Her Cultivation Diary
Chapter 1068 - 1048. Set off!

Chapter 1068: 1048. Set off!

Mr. Yang sat in front of the stove, the blazing flames casting a flickering orange-red glow on his face.

His body leaned back, but his neck craned slightly forward, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the big pot, reluctant to let his gaze stray for even a moment.

It was simple—because it smelled amazing! Absolutely delicious!

When the golden oil was poured into the big pot, the proofed dough, now soft and springy, was spread evenly onto the countertop, then rolled into perfect, uniform, thin sheets with a rolling pin.

The old man of the Tian Group handed the reins to Seventh Uncle, who took a knife and carefully sliced the big pancake into neatly sized diamond-shaped pieces.

Once Mr. Yang heard the command to start the fire, the diamond-shaped dough pieces were lifted one by one, placed neatly onto the sieve basket, and carried into the kitchen by Seventh Uncle.

The oil quickly heated to about eighty percent readiness.

Long chopsticks picked up the pieces of dough and lowered them into the pot one by one, triggering a sizzling symphony of bubbling and crackling sounds.

As the sesame-studded pieces, slightly yellow with hints of black, began to white and puff up in the boiling oil, and then gradually turned golden, an utterly captivating aroma filled the air!

The irresistible allure of high starch and high fat—few could withstand it.

The sounds from the pot were loud, the oil temperature high, and the aroma dense. Mr. Yang had to lean back even further, fearing his saliva might drip into the sizzling oil.

Imagine how embarrassing it would be if the oil splattered because of that!

Like an illiterate person, he kept murmuring over and over again, "It smells so good. These crispy leaves smell amazing! The sesame aroma is so rich!"

Meanwhile, Qiaoqiao’s phone was mounted on the side, the comments on her livestream pouring in like a tidal wave, densely packed.

[Ahhhh I want to eat this so bad!!!]

[Are you selling this? You must be selling these crispy leaves, right?]

[Post the link! Post the link!]

[Watching this after skipping breakfast... Host, how could you do this to me?!]

[I was craving hard, but remembering I’ll soon head to a pig-slaughter feast suddenly made me happy again.]

[??? Seriously, again?!]

[You all are utterly shameless with your Versailles flexing here!]

Seventh Uncle instructed Qiaoqiao to use the skimmer to scoop up the crispy leaves, while Mr. Yang, with his thick skin impervious to heat, couldn’t help but make a move.

"Don’t rush, don’t rush!" Seventh Uncle said smugly. "This is just the first fry. We’ll fry them again later—only then will they taste truly crispy and fragrant."

He then added, "By the way, where’s Master Jiang? Why hasn’t he arrived yet? There’s so much to prepare today!"

Just then, Wu Lan stepped into the kitchen and overheard this. She couldn’t help but ask again, "Are we really not using the mountain canteen? The space there is huge and perfect for hosting a banquet."

"No need," Seventh Uncle shook his head. "Didn’t you say you’re filming videos and want authentic rural cuisine? The canteen won’t give you that vibe."

"Plus, our yard and the large concrete area outside, combined with the wide road at the entrance, provide more than enough space."

Wu Lan nodded, "Alright then! You’re the chef, Uncle. Whatever you say goes—by the way, Zhou Maozhu and his gang are here, saying they’ll build a few stoves. Where should they set them up?"

With the New Year approaching, many people who had been working out of town were gradually returning home, including the two neighbors Zhou Maozhu had brought along, who had only been back for a day.

They had already hauled in two baskets of yellow mud each, ready to build some mud stoves for easy plastering.

Seventh Uncle pondered for a moment, glanced at the crowd of food enthusiasts at home, and concluded that some extra cooking stoves were indeed necessary.

Finally, he made the decision: "Set them up across the road where there’s less traffic. With all the people coming and going here, it’d be unsafe to have fire nearby."

Better to avoid crowding and accidents.

...

Lao Song’s family was bustling with activity, while over in Wanhe Garden in Imperial City, Lun Chuan pulled his suitcase along with Lun Jing as they both scanned their surroundings and headed downstairs.

As the elevator descended, Lun Jing couldn’t help but feel like she’d forgotten something—a sensation she always had when leaving home, although she’d grown used to it by now.

She asked Lun Chuan, "Will your plants be ok if you don’t water them?"

Lun Chuan nodded, "It’s too cold; most are dormant now. I watered them before, so they’ll be fine for another week."

The indoor greenery was even less of a worry, as they were all sitting in water trays anyway.

Lun Jing thought for a moment and asked again, "Did you pack your cigarettes and liquor?"

Lun Chuan, still patient, replied, "Packed. And so are the clothes and shoes we picked out together for Qiaoqiao the other day. Mom, don’t worry—if we’re missing anything, we can always shop online."

Lun Jing gave it some thought and asked, "Are we really going to stay at Qiaoqiao’s home? Won’t it be inconvenient? How about we rent a car and stay at a hotel in the urban area at night? Yun City isn’t that big—getting there should only take an hour or two."

Lun Chuan shook his head, "We’ve already made arrangements ahead of time. Their house has three floors, with several bedrooms on each floor—it won’t be an issue."

Lun Jing finally relaxed, remembering she had packed the gold bracelet she’d bought, and her heart settled.

But she couldn’t help but sigh, "It feels strange after decades of not staying over as a guest in someone else’s home."

To be honest, she hadn’t left her own home much in all these years, and now heading out unexpectedly made her feel uneasy.

Seeing her grow somewhat anxious, Lun Chuan changed the topic: "What about Zhang Jianrong? How’s he been treating you lately?"

Zhang Jianrong was Lun Jing’s almost-significant-other. At the mention of him, Lun Jing’s mood soured further.

"What can he do? The same old routine—concerned about this and that, just like always."

But it was precisely this predictability that bored her.

She didn’t intend to marry, but she wasn’t against the idea of dating or partnering up for daily life. Yet their interactions felt dull—his abrupt reactions around her child were off-putting, and his sudden change of attitude when they had a chance encounter at the mall afterward only made things worse.

No spark. Really, no spark at all.

"I might as well find a handsome guy to dance with!"

Having raised Lun Chuan’s emotional resilience to a stable level all on her own, Lun Jing’s ability to regulate her own emotions was nothing short of remarkable.

She chuckled and added, "You know Wang Jie from the dance troupe, right? Her romantic escapades might not be clear-headed, but her connections are impressive! Lately, she’s brought along a college student from some club to dance with us!"

Oh, the young boys and girls at the dance troupe—how refreshing and delightful they were!

And college students? Well, their conversations were always amusing. Every day they’d show up at the square dance practice and joke about how job hunting and prepping for grad school felt unbearable—like they were done for.

But once they started moving, their arms and legs were bursting with energy! Their mantra had now turned into "We absolutely must not give up!"

Otherwise, wouldn’t all the work they put into ace the college entrance exams go to waste?

Lun Chuan laughed too, "Then make sure you scout for someone with personality, looks, and a good vibe. You could take them to try ballroom dancing—I’ve seen quite a few people practicing that at the park recently."

Lun Jing couldn’t agree more.

She even coaxed him, "Some cute young girls join the dancing sessions too. My handsome son, why don’t you go make some friends?"

Lun Chuan jingled his car keys, "Mom, just enjoy your own dancing!"