Chapter 30: Filming a Documentary, Solo Stand-Up

"The noodle workshop would make a great feature," Li Yan said with a smile, clearly intrigued. "Their courtyard is in a prime spot, right at the intersection of two lanes. It's perfect for small business, and there's even a phone booth outside..."

As she spoke, someone came looking for a phone, calling out to the family. Eager to impress, the cousin quickly volunteered and dashed out.

"That young man moves fast," Li Yan joked, watching his retreating figure. "No wonder he climbs telephone poles for a living—he runs like the wind."

The director, Du, chuckled and gave instructions, "After filming the noodle workshop, let's shoot the phone booth as well. This is the authentic life of ordinary folks."

"Alright," Li Yan replied, waving cheerfully as she and the cameraman shouldered their equipment and entered the noodle workshop.

—

The noodles were pressed by machine, sold at fifty cents a pound. Grandpa Wang was a savvy businessman, supplying several nearby restaurants. Each day, he delivered over a hundred pounds to these establishments; after subtracting costs, he pocketed dozens of yuan in profit.

While interviewing, Li Yan did a rough calculation. The grandfather and grandson worked hard for a month, earning almost as much as she made in three months.

She was deeply moved by this, and upon leaving, her pleasant manner had Grandpa Wang so delighted he threw in an extra three pounds when she bought ten.

—

The meat and vegetables had been bought and brought home. Lin Xiyu and her cousin helped with the documentary, making eggplant noodles under their grandmother’s guidance.

Eggplants were washed and diced, then soaked in salted water for a few minutes. Pork belly was minced, oil heated in the pan, and the meat sautéed until it changed color, then garlic was added for aroma. The eggplant, squeezed dry, went into the pot and was stirred until soft. Sweet bean paste and soy sauce were poured in, and the mixture simmered on medium heat. Before serving, a dash of salt and sugar was added for flavor, then thickened with starch. The fragrant, savory sauce was ready.

—

The fresh noodles were chewy and springy, delicious on their own. Mixed with the savory sauce, they were bursting with flavor—simply irresistible.

Grandmother's house was small; the table couldn't seat everyone. The menfolk sensibly brought out little stools, balancing their bowls as they ate in the courtyard.

Uncle delighted everyone with jokes as he ate, grinning from ear to ear.

"When I was in the army, the mess hall would serve a bowl of plain noodle soup to each soldier," he began.

"The southern soldiers would see noodles and dig right in, slurping happily, their bowls empty in no time."

"The northern soldiers watched, sitting still."

"The instructor asked, 'Why aren't you eating? The noodles will get cold if you wait.'"

"The northern soldiers answered in unison, 'We're waiting for the sauce...'"

—

Laughter echoed throughout the courtyard. Director Du slapped his thigh, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

The assistant director, holding his bowl, sidled up to Uncle Liu. "Uncle Liu, your storytelling is fantastic—like a one-man comedy show."

"Of course," Uncle Liu replied, proud and self-assured. "I was with the Railway Arts Troupe, performed onstage with Jiang Kun."

"Wow, who would've guessed? Uncle Liu, you're full of surprises," the assistant director said, his eyes gleaming. "What's your specialty? Give us a performance!"

"Shandong fast storytelling," Uncle Liu replied eagerly. "No problem, I even brought my clappers. I can do a segment right now..."

"Did Dad really perform with Jiang Kun?" Inside the house, the cousin listened intently to the conversation outside, curiosity stirring within her.