It had been a long time since I’d had a home-cooked meal.
What food is best for the stomach? Home-cooked food. Because it’s what you grew up eating. Your stomach has long since adapted to it.
When I was a kid, there were no off-season vegetables. You ate what was in season—summer vegetables in summer, autumn ones in winter. Almost every household in winter lived on cabbage, radishes, and vermicelli noodles, along with some pickled vegetables.
Can kids today even tell which vegetables belong to which season?
Don’t even get me started on them—sometimes Zhou You himself couldn’t tell what vegetables or fruits were in season.
“Mom, I want braised noodles with green beans. Make me some.” That was Zhou You’s favorite dish. If he went a while without it, he’d crave it. Back in the busy farming season, making braised noodles was quick and easy.
The noodles were always freshly made with a noodle machine. It felt like being a kid again—his mom kneading the dough while he cranked the machine, flattening it over and over until it was chewy. Almost every family in their village had a noodle machine. Northerners love wheat-based foods, and freshly made noodles taste better.
Once the dough was flattened, they’d attach the cutting blade and slice the noodles thin. Since they were steamed, thin noodles cooked faster.
“Mom, make the braised noodles with green beans and shredded pork, okay? Lots of green beans, just a little meat.”
“Alright, I’ll add some soy sauce too. We’re out of garlic at home. If you want some, have your dad go get some from your second uncle’s place.” She gave instructions while cooking.
In the north, you eat noodles with garlic—raw garlic, regular garlic, or laba garlic. Zhou You liked regular garlic and laba garlic, but he could only handle half a clove of raw garlic at most.
“Mom, Dad and I are going to town to buy some watermelons to keep at home.”
“Drive slowly. Your car’s so big, and there are kids running around the village without supervision. Don’t hit anyone.” His mom was a bit worried.
“Dad, you drive my car. We’ll go buy watermelons together.” He noticed his dad had been circling his car for a while.
Zhou Bencheng heard that and hesitated, saying the car was too big and he was afraid he wouldn’t handle it well.
“It’s fine. This is an off-road vehicle—tough and durable. Just drive slow. Small bumps or scratches don’t matter, just don’t hit anyone.”
“Alright, you sit in the passenger seat and keep an eye out for me. The car’s too big, I’ve never driven one like this. I usually only drive a sedan occasionally.” Zhou You’s family didn’t own a car, and they rarely needed one.
“Dad, do you want a car? I’ll buy you one then.” Zhou You thought having a car at home would be convenient.
“No need. Just take care of yourself. I’m in the countryside and don’t go far. What would I need a car for?”
“With a car, you could go to the county or the city easily.” Zhou You added, “And it’d be convenient to visit Grandpa and Grandma too. You don’t have to buy an expensive one—just something cheap and roomy. It’s just that electric cars aren’t mature yet, or I’d get you one. Charging at home would be easy.”
“We’ve got a motorcycle. That’s plenty convenient in the countryside.” Zhou Bencheng insisted on not buying one. He was probably worried his son didn’t have enough money.
Zhou You thought it over and didn’t push further, planning to buy one next year instead. He’d let them get used to the idea.
By next year, he’d have been working for a year. If he told them his salary was high, they wouldn’t get it. People envied him for being a university professor, but how many knew how low professors’ salaries really were?
The black Wrangler turned heads in the village. Especially on the rural roads, which weren’t as smooth as city streets—they were a bit bumpy and potholed.
After driving for a while, his dad said, “You, this car’s really something. You don’t even have to dodge small potholes.”
They ran into many familiar faces on the road, and when they saw Zhou Bencheng driving, those closer to him called out, “Third Brother, you’ve struck it rich, driving such a nice car!”
“I don’t have the skills to make that kind of money. This is Xiao You’s car. He saved up some money working as a university professor in Luzhou.” Zhou Bencheng was modest.
“A university professor—that’s impressive. With education and knowledge, you can make money.” Everyone was envious.
Watching his father, who had lived a simple, unremarkable life—not exactly spineless, but plain—for so long, Zhou You felt that now the family was finally getting somewhere. At least it gave the village something to talk about for a while.
At least no one could say studying was useless anymore.
Though it might give them the illusion that studying really paid off.
Does studying pay off? But don’t expect it to work miracles.
Studying, especially at a good school, can at least lift you out of rural poverty. It gives you a foothold in the city.
As for whether you live well or happily—that’s up to each person’s own path.
“Boss, how much are the watermelons? Are they from your own patch?” Most of the watermelons in town were grown locally. They still had that fresh, just-picked fruity scent, unlike the ones from the supermarket later, which had been sitting for days. Some were even force-ripened—looked red but weren’t sweet at all, with ridiculously thick rinds.
The boss wore a straw hat, his face tanned dark from the sun. “Of course they’re from my own patch, picked this morning. We’re all neighbors here—if I cheated you, I couldn’t run away. One yuan and twenty cents a catty. All good melons, sandy-textured.” That was the beauty of a close-knit community—you’d known each other for decades. Once your reputation soured, it was hard to fix. It could even affect your kids and grandkids.
“Dad, you pick them. I don’t know how. Grab a few extra—they’ll keep for a few days.” Zhou You’s family used to grow watermelons too, but just a few dozen for themselves.
His dad picked a few, then thought for a moment. “Should I grab another bag? We’ll visit your grandma’s place in a couple of days.”
“No need. When we want them, I’ll buy fresh ones then—they’ll be fresher.” His grandparents on his father’s side had passed away early, so he’d spent a lot of time with his maternal grandparents as a kid. He was close to them.
They were both in good health, living on their own in the countryside. Thinking back, when he worked in the provincial capital, he rarely came home, and when he did, it was only for half a day.
He’d never have such long breaks as winter and summer vacations again.
On National Day or May Day, he sometimes had to work overtime and couldn’t come back.
If there was one thing he couldn’t get used to after graduation, it was how few holidays there were.
No wonder Chinese people all travel in crowds—they simply don’t have time otherwise.
Back home, lying on his own bed, looking at the old house, he felt a mix of warmth and a sense that it was a bit run-down. It had been built when he was a kid, and the sunlight wasn’t great.
Whenever it rained or was overcast, the house got damp and uncomfortable.
The countryside still had pit latrines, and Zhou You found them a bit hard to get used to at first.
Back when society kept beating him down, he’d often thought about returning to the countryside.
More than once, he’d imagined redesigning his rural homestead into a traditional Chinese courtyard house.
He’d remodel it like a villa, install a septic tank—that would be enough for daily bathroom and shower needs.
Now that he had the chance, Zhou You was determined to make that wish come true—to make himself comfortable and satisfied.