RPAGF Chapter 1043 She Suddenly
Chapter 1043 She Suddenly
The bamboo basket lost its balance, and the entire bowl of tofu pudding crashed onto Butcher Wang's new apron with a crashing sound. The tender white tofu pudding, mixed with the brown marinade, trickled down his apron, a few strands of day lily dangling from it, resembling an abstract painting. "Compensate for my tofu pudding!" Cuihua stamped her feet in agony. She'd gotten up at three in the morning to grind the beans, and the marinade had been infused with her secret spices. "Compensate for my new apron!" Butcher Wang's voice, louder than a pig butcher's, pointed at his "masterpiece" on his chest and gasped in anger. "My sister spent three days sewing this!" The quarrel startled the sparrows in the treetops. The birds, which had been spying on the lovemaking cats beneath the wall, took flight, nearly dropping their droppings on Butcher Wang's straw hat. Mrs. Zhang, who was selling tea eggs on the roadside, popped her head out to watch the fun, forgetting to stir the eggs with her iron spoon as they simmered loudly in the pot. But no one noticed the red thread dangling in the air, half of it white as tofu pudding, half stained with pork fat, bouncing and dancing as they pulled. Whenever Cuihua raised her rolling pin to hit him, the red thread would lean towards Wang the Butcher; whenever Wang the Butcher raised his butcher knife to scare him, the red thread would lean towards Cuihua again, like a little snake that had stolen a drink of immortal wine, dancing an unruly tango above their heads. Yue Lao was still struggling with the knot in the marriage department. He finally found the end of the thread and was about to pull it hard when he realized it had become greasy. "Strange," he put it to his nose and sniffed, "Why does it smell like braised pork?" The wind was still blowing outside the window, carrying a sycamore leaf onto the file, covering the three words "Li Goudan". The red thread that should have been connected to him was now lying alone in the corner of the table. The rice at the end of the thread rolled under the table and was used as a snack by the mouse that sneaked in from the Kitchen God's house. The quarrel in the mortal world was still going on. Wang the Butcher suddenly found that there were some tofu residues on Cuihua's rolling pin, which looked a little cute. Cuihua also noticed that although Wang the Butcher had a loud voice, his hand holding the butcher knife was actually shaking slightly - he was reluctant to really chop it off. The red thread in the air suddenly tied a beautiful bow, and the four words "a happy marriage for a hundred years" on the thread turned into "noisy" without knowing when. The matchmaker in the marriage department sneezed and finally untied the knot. He rubbed his sore wrist, not realizing that in a hurry, he had just quietly put the fate cards of Zhang Cuihua and Wang the Butcher together. The redemption journey of the girl with the Yin-Yang eyes**
Chapter One: The Old Ghost at the Wonton Stall. At midnight, rain streaked across the streetlights, leaving dark streaks on the bluestone pavement, like ink stains on rice paper, slowly infecting the entire old street. A damp, cool breeze swept through the alley, picking up a few withered, yellow leaves, which swirled in the air before slamming heavily into the puddle, splashing tiny drops of water. Lin Mo had just finished collecting the dishes from the last table. As her fingertips touched the edge of the enamel basin, they felt a chill spread along them, causing her to shiver involuntarily. Just then, a hoarse, elderly cough echoed from behind her. It sounded like the strain of an old bellows, its weakness and hoarseness barely concealed. "Miss, can you give me a bowl of hot soup?" She paused, gripping the dishcloth, her knuckles turning slightly white from the strain. When she turned around, her usual smile was already on her face. That was a skill she learned in nursing school. No matter how turbulent her heart was, she could always face others with a calm expression. An old man in a gray cloth double-breasted shirt was standing under the awning with a hunched back. His back was so hunched that it seemed as if he was carrying a thousand-pound burden, almost parallel to the ground. There was a layer of white mist on his cloudy eyeballs, like glass beads immersed in water, making it difficult to see the emotions in his eyes. When Lin Mo lowered her head to scoop soup, she caught a glimpse of his translucent soles stepping in the puddles. There was not a ripple at all. Her heart sank, but she remained calm. "Enjoy your meal." She pushed the coarse blue and white porcelain bowl over. The crisp sound of the porcelain spoon hitting the bowl wall was particularly clear in the rainy night, breaking the tranquility of the rainy night. The rim of the bowl was slightly worn; she'd found it at a flea market, having thought its quaint style would suit her wonton stall. Now, filled with steaming hot soup, it held a unique charm. The old man didn't pick up his chopsticks, simply rubbing the rim of the bowl with his rough fingers, which were covered in furrows and wrinkles, and a hint of black mud still clung to his nails, as if weathered by the ravages of time. He spoke slowly, his voice thick with the weight of time: "This wonton stall... originally belonged to the Chen family, right?" Lin Mo's heart skipped a beat, as if struck by something. Before this old street was renovated, a family surnamed Chen had indeed been selling wontons here for thirty years. The Chen family's wontons had thin skin and generous filling, and the broth was made by slow-cooking large bones for hours, its delicious aroma permeating the entire street. As a child, she'd always pestered her grandmother to bring her here to eat, and the Chen family's grandmother would always give her an extra wonton, smiling and saying the little girl was growing up. Three years ago, a fire destroyed the shop, its flames soaring into the sky, illuminating half the night sky. The agonizing cries are still vividly etched in the minds of the residents of the old street. The fact that the elderly couple didn't escape is a cause for regret. She had just graduated from nursing school this year, weary of the daily hustle and bustle of the hospital. When she bought the street-facing shop, the elderly woman next door held her hand and lamented the loss of the delicious food and the kind couple. "Do you know them?" She unscrewed the thermos and poured hot water into the elderly woman's bowl. White steam rose, blurring her vision and creating a barrier between her and the elderly woman. The thermos had been her grandmother's, its stainless steel casing a bit tarnished, but it still held heat remarkably well, like her grandmother's love, a constant source of warmth. "I know them... I know them so well," the elderly woman said, suddenly coughing violently, curling up into a ball as if she were coughing up all her internal organs. The sobs that leaked out from between the fingers were like a pinched bellows, filled with endless regret and pain. "I owe them money for three bowls of wontons, and I have owed them for thirty years." The rain was getting heavier, and the big raindrops hit the plastic awning densely, making a crackling sound, as if accompanying the old man's narration. Lin Mo looked at the old man's shoulders that were gradually becoming transparent, and the gray cloth double-breasted shirt became darker against the background of the rain. She suddenly remembered what her grandmother said when she was a child - the Yin-Yang eyes are not a magical power, but a debt given by God, and it must be repaid for those souls that cannot escape. Grandma also said that on the day she was born, a strange green light floated outside the window. The witch in the village came to take a look and said that the child had opened the Yin-Yang eyes.