Breakfast consisted of hand-pulled noodles. Xia Zhaoyun dictated the recipe while He Qingran did the actual pulling. Although the noodles were uneven in thickness, they still had the satisfyingly smooth texture of fresh, handmade noodles.
Each bowl was topped with a spoonful of crushed peanuts, a spoonful of Xia Zhaoyun’s homemade, mildly spicy soybean paste, stir-fried shreds of cucumber, potato, and carrot, and a fried egg. The meal was nutritious, texturally complex, and refreshingly savory and spicy.
He Qingran jotted down the recipe as she cooked. Tasting the fragrant breakfast she had made herself, she was practically moved to tears by her own accomplishment.
"Yunyun, how do you make this soybean paste? It’s so delicious!"
As they would say in a later era, the paste was the very soul of the dish.
Xia Zhaoyun gestured with her chin for He Qingran to grab a pen and paper, then dictated the steps. She even provided variations for a spicy version and a savory one.
He Qingran wrote everything down, then read it all back. "Is that right? Anything else I should watch out for?"
"That’s it," Xia Zhaoyun said with a smile. "The steps are a little complex, so I think after you announce it on the broadcast, you should also write out a few copies by hand and post them on the bulletin board."
He Qingran nodded eagerly. "Yes, good idea. I’ll get yesterday’s recipe organized too. When I have some free time today, I’ll head over to the factory newspaper office. I’ll see if I can get the recipes I’m compiling each day into the factory’s weekly journal so more people can see them."
"I’m sure they’d be happy to have it. The newspaper office is just like our broadcasting room—we have daily or weekly quotas to fill. It’s hard to stand out when everything is so monotonous, so we’re easily forgotten. And if the leadership does happen to think of us, it’s usually to criticize us for a lack of initiative."
"With content this helpful to everyone, I guarantee they’ll be fighting over it!"
"But Yunyun, how did you get so good at cooking?"
As soon as she asked, He Qingran regretted it.
’Most people who can’t cook are treasured darlings, coddled by their families—with the exception of an oddball like me, who was spoiled rotten by my mother. But Yunyun... she was drilled in every possible task by her adoptive parents from a young age, turning her into a poor, perfect little thing.’
Xia Zhaoyun smiled, her lips pursed. "Because the family didn’t like eating at the canteen, the matriarch of the Song Family gathered all sorts of recipes. She even sent me to study for a summer with a relative who was a chef—one whose ancestors had been Imperial Chefs."
"Of course, he wasn’t going to pass on his secret techniques to me, but at least he let me help out and learn from the sidelines. How much I picked up depended on my own aptitude, diligence, and ability to read the room."
’Before, my life was a muddle; I just drifted along. But now I have a clear goal: get a transfer to the city center, take my brother with me, and leave this whole miserable nest for good.’
The light at the end of the tunnel seemed to be drawing nearer, and she was filled with motivation.
After dropping off the kids, Xia Zhaoyun waved goodbye to He Qingran and headed to the practice room.
She arrived rather early, thinking she could play through yesterday’s piece a couple more times to get the feel of it. ’It would be even better,’ she mused, ’if I added some fitting lyrics.’
’There were a few girls in this group with excellent singing voices. When the time comes, I can just have them pre-record it onto a cassette tape.’
When she arrived, the girls from Group Three were already doing their stretches, more motivated than ever. Seeing her, they all broke into radiant smiles and called out cheerful greetings.
Several of the girls had already changed into the outfits they borrowed the day before. One explained shyly, "Teacher Xia, I thought wearing this would make it easier to get into character."

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