The ex-wife of a former CEO regrets resigning to raise her child and retire from public life.

Chapter 5 The Human Touch

The impact of that fried rice with golden bits still lingered in the main room, even after the three bowls were empty.

Zhang Qiang slumped down beside the octagonal table, let out a loud burp, and looked at Chen Feng with somewhat dazed eyes:

"Fengzi, your Broken Gold Rice is absolutely amazing."

Chen Feng pulled out a tissue and wiped a grain of rice from the corner of Mengmeng's mouth as she sat in the chair, his tone flat:

"That's because you've been hungry for too long."

"No, it has nothing to do with being hungry."

Zhang Qiang sat up straight, his expression as serious as if he were discussing a multi-million dollar project.

"How should I put it? It's a feeling that's hard to describe."

This was truly the first time in all my years that I had ever tasted something so amazing.

Fengzi, it would be such a shame if your craft were to be lost.

Chen Feng ignored his boasting and picked Mengmeng up.

"Mengmeng, take a rest first. Daddy will go pack his things first." Chen Feng carried Mengmeng to a recliner on the side.

Mengmeng was tired after a long day, and having just eaten, she was feeling a little sleepy.

But her mouth was still babbling, "Delicious, Daddy, so delicious, Mengmeng wants more..."

Chen Feng smiled indulgently, then got up, tied his apron, and prepared to clean up the mess, looking every bit the devoted husband and father.

Watching Chen Feng neatly tidy up the dishes while wearing an apron, Zhang Qiang's fervor intensified.

During her years in Beijing, Su Ruo always looked down on Chen Feng and his friends from her hometown, saying they were "uncultured" and "lacking in class."

But he knew that Chen Feng was a sentimental person at heart, and only here could he truly relax.

While Chen Feng was washing the dishes, Zhang Qiang was also busy.

He pulled a piece of white paper from his back pocket and began to draw simple blueprints for the old house.

Not long after, Chen Feng finished tidying up and sat down again.

He and Zhang Qiang exchanged a glance. Zhang Qiang understood and pointed to the tightly closed wooden door at the entrance. "I want to make some changes here."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Qiang took out the drawings he had just finished.

"Fengzi, I've wanted to tell you this for a long time."

Zhang Qiang pointed at the blueprint with his finger, a glint of light flashing in his eyes.

"The old house has a good frame; it's all supported by old materials."

Grandpa used to be generous with the ingredients.

"But if you want to open a restaurant, you won't be able to pass the fire safety and hygiene standards."

The electrical wiring and plumbing also need to be completely overhauled.

Mengmeng was almost asleep when she heard the word "Grandpa" and her big eyes suddenly lit up.

She slid off the recliner, took small steps to the table, and peered up at the edge of it.

"Godfather, are you going to throw away Great-Grandpa's iron pot?" Mengmeng's voice was a little nervous, and her little hands gripped the corner of the table tightly.

Chen Feng smiled, squatted down, picked up his daughter, and placed her on his lap:

"I won't throw it away. That pot is a treasure left by my great-grandfather."

It's the soul of our shop. Dad just keeps polishing it until it shines even brighter.

Zhang Qiang, standing to the side, also smiled and assured, "Yes, Mengmeng, don't worry. Even if your godfather were torn himself apart, he would hide that pot first."

Seeing that Mengmeng seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, Zhang Qiang continued:

"Fengzi, my idea is to open up the entire first floor."

He pointed to the blueprints again: "Here, this whole row is dead walls, and the lighting is poor."

They knocked everything down and replaced it with floor-to-ceiling tempered glass windows.

"Don't waste this ring of bluestone path outside, make it into a semi-open outdoor seating area."

"When the gardenias bloom in spring, having a meal here will be absolutely wonderful."

Chen Feng listened without rushing to express his opinion.

He tapped the solid wood pillar next to him with his knuckles, feeling the texture of the wood.

"Lighting is indeed a major problem."

Chen Feng pondered for a moment,

"But I don't want to make it all glass."

That's too modern; it doesn't suit this old street.

"I want to preserve the original wooden structure, and even if I have to rebuild it, I want to use old wood to create that aged effect."

Chen Feng got up and walked to the door of the half-collapsed kitchen.

"The focus is on the kitchen."

Chen Feng looked at the stove left by his grandfather.

"I don't want a closed-off one."

I want to tear down this entire wall and turn it into an open kitchen.

So that guests can see how I toss the pot and how I use the fire while they are eating.

Only in this way can one feel at ease and experience the warmth of everyday life.

Zhang Qiang frowned: "Fengzi, open kitchens are good, but the fumes and noise are big problems."

And the stove that Grandpa left behind…”

"The stove can be renovated, but the way of cooking cannot be changed."

Noise and fumes are problems that can be solved through design and equipment; they're not problems with the cooking method.

Chen Feng looked at Zhang Qiang, his eyes filled with confidence in his culinary skills and philosophy of life.

"If customers are in my shop, they can only smell the aroma and not hear the sizzling sound of the wok."

Then this "human touch" is just a useless signboard.

Mengmeng stood to the side, not understanding what the adults were saying about "wok hei" (the smoky aroma imparted by a wok) and "equipment."

But she could sense the powerful aura emanating from her father when he said those words.

She couldn't help but hug Chen Feng's neck and kiss her father on the cheek: "Daddy's the best!"

Zhang Qiang looked at the father and daughter and smiled helplessly.

"Okay, Fengzi, you're the head chef, you're in charge."

"But this will take longer to complete the construction. Won't that affect your opening date?"

"Don't worry about that."

Do as I say, use whatever materials are needed, and cook for the specified time.

Chen Feng patted his best friend on the shoulder.

"I want to leave a place with a real soul for Mengmeng and for this old street."

Zhang Qiang quickly said goodbye and went home. Since it was still early, he called Aunt Liu to let her know he was safe.

The next morning, the entire town of Qingshi was still shrouded in a damp morning mist.

While Mengmeng was still asleep, Chen Feng had already gotten up and put on the military green cotton-linen shirt he wore yesterday.

He gently closed Mengmeng's door and walked to the lobby on the first floor.

"Clang!"

With a thud as something heavy fell to the ground, Zhang Qiang's loud voice rang out from the doorway.

"Fengzi! Mengmeng! Open the door! The giant monster is coming!"

Chen Feng pushed open the door and saw Zhang Qiang's somewhat wildly modified pickup truck suddenly brake at the door, followed by two tricycles.

Before the car had even come to a complete stop, a thin, dark-skinned young man jumped out.

Zhang Qiang jumped out of the car, pulled off the goggles around his neck, dusted off his hands, and shouted towards the back of the car:

"Old Zhou! Da Zhuang! Get off the bus! Hurry up!"

Zhang Qiang pointed at the dark-skinned, thin young man and said to Chen Feng:

"Fengzi, this is Xiao Deng. Find him for electrical wiring and plumbing. He learned from a master craftsman in the city; he's very meticulous."

Xiao Deng scratched his head somewhat awkwardly and smiled shyly at Chen Feng: "Hello, Brother Feng."

Then, two burly men walked over. One was over fifty years old, with a weathered face, and was carrying a woodworking box with peeling paint.

The other one was in his early thirties, and as his name suggests, he was broad-shouldered and burly, wearing a faded T-shirt.

"This is Old Zhou, a carpenter of his grandfather's generation. Half of the wooden furniture on this old street was made by him."

"This is Dazhuang, a bricklayer, the most hardworking guy in the whole town," Zhang Qiang introduced.

Old Zhou simply nodded to Chen Feng.

He carried his toolbox to the load-bearing pillar in the main room, tapped it with his knuckles, and frowned.

Dazhuang gave Chen Feng a simple, honest smile, and immediately spoke in fluent local dialect:

"Fengzi, Qiangzi said you're back and he wants to light a fire in this house."

The older woman asked me to pass on a message: if you need more help, just call her.

Chen Feng thanked Aunt Wang for her kindness and looked at the two faces that were vague yet familiar to him.

He knew that during his years in Beijing, he was used to negotiating collaborations with "elites" in expensive suits and to leading teams of dozens of people in Michelin-starred restaurants.

But at this moment, standing before these ordinary people holding hammers, saws, and trowels, he felt a long-lost sense of peace.

Mengmeng woke up at some point. She was wearing pajamas and standing at the bedroom door, leaning over the railing and peeking back in.

Seeing so many people, she timidly called out, "Dad..."

Chen Feng went upstairs and carried her downstairs: "Why are you awake? Did the noise outside disturb Mengmeng?"

"No." Mengmeng shook her head and nestled on her father's shoulder.

Mengmeng quickly spotted Zhang Qiang in the crowd, broke free from Chen Feng's grasp, and ran towards Zhang Qiang with open arms, as if wanting him to pick her up.

"Godfather! Godfather! You're here!"

Zhang Qiang was overjoyed and picked Mengmeng up, spinning her around several times before putting her down.

Mengmeng curiously examined the long wood saw in Old Zhou's hand. "Godfather, is that old man performing magic on the wood?"

"Yes, he's shrinking the stool so Mengmeng can sit on it."

Zhang Qiang laughed heartily from the side: "Our Mengmeng has such good observation skills."

Under Lao Zhou's direction, the workers quickly and methodically began to demolish the non-load-bearing walls.

The buzzing of the electric drill and the clanging of the hammer instantly filled the old house that had been silent for several years.

Chen Feng settled Mengmeng on the second-floor balcony, which was yet to be renovated, where she could see the huge banyan tree at the end of the old street.

He knew that the real test for him was yet to come.

Half of the kitchen wall had been knocked down, revealing the exposed brickwork and the large iron pot that Grandpa had treasured most. The water pipes and electrical wires had also been tangled up like a spider web by Xiao Deng.

Chen Feng glanced at the time; it was almost eleven o'clock.

"Qiangzi, will the water, electricity, and roadwork still take half a day?"

Zhang Qiang glanced at the construction progress, lit a cigarette, took a puff, looked at the balcony upstairs, and quickly put it out.

"The circuit is almost done, Xiao Deng is quick to work."

The water pipes need to be re-laid; it should be done tonight.

Chen Feng didn't say anything. He walked to the kitchen where only half of the stove remained.

He didn't put the pot on the half-collapsed stove.

Instead, their gaze fell on the large stone slab in the kitchen where their grandfather used to dry herbs.

He found a stick and drew a circle with a diameter of one meter on the open ground next to the stone slab.

"Qiangzi, move the iron pot down."

Chen Feng found a few dry blue bricks that his grandfather had saved up and skillfully built a simple, ventilated stove around the center.

Chen Feng looked at the bag of local high-gluten flour that Zhang Qiang had brought on his way this morning on the cutting board.

"The ingredients are good, but the texture is a bit too chewy, so we need to add more salt."

He began to rinse the flour and mix the water, his movements extremely steady.

"Old Zhou! Da Zhuang! Take a break! Dinner's ready!" Chen Feng called out to the workers inside.

At this moment, the fire in the brick stove had already been lit.

Chen Feng poured mineral water into the large iron pot.

Before the water boiled, Chen Feng quickly transformed a lump of dough into long strips in his hands.

He grabbed the dough with both hands, pulled hard, and shook it.

"Slap! Slap!"

The noodles made a dull but powerful sound as they hit the cutting board.

Chen Feng moved extremely fast; each strand of pulled noodles was perfectly accurate in thickness and width as it fell into the pot.

"Impressive skills!" Old Zhou had just finished washing his hands and walked over. When he saw this scene, his usually calm eyes lit up.

The noodles tumbled in the boiling water, releasing a fragrant aroma of wheat.

Chen Feng picked out a spoonful of his secret-recipe chili oil that he had made last night from the porcelain jar, and also grabbed a handful of finely chopped garlic, scallions, and tender bean sprouts that Da Zhuang had just brought.

The most crucial moment has arrived.

Chen Feng picked up a small iron spoon next to him, which contained hot, smoky oil.

"Sizzle—"

With a flick of Chen Feng's wrist, hot oil was precisely poured over the chili and minced garlic on top of the noodles.

In that instant, an extremely domineering and pure aroma of roasted meat filled the entire courtyard on the breeze.

Dazhuang, who was tidying up his tools inside, practically "drifted" out following the smell.

"Oh my god... Chen Feng, what kind of magic pill did you put in here?" Da Zhuang took a deep breath of the aroma, his mouth almost watering.

Mengmeng had somehow slipped down and squatted down next to Zhang Qiang. The firelight reflected in her big, round eyes, making them sparkle.

"Daddy, the noodles are steaming! They're singing!" The little girl sniffed hard. "They smell like sunshine."

"This is the essence of everyday life," Chen Feng said softly, handing the first bowl of noodles to the oldest man, Old Zhou.

Chen Feng served each worker a large bowl, and finally gave Mengmeng a small bowl of noodles that had been cut short.

"Eat it while it's hot, and make sure to mix the noodles well."

Dazhuang took the large bowl, ignoring the heat, and stirred it vigorously with his chopsticks. The pulled noodles, coated with chili oil, garlic, and wheat aroma, glistened enticingly in the sunlight. He opened his mouth wide and slurped down a huge mouthful.

The moment the noodles entered his mouth, Dazhuang seemed to freeze in place.

He closed his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbed violently, and after a long while, he finally let out a long breath.

"Fengzi, I give up. I really give up."

Da Zhuang's voice was choked with emotion.

"I've worked on construction sites for so many years and been to big restaurants in the city, but I've never eaten such hearty and smooth noodles before."

"After that one bite, I felt all the energy I had from swinging the hammer this morning come back."

Xiao Deng and Lao Zhou remained silent, simply burying their heads in their food and slurping it down.

Old Zhou ate the slowest, chewing each noodle carefully. Finally, he finished the last bit of hot and sour broth in his bowl, looked at Chen Feng with a nostalgic look in his eyes.

"Fengzi, this noodle has a soul. You didn't disgrace your grandfather."

Chen Feng looked at the group of dirty people, who showed the most genuine and satisfied smiles in front of their food.

At that moment, he didn't think about the lost annual salary or the unattainable job title.

He just wanted to cook an unforgettable meal for people like these men who helped him build his "fortress".

He looked up at the quiet old street.

He turned to look at Mengmeng again and sighed:

"This is probably what life is all about."