Chapter 41:Chicken, Cravings, and the Culinary Crime Scene
It was a warm spring afternoon, the kind where sunlight spilled lazily over the tiled rooftops and bees buzzed in harmony with the rustling of fresh laundry on the bamboo line. In the well-kept courtyard of the Jia household, even the breeze moved with purpose, curling around manicured plum trees and ancient stone benches.
Jia Lan stepped through the gate, returning from the Youth Arts Bureau with a slim canvas pouch tucked under her arm. Her dark hair was tied into a ribboned braid, and her crisp white blouse tucked into a navy-blue pleated skirt swayed with each elegant step. Delicate earrings glinted beneath her soft waves, and her cheeks held a natural flush—not from exertion, but from the sun's lazy warmth.
Xu Li, lounging on a cushioned bamboo recliner beneath the plum tree, glanced up from her embroidery. "Back already, Lanlan?"
"Director Xu approved everything early," Jia Lan said, placing her pouch on the table. "The posters were declared 'inspiring' and 'socialist enough,' so I took the early liberation as a divine sign to escape."
"You make that sound poetic," Xu Li teased. "The revolution thanks you."
"The revolution can wait until I'm fed," Jia Lan replied primly.
From the kitchen doorway, Grandmother Jia's commanding voice rang out, "Lanlan! Did you bring back the brushes I asked for?"
"Yes, Mama," Jia Lan replied, handing over a rolled cloth bundle. "Imported bristles, the kind that won't shed like a frightened cat halfway through a stroke."
Grandmother gave a nod of approval. "Sharp eyes."
Xu Li peeked over the top of her embroidery. "Not many girls your age can even tell brush quality apart."
"Not many grandmothers paint like retired generals, either," Jia Lan quipped.
Grandmother's stern lips twitched upward. "Touché."
---
After changing into a soft beige cotton set with subtle floral embroidery and tying a silk scarf at her neck, Jia Lan returned to the courtyard with a tray of chilled chrysanthemum tea and placed it beside Xu Li.
"Sister-in-law," she said gently, "how are you feeling today?"
Xu Li leaned back, one hand resting on her abdomen. "Mm, I've been tired lately. Appetite's a little strange too… I barely touched lunch."
Jia Lan's eyes sparkled. "That sounds like a culinary challenge."
"Lanlan," Xu Li groaned. "Not another 'experimental' dish like your cold vinegar lotus-pickle surprise."
"That was fusion."
"That was confusing."
Jia Lan raised one brow like an offended duchess. "Then today, I present comfort—crispy, golden, mildly addictive comfort."
Xu Li narrowed her eyes. "That's even more ominous."
"Trust me," Jia Lan said, brushing imaginary flour from her sleeves. "I've seen the future. It's greasy, crunchy, and glorious."
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🍗 Operation Fried History
In the Jia family kitchen, sunlight pooled on the tiled counter as oil began to heat. Jia Lan moved with the practiced precision of a chef who had prepared this many times—in another life.
Marinated chicken, coated twice in a seasoned egg-and-flour mix, sizzled as it met the oil. Potatoes, peeled and hand-cut, were fried twice to perfection.
"Lanlan," Grandmother called from the doorway, "are we hosting a diplomatic dinner?"
"No, Mama," Jia Lan replied. "Just restoring national morale."
"With peanut oil?"
"It works wonders."
Jia Wei hovered like a hawk. "Is that chicken?"
"No, it's artistic expression in edible form. Now out of the kitchen!"
"I'm checking for poison," he said nobly.
"You are the poison," she snapped, flapping a towel at him.
Moments later, Jia Zhe arrived. "That smell… That's either a bribe or a trap."
"It's a gift to the senses," Jia Lan said. "Dangerously delicious."
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🍽 A Courtyard Feast
The family gathered in the courtyard as sunset painted the walls gold. The table was filled with golden fried chicken, crisp fries, and a vibrant dipping sauce of crushed chilies and garlic.
"Fried meat?" Father Jia asked, staring at the platter.
"Fried chicken," Jia Lan corrected. "A delicacy from the future."
Xu Li took one bite and sighed. "I forgive everything you've ever cooked."
Jia Wei groaned, licking his fingers. "I'm going to marry this meal."
Jia Zhe squinted. "I'm fairly certain this breaks some national food regulation."
"Then arrest me," Jia Lan replied smugly. "I'll go down as the heroine of the wok."
Grandfather, carefully pouring tea, chuckled. "All this fuss over chicken."
"It's fried chicken," Jia Wei insisted. "It deserves respect."
Mother Lin observed her daughter. "Where did you learn this?"
"I pay attention," Jia Lan answered mysteriously.
Grandmother gave her a lingering look but said nothing.
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🧵 Grandmother's Watchful Eye
Later, under warm lantern light, Jia Lan sat with her grandmother on the stone bench near the veranda.
"You've changed," Grandmother said. "You walk differently. You cook like a hotel chef and talk like a person who knows things they shouldn't."
"Maybe I've just decided to live better," Jia Lan replied.
Grandmother sipped her tea slowly. "Whatever it is, keep feeding us like this and I'll ignore half your oddities."
"That's a generous discount," Jia Lan teased.
"I'm not your average grandmother," the old woman said, though her eyes were fond.
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🌃 After Dinner Stroll (Elite Family Edition)
After everything had been cleared, Jia Lan walked the stone path arm-in-arm with her mother.
"You've grown more confident," Mother Lin murmured. "It suits you."
"I fake it," Jia Lan replied, "but with elegance."
Behind them, Jia Wei and Jia Zhe began bickering again.
"You ate three pieces!"
"You stacked fries like you were building the Forbidden City!"
"You two!" Grandmother shouted from the window. "Keep bickering and tomorrow you'll be reorganizing our family's archive—every letter, seal, and genealogy scroll by hand!"
A stunned silence fell. Jia Lan leaned toward her mother.
"That's scarier than the Public Security Bureau."
"I heard that!" Grandmother added sharply.
They passed the veranda where Grandfather was polishing his old pipe. "All this fuss over a chicken leg," he muttered. "In my day, we fought over rice."
Xu Li stretched with a smile. "If Lanlan ever opens a restaurant, I want shares."
"You can't invest what your husband doesn't know about," Jia Zhe shot back.
Jia Lan looked at them, this absurdly elegant yet hilarious family, and let out a long breath.
> In my old life, it was instant noodles and silence. In this one… it's sauce on collars and laughter under stars. I'll take it.
A plum blossom drifted down from the tree, landing in her teacup like a blessing.
History hadn't changed.
But Jia Lan had.
And she was just getting started.