The Game of Life TGOL

Chapter 330: 329: Green Leaf Dumplings

Chapter 330: Chapter 329: Green Leaf Dumplings

The birthday cake needed to be kept refrigerated, otherwise with the current outdoor temperature in Beiping, it would turn into a creamy mess if left outside for an hour.

Zhang Guanghang had finished the birthday cake, Wu Minqi had completed carving the crane-shaped longevity peach for Jiang Weiming’s birthday celebration, and Jiang Feng found the breakthrough point for completing Zhang Guanghang’s side mission. Each of them had their own gains, and after packing up, they prepared to meet at Taifeng Building.

The highlight of this morning was making zongzi, a group activity to make rice dumplings that was rare to see in August.

In everyone’s conventional image, zongzi is a food only eaten during the Dragon Boat Festival. Once the festival is over, zongzi disappears without a trace.

It was also Jiang Feng’s first time making zongzi in August.

Zhang Guanghang went to get the car, and Jiang Feng waited with Wu Minqi at the entrance of Fen Garden for him. After a while, instead of the familiar Bentley, a silver Maserati appeared.

Jiang Feng: ???

Do all you rich and handsome guys get tired of the old that quickly? The beloved Bentley had only been driven for a short period, and you’ve already moved on to a new love interest.

However, this new love seemed really dirty, Jiang Feng thought, noticing quite a bit of dust on the car.

After getting into the car, Jiang Feng couldn’t help but ask, “Why did you change cars?”

“The previous one was sent for maintenance, this one I bought a few years ago, I don’t drive it much,” Zhang Guanghang explained, “It’s been a long time since it’s been driven and it got dusty in the garage. I forgot to get it washed yesterday, after you help me take the cake over, I’ll go wash the car.”

“Sure,” Jiang Feng responded.

.

Even with zongzi, there are Northern and Southern variations.

Beiping zongzi, representing the Northern variety, are quite large and generally four-cornered or shaped as triangles. The filling is mostly red bean paste with jujubes, with a small portion filled with candied fruit.

Southern zongzi comes in a greater variety, with shapes including diamond, polygonal, cylindrical, and conical. The fillings are also very diverse, with traditional meat zongzi and red bean paste zongzi, as well as the newer mixed and salted egg yolk meat zongzi gaining popularity in recent years.

Jiang Feng remembered that when he was still in elementary school, there would often be an old lady pushing a cart selling zongzi made purely from glutinous rice and wrapped in green leaves, without any filling. You could see the tightly wrapped glutinous rice inside the conical green leaf zongzi by peeling the leaves apart, and it became delicious after rolling it in a pile of mixed white sugar and sesame seeds that you’d dip it into with a bamboo skewer.

The sweet sticky rice was chewy and firm, with a faint, refreshing scent of the leaves, only one yuan each. Back then, as long as Jiang Shoucheng, Jiang Zaidi, and Jiang Ran had enough money in their wallets, they could devour five or six non-stop.

If Chen Xiuxiu was with them, especially on a day they received pocket money, their group could buy out the old lady’s entire stock of zongzi.

As Jiang Shoucheng and Jiang Zaidi progressed to middle school, the scene where the Jiang family’s big and little fat boys surrounded the old lady’s zongzi cart became a rare sight.

Somehow, over time, the old lady’s zongzi cart vanished, just like many unremarkable stalls that Jiang Feng visited in his childhood, appearing quietly and disappearing without a trace.

The old lady assumed that as the youngest, he didn’t have much pocket money, so could only afford one zongzi. She peeled an additional small zongzi for him, which led to him being so full that he couldn’t eat dinner that evening—a memory still vivid to Jiang Feng, yet it had been nearly 10 years since he last ate a green leaf zongzi.

“Sigh,” Jiang Feng let out a sigh.

Just an hour after getting off the train, Jiang Ran, who had been dragged back home by his parents, disheveled, to wash and change clothes before being reborn, heard Jiang Feng sighing while making zongzi and couldn’t help but look over.

“Little brother, what are you sighing about?” Jiang Zaidi asked, constantly poking into the zongzi leaves with chopsticks, trying to bury the large piece of meat he just added with glutinous rice.

“I want to eat green leaf zongzi,” Jiang Feng said, “the ones sold by the old lady at the entrance of our elementary school.”

“Green leaf zongzi?” Jiang Shoucheng joined the discussion, “You mean the plain zongzi that we ate dipped in sugar, without any filling?”

“Yes, the plain zongzi, it feels like it’s been a long time since I’ve eaten them,” Jiang Feng said.

“If you want to eat it, just make one without meat. Remember to mark it after you wrap it, so I don’t eat it by mistake,” Jiang Zaidi said, continuing to wrestle with the meat inside the zongzi leaves.

“De, stop messing around, you can’t fit it in, try a smaller piece of meat. You’ve been wrapping that zongzi for five or six minutes now, at your speed, when are we ever going to finish?” Jiang Ran couldn’t stand it anymore.

Jiang Zaidi wasn’t willing to give up the meat he had in hand, struggling desperately, “Who says it can’t fit, give me a few more minutes and I’ll get it in!”

Jiang Ran shook his head helplessly, tying up an incredibly ugly zongzi.

“Your zongzi is so ugly. Look at mine,” Jiang Shoucheng said, picking up one he had just made that was as ugly as Jiang Ran’s, laughing at the misfortune of another although he was no better off.

Jiang Feng ignored the squabbling between his two older cousins, and after hesitating for a few seconds between green leaf and meat zongzi, he decisively grabbed a piece of meat and placed it into the zongzi leaves.

Although the green leaf zongzi was a memory from his childhood, he chose the meat zongzi.

The materials for today’s zongzi were all personally prepared by Mrs. Jiang.

The glutinous rice had been soaked overnight, and the meat was also well-marinated large chunks of fresh meat that would be extremely delicious even just grilled on the spot, let alone wrapped in a zongzi.

Mrs. Jiang, as the pillar of the Jiang family’s zongzi-making realm, had made the zongzi for all 18 members of the family every Dragon Boat Festival, a tradition of over a decade, which is also why the younger generation of the Jiang family, including Jiang Feng, aren’t skilled at making zongzi.

Mrs. Jiang has always been a benchmark in the Jiang family’s zongzi-making efforts, meeting few rivals, and even Sir had to admit his inferiority, although largely because Mrs. Jiang didn’t allow Sir to make zongzi. Mrs. Jiang was very apt at eliminating the enemy at its source.

But today, she met her match.

Chen Suhua.

Ever since Professor Li and his wife moved to Beiping, the two of them started living the leisurely life of retired elders.

Professor Li spent his days drinking tea, reading the newspaper, playing with his smartphone, walking, and playing chess. Occasionally, he would also read some papers and pay attention to the latest research trends, feeling fulfilled and comfortable each day, appearing much younger than he looked before.

Chen Suhua, on the other hand, raised chickens, pigs, and grew vegetables. She cleaned the house, knitted sweaters, and treated the Li family old house as if it were a large countryside courtyard, becoming hopelessly addicted to animal husbandry and agriculture.

Mrs. Jiang had been getting very close with the Li family these days, spending her days with Chen Suhua raising chickens, growing vegetables, and knitting sweaters. Chen Suhua, influenced by Mrs. Jiang, had also fallen in love with Huangmei opera, and the two had pretty much become old sisters.

And what are sisters for if not to compare and compete with each other?

As Mrs. Jiang and Chen Suhua ignited a battle without gunpowder over making rice dumplings, the others in the Jiang family, including Jiang Zaidi, were gradually stripped of their dumpling-making rights and could only give up on the hopeless endeavor and join in idleness.

They began spectating Mrs. Jiang and Chen Suhua make rice dumplings.

In fact, most of the staff at Taifeng Building couldn’t make rice dumplings. They were just looking for a novelty. Being able to make one like Jiang Ran’s was already considered excellent, as at least the dumplings were tied up and didn’t break apart. Whether they would fall apart while being boiled was another matter, left to fate.

Jiang Feng noticed that Ji Yue had begun talking with Zhang Guanghang, showing him the comic she had just finished yesterday. The two elders and Professor Li sat at a four-seater table, drinking tea and chatting merrily, while the smile never left Jiang Weiming’s face.

Wu Minqi and Ji Xue were nowhere to be seen. Wang Xiulian and Jiang Feng’s great-aunts, second aunts, and the fourth and fifth aunts gathered together, each holding a cucumber, munching away while having tea and a chat. Jiang Jiankang and some of Jiang Feng’s uncles were boasting and bragging.

“Ran, I’ve noticed you’ve lost a lot of weight recently,” Jiang Feng observed closely, guessing that Jiang Ran probably had slimmed down to below 200 pounds.

“I’ve been so busy lately reviewing all sorts of documents, applications, submitting forms, writing papers—I’m almost writing myself to death, with no time to eat, always ordering takeout. Of course I would lose weight!” Jiang Ran remarked.

Jiang Feng: …

Why did he feel that Jiang Ran’s tone wasn’t so much complaining but carried a hint of pride?

“Proper meals and enough rest are necessary. Otherwise, you might end up like De last time who almost… almost fainted,” Jiang Shoucheng quickly steered the conversation, narrowly avoiding a slip of the tongue.

Jiang Shoucheng subtly shifted two steps to the side. They were a bit too close to Mrs. Wang Xiulian and her sisters-in-law’s chatting area.

“What happened to De last time?” Jiang Ran inquired.

Jiang Feng & Jiang Shoucheng & Jiang Zaidi: …

The three of them silently moved two steps to the side together, while Jiang Ran followed suit, puzzled.

“It’s De’s personal experience, you tell Ran,” Jiang Feng passed the mic to Jiang Zaidi.

Jiang Zaidi: …

“About last time, sigh, you know how customers are nowadays, tough to deal with. They set high prices and have many demands. I was constantly revising drafts, staying up all night. Consequently, I felt dizzy, which led me to go for a medical check-up. The doctor said it was fortunate I came in time, or I could have just collapsed and died from overworking. Now, I’m on leave, right?” Jiang Zaidi started to concoct a tall tale. “Shoucheng knows about this. He bumped into me at the hospital.”

“Yes, yes, De was having low blood sugar at that time,” Jiang Shoucheng nodded and agreed.

“Cheng, weren’t you in emergency?” Jiang Ran intimated, even though he didn’t endorse it; he kept up with social media.

Jiang Shoucheng: …

“I just recently rotated to emergency care. I wasn’t there before,” said Jiang Shoucheng.

“Weren’t you in thoracic surgery before?” Jiang Ran noted, his memory proving to be quite sharp.

Jiang Shoucheng: …

“We just happened to run into each other when I was delivering something to the outpatient department.”

Jiang Ran, smart as a whip, wanted to keep asking, but was interrupted by Sang Ming who suddenly popped out of nowhere.

“Everyone, fancy a game of mahjong?” Sang Ming’s face bore a mysterious smile that made Jiang Feng think he wasn’t asking if they wanted to play mahjong, but rather if they wanted some “stuff.”

“Where did Taifeng Building get mahjong tiles?” Jiang Feng questioned, mentioning that even their own home didn’t have a set.

Only the Li Mansion had one, used occasionally when Mrs. Jiang and Chen Suhua joined the old ladies from the surrounding quad houses for entertainment.

Mrs. Jiang had been doing quite well at Beiping mahjong recently.

“I brought two sets of mahjong tiles with me today, just in case we had nothing to do later. See? Now they come in handy,” Sang Ming boasted with pride, “It’s just you we’re short of for the Sichuan Mahjong game. Me, Zhang Weiyu, and Qi Rou from Shu are three missing one. Are you in?”

“I’m in!”

“By the way, do you know how to play Sichuan Mahjong, or do you need me to go over the rules?” Sang Ming offered.

“No need, I’ve played Sichuan Mahjong before,” Jiang Feng assured, hinting that it was time to showcase some real mahjong skills.

In his freshman year, while others in his class were all playing Arena of Valor, meeting up in the Valley of Kings, his classmates were hooked on QQ Mahjong’s Sichuan version, encountering each other in room number one. Back then, Jiang Feng’s score was unrivaled, often playing on behalf of Wang Hao to boost his scores.

He hadn’t spent all these years watching Mrs. Jiang play mahjong for nothing!