Chapter 345: The Villagers’ Nightlife

Once everyone had left, Zhou Yimin let out a sigh of relief. At that moment, his grandmother remembered she needed to make dinner, but Zhou Yimin stopped her. “Grandma, just stay here and watch TV! Let me cook for you today—you’ll get to taste my skills.”

Normally, his grandmother would have insisted, but the temptation of the television was too strong, and the novelty hadn’t worn off yet, so she agreed.

Zhou Yimin started preparing the ingredients he had brought back. With high-quality ingredients, the simpler the cooking, the better the result.

After an hour of busy work, Chef Zhou finally emerged with his creations.

He had made five dishes in total, three of which were meat dishes.

“Grandpa, Grandma, come eat!” Zhou Yimin called out.

Only then did the old couple snap out of their TV trance. They slowly made their way to the dining table, eyes still half-glued to the screen.

The sight reminded Zhou Yimin of how, in the future, parents would call their kids to dinner, only for the kids to be unwilling to stop watching TV.

“Grandpa, Grandma, you can always finish the show after dinner!”

Slightly embarrassed, they finally managed to tear their eyes away from the TV and sit down to eat.

When his grandmother saw the spread on the table, she laughed and sighed at once. “Yimin, there’s only three of us. Isn’t this a bit too much food?”

“Old woman, just eat. No need to talk so much,” Grandpa cut in before she could go on.

As far as he was concerned, the food was there to be eaten—no further discussion needed.

“Mmm! Delicious.”

In times like these, there was no such thing as too much food. A few extra dishes? No problem—they’d all go into their stomachs just the same.

Over the past six months, Grandpa and Grandma had been eating well, so their appetites had shrunk a little. If it were other families in the village, this amount probably wouldn’t be enough.

Zhou Yimin, ever the chef, felt a swell of pride at their praise. “If it’s good, then eat up!”

The meal passed with plenty of compliments and warm conversation.

The villagers were very punctual and had already gathered outside, afraid that if they came too late, they’d have to sit outside in the cold, only able to hear the TV.

Seeing the scene warmed Zhou Yimin’s heart. It helped make up for the usual lack of visitors at home and meant his grandparents had more company—something he was glad for.

This was, in fact, one of the reasons he had brought the television back in the first place.

Since it was nighttime, it didn’t interfere with work, and the old village secretary had no objections.

Normally, village life didn’t include any nightlife. Aside from married couples trying for children, most people went to bed early.

But ever since Yimin returned, their nights had gradually become more colorful and lively.

The village secretary later laid down a rule: everyone could only watch TV for two hours in the evening. They couldn’t let it affect the next day’s work.

Honestly, though, he didn’t need to worry—there weren’t many TV programs to begin with, and broadcasting only lasted two or three hours a night.

Zhou Yimin noticed the villagers outside shivering from the cold, so he brought out a spare stove and set it up for them, telling them to add firewood themselves.

If it weren’t for the risk of being too advanced, Zhou Yimin would’ve set up central heating by now.

“Yimin, don’t worry about them. If they get cold, they’ll go back to bed,” the village secretary said.

Around nine o’clock, the villagers finally returned to their homes. Zhou Yimin then mysteriously took out something.

His grandfather, seeing this, felt curious and secretly followed to have a look.

It turned out Zhou Yimin had taken out a ginseng root he had snagged in a flash sale. He was going to soak it in liquor. His grandfather enjoyed drinking and had said it was hard to quit, so Zhou figured medicinal liquor would be a better alternative—it would at least provide some health benefits.

First, he took out a bottle of Moutai, poured it into a prepared container, and added the ginseng.

Although Moutai could be used to infuse medicinal liquor, one still had to pay attention to detail and ratios. Due to its rich aroma, using only Moutai might overpower the other ingredients and affect the overall flavor. So, it was best to mix in other high-proof grain liquors to balance it out.

When Grandpa saw what was happening, he couldn’t help but scold, “Yimin, using Moutai to soak ginseng? Isn’t that a bit too extravagant? Wouldn’t it be better to just drink it straight?”

“Grandpa, trust me—it won’t be a waste. You’ll know when you try it,” Zhou Yimin said, keeping a bit of suspense.

Sure enough, Grandpa’s curiosity was piqued. “Yimin, how long does it need to soak before we can drink it?”

“Not too long. About a month. But you can’t drink too much,” Zhou Yimin said.

“Only 50 milliliters at a time.”

Grandpa didn’t really understand what a milliliter was and looked confused.

Zhou Yimin had to show him with his hands.

Grandpa wasn’t too happy with the amount and protested, “That’s barely a sip.”

He needed a little alcohol every day—without it, he’d feel all itchy and restless.

“Old man, don’t you want a golden grandson? If you do, then listen to Yimin,” Grandma struck right at the heart of it.

That was pretty much every elder’s dream, and Grandpa couldn’t argue with that.

Helplessly, he gave in. “Fine!”

“Great. Grandma, if I’m not around, you’re in charge of keeping him in check,” Zhou Yimin said with a grin.

Grandma readily agreed. “Got it, my dear grandson. If he drinks one sip more, I’ll break his legs…”

And just like that, Grandpa was “forced” into a series of unfair treaties.

Still, he made one last stand—tonight, he was going to have a few more sips no matter what.

He looked pointedly at the Moutai Zhou Yimin had brought, making his intentions crystal clear.

Zhou Yimin didn’t object. He knew quitting alcohol couldn’t be done cold turkey. Too harsh a withdrawal might have side effects.

“All right.”

He brought out another bottle of Moutai, along with some dishes to pair with the liquor.

Tonight, he was going to drink a couple of cups with Grandpa.

Before long, Zhou Xuqing, somehow catching the scent like a bloodhound, showed up as well. Seeing there was alcohol, he stuck around and refused to leave. In the end, Zhou Yimin had no choice but to pour him a cup too.

As they drank, Grandpa reminisced with Zhou Yimin and his third uncle about the old days.

Old folks just loved to talk about the past.

Third Uncle had heard all this before. He was used to it and let the words go in one ear and out the other, focusing only on drinking.

Grandpa gave him a glare. “Is that how you drink Moutai? Get lost and go drink your cheap sweet potato liquor.”

In just a short while, Third Uncle had already downed three cups. Of course Grandpa was mad.

Zhou Xuqing gave an awkward smile and slowed down, though he kept sneaking glances at the bottle of Moutai, clearly plotting how to get another drink.

(End of Chapter)