Chapter 15 Waiting for you to come back. Before I even got home, Xiao Hei was already far away...

Before I even got home, Xiao Hei came out to greet me from afar, his two front paws flapping left and right, he was so excited.

The little yellow dog next door ran out, Song Qingshu chuckled twice, and the two dogs followed him back home, playing with each other in the yard.

The puppy was only bitten by Xiao Hei, but he was not afraid, and pounced on Xiao Hei.

Song Qingshu got out of the car, and He Feng opened the door of the main hall before going in. He put the book on the big table and came out to play with the two puppies.

There were several bicycles and pedal tricycles parked in front of the neighbor's house. It should be the fifteenth day of the seventh month, and the family came back to visit the old man's grave.

He Feng had just taken the vegetables to cook when someone from next door came to ask him to come over for dinner. In the past, He Feng would go directly, but now Song Qingshu was there too.

He asked the younger generations to go back first, then walked to Song Qingshu and asked him if he was hungry and if he wanted to come over.

Song Qingshu didn't like being in front of too many people. He shook his head subconsciously and asked He Feng if it would be bad if he didn't go.

He Feng scratched his nose and said, "No, I'll go over and talk to you. You can stay home and play."

He turned and left. Song Qingshu rubbed the little yellow dog's round belly, which was warm and soft, and then scratched its chin. "Go home and eat. We have guests today, so we'll definitely have some bones to gnaw on."

Song Qingshu stood up and saw dates in the bicycle basket. He went to the kitchen and got a bowl and picked up all the dates.

The little yellow dog and the little black dog ran to the door noisily.

He Feng's voice came from the doorway, "I ran into him a few days ago. He said he wanted to wait until they were ripe and take them to town to sell for money."

The other person said, "Okay, got it. "

Then He Feng walked through the door and saw Song Qingshu carrying the bowl. He followed him to the kitchen.

"Would you like noodles for lunch today?" He Feng asked, rolling up his sleeves.

Song Qingshu agreed, picked up a date, stuffed it into his mouth, and sat down on the wooden stool.

Homemade noodles were handmade, a process Song Qingshu had never seen before, having always bought them. He sat beside He Feng, watching with great interest.

White flour was mixed with water and kneaded in a porcelain basin. From the side, He Feng's muscles flowed smoothly, his wheat-colored skin glowing with sunlight. His profile was tough and handsome, his high nose bone prominent.

The apron he wore hugged his waist, accentuating his inverted triangle figure with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Song Qingshu thought, this figure and appearance is a perfect match for the male protagonist in a novel.

He Feng bent over, kneading the dough. He didn't have much dough, as he had used up all the leftover white flour at home. "Son, there's a market tomorrow, let's go to town to buy some groceries." "

Okay, it's been a while."

Song Qingshu remembered how the educated youth went to town together before the Lunar New Year to buy groceries, hoping to have some good food for the Lunar New Year. They even pooled their money to buy the food.

That Lunar New Year was quite lively.

After kneading the dough and setting it aside to rise, He Feng covered it with a strainer. He then put down the cutting board and placed the washed beans and greens next to it.

He cut a few slices of ginger, mentally planning to add two more pieces of old ginger to tomorrow's shopping.

Ginger is rarely grown in rural areas, and a large piece will last for a long time, but more won't sell easily, so it's better to buy more after you've finished eating it. He

planted tomatoes, potatoes, and other vegetables in the fields, so if there's more, people will want to sell it.

He cut the beans and took the meat from the cupboard. He'd been eating it every day lately, and the meat he bought last time was almost gone, so he'd have to cut some more tomorrow.

He calculated everything and realized he still had a lot to buy, so he needed to bring extra money.

"I'll buy some apples tomorrow, and then pick the persimmons that are about to ripen when I get back. We'll roast them ourselves."

The persimmons hung high, bright red, and birds were the first to spot them. They perched on the branches, took a few bites, and then flew away. The remaining nibbled persimmons would fall to the ground in a few days.

Therefore, before they are fully ripe, you should pick as many as you can and put them in a foam box, along with a few apples. In a few days, you will be able to eat soft persimmons.

It rained the past two days, and quite a lot of persimmons have fallen to the ground. He Feng felt a little distressed when he saw them.

When Song Qingshu heard him say this, he remembered the soft persimmons he handed to him the day he first arrived. They were sweet and not astringent, and delicious.

He said cheerfully, "Brother, I will write down the things you want to buy later so you don't forget them tomorrow."

"Okay."

He Feng shoveled a piece of snow-white lard into the pot. The oil melted and sizzled, dancing in the iron pot. Then

the green onions and ginger were thrown in. The aroma suddenly burst out. The pork and beans were poured into the pot together. After being cooked in the hot oil, the beans turned into a emerald green and shiny.

He Feng poured some water into the pot, covered the pot and waited for a while, then stir-fried a few times before serving.

He rinsed the pot with loofah, then refilled the oil and crackled two eggs into the frying pan.

After the egg whites were fried until they were set and the golden edges curled up, He Feng poured in two more buckets of water and covered the pot.

While waiting for the water to boil, it was just the right time to roll out the noodles.

Song Qingshu just sat on the side and watched him without disturbing him. The kitchen window was right above the chopping board, blowing the wind directly at He Feng, so his coarse hair would only bend

for a moment and then return. Rolling out the noodles also requires strength from the waist. The chopping board is not very high, so you need to bend over halfway.

It was not too hot today, so he went out in his long gown and was too lazy to change when he came back. He had rolled up his sleeves when he entered the kitchen, but now they were hanging down.

Just as he was about to touch the flour on the chopping board, He Feng stood up, walked towards Song Qingshu, and stretched out his arm.

"Help me roll it up a little higher."

Song Qingshu wiped his hand on the dry towel on his lap before helping him roll up his sleeves.

His thumb touched He Feng's wrist bone, and the blue veins on it tightened for a moment and then disappeared. Song Qingshu did not notice, and helped him on his own. After rolling up He Feng's left arm, he handed over his right arm.

His hands were white, and He Feng's arms had been exposed to the sun in the summer, and their deep wheat-colored skin needed a winter to repair. Now when they were put together, the visual conflict was very obvious.

White smoke began to rise from the pot, and a gurgling sound rang out in the kitchen. He Feng glanced at his hands, turned back, sprinkled flour on the rolled noodles, folded them, and cut them bit by bit with a knife. After

cutting and shaking them, the white smoke from the pot became more vigorous. He Feng lifted the lid of the pot, and the two fried eggs in the pot rolled around. The soup was white, and it looked like a broth that had been simmered for a long time.

The handmade noodles were shaken and put into the pot. He Feng could reach out and stir the noodles in the pot with chopsticks when the white smoke hit his face.

"Is the fire under the pot still strong?"

Song Qingshu lifted the wooden board that blocked the fire and looked down at the flames inside. "There is only a little wood left. Do you want to add some more firewood?"

He Feng sprinkled salt and seasonings into the pot, and replied without raising his head: "No, go wash your hands, and we can eat after two more boils in the pot."

After dinner, He Feng brought the quilt that was drying outside into the house and spread it on the bed where he slept.

He took away his quilt and put it on the wooden bed that Song Qingshu had slept recently. He changed the bedding and quilt back and forth, and even the pillow was not left out.

Song Qingshu was sent by him to the yard to read a book, saying that the lighting in the house was not good, and he should not look back to avoid blindness.

If Song Qingshu had not known that this meant that he was nearsighted, he would have thought he was cursing himself.

When Song Qingshu was half asleep, he turned around and went into the house to see He Feng snoring in his usual bed.

He was sound asleep, and his snoring wasn't loud. Song Qingshu had never heard it before, so he guessed he was tired from digging the ground this morning, so he turned and went to another room.

When he entered, he saw his things on the table, and it dawned on him that He Feng really wanted to switch rooms with him.

After standing at the table for a while, Song Qingshu slowly lay down.

The quilt, which had been exposed to the sun, smelled warm, and the already sleepy man fell asleep in no time.

He Feng didn't sleep for long before getting up to look for the village chief.

There were too many things to buy tomorrow, and the village chief had a motorcycle at home, which was left by his brother-in-law before he went on a long trip. He Feng remembered it clearly

because the village chief's brother-in-law was his former schoolmate.

He didn't ride the bicycle, so he closed the door to the main room, but left the main door open, and left with peace of mind.

The village was not big, and although it wasn't hot, there was no rush to work.

Beneath a large poplar tree at the intersection, several old men were playing chess with branches and stones.

He Feng had seen them play as a child, but he still doesn't know how it was played. He did learn to play cards during his military service.

Villagers didn't have much money to play cards, so in the summer heat, when work was too much, they would sit in the shade, fanning themselves with palm-leaf fans, playing this kind of chess. Others would gather around and watch.

It was a unique rural scene.

He hadn't walked far when he heard someone calling him. He Feng turned and saw it was Mrs. Liu's son. The sun was blinding, and he called back, "What's wrong?" "

Uncle, come with us. What if Old Man Sun gives you a favor?"

"Who would give you a favor? He doesn't even care about his mother. Just last year, he and his brother had a heated argument over some trees next to the homestead his mother left behind."

Liu Xianghe hadn't expected this, but the child wanted to eat the pomegranates at home, saying they were different from those outside.

He looked at He Feng worriedly, "Uncle, are there any seedlings next to the pomegranate tree in your house? Can I buy them?"

He Feng didn't even go to the pomegranate tree to look, "Then let's go back and take a look. If there are

any, just take them away. No need to buy them." Two seedlings really popped up next to the pomegranate tree. One of them had grown as tall as a man's waist. He Feng used a wooden shovel to shovel the ground for a long time before he pulled the seedling out.

Liu Xianghe thanked him happily. The door of the main hall creaked open. Song Qingshu rubbed his eyes and saw the two people. He stepped back in a daze, and only then did his hair come out.

"You are my sister-in-law's brother, the educated youth you brought back? Hello, my name is Liu Xianghe."

Liu Xianghe held the sapling in his left hand and stretched out his right hand to shake his hand. Song Qingshu nodded and shook it, "Hello, my name is Song Qingshu."

"Xianghe? The child is making a fuss about going home!" Hearing the woman's voice from a distance, Liu Xianghe smiled and said goodbye to the two people.

Song Qingshu saw the soil shoveled out in the yard, and He Feng filled the hole with a wooden shovel. He smiled and said that if he was not asleep yet, he could go back to sleep for a while.

Song Qingshu shook his head, and a child walked in from the gate.

There were several patches on the child's clothes, and he was holding a wrinkled plastic bag in his hand, his eyes shrinking timidly, "Young man, I want to go to the back to look for cicada shells."

"Go ahead, be careful, don't trip over the grass."

The child looked very thin, and his exposed arms were very thin. Song Qingshu knew the weeds at the back, turned his head and looked at He Feng, "Brother, I'll go and watch it."

"Well, go ahead, I have something to do at the village chief's house."

"Okay, then I'll wait for you at home."