The Game of Life

The next afternoon, Han Guishan sent a WeChat message to Jiang Feng, letting him know that the rice bran he had requested was taken care of.

Han Guishan’s assistant had rushed overnight to the nearby rural counties after receiving the phone call the day before and purchased several hundred pounds of late-ripening rice that matured at the end of November from the local villagers. He supervised the milling himself, ensuring that the ten pounds of bran consisted solely of husks and rice skins, without a single grain mixed in.

Jiang Feng really wanted to know how much Han Guishan’s assistant was paid monthly to be so dedicated and disciplined.

From the photos sent by Han Guishan, it appeared that the assistant had selected rice bran that perfectly met Jiang Feng’s specifications.

Jiang Feng felt that tonight was the moment to complete his side mission.

Excited all day, Jiang Feng even arrived at Han Guishan’s house earlier than planned, getting there at half-past six and unexpectedly encountering Han Youxin, who was being lectured by Han Guishan for sneaking snacks.

When Han Guishan opened the door for Jiang Feng, Han Youxin was already crying with the chocolate bar in his mouth.

"Still crying? You say you’re a little man, but you cry more than little girls. How many times have you cried these past few days? I’m confiscating your phone for three days. You have the nerve to ditch your driver and buy snacks at the supermarket on your own; do you realize how dangerous it is for a child to be out there alone? Your mother left for the Netherlands today, and no one will be around to see you cry! Go upstairs, write your homework, and spit out what’s in your mouth before you go up!” Han Guishan finished letting Jiang Feng in and continued scolding Han Youxin, sending him upstairs to write his homework.

Han Youxin’s face was still wet with tears, he snorted loudly while reluctantly spitting out the chocolate bar, and before going upstairs, he gave Jiang Feng an angry glare.

“You’re the root cause of all this.”

Jiang Feng: ???

When had he ever offended this little chubby kid? He didn’t even call him out for sneaking egg custard in the back kitchen of Morning Wind Primary School; it was Mr. Zhou who educated him!

"Mr. Jiang, my son is spoiled by his mother and doesn’t know any better. Come, take a look at this rice bran and see if it meets your standards,” Han Guishan warmly ushered Jiang Feng into the kitchen.

Jiang Feng didn’t know much about rice bran. He grabbed a handful to inspect and, combining his observation with knowledge of its production method, it already seemed very natural. If he were to make it more akin to what Han Guishan used to eat back in the day, he could only consider adding some sand, which would surely send someone directly to the hospital after one meal.

It’s really quite good,” Jiang Feng sincerely complimented.

After exchanging pleasantries for a bit, Jiang Feng began making pickled vegetable dumplings.

Having watched Jiang Feng for several days, Han Guishan was already familiar with the production steps by heart.

But today was different; Jiang Feng didn’t start by kneading the dough but began by boiling rice paste.

This step was exactly like the one Han Guishan’s mother used to do when making pickled vegetable dumplings!

Han Guishan was from Shenzhen. Before 1979, Shenzhen was just a poor little fishing village. His family had many children and could barely support them all. Han Guishan’s father was an only son, with two older brothers above him and seven younger sisters below. With ten children in the house and only about four able-bodied workers if you counted the children and the elderly, the family hardly got by. Due to frequent childbirths and injury from the last delivery, Han Guishan’s mother passed away when he was fourteen.

Since the age of six, Han Guishan never ate rice again. Despite his father’s fishing, the family could not even afford a sip of fish soup. They typically subsisted on watery porridge with wild greens, only managing to eat dried food during the New Year. All their grain was exchanged for coarser grains to keep everyone from starving. A single pair of trousers was passed down from the eldest brother to the youngest sister-the epitome of a household stripped bare to the walls. Constant extreme malnutrition eventually led to his father’s premature death from overwork before he reached fifty, and his two older brothers also passed away in their forties without having enjoyed life much. Now, only he and the youngest three sisters were left.

Han Guishan remembered every New Year his mother would take out the treasured rice bran to cook a pot of porridge first. Then, when making pickled vegetable dumplings, she would add some of the bran paste, making the cornmeal less dry and easier on the throat.

Back then, the aroma of fish filled other homes during the New Year, while their own home only inhaled that scent as they ate pickled vegetable dumplings, allowing them to have something warm in their stomachs until dawn.

Watching Jiang Feng make the dumplings, Han Guishan’s thoughts had already drifted, and it was only when he came back to himself that he was surprised by his own nostalgic memories.

It had been a long time since he thought about his childhood. Since his father, brothers, and sisters passed away one after another, Han Guishan had been very reticent to recall his days in Shenzhen. To avoid memories of his family when they were alive, Han Guishan moved to Alan City, cutting off all ties to Shenzhen and never mentioning it, even when he reunited with his sisters.

"Mr. Jiang, you… how did you suddenly think to add rice bran?” Han Guishan asked.

"I asked my grandfather, and he said when he was young he would add rice paste to the cornmeal to prevent the cornmeal from irritating his throat,” Jiang Feng replied haphazardly, knowing he couldn’t say that it was your grandmother who did this, so I do it too.

Jiang Feng kneaded the dough into equally sized pieces and placed them into the steamer.

Due to the poor quality of the cornmeal, even though Jiang Feng had kneaded the dough until it was very smooth and added quite a bit of rice paste, it still felt very rough to the touch. Not to mention eating it, it was sure to scratch the throat and abrade the tongue.

As he waited for the pickled vegetable dumplings to be steamed and ready,

Jiang Feng was hesitant about whether or not to serve them.

In terms of appearance and texture, these twelve pickled vegetable dumplings could be said to be utterly lacking.

Han Guishan felt as though he had returned to his childhood, when during the New Year, he and his ten siblings, along with their father, grandmother, and mother, would sit together, eagerly awaiting the twelve pickled vegetable dumplings in the pot. Grandma would always share half of her pickled vegetable dumpling with the three boys. At that time, the ninth and tenth sisters were young and could be satisfied with half a dumpling each. Everyone would devour their food, biting large mouthfuls, which was the happiest time of the year.

Now, it was the same twelve pickled vegetable dumplings.

Han Guishan’s eyes turned red.

Han Guishan took out his mobile phone and called his younger sister.

"Hello, Brother, what’s up calling me at this hour?” Han Guishan’s younger sister was considered lucky among the siblings; she had only spent ten poor years in Shenzhen before she went to school and now was a secondary school art teacher.

"For the New Year, why don’t we call our ninth and eighth sisters and go back to Shenzhen to see mom and dad, grandpa and grandma, as well as our eldest brother, second brother, and our fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh sisters? It’s been so many years, and I don’t even know what’s become of the old family house,” Han Guishan said.

"Brother… you… okay, it’s been so many years since you went to see them.”

"Hmm…”

"Dmg, you have completed the side quest ‘Precious Memories’ and received the quest reward A Segment of Han Guishan’s Memory’.”

Jiang Feng did not react.

Because Han Guishan cried.

A successful businessman, worth over a billion, over fifty years old, squatted on the ground after hanging up, burying his head in his arms, and wept loudly.

Jiang Feng was somewhat stunned.

Han Youxin had been upstairs, heard the commotion and ran down, only to see his own father crying more bitterly than he had in the past two days combined; he instantly glared angrily at Jiang Feng and yelled,

“What have you done to mv dad?”

Then Han Youxm saw the pickled vegetable dumplings on the table.

Having eaten pickled vegetable dumplings for two days, he needed only one look to tell that those on the table were even worse than the ones from the previous two days combined.

Han Youxin felt he had discovered the truth.

"It must be because the grass dumplings you made were too horrible, it made my dad cry from how bad they were!” said Han Youxin, the chubby boy, with absolute certainty.

"You little brat, what nonsense are you spouting now!” Han Guishan wasn’t hard of hearing, just too heartbroken, and he choked back sobs as he scolded Han Youxin,

“Mr. Jiang, don’t mind it. I just lost my composure for a moment, sorry, let’s not keep this up.”

"No, not at all,” Jiang Feng replied repeatedly, leaving the Han Family in a nearly floating state..