The road up Fengxia Mountain to the temple at the summit was not an easy one. Some stretches were steep and rugged, while others were choked with weeds.
Ordinary people walked it with their hearts in their throats, feeling as though they might tumble off the mountain at any moment, but Wang Cheng was already used to it. Other people needed one or two hours to go up or down the mountain; he only needed a little over half an hour.
When he returned to the entrance of Wang Family Village, Eldest Aunt and Second Aunt were no longer beneath the big willow tree. They had probably gotten bored and gone home.
Wang Cheng was not surprised that Mama Wang was nowhere to be seen. He refolded the few sets of clothes he had brought down from the mountain and put them into the wardrobe. The wardrobe was small and already held a few clothes belonging to his elder brother, who worked in the city; his brother had taken the rest away with him.
Wang Cheng probably owned the fewest clothes in the family, but he did not mind.
After living with the old monk for eighteen years, he had picked up many habits, thrift being one of them. At least, that was what the old monk had always told him. Wang Cheng thought the real reason was that they had no money, though the old monk had never admitted it.
Papa Wang and Mama Wang had not returned yet. The two had arranged that morning to visit Guanjia Village, Mama Wang’s home village. Once the relocation notice came down, the family planned to move there, so his parents would not be back for lunch. His little sister would eat lunch at Uncle Zhang’s bun shop and would not be coming home either. That left Wang Cheng alone in the house.
Rubbing his stomach, which had long since digested everything he had eaten, Wang Cheng decided to make lunch. The ingredients were all there. Mama Wang had a habit of stocking up on food, buying extra of anything with a longer shelf life, then replenishing it every few days after they finished it.
Wang Cheng took some noodles from the refrigerator, along with tomatoes, bok choy, chives, and a few other ingredients. The grass carp Mama Wang had bought fresh from the market that morning was still lively enough to thrash around in its bucket. He had no intention of treating himself poorly. Since he had everything he needed, he decided to make himself a fragrant bowl of fried-fish noodles.
Elio’s Notes: Fried-fish noodles are a Jiangnan-style noodle dish topped with fried fish cooked or soaked in a savory-sweet sauce.
His cooking skills had been honed for eighteen years by an old monk who never cooked for himself, so it would have been difficult for Wang Cheng to turn out badly. He was even better than Mama Wang. For a while, Wang Cheng had seriously suspected that the old monk had adopted him solely to acquire a personal cook and escape the miserable life of constantly trekking down the mountain for meals or gnawing on steamed buns at the temple.
With practiced movements, Wang Cheng chopped off the grass carp’s head and tail, cut the body into sections, then split each section again into strips.
Monks do not take life.
What a load of crap!
Never mind that he was preparing to return to secular life. Even when he had still been a monk, the old monk had never taught him anything of the sort. He could still remember learning to cook and then having the old monk toss a live chicken in front of him and tell him to make roast chicken. It was the first time Wang Cheng had ever killed anything. The chicken, its throat cut, ran all over the place and left the kitchen splattered with blood. The sight was shocking enough to traumatize the young Wang Cheng quite badly. That hateful old monk then stubbornly caught a wild chicken for him to slaughter every other day until he had finally “helped” Wang Cheng overcome the trauma.
Fried-fish noodles looked as though they involved a lot of steps, but Wang Cheng finished everything in no time. The freshly prepared fried-fish topping looked appetizing and smelled wonderful, its aroma already filling the air.
This had once been one of the old monk’s favorite noodle dishes. The fish could be caught from the river and did not have to be grass carp, which basically made the fish free. Noodles were not expensive either, and buying flour to make them himself was even cheaper. As for the other seasonings, he could stock up on a few jars and use them for a long time.
Wang Cheng carried his finished bowl of fried-fish noodles out of the kitchen. He had barely sat down when he realized he had forgotten his chopsticks, so he went back for a pair. Just then, he heard someone knocking at the door.
“Excuse me, is anyone home?”
Wang Cheng came out and saw two men in proper suits standing in the courtyard. The polished air about them made it obvious at a glance that they were from a big city. While he was still wondering who they were, they introduced themselves and explained why they had come.
Huaying Real Estate.
Those four words had been on everyone’s lips in Wang Family Village lately. It was the name of the company buying up their land, and because its offers were not deliberately low the way some developers tried to slash costs and rake in obscene profits, the company had a fairly decent reputation in the village.
Wang Cheng invited them inside. His family’s home was simple, but it was very clean.
The suited man named Zhang Yiheng was clearly the person in charge. Carrying a black briefcase, he looked every inch an elite professional and completely out of place in their home. Fang Tian was his assistant, a man in his twenties who looked a little like a college student fresh out of school. The moment he saw the state of their home, he almost instinctively frowned.