’t be captured on camera—Qiaoqiao was good about that.

But still, weren’t those dough-kneading hands theirs?

Seventh Uncle wasn’t bothered by their inexplicable sense of competition. He casually pushed out a little well in the basin of dough, then deftly cracked an egg with one hand, "Crack!"—one egg down.

"Come on!" He directed, "Each basin gets ten eggs. Be careful, though. If any eggshells fall into the dough, fish them out. These hens don’t lay much in winter, and it took a long time to save these up, so no wasting!"

That was non-negotiable. None of the old hands were wasters, after all. Besides, it wasn’t like they didn’t know how to crack eggs properly.

But Qiaoqiao had already started the live stream without warning, now leaning his face directly into the camera:

"Hey kiddos, did you get to eat yesterday’s corn stalks when you got back home?"

"Those require a machine, so we didn’t let everyone learn how to make them—but what we’re making today, you can definitely learn! Look, we’re frying crispy leaves at home today. Perfect for snacks during the pig slaughter on Laba—how fragrant!"

After saying this, he adeptly switched the camera angle, completely ignoring the anguished pleas in the chat:

[Here we go again! So sudden!]

[If I hadn’t set a special notification, I wouldn’t even see this!]

[Not selling food, but still making me drool—report! Report!]

[Alright, alright, after last night’s dreams filled with unattainable corn stalks, now we’ve got freshly made delicacies taunting us?]

[Who didn’t get the corn stalks? Oh, it’s me!]

[Yesterday, someone sincerely advised me, and I didn’t listen. I watched the corn stalk vendor leave, had my appetite ruined, and drooled on my pillow all night!]

[What are crispy leaves? Are they fried? I can’t even imagine how fragrant they must be!]

[We have these at home too—made from flour, cut into diamond shapes, and deep-fried.]

[Oh no, deep-fried? Isn’t that unhealthy?]

[Ugh, you newbies are the worst—scared of hygiene one minute, scared of sweets killing you the next...]

[Exactly, as if you’re actually going to get a taste!]

[Can’t eat it, can’t eat it, can’t eat it... The resentment of not eating could sustain three Evil Sword Immortals.]

Meanwhile, the recently live-streaming host, "It’s Corn!", looked at the rapidly plummeting statistics for the stream and stared at the kudzu root powder that hadn’t been put up for sale yet, asking the team in a hushed tone:

"Is this kudzu powder cursed or what? Why does the stream always tank when I try to sell it?"

"Shh!" One of the team members whispered back: "Our manager took kickbacks from the supplier. The entry fee for carrying their product is high too, so you have to sell it at least once."

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