Yongcheng’s Dao Xiao Noodles are a specialty delicacy. The noodles are chewy, and the distinctive aroma of the chili oil fills the air.
When added to the noodle soup, it not only enhances the overall flavor but also provides just the right amount of spiciness.
Last night, Zi Yan went to have dinner on the seventh floor of the hotel.
By then, it was probably quite late, so even though the entire seventh floor was a large buffet restaurant, there were very few diners and only a handful of food stalls were open.
They ordered two bowls of Dao Xiao Noodles, and Zi Yan sat across from his Father.
The steaming noodles were served, fragrant and tempting. Having grown up abroad, Zi Yan actually couldn’t handle much spice, yet he kept exclaiming how hot it was while hungrily devouring the entire large bowl.
However.
Although Lake City is a district under Yongcheng’s jurisdiction, so it wasn’t surprising to find Yongcheng’s Dao Xiao Noodles here, the distance between Lake City and Yongcheng is still considerable.
Zi Yan wasn’t even sure if the noodles he was eating were authentic.
But whatever— it tasted good, and that was what mattered.
When he woke up early the next morning, Zi Yan still felt the lingering taste of the Dao Xiao Noodles churning in his stomach.
“Looks like I ate too much last night.”
Zheng Quan was still in the bedroom chatting with Zhou Gong about life, while Zi Yan woke early, touched his not-so-hungry stomach, and quietly moved a chair over to the balcony.
After all, they only had dinner after eight the previous night, so feeling a bit undigested now wasn’t too strange.
Zi Yan pushed open the window. The breeze from the lake was warm and gentle, with a hint of coolness.
He looked out toward the endless Qingling Lake, unable to see the far shore. Mist rose and hovered above the water, making it seem like a fairyland.
Through the fog, a fishing boat appeared faintly. The rising sun in the east bathed one side of the boat in golden light.
Where light met darkness, such a beautiful scene held Zi Yan spellbound, staring without blinking.
“How is it? Qingling Lake is beautiful, isn’t it?”
Zheng Quan suddenly spoke from behind Zi Yan, having apparently gotten up without him noticing.
Zi Yan smiled, pulled out his phone, and snapped a picture of the view. “It really is beautiful.”
The lake water rippled gently, evoking a peaceful feeling.
Zi Yan asked, “Dad, how did you sleep last night?”
“Very well.”
“But I didn’t sleep that well,” Zi Yan replied, glaring with deadpan eyes.
The room they stayed in had two 1.5-meter beds. The mattress felt like latex— soft and comfortable.
The hotel provided goose down pillows and medium-thickness goose down duvets.
Used to sleeping under a cotton quilt at home, Zi Yan found this light, cloud-like bedding a bit strange at first.
He always felt better with something between his legs, otherwise it felt empty, like… no sense of security.
But none of this was the main reason he hadn’t slept well.
“Dad, you were snoring all night,” Zi Yan said.
“Oh, really? Haha,” Zheng Quan laughed awkwardly.
He knew he had a snoring problem. Back when the three of them lived in their house in the Beijing Suburbs, Lina couldn’t stand his snoring and had taken to sleeping with Zi Yan in the smaller bedroom.
During Zi Yan’s month back in Sunflower Country, though he sometimes faintly heard Zheng Quan snoring, the rooms were far enough apart and the doors closed, so it wasn’t a big deal.
But now, the engine was right next to his ear, making sound sleep harder to come by.
——
Though the scenery was beautiful and the hotel quite upscale, being dragged by Zheng Quan to the seventh-floor buffet had its own healing effect on Zi Yan.
He wasn’t hungry now after eating so many Dao Xiao Noodles last night and would rather stay in the room to catch up on sleep than have breakfast.
But Zheng Quan insisted they needed to eat something before going out for a full day of sightseeing.
Hearing his Father’s logic, Zi Yan went to the Western food section and took two slices of French Toast with a bit of jam, a small fruit salad, and one fried egg— that would count as breakfast.
Oh, and Lemon Black Tea. The tea here wasn’t some instant powder mix but had a real taste of tea leaves and lemon.
Not very sweet, and as long as breakfast wasn’t over, drinks like Lemon Black Tea could be refilled endlessly. Zi Yan liked that very much.
Still, despite the delicious breakfast available, Zi Yan found himself successfully overwhelmed by the restaurant atmosphere.
Yes, it was very much overwhelming.
Because they had eaten so late last night, there had been almost no one in the restaurant.
Now, the seventh-floor dining area was packed with families, from toddlers around three years old to elderly people in their eighties.
The clamor of chatter, clinking cutlery, slurping soup, chewing noises, even children’s cries— all these various sounds mixed into a chaotic symphony filling the entire floor.
To Zi Yan, this mess was simply annoying.
Zheng Quan and Zi Yan had finally found two seats facing each other in a corner of the restaurant.
Zi Yan refilled his third cup of Lemon Black Tea and idly played with the straw in his cup while Zheng Quan was still finishing breakfast.
At first, Zheng Quan’s breakfast was very down-to-earth: two steamed buns, a bowl of congee, and some pickled vegetables.
After eating that, he wasn’t full and went looking around, only to discover the buffet had fried pork cutlets. He promptly grabbed a large plate along with some rice.
“Want some? It’s really good.”
The fried pork cutlet, smothered in sauce, was delicious and went perfectly with rice. Zheng Quan’s mouth was shiny with oil.
“Eating big chunks of fried pork smothered in sauce first thing in the morning…” Zi Yan grimaced, “It feels like I’d gain ten pounds with one bite. I’ll pass.”
He sipped his Lemon Black Tea, which he’d specially requested with ice — cool and refreshing.
“You really shouldn’t eat so much greasy stuff. You’re at an age… not good for your cardiovascular health.”
“Don’t worry about gaining weight,” Zheng Quan said.
“Look at my skinny arms and legs, gaining a bit of weight is a good thing,” Zheng Quan flexed his bicep, “Besides, there’s an old saying in Sunflower Country: ‘Is Lian Po old yet still able to eat?’ Your Father here is still in good shape!”
“…Hmm.” Zi Yan disliked classical Chinese phrases.
But being physically weak himself, he had no real argument.
Still, if he ate too much greasy food in the morning, he’d feel sluggish and uncomfortable all day.
So… better to just keep drinking tea.
Zi Yan squinted his eyes, inhaled a refreshing sip, and let the cool lemon fragrance flow smoothly into his mouth. It smelled wonderful.
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