Zhong Jianguo looked up at his five sons and asked, “Little tigers? They may be little tigers now, but what will they be when they’re fourteen or fifteen?”
“Big tigers,” Sanwa replied confidently. “Mom, I’m a big tiger.”
Song Zhaodi noticed a piece of food on his cheek and frowned. “Yes, yes, you’re our big tiger. But big tiger, you’ve got food on your face.”
Sanwa put down his chopsticks and went to find a towel, but then hesitated. “Save some scrambled eggs with string beans for me!”
“I’ll watch over it for you,” Song Zhaodi assured him. “If your brothers finish it, I’ll make more.”
Grinning, Sanwa ran off to clean his face.
Song Zhaodi noticed that all the children were eating the scrambled eggs with string beans, but no one was touching the cucumber and scrambled egg. “Is this not tasty?” she asked.
“It’s not as good as the string bean one,” Dawa commented. “Mom, can you make it again tomorrow morning?”
Since their household had plenty of eggs, chicken, duck and goose eggs, Song Zhaodi agreed without hesitation. “If you all like it, I’ll make it every day.”
“Have Zili and Dawa help cook,” Zhong Jianguo suggested. “If you’re worried about them cutting their hands, buy some gauze and iodine just in case. You two be careful when chopping. A small cut is no big deal, but if it gets infected, you might have to amputate a finger.”
Gengsheng gave his father a sceptical look. “Dad, can you not scare us? We’re not little kids.”
“In this hot weather, infections happen easily,” Song Zhaodi explained. “Your father isn’t exaggerating. You all like running around outside, if you reopen a wound and it won’t heal, at best, you’ll need medicine and injections. At worst, you might need surgery.”
Dawa’s eyes widened. “It’s that serious?”
“Of course.” Medical conditions and treatment were nothing like they would be a hundred years later. Song Zhaodi was most afraid of her children getting sick or injured. “Otherwise, I would’ve let you all cook ages ago.”
Zili and Dawa saw how serious their parents were and exchanged glances. Dawa promised, “Mom, I’ll be very, very careful. I won’t talk or let my mind wander while cutting vegetables. I promise I won’t cut myself.”
“Alright,” Song Zhaodi relented. “Tomorrow at noon, you two will cook while I supervise.”
“Really?” Dawa was overjoyed. “I’ve been wanting to cook for so long!”
“In a few days, this month will be over,” Song Zhaodi added. “Even if you use up all the oil, it won’t matter.”
“Can we fry some crispy leaf snacks too?” Zili asked.
“If you can save ten pounds of oil, I’ll make sazi for you,” Song Zhaodi replied.
“What’s sazi?” Dawa asked curiously.
“It’s just as delicious as crispy leaves,” Song Zhaodi assured him.
“Then let’s eat sparingly and save up next month’s and the month after’s oil ration!” Zhong Dawa turned to his brothers. “Do you all agree?”
The four nodded in unison.
On September 1st, Song Zhaodi bought five pounds of fatty pork and rendered a small pot of lard. Combined with the leftover oil from frying crispy leaves, she estimated it would last until the end of September and set aside the remaining oil ration tickets.
By mid-October, their lard was used up, so Song Zhaodi used ten pounds of oil ration tickets to buy a full bucket of oil at once.
On the morning of October 17th, a weekend, Song Zhaodi prepared a large bowl of dough. Once it was ready, she invited Duan dasao to help fry sazi.
In the early years of the country’s founding, food rationing hadn’t started yet. Every Spring Festival, Duan dasao used to make sazi and crispy leaves to treat guests. It had been years since she made them, so when she heard Song Zhaodi mention sazi, she thought she had misheard.
Following Song Zhaodi into the Zhong family’s kitchen, she saw the prepared dough and oil but was still in disbelief. “You really want to make sazi?”
“Of course,” Song Zhaodi said. “I’ve only had sazi once in my life. Dawa, Erwa and Sanwa haven’t even heard of it. Just thinking about how they don’t even know about this once-essential New Year’s treat makes my heart ache.”
“Alright then, let’s do it.” Duan dasao nodded. “I know how to make it.”
“I’ll be your assistant,” Song Zhaodi said as she brought out the dough. “I’ve noticed you haven’t gone out these past few days. Is Liu Ping’s child staying with her mother-in-law?”
Duan dasao nodded. “He’s the eldest grandson of the Jin family. I wanted to help take care of him, but they don’t trust me.”
“Before Liu Ping gave birth, Jianguo guessed it would be a boy,” Song Zhaodi said with a laugh. “Turns out he was right.”
Duan dasao chuckled at the memory. “It’s lucky it was a boy. Otherwise, who knows what kind of fuss there’d be.” She sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Song Zhaodi asked.
As she rolled out the dough, Duan dasao explained, “I’ve told you before, Liu Ping was spoiled by me and her father. Now, when I see the Jin family treating her son like a treasure, it reminds me of how we used to be with Old Liu.
“I wanted to tell them not to spoil the child too much, but then I thought, they wouldn’t listen to me anyway, so I held back. Xiao Song, do you think I should say something when I see Liu Ping?”
“Would she listen to you?” Song Zhaodi asked.
Duan dasao’s face changed slightly. “No.”
“Then pretend you don’t know,” Song Zhaodi advised. “Every generation has its own fate. Worrying won’t help. Besides, he’s a Jin, not a Liu. If you interfere too much, they might think you’re trying to claim their only heir.”
Duan dasao sighed. “I can’t help myself… but fine, I’ll try to hold back. By the way, Xiao Song, who’s going to tend the fire? Neither of us can manage that.”
Song Zhaodi pointed upstairs. “The kids knew I was making sazi today, so they didn’t go out. They’re waiting upstairs.”
“You have some interesting children,” Duan dasao remarked. “When there’s food involved, they’re as obedient as kittens.”
Talking about food made Song Zhaodi sigh. “There just isn’t much to eat. If things were like before, where you could buy anything with money, I’d have to lock my money in a metal safe. But now? I leave it in a paper box and no one even touches it.”
“Your kids are well-behaved,” Duan dasao assured her. “Even if the streets were full of restaurants, they wouldn’t steal money to buy snacks.”
Just then, footsteps sounded. Duan dasao glanced outside and saw Zili approaching. “Perfect timing! Start the fire. We’re about to start frying.”
Zili was curious, “Like fried crispy leaves?”
“No, more like fried dough sticks,” Song Zhaodi replied. “Zili, have you eaten fried dough sticks before?”
Zili thought carefully. “I had them when I was very young.”
“Mother, I’ve never had them,” Dawa said, leaning against the doorframe.
Song Zhaodi laughed. “If you haven’t, there’s nothing I can do. I don’t know how to make them.”
“Grandma, do you know how?” Dawa asked Duan dasao.
Duan dasao shook her head. “I know how to fry sugar cakes, but not dough sticks.”
“Mother…” Zhong Dawa looked at Song Zhaodi pitifully. “I’ve never had sugar cakes.”
Song Zhaodi sighed. “You kids don’t like white sugar, so we don’t have any at home. Even if I wanted to make them, I couldn’t.”
“I have some,” Duan dasao said. “Your Uncle Liu and I don’t like sweet things either, but Liu Ping bought some when she visited.” She wiped her hands and handed a key to Dawa. “It’s in the kitchen cabinet at our house.”
Dawa looked at Song Zhaodi.
Song Zhaodi nodded. “Go ahead.”
Dawa turned and ran off immediately.
Duan dasao laughed and shook her head but couldn’t help worrying. “If Dawa joins the army in the future and eats mess hall food every day, how thin will he get?” She paused. “Xiao Song, you need to fix this bad habit of his.”
“Grandma, no need,” Zili said. “My dad says if you make him run ten kilometers in the morning, then give him plain noodles without salt or oil, he’ll still eat like a wolf.”
Duan dasao thought for a moment. “You’re right. Liu Wei was a picky eater too, but ever since he joined the army, his father says he not only stopped being picky but also got rid of his laziness.”
“Liu Wei has been gone for years and never come back?” Song Zhaodi asked. “Is it really that hard to get a few days off?”
Duan dasao sighed. “Getting two days off isn’t hard. But here, he has to take a boat and transfer to a bus. Even if he came for just a day, it would take him five days in total. Your Uncle Liu thought it wasn’t worth the trouble, so he never asked Liu Wei to come back.”
“That does sound exhausting,” Song Zhaodi admitted, then suddenly had an idea. “Why don’t you visit him instead?”
Duan dasao was taken aback. “Visit him?”
“Yes!” Song Zhaodi said. “One of these days, you can make some fried pastries and take them to Liu Wei. You know how to take the bus, so you won’t need to trouble anyone or have Uncle Liu take you.”
Duan dasao’s eyes lit up. “Why didn’t I think of that? Xiao Song, help me make some fried pastries tomorrow!”
“We have school tomorrow,” Zili said. “I can’t help Grandma with the fire.”
The fire control was crucial when frying pastries. Duan dasao wanted to see her son as soon as possible but didn’t want to go empty-handed. She told Song Zhaodi she would make the pastries in the evening instead.
The next evening, after dinner, Zhong Jianguo watched the kids take their baths, then went with Song Zhaodi to Commander Liu’s house to help the elderly couple fry the pastries.
When they returned, Zhong Jianguo was carrying two handfuls of fried pastries. He and Song Zhaodi didn’t want to accept them, but Duan dasao insisted they were for the kids, not them. Since she put it that way, Song Zhaodi gestured for Zhong Jianguo to take them.
On October 20th, Wednesday morning, Duan dasao left for the dock with her bag. That evening, Song Zhaodi told the kids to take the pastries outside and eat them under the tree.
Zhong Jianguo came home early and happened to overhear Song Zhaodi telling the kids that if anyone asked about the pastries, they should say they got them from Grandma Liu, not that they were homemade.
Zhong Jianguo couldn’t help but warn her, “Teacher Xiao Song, if you keep doing this, everyone will hate you.”
“Hate me?” Song Zhaodi raised an eyebrow. “As long as your commander doesn’t hate me, that’s all that matters.”
Zhong Jianguo was momentarily speechless. He glanced at Zili and Gengsheng. “Today it’s pastries, tomorrow it’s sugar cakes and the next day, a braised duck. Our commander will just praise you for knowing how to raise kids.”
“Exactly!” Song Zhaodi said. “The commander is the highest authority on this island. As long as he’s backing me up, what are you worrying about?” She patted Dawa on the head. “When you come back, I’ll make you spinach-fried pastries.”
Zhong Jianguo frowned. “How can you fry pastries with spinach? Don’t make a mess.”
Song Zhaodi smiled. “You can choose not to eat it. Kids, go on now. Mom will be waiting at home for your triumphant return!”
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