Chapter 52: Deep-Fried Braised Pork

Watching their grandson bring home meat again, the old man and old lady were no longer surprised.

“Grandpa! I’ll be making deep-fried braised pork later. Here’s a flashlight for you—it’ll be useful when you get up at night.” Zhou Yimin handed over the flashlight.

The old man was delighted and played with it for a while like a child. If it weren’t still daytime, he would have taken the flashlight and gone for a stroll around the village.

Flashlights weren’t unheard of in the village, but you could count the ones available on three fingers.

Laifu and his two buddies were busy fanning Qianqian, but their eyes kept darting toward Zhou Yimin.

Their eldest brother hadn’t come home yesterday, and they missed him.

“Yimin, this is the money Dashun repaid.” Grandpa took out a few bills and handed them over.

The entire village knew about Zhou Dashun’s child’s illness. The doctor had said that if they had arrived half an hour later, the child might have suffered brain damage from the fever.

Zhou Yimin nodded, took the money, and casually stuffed it into his pants pocket.

“Grandma! This kerosene lamp is much better. I’ll put it in your room and show you how to use it.” Zhou Yimin began demonstrating the lamp for his grandmother.

Compared to the one at home, this lamp was far more advanced. Anyone unfamiliar with it might struggle to use it properly.

“Yimin, why don’t you keep this lamp for yourself?” Grandma tried to persuade him.

Good things should be left for their grandson to use. They were already old and didn’t need such a nice lamp. One look at it, and they could tell it was a bright one.

“That’s right! We have a flashlight now, which is very convenient. Besides, we’re used to our old lamp.” Grandpa agreed.

Alright then! Since both his grandparents insisted, Zhou Yimin didn’t argue further.

After that, he went to deliver supplies to the school.

When he arrived, he saw that the school had been completely cleaned up, and the surrounding weeds had been cleared. Inside the classroom, the old, broken desks and chairs had been replaced with newly made ones by the villagers.

Each classroom now had long tables, with two students sharing a desk and sitting on a long bench.

Originally, there had been only one window, but now there were four—two on each side—making the room much brighter.

At the front of the classroom, above the blackboard, was a portrait of a great leader. On the back wall, a slogan read: “Study hard and make progress every day.”

“Xiaolan, where’s your father?” Zhou Yimin asked.

“Uncle Sixteen, my father went to find the old village chief. The village made three large blackboards, one for each classroom. They’ll be installed later today, and classes will start tomorrow,” Xiaolan replied.

She was deeply grateful to Uncle Sixteen. If not for him, she would probably have been married off by now.

These days, life in other villages probably wasn’t any easier. At least in Zhoujia Village, while they didn’t eat well, no one starved to death.

In other villages, it was hard to say.

Thanks to Uncle Sixteen, she had become a substitute teacher, teaching first grade. Unlike the other girls in the village, she didn’t have to work in the fields.

Even though substitute teachers also earned work points, it was still more respectable than being a farmer.

“Should I go call my father?”

Zhou Yimin shook his head. “No need, I can give these to you.”

Then, he pulled a large bundle of pencils from the bamboo basket, startling Xiaolan.

“So many pencils?” she asked in surprise.

“One hundred. Don’t hand them all out at once. Here are exercise books—you decide how to distribute them. Ten boxes of chalk. Let me know when you run out.”

Finally, Zhou Yimin took out two fountain pens, which he had bought from the system’s store.

“One for your father—consider it a gift from me.”

Xiaolan was overjoyed and couldn’t stop admiring the pen. Fountain pens were quite valuable at this time. She thanked him repeatedly.

Not long after Zhou Yimin left, Zhou Zhigao returned to the school. Seeing the pencils, notebooks, and chalk that Zhou Yimin had brought, he felt a wave of relief.

They had been waiting for these supplies to start the school year!

What he hadn’t expected was that Zhou Yimin had prepared so much. With only about forty students in the school, each child could get two pencils and five notebooks.

And on top of that, they had received two fountain pens as gifts.

It was clear that Zhou Yimin genuinely valued the education of the village children.

“Father, what did the old village chief say about the school canteen?” Xiaolan asked.

According to Uncle Sixteen’s plan, setting up a canteen was essential. If the school meals were slightly better than what the village provided, parents would be more willing to send their children to school.

“It’s settled. We’ll build a small kitchen over there, and the students can eat in the classroom. The old village chief suggested that your mother cook for the children.”

Zhou Zhigao was pleased with this arrangement. With three family members working at the school, they could earn three sets of work points, ensuring their family’s livelihood. Now, he could focus on teaching without worries.

The proposal for a school canteen quickly gained the villagers’ approval.

Who didn’t have children? Who wouldn’t want their kids to eat better?

Besides, it was Zhou Yimin’s idea—who would dare object?

Zhou Zhigao could already foresee that as long as Yimin continued supporting the school, he wouldn’t have to worry about any unnecessary troubles.

Back at home, Zhou Yimin noticed a large pile of dried branches and firewood in the yard.

“Did Uncle Three bring these back yesterday?” he asked his grandmother.

Grandma smiled. “The village children collected them.”

Since the school was reopening, the kids were preparing to attend. With plans for a canteen, every child was supposed to bring some firewood.

But since the school wasn’t fully set up yet, some parents had instructed their children to bring the firewood to Zhou Yimin’s house instead.

The villagers all knew that the school’s reopening and their children’s chance to study were thanks to Zhou Yimin. Giving him some firewood was only right.

Besides, hadn’t Zhou Yimin given their kids plenty of food before?

For all the food he had shared, it was only fair to help him out a little.

Zhou Yimin carried some firewood into the kitchen.

It was time to make deep-fried braised pork.

He didn’t even have to call—Lai Cai eagerly ran into the kitchen, ready to start the fire. This little guy had practically become Zhou Yimin’s personal fire-tender.

If he wasn’t allowed to help, he would get upset.

Zhou Yimin first washed the pork belly, then cut it into two palm-sized square pieces. He placed them in a pot, added enough water, and had Lai Cai start the fire to boil them until a chopstick could easily pierce the skin.

While waiting, Zhou Yimin carved some wooden skewers.

Once the pork was cooked, he removed it from the pot, let it cool naturally, and then used the skewers to poke small holes evenly across the skin.

This would help the pork develop a crispy, bubbled texture when fried.

Next, he evenly coated the pork skin with salt and white vinegar, letting it marinate for twenty minutes to soften and improve the crispiness.

Watching her grandson pour more and more oil into the pan, Grandma’s eyelid twitched. She almost wanted to call off this whole “deep-fried braised pork project.”

Zhou Yimin chuckled and reassured her, “Grandma! The oil stays in the pan and can be reused. Don’t worry—even after frying, there’ll be more oil than before.”

After all, deep-frying braised pork releases extra fat.

Hearing this, Grandma finally relaxed and smiled again.

(End of Chapter)