Chapter 23: Hard to Tell

"Two mixed-flour steamed buns each; give me half a jin's worth."

Li Xiangdong took the ration coupons his mother handed him, tucked them into his pocket, and handed his daughter, who had been in his arms, to his wife. He glanced at the fermented bean curd on the table that no one had touched yet.

"I’m taking this bowl of fermented bean curd with me."

Since he had brought back so much meat, their family would definitely need an extra dish.

"Take it, but don't drink too much tonight."

Hearing the tone of his mother's voice, Li Xiangdong smirked to himself. The pig's head meat had clearly smoothed her over, making her tone much gentler than usual.

By the time he arrived at Zhe’s house, Qian Bin and Xiang Lin had already returned home and were sitting at the table, chatting while waiting for him. In front of each of them sat a full glass of Erguotou.

"Dongzi, sit here."

Li Xiangdong walked over, placed the fermented bean curd on the table, and sat in the remaining empty chair.

The table was packed full. A bamboo basket was piled high with mixed-flour steamed buns, a large basin held braised meat and offal, and there was a massive platter of stir-fried pork intestines.

Beyond the fermented bean curd Li Xiangdong had brought, there was also a dish of pickled radishes and a plate of scrambled eggs.

Li Xiangdong noticed there was an extra bottle of liquor as well. It seemed everyone had the same idea; no one had come empty-handed.

"Not bad, Binzi. You even knew to whip up a dipping sauce for the pig's head meat."

"Of course, you can't beat my skills," Qian Bin said, his tone full of pride.

Li Xiangdong flicked the ration coupons and handed them to Zhe.

Zhe didn't play coy; he took the coupons and looked them over. "Damn, why is it only half a jin? Can't you spare a bit more for your buddy, Dongzi?"

"What are you thinking? I'm only eating two of your buns—how much more do you want? Do you want me to haul the whole grain store over to you?"

Recalling how his older brother had joked that he had "robbed the meat processing plant," Li Xiangdong decided to put the line to good use.

Zhe grinned cheekily. "Sure, if you dare to do it, I’ll take it. When you get hauled off to the station, I’ll be sure to visit you and bring you two mixed-flour buns."

"Pah, pah, pah!"

Li Xiangdong spat a few times, cursing the bad luck. "Get lost! You’re the one who’s going to jail. Where’s your dad? Isn't he coming to eat with us?"

"My dad is already drinking in the east wing. Besides, you were the one dragging your feet, heading home to deliver..."

Zhe didn't finish his sentence, noticing Xiang Lin across from him picking up his chopsticks to dig into the meat. "Damn it, Xiaolin, do you have no manners? I’m the host and I haven't even spoken yet—who told you to start eating? Put those chopsticks down right now!"

Xiang Lin paid him no mind. Not only did he keep eating, but he also signaled for Qian Bin and Zhang Sen to join in.

"Let’s start eating; let those two keep yapping."

Li Xiangdong and Zhe were even less likely to listen to Xiang Lin. They stopped talking, too; if they kept at it, there would be nothing left but bones.

Their chopsticks danced so fast they were almost a blur.

Although Li Xiangdong had just been reborn from the future, his body was craving meat too much, so he threw caution to the wind and dove in.

After a bout of gluttonous eating, everyone finally slowed down. They clinked glasses for two rounds and started chatting idly again.

Zhe’s face was flushed, the alcohol going to his head. He gnawed on a pig's trotter and asked, "Dongzi, what were you dragging your feet for at home? You didn't even rush over when you knew there was meat."

"What else could Dongzi be doing? Can't bear to leave his wife, that’s what!"

Among their group, only a thick-skinned guy like Xiang Lin would dare say something like that.

"Haha, I believe Xiaolin. After all, Dongzi’s wife was someone he had to work hard to coax into marrying him. He’s probably worried about her the second he steps out. If he didn't keep an eye on her and she ran off, Dongzi would cry himself to death."

Though they teased him, they were all envious that Li Xiangdong had managed to marry such a good wife.

Unlike their own wives, who spent every day shouting the house down over trivial matters—either complaining with snide remarks or picking fights and taking it out on the kids—they never felt at peace when they got home.

"Cut the crap. My wife and I have two kids already. Stop spreading rumors, you lot."

Li Xiangdong laughed it off. This wasn't the first time; they did this every gathering. He knew deep down that his friends were just jealous of him.

Among his friends, they were all much the same—nobody was really better than anyone else. But when it came to his wife, he was undisputed number one. That was something he’d be proud of for the rest of his life!

"Dongzi, this fermented bean curd of yours is good."

"Sanmu’s pickled radishes are great too, so refreshing. Better than the ones my mom pickles."

"Damn it, Binzi, why did you put so much chili in this?"

"The spicier it is, the better it tastes—don't you get it?"

The stir-fried intestines were red with chili; the more they ate, the spicier it got.

Qian Bin could handle the heat, and Zhe had spent a few years in the Southwest, so he could handle this level of spice too.

But the other three couldn't. Combined with the alcohol, they were soon drenched in sweat. The three of them simply stripped off their undershirts, threw them over their shoulders, and ate bare-chested.

Zhang Sen’s eyes were bloodshot from the spice, but even as he complained about how hot it was, his chopsticks moved faster than anyone else’s.

Li Xiangdong had only tasted a couple of bites at first, sensing the heat, and didn't eat much more. Having eaten so much meat suddenly, his stomach couldn't take the spice. If he ate more, he’d be stuck in the bathroom all night, and he wouldn't be able to report to the train station tomorrow.

By the time they were full, it was pitch black outside.

The plates were wiped clean; they had even used the mixed-flour buns to mop up the oil stains.

Of the three bottles of sixty-degree Erguotou, Li Xiangdong had limited himself to two liang because he had important business tomorrow.

The rest had been polished off by Xiang Lin and the others. They were all completely sloshed, sitting in their chairs, slurring their words and swaying back and forth.

Li Xiangdong said, "Guys, it’s getting late. Let’s call it a night."

"Call... call it... a night."

"Can't... *hiccup*... drink... anymore."

Xiang Lin and Zhang Sen could barely get a coherent sentence out.

Zhe was in even worse shape, just mumbling something that Li Xiangdong couldn't make out at all.

He looked at Qian Bin, who seemed relatively sober, and asked, "Are you still okay?"

Qian Bin let out a hiccup. "I’m fine. This little bit of booze is nothing."

"Are you really okay, or just pretending?"

A drunk person usually had unfocused, hazy eyes. Li Xiangdong could tell if anyone else was drunk just by looking at their gaze.

But that trick didn't work on Qian Bin.

With those tiny, squinty eyes of his, nobody could tell if he was hammered or not!