My autobiography is definitely not a tragedy!-Chapter 33 - 32 Good Man

"At least it’s a third prize..." Meng Lang could only console himself.

Seven numbers, fourteen digits, ten thousand yuan; by any measure, his autobiography was close to the old saying ’every character worth its weight in gold.’ Even a mosquito’s leg is flesh, after all!

As for why the winning lottery numbers were stirred up by this little butterfly...

Forget it, forget it, knowing too much is no good for oneself.

"Ahem! I’ll go see if there’s anything I can help with."

Meng Lang felt the secondary harm from the joyful atmosphere in the room and decisively found an excuse to escape to the kitchen.

"Hey! You..." Lin Haitang seemed to want to stop him, but Meng Lang had already dived into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Xiao Yu was wearing a small apron, standing on a stool, making a dish of braised pork. The fragrant aroma of cooked dishes was pervasive, making one’s mouth water.

Seeing Meng Lang suddenly enter, Xiao Yu turned her head.

"Uncle, why are you here? Please go sit down, it’ll be ready soon."

Seeing the young girl’s forehead slightly sweaty, yet skillfully stir-frying the braised pork out of the pan, Meng Lang couldn’t help feeling a bit distressed.

If only my unlucky sister had half the sensibility and obedience of this kid, I’d spoil her to the skies...

"I came to see if there’s anything I can help with. I can’t cook rice, but I can still lend a hand, right?"

Xiao Yu saw that Meng Lang was determined and frowned slightly, looking somewhat reluctant.

"Then, Uncle, could you help me knead some dough? We’re having noodles for our main course."

"Roger that!"

Kneading dough, isn’t that easy as long as you have hands?

Xiao Yu carried the just-cooked dish out, and Meng Lang walked over to the cutting board. Just as he was about to roll up his sleeves to knead the dough, he paused.

He hadn’t noticed before, but now he took a proper look and realized that the things in the kitchen compared to those in the living room were neatly organized.

Oils, salts, sauces, vinegar; pots, pans, ladles, and spatulas, everything was arranged impeccably.

Even the handles of the several kitchen knives were uniformly angled 45° upwards as if saluting the sky, like a military parade.

Lin Haitang... didn’t seem like someone who frequented the kitchen.

Emm...

Because of Kristen.

Stifling a laugh, Meng Lang washed his hands and rolled up his sleeves to begin kneading the dough.

But as anyone skilled in cooking knows, kneading dough, though seemingly simple, isn’t so easy to do in practice.

After kneading for a while, the dough seemed to get harder and harder.

"Should I add water now?"

Meng Lang had only seen pigs run but was a bit worried; however, he didn’t stop his hands. As he kneaded... he began to get a feeling for it.

With added water, his motions became increasingly practiced, starting with his palms and gradually using his wrists, applying force more skillfully, as if he had kneaded dough like this countless times before.

"Are you back? Hungry? I’ll make you a bowl of noodles..."

Mysterious and familiar scenes flashed through his mind for some reason.

Compelled by some inexplicable force, Meng Lang’s hand reached for a piece of pork on the cooking station...

...

"Thud thud thud! Thud thud thud!"

When Xiao Yu brought out the dishes and had just returned to the kitchen, she heard a crisp and rapid chopping sound.

Curious, Xiao Yu walked to the door and saw Meng Lang holding a knife in his right hand, expertly chopping meat with precision, standardized motions, and great speed.

"Hm?"

Hadn’t Uncle said his cooking was terrible?

How could his cooking be bad with such good knife skills?

Lin Haitang and Yan Weiwei saw Xiao Yu standing motionless at the door of the kitchen for quite some time and exchanged puzzled glances before scurrying over to have a look.

The next moment, the mouths of two adults and a child opened in unison, forming perfect O’s...

They saw the man in the kitchen pouring the neatly chopped meat into a bowl of cooking wine.

Soaking for about three seconds, he promptly fished them out; then a flurry of knife movements transformed the meat into evenly sized mung bean-like bits.

Once out of the wine, the oil was just right; he added the meat, lifted the pot, and dried the water.

"Whizz~"

He seasoned with salt, soybean oil, and a spoonful of flavor-enhancing sauce, coating the meat granules, then tossed the pan to color them.

Once the enveloping sauce was uniformly integrated into the meat, the meat exuded oil, became crispy and fragrant, and turned golden brown in color.

He emptied the pan into a large bowl, the hot oil sizzling and the crunchy golden brown meat granules steaming hot.

Instantly, the whole house was filled with the aroma of spaghetti sauce.

"Bang! Bang!" The dough was thrown onto the cutting board, enhancing the texture of the noodles.

Then came the rolling, folding, and cutting of the dough, done all in one go!

Salt, soy sauce, vinegar, chili oil, sesame oil, pickled vegetables, and a spoonful of Xiao Yu’s long-simmered broth, I tossed the noodles into the pot, stirring up wafts of aroma.

Before long, I lifted the noodles out and, in the moment of placing them into the bowl,

"Whoosh~" I poured the topping over, half of it being red-hot chili oil paired with two slices of green vegetables—a wave of fragrance hit my nose.

emm...

Looking at the masterpiece I made with my own hands, then glancing at my own palms, Meng Lang was deep in confusion...

Did I do this?

This is the second time.

If you could say that the episode at the bar might have been a hallucination, then how do you explain what happened today?

Just judging by the quality of this bowl of noodles, my culinary skills have skyrocketed from the Stone Age to at least diamond, just one step from king, right?

I definitely wasn’t fighting alone just now!

Zhuang Zhou and the butterfly, the butterfly and Zhuang Zhou.

He was starting to struggle to tell if he was Zhuang Zhou or the butterfly.

Could two parallel universes really intersect in the same space like this?

What happened to parallel lines never meeting?

It’s said that identical twins can communicate telepathically across half the Earth.

Could it be that I have become a signal tower, able to receive consciousness signals from my parallel-universe self?

Am I on track to join the "Super Space-Time Wave Tribe"?

...

The dining table in the living room.

Lin Haitang looked at the noodle she picked up with her chopsticks, full of suspicion.

The delicate noodles were translucent on the outside and slightly yellow on the inside, topped with crisply fried sauce. Not to speak of the taste, they were faultless in terms of color and aroma.

This shouldn’t be...

Could it be that the indescribable thing I saw in his room last time was actually a hallucination?

"I can’t believe you can actually cook; it looks quite authentic. Let me taste it first."

Yan Weiwei stirred the noodles in her bowl a few times before mixing everything evenly, the red oil coating the noodles as she picked up a chopstick-full.

The noodles glistened with bright red chili oil and were dotted with little bits of yellow-browned ground pork, which looked very appetizing.

The moment the noodles entered her mouth, Yan Weiwei’s eyes widened.

"Mmm! Delicious!"

The noodles carried the inherent sweetness of wheat. As soon as they were in her mouth, the spiciness of the chili oil began to stimulate her taste buds, but then a fragrant aroma enveloped her—it was the flavor of crushed peanuts.

Xiao Yu also had a taste. Considering the lighter preferences of a child, her bowl was a less spicy version specially made by Meng Lang.

After taking a bite, Xiao Yu also looked shocked, before complaining,

"Uncle, didn’t you tell me you couldn’t cook? How can you deceive a child?"

Meng Lang scratched his head, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Well... this dish of noodles might be the only thing I’m really good at."

Lu Kexin is a West Shan person, and this was her favorite.

Eighteen years of marriage, and every time she came home late, this was what Meng Lang would make for her.

Practice makes perfect, and what’s more, it was filled with love, right?

Lin Haitang immediately picked up on the implication in his words. Resting her chin on one hand, she pondered, "From the sound of it, there seems to be a story behind these noodles?

Let me guess, even though you’re from the south, it’s unlikely you’d choose to learn a northern dish unless...

Could it be for someone you fancied, and moreover, this person must be from West Shan, right?"

Damn it!

A mind-reader!

"Really?" Yan Weiwei, seeing Meng Lang’s reaction, immediately knew Lin Haitang had guessed correctly, bursting into laughter.

"Nowadays, men who can cook, nine out of ten are for a woman!

Hey! Isn’t there a popular saying recently, what was it?"

"Every good man is trained by his ex-girlfriends?"

"Yes, that’s the one! Hahaha..."

Meng Lang was speechless.

Yes! Thank you, ex-wife, for crafting such an outstanding me, but I’m no longer the me I was then...

Uh... saying it like this makes me feel like the scumbag.

But that’s not the point. The point is...

Xiao Yu, why would a primary school kid know such trendy phrases...

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