Zhong Dawa nodded in agreement, “Definitely worth celebrating. Mom, I’m going to make dumplings.” As he turned, he sneakily took two freshly made chive packets.
Song Zhaodi sighed, exasperated, and called out, “Zhong Dawa, share half with your brother!”
“I know, I know,” Zhong Dawa’s voice came from the living room.
Song Zhaodi felt helpless and wanted to sigh. “Zili, do you want some?”
“I want sauerkraut dumplings,” Zili admitted, though he felt a bit embarrassed since he was tending the fire.
Song Zhaodi replied, “Dawa is eating while making dumplings. Who knows how long it’ll take for him to finish. Have some chive packets to fill your stomach first. If you’re worried about not finishing it, just cut one in half.” Then, realising Zili might be too shy to ask, she added, “I’ll cut it for you. Your hands are dirty, go wash them.”
Zili responded with a soft “mm” and went to wash his hands. He also noticed that there were only about a dozen dumplings on the table, while his younger brothers were eating chive packets. “Dawa, Uncle Zhong will be back soon. Hurry up and make the dumplings.”
“I’ll start after I finish eating,” Zhong Dawa said as he stuffed the last bite of the chive box into his mouth and began rolling out dumpling wrappers. By the time Song Zhaodi finished making all the chive packets, the three brothers had only made about thirty dumplings.
Song Zhaodi had prepared plenty of filling and dough, estimating enough for three meals for the whole family. But thirty dumplings weren’t even enough to feed the five kids.
She didn’t want to scold them but couldn’t help twisting Zhong Dawa’s ear lightly. “Were you slacking off while rolling out the dough?”
“No, I’m just not skilled yet,” Zhong Dawa defended himself confidently. “Mom, if we make dumplings more often, I’ll get better and faster at it.”
Song Zhaodi nodded. “This is my first time making these dumplings too. If they turn out well, we’ll make them every three days. We still have half a vat of sauerkraut*. If we don’t eat it now, once fresh vegetables grow, I’ll have to feed it to the geese.”
“Be careful Grandma Liu sees and nags you until your head hurts,” Zhong Dawa reminded her.
Last year, when the island’s weather turned cold around the start of winter, Aunt Duan started pickling carrots, garlic cloves and sauerkraut. Carrots and garlic were cheap, and cabbages were grown in her own yard, so when Aunt Duan made pickles, she invited Song Zhaodi to join.
Liu Wei was stationed in the military and Liu Ping was often away, leaving only Commander Liu and Aunt Duan at home. Since Commander Liu didn’t like pickled food, Aunt Duan only dared to make a small amount.
Aunt Duan had grown a lot of cabbage, enough for winter and pickling, so she gave the rest to Song Zhaodi and helped her pickle them. She also encouraged Song Zhaodi to make more.
Song Zhaodi liked pickled carrots and garlic and enjoyed sauerkraut with vermicelli, but with five kids, she knew that eating too much pickled food wasn’t good for them.
Aunt Duan was well-intentioned, so Song Zhaodi couldn’t refuse. Besides, explaining to people of that era why pickled food should be eaten in moderation was difficult. Every household made large batches for winter, and no one ever got sick from it.
So, following Aunt Duan’s advice, Song Zhaodi pickled a whole vat of cabbage and two jars of shredded carrots and garlic.
Hearing Zhong Dawa’s comment, Song Zhaodi recalled the jars still full of pickled food and joked, “Starting tomorrow, we’ll eat pickles three times a day, no stir-fried dishes anymore.”
“Mom, I take it back!” Zhong Dawa quickly said. “If Grandma Liu sees, just tell her I don’t want to eat sauerkraut and threw it into the goose pen while you weren’t looking.”
Song Zhaodi laughed. “Good son. Now hurry up with those dumplings, it’s getting dark.”
Around six o’clock, Song Zhaodi threw about forty dumplings into the pot and told Dawa to keep an eye on them while she placed the rest on bamboo trays. She then tied a few ropes over the trays and hung them on the clothesline.
With the cold night air, the dumplings wouldn’t spoil outside overnight, nor did she have to worry about mice or stray cats stealing them. Looking at the three trays of dumplings, she was quite satisfied. She then went to the kitchen to scoop out the cooked dumplings just as she heard the sound of a vehicle outside.
Song Zhaodi couldn’t help but complain, “Your dad must have sniffed his way home.”
“Of course not. He’s just late today,” Zhong Dawa replied. “Mom, I’ll take the dumplings out first.”
“Wait a moment,” Song Zhaodi said. “Light the small stove, I’m making two bowls of egg sauce.”
“What’s egg sauce?” Zhong Dawa asked curiously.
“Just soy paste mixed with scrambled eggs,” Song Zhaodi explained.
Zhong Dawa was sceptical.
Song Zhaodi scooped half a bowl of soybean paste into a pot, added lots of water and a bit of chopped scallion, stirred it evenly and then poured in the previously scrambled eggs.
Zhong Dawa quickly asked, “That’s it? That’s egg sauce?”
“Yes,” Song Zhaodi said as she ladled it out and added a drop of her precious sesame oil. “Alright, time to eat.”
“Sanwa said you made a lot of delicious food today. What is there?”
Song Zhaodi turned to see Zhong Jianguo standing at the door. “Chive packets, tofu dumplings and vegetables with dipping sauce,” she said, pointing to the plates of dumplings on the counter. “Take them out.”
“What’s the special occasion today?” Zhong Jianguo asked instinctively.
Zhong Dawa answered, “We’re celebrating cutting ties with Grandma’s family.”
Zhong Jianguo’s hand paused for a moment before he chuckled. “That’s worth celebrating. But don’t do this too often, you don’t want to tire your mom out.”
“I’d love to celebrate a few more times,” Song Zhaodi said as she handed chopsticks to Zili and egg sauce to Dawa. She picked up the chive packets and tofu dumplings, walking outside as she added, “But unfortunately, it’s impossible to completely cut ties with Binhai.”
Zhong Dawa didn’t understand. “Why not?”
“Because your grandfather is your dad’s biological father,” Song Zhaodi explained. “Your dad can choose not to take care of him, send him to a hospital, or whatever, but he can’t deny he’s his father. Unless your grandfather does something unforgivable.”
Zhong Dawa thought for a moment. “Then I’ll just keep wishing for Grandpa to make a big mistake.”
“And how do you plan to do that?” Song Zhaodi asked, amused.
Zhong Dawa replied, “I’ll just pray, ‘Dear heavens, please let my grandpa mess up!’”
“Pfft!” Zili burst out laughing, struggling to keep a straight face as he asked, “Auntie, is that how you wished for Dawa’s maternal family to mess up too?”
Song Zhaodi’s face flashed with a trace of discomfort. “Otherwise?”
Zili was momentarily at a loss for words. “Sounds good. From now on, I’ll help Dawa curse together.”
“Good brother.” Zhong Dawa put down the egg sauce, patted Zili on the shoulder, and said, “From now on, you can use my writing book and pen anytime.”
Song Zhaodi glanced at the two kids, then picked up a bit of lettuce, scallions, shredded cabbage, cilantro and egg sauce, placing them on a sheet of tofu skin. She rolled it up and handed it to Zhong Jianguo. “Try it and see how it tastes.”
Zhong Jianguo opened his mouth wide.
“So lazy!” Zhong Dawa teased.
Zhong Jianguo’s face showed a hint of embarrassment. He took the roll, dipped it in a bit more egg sauce, and stuffed it into his mouth. “Tastes good.” After swallowing, he asked, “What made you think of making dipped vegetables?”
“I just suddenly wanted to eat them, so I made them. No particular reason,” Song Zhaodi replied. “You guys each eat three dumplings first, then have some tofu skin rolls. Zhong Dawa, did you not hear what I said?”
Zhong Dawa quickly put the tofu skin down. “What?”
“Eat something hot first and drink some soup,” Song Zhaodi said. “If you don’t listen, I won’t make this again.”
Zhong Dawa hurriedly took a big sip of hot soup, stuffed three dumplings into his mouth, and then reached for the tofu skin.
Seeing this, Song Zhaodi didn’t scold him further. Instead, she called Sanwa over, rolled a vegetable wrap for him, and then forbade him from eating any more.
Sanwa watched his older brothers eat two bites at a time and was very displeased.
Since Song Zhaodi and Zhong Jianguo wouldn’t roll another for him, he decided to do it himself. However, the vegetables and egg sauce were in the middle of the table, and the tofu skin was near Zhong Jianguo. Sanwa didn’t dare take the tofu skin, and he couldn’t reach the lettuce and egg sauce either. So, he walked over to Zili. “Zili ge, is the dipped vegetable wrap delicious?”
Zili paused mid-bite and looked at Sanwa cautiously. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” Sanwa stared at the wrap in Zili’s hand. “Zili ge, let me have a bite.”
Song Zhaodi nearly choked. Looking up, she saw Zili with a dumbfounded expression, clearly never expecting Sanwa to say something like that.
“Didn’t you just eat?” Zili asked.
Sanwa thought for a moment. “I ate too fast. Zili ge, just a tiny bite, just a tiny bite, and I won’t ask for more.”
“Auntie, should I give him some?” Zili looked to Song Zhaodi for help.
Song Zhaodi said, “Sanwa, come eat your dumplings.”
“But I want a bite of Zili ge’s wrap,” Sanwa clung to Zili’s arm, refusing to budge.
Song Zhaodi narrowed her eyes. “What if I don’t want you to eat it?”
“Then I won’t eat it.” Sanwa quickly ran to Song Zhaodi’s side and sat down. “Mom, I’ll eat my dumplings.”
Zhong Jianguo casually remarked, “Sanwa is so obedient.”
“Dad, I’m very obedient,” Sanwa said. “Can I have a vegetable wrap? Dad?”
Zhong Jianguo choked for a second. “No!”
“The kindergarten teacher said obedient kids get rewards,” Sanwa reasoned. “I’m very obedient, Dad, I want a reward.”
Zhong Jianguo looked at Song Zhaodi. Really?
Really! Song Zhaodi nodded.
Zhong Jianguo said, “Then Dad will reward you with two dumplings.”
Sanwa was dumbfounded. “Dad, a reward isn’t dumplings.”
“Dad has nothing else,” Zhong Jianguo said. “Or, I can reward you with half a chive pocket?”
Sanwa hesitated for a long time before pointing to the tofu skin near his father’s hand. “Dad, can you reward me with that?”
“Should I also reward you with some egg sauce, lettuce and scallions while I’m at it?” Zhong Jianguo asked.
Sanwa nodded eagerly. “Dad, you’re the best!”
Zhong Jianguo snorted. “Keep dreaming.” He put on a stern face. “Hurry up and eat your dumplings. If you don’t finish them soon, I’ll tell your mom to put everything away.”
Sanwa shivered and didn’t dare think about the wraps anymore, but he still muttered under his breath, “I just wanted a tiny bite.”
“You’re the only one who believes that,” Zhong Jianguo said. “Zhong Sanwa, stop trying to act clever in front of your dad.”
Sanwa glanced at Zhong Jianguo and muttered, “I’m not acting clever. The teacher says Sanwa is the smartest.”
Zhong Jianguo paused for a moment and then turned to Song Zhaodi. “The kindergarten teacher?”
“Sanwa spends all his time playing with older kids,” Song Zhaodi pointed at Dawa and the other three. “Hearing and seeing so much, he knows more than an average kid. Think about it, when you were Sanwa’s age, could you do string figure tricks?”
Zili added, “The key point is, he’s better than me at it.”
“What do you mean ‘better than you’?” Dawa couldn’t help but tease. “He is clearly playing you.”
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