Text: Shen Chuan
Steaming a few cages, "pushing them together", heating a few pots of rice wine, eating snacks, and drink
Text: Shen Chuan
Steaming a few cages, "pushing them together", heating a few pots of rice wine, eating snacks, and drinking and chatting with relatives and friends around the firewood stove were indelible memories of Hakka people in southern Jiangxi.
This way of eating, known as "Ciba" in the early years, is golden in color, refreshing in teeth, and has the fragrance of natural plant ash. In the era of food shortage, everyone is willing to do it only on holidays. When making, we need a young Qi Xin to cooperate, with adults pushing the mill and children feeding. Before eating, the elders sitting at the table called it "push paste" in homophonic, which gave this dish the meaning of "Qi Xin for the whole family".
The older generation is old, and the young people go out to settle down and never return home. "Pushing together" also changed mbth-"Mo Zhai", and the meaning behind the name gradually disappeared.
The making of Mozhai is very complicated: the branches commonly known as "hanging eggplant tree" are peeled, put into a pot and boiled with water, then the ashes made of rice straw or soybean straw are mixed with the soup and filtered evenly. After the filtered amber "grey water" is cooled, put the stalks into it for soaking-this kind of rice is also exquisite, so you must choose the stalks that are not delicious, otherwise the well-made grinding will be very sticky and have no toughness.
With the cooperation of the whole family, the soaked straw is ground into rice slurry with a stone mill, then the rice slurry is poured into a firewood cauldron, simmered slowly, slowly turned over, squeezed with a spatula, and the rice slurry is dried, and people soak their clothes. Pick up the sticky rice paste, put it in a dustpan, rub some camellia oil, knead it into tough strips, or make it into a shape similar to jiaozi's "agent", and then wrap it with stuffing.
Put some straw at the bottom of the steamer, rub (wrap) it on it, steam for half an hour, lift the lid, and a different fragrance will come to the nose. When I was a child, as soon as Mo Zhai came out of the pot, I clamored for it. No matter how hot it is, I sit on the threshold with it in my arms, and my hands keep falling back and forth, panting and blowing, and I can't bear to let it go.
Mo Zhai's fillings are usually made of radish, winter bamboo shoots and pickles. Eating it in one bite is soft and crisp, and it has the taste of four seasons. My family likes spicy food, so there are many red and yellow peppers in the stuffing. After eating, a few people will drool and sweat on their foreheads, but their mouths will never stop chewing.
Rub into long strips, then slice and cut into pieces, dip in sauce and water, or stir-fry or make soup. Pepper, garlic, chopped green onion, soy sauce, sesame oil as the base, boiled water, all kinds of fragrance scattered in the air bit by bit. When Mo Zhai dipped in the sauce water, the salty taste of soy sauce and the aroma of plant ash poured into the nasal cavity, followed by the smell of pepper and garlic sesame oil, which filled the mouth. When all kinds of flavors are mixed together, it makes the mouth feel like My Sweetie.
If you want to cook and stir-fry soup, go to the field to pick tender cauliflower, pinch it and put it in the soup or stir-fry. The green fragrance of cauliflower, combined with the power of pink and yellow in Mo Zhai, is full of color, taste and taste.
Besides holidays, my mother sometimes cooks a vegetarian meal in the spring rain. The continuous rain makes people unable to go to the fields, so familiar people will come to talk to their mothers, and some people will suggest cooking a vegetarian meal. My mother will heat some homemade rice wine, and several people will prepare the raw materials while drinking. I often squat in front of the stove, holding a flamethrower and tongs to help my mother watch the fire, while listening with relish to the bride's parents' maiden, listening to the sound of rain ticking outside the window. Sometimes listening, I fall asleep in front of the stove, and when my mother wakes me up, the steaming mill has come out.
No matter at home or outside, my mother has never stopped working, like a donkey blindfolded by life, just spinning around the millstone along the route given by life. My father is a village party secretary and often comes back late at night. You can hear the sound of unlocking in a daze, and the old wooden door is pushed open.
If you smell the mill through the door, your father will shout to your mother, "huh?" Why push the pulp together today? Another wasted day! Get up and heat it for me! "
On weekdays, being called to work so late, my mother who has been tired for a day will be very annoyed, and quarreling is indispensable. However, no matter how late it is, her mother will get up without saying a word to get ready for her father, and then sit next to her father in clothes until his father finishes eating and cleans up before going to bed.
Sometimes I get upset because my father wakes me up. I beg my mother not to spoil my father so much. She always laughs and scolds me: "Why do you care so much?"
Only later did I know the reason.
When my father was a child, my grandparents divorced, and my grandfather taught in another town and didn't go home to take care of several children. My grandmother went back to her parents' house with several children in a rage, leaving my father alone at home. The young father can't take care of himself, so he has to follow his grandmother. Grandma is very stingy and doesn't like to add words out of thin air at home. The rations given to her father by the collective head are often hidden by her, and only one meal is given to my father every day. My father used to lie motionless on the side of the road at that time, because he was dizzy when he moved. When the villagers saw that his neck was so thin that it could be broken with a pinch, they all thought that he would starve to death sooner or later.
One year there was a bumper harvest in the village, and the production team held a little "paste-pushing" celebration for the first time. The young father stole it while the adults were not looking, and ran away. He ate some on his way home and left some for dinner. Unexpectedly, when he got home, Mo Zhai was taken away by his great-grandmother.
Father asked, "Grandma, this is my dinner. What do I have for dinner? "
Great-grandmother said, "Go to sleep quickly, and you won't be hungry when you fall asleep."
The lunch was the only full meal my father had in those years. Since then, the memory of hunger has given him a unique feeling about pushing oars together. My father always looked bitter when he recalled this incident: "I didn't get the love of my parents when I was a child, and I almost starved to death many times." Your uncles are treated much better than me, and my brothers suffer the most. "
A few years later, my grandparents made up and my father was able to eat enough again. But my grandmother is not good at making snacks, and my father is greedy. When I meet someone who does it, I can only find a reason to have a windfall.
This situation was not changed until the mother appeared in the father's life.
My grandfather was bullied by the captain in the production team. He attributed the reason to the lack of "public grain" at home. Although my father was only a small accountant in the village after graduating from high school, my grandfather took a fancy to him and asked the matchmaker to act as matchmaker. Grandpa is a teacher, and his children all eat public meals. He thinks highly of himself, but he doesn't agree with this marriage in his heart, but he doesn't want to hit the matchmaker in the face, so he promised to take his father to visit.
In order to show the importance of this marriage, grandpa took out the stalks accumulated at home for many years and cooked a meal. Dad is chatting with grandpa in the living room, and mom is helping grandma in the kitchen across the street. At lunch, grandpa thought the mill was delicious and praised my mother: "You push it neatly, I'm afraid it's the first in the furnace village." It is said that the daughter of this family is hardworking and capable. I'll believe that when I see it. My grandfather nodded, and before long, my mother came in.
But in fact, at that time, my mother couldn't cook vegetarian dishes at all, and grandma made all kinds of snacks at home on weekdays. On the day when my parents "met" for the first time, my father sitting in the living room happened to see my mother rubbing rice paste hard. I didn't know that most of the processes were completed by my grandmother-my mother was just busy that day and helped her with a few strokes, which happened to be seen by my father.
Fortunately, after my mother got married, the food at home was tight, and my grandmother was strict, so she didn't have a chance to fry these snacks. It was not until a few years later, when the farmland arrived at the household and the grain began to have a balance, that enough paper was punctured.
My mother went back to her mother's house and asked her grandmother how to cook vegetarian dishes, but my father still remembered the taste he tasted on a blind date. When I was a child, I often heard my father say, "Your mother hasn't improved her skills for so many years, and your grandmother's paste is much more delicious." It's a pity that your grandmother doesn't often do it now, and no one will send it. "
From time to time, the mother asked her father to nag, laugh and not talk. However, I think that my mother's art of grinding lent has already shined on you.
In junior high school, my mother's sciatica never recovered, my father lost the election at home, and my grandfather died of liver cancer and stayed in bed for half a year. The economic pressure at home is increasing. In order to save money, my father often goes to the farmland to pick up snails. As a result, once someone just sprinkled carbofuran in the field, he was poisoned by pesticides and stayed in bed. Seeing that our daughter and son-in-law fell, grandma came to take care of us and cooked for us in another way.
When I first ate my grandmother's Mo Zhai, I was a little disappointed. I feel "really misnamed"-the taste is rough, and the thick straw flavor is mixed with many raw materials, which makes me feel monotonous, but my parents are full of praise. Later, with the growth of age, I gradually understood the essentials of tasting food and the meaning beyond food, and began to like grandma's grinding.
Every Spring Festival, relatives who haven't seen each other for a long time gather at a table and have a lively meal cooked by grandma, which has become a "reserved program" in my family. Unfortunately, this happiness didn't last long.
20 15, that was the last time I ate grandma's Mo Zhai. After the Spring Festival, I went to see my grandmother. I walked into the living room of a familiar old house and found it was dark without any fireworks. I called "grandma", but there was no sound. I thought grandma had gone to my uncle's house and was about to ask the next-door neighbor. Suddenly, she staggered out of the kitchen across the street with a cane: "Good boy, you came to see grandma."
Grandma looks sallow and falters. In those two years, I heard her mother say intermittently that she was in poor health and was afraid that the children would have ideas in their hearts. She really couldn't stand it, went to the hospital and her health went from bad to worse.
Seeing that I came to see her with my wife and children, grandma was very happy and pulled me to talk about the old days. At the end of lunch, I got up and said goodbye to my old and sick grandmother and a widow, so I stopped cooking and went to several uncles' houses for dinner in turn. Over time, brothers and sisters are suspicious of each other, and all kinds of contradictions and relationships are more and more recognized, and finally they become strangers. Before I came, my mother told me that I would go home after lunch, and it was best not to go to my uncle's house for dinner.
"You thin bud, how can you come to grandma's house and leave without eating!" Grandma was anxious, got up and grabbed me. "I heard that you are back, and I know that you like to push the pulp together. The materials have already been prepared."
While my grandmother was cooking for me, my little uncle came to deliver food to my grandmother. I asked my little uncle to stay with me. Uncle Xiao said he had something to do, so he left first. After he left, grandma sighed and trembled and said, "Now each family has its own things, so it's hard to get together. It was a long time ago to push the pulp together in the New Year. "
After lunch, grandma took some snacks and sat in the yard in the sun. She continued to talk to me about familiar people and things, and before she knew it, it was dusk. The air began to turn yellow, vaguely mixed with the smell of firewood-people around have already made a fire to cook. Grandma leaned her hands on the bamboo chair, squinting, quietly watching her son playing with other children in the grain drying field, smiling slightly, and her face was wrinkled like a pile of dried radish.
"Grandma, if I don't go back, it will be dark." The sun collects all the light, and my body is getting colder and colder. Time to go.
"Sit down for a while, huh?" Grandma made an almost pleading voice. "You haven't come home in recent years. I haven't seen you for a long time. I am old and can see it once. " Now that the road is good, you have a car anyway. "
Grandma pounded her leg hard: "I am useless when I am old." My leg hurts so much in recent years that I can't read it well after reading it several times. It cost your uncle a lot of money. Well, when I get old, I'll die, too. Living is also a kind of pain. "
My heart ached: "Grandma, I'll take you to see it tomorrow."
"Your uncle and they will take me to the hospital." Grandma shook her head, as if to convince herself, "It's a good thing my son was born a lot, otherwise this old bones would have been buried in the ground."
I want to say something, but I still can't say it. My grandmother's three meals a day are guaranteed. Compared with my cousin's grandmother, she was "happy in her later years" despite her son's starvation in bed. The happiness of the old people in the village is like crops. The longer they stay underground, the cheaper they get. Generally, they can't survive the cold wave in autumn and winter, and they are always lost in the land silently.
After the Spring Festival, my mother and I returned to Hangzhou. One Saturday morning a few months later, I heard my mother in a daze on the phone. I panicked and got out of bed. As soon as I went out, my wife whispered to me, "It seems to be about my grandmother."
Mother lay prone on the table and sobbed, "Your grandmother passed away."
Years later, grandma's body collapsed at an accelerated pace, and she was too painful to sleep, but she was afraid to tell her uncles, so she could only complain to the old lady next door. Finally, the neighbor couldn't stand it anymore and told his uncle. When lying in the hospital bed, grandma had no oil and lights. Knowing that her time was running out, she said to her uncles, "Call my married daughter back."
But my uncles didn't inform my mother as grandma wanted. My mother knew that my grandmother was anxious to go home when she died, but before she left home, my uncles told me that my grandmother had been cremated and the funeral was simple. They have finished processing and gone home. Hearing this, my mother turned pale and sat on the sofa to hide her face. She was silent for a long time.
I woke up the next morning and found a lot of washed wormwood in the pool. I asked my wife what wormwood is for. My wife said, "Mom just went to the food market this morning and said she would make wormwood jiaozi."
In the mother's view, Zhejiang pepper is a kind of food that looks most like a mill. When I miss the food in my hometown, I occasionally cook it, but I don't particularly like it. Every time she cooks, she will sigh: "Although the taste of Ai Jiao is good, it is still far from neat and exquisite."
When I was cooking Aijiao that morning, my mother was uncharacteristically unwilling to let us help. In the afternoon, my mother sat at the table alone, bowing her head and eating Ai Jiao.
"Mom, you didn't eat at noon, so you are hungry so soon?"
Mom looked up, her eyes were red, and she sighed leisurely: "Your grandmother still cooked delicious."
Some fates seem to be predestined. My wife has a soft spot for Mo Zhai.
When you get married, according to the custom, you must hold a banquet in your hometown in Jiangxi. Before my wife and I went back to our hometown, my parents specially asked me about the taste of Jiangsu and Zhejiang. Although they tried to cook according to the imaginary "Jiangsu and Zhejiang flavor", I could still clearly feel my wife's discomfort. I want to tell my parents, but my wife won't let me. She thinks there is no need to make a fuss. In a few days, she can get used to it: "I don't care, I will get used to it sooner or later, but ..."
I know what my wife means-we can get married in Hangzhou, and my uncle has helped a lot. My parents are very grateful and want to take this opportunity to treat my wife's family well. My wife is a little worried that the customs and eating habits of the two places are different, causing embarrassment. Surprisingly, among the many foods prepared by my mother, the mill house dispelled our concerns-it won the preference of my wife's family.
After the wedding, my wife and family returned to Hangzhou. Since then, my wife has often been depressed. I thought she was upset because she was not around her parents for the New Year, so I comforted her: "We will go back to Hangzhou after the second day of junior high school, soon."
The wife shook her head. "That's not why I'm here. I am already psychologically prepared for this. "
After my repeated questioning, my wife told me that the day before the wedding reception, when we rented a car in the city to take my family back to the village, the road became more and more bumpy along the way, and both sides of the road gradually changed from brick houses to earth walls. Most of the houses are old, and the walls fall off one by one, revealing the true colors of the soil inside, which is ragged and uneven and lifeless at first glance.
My wife's sister-in-law looked out of the window and temporarily forgot that her wife was in the back seat. She said to my brother-in-law, "This place is really poor. The economic level is worse than Shaoxing in the 1980s. Your sister is so stupid. She married to this place, no money, no house. Now the resettlement house your sister bought doesn't even have a real estate license, so she has no money to decorate it. This is a debt. If the original landlord is derailed, things will be difficult and no one will help. "
Because of the financial difficulties at that time, my wife and I bought a demolition and resettlement house in Shaoxing. There was no real estate license at the time of the transaction, only a paper contract signed by both parties, which really brought great trouble to the subsequent transfer, as my wife Xiao Yan said.
"You should find a good wife in the future, or your parents will be under great pressure." Aunt told my brother-in-law
My wife sat in the back seat awkwardly and didn't know how to answer the words at the moment.
I understand my wife's situation. We are under great financial pressure, and both parents are in poor financial conditions and unable to help. On weekdays, both of us carefully avoid mentioning these topics. But this time, I was inadvertently "bad" by menstruation. Pressure is like high-pressure steam after the gate is opened, and it is difficult to close it again.
My mother also noticed my wife's unhappiness and asked me why. I am afraid that my parents will think too much, so I will say that my wife is not acclimatized. I didn't expect my mother to be anxious: "Why can't others even eat well when they are married?" She asked her daughter-in-law directly: "There are many snacks in my hometown. I'll make some for you to taste. "
Mother changed the pattern and cooked all the snacks in her hometown, but my wife's favorite thing was to push the paste together. Mother saw that her daughter-in-law loved to eat, so she made a lot of grinding, soaked it in "grey water" and saved it for us to take when we returned to Hangzhou.
One day, there was no breakfast at home. I wanted to go to town to buy it, but my mother stopped me. She thinks the breakfast in town is not clean and nutritious. As she walked, she said, "We still have a series of paste-pushing. I will pick some broccoli from the garden and put it back in the soup. Fangfang (my wife) will definitely like it. "
When mother took out the steaming soup mill, she sprinkled a handful of chopped green onion according to her wife's taste. The wife tasted it and praised it: "It's delicious. It looks appetizing! I didn't expect to push the pulp to taste different and taste different. "
"Is it delicious?" I joked, "Are you used to it now?"
"However, ordinary ingredients have to go through many processes to become food!" My wife seems to want to say more, but when my mother came in to clean up the dishes, she got up to help and took it back.
My wife is eager for her mother to teach her how to cook vegetarian food. She is smart, too. The vegetarian meal cooked for the first time tastes authentic, but she is allergic to raw materials. The next day, she developed urticaria, but she was not allergic to it. She tried several times. When my mother saw this, she wouldn't let her wife participate in the production of raw materials. My wife can only help scoop the soaked straw into the stone mill, while I push the mill instead of my father. My mother is afraid that I am tired, so she stands by and helps me push from time to time.
This scene, however, should mean "pushing the pulp together"
Later, my wife gradually got used to the Hakka diet. When my mother came to Hangzhou to take care of our children, it took a long time, and her cooking combined the strengths of the two places. My wife, on the other hand, often says that she will go back to Jiangxi when she is free and try Hakka snacks again.
After I settled in Hangzhou, it was hard for me to eat Mo Zhai cooked by my mother. In recent years, because it is inconvenient for children to go back to their hometown and they often go overseas on business trips, they have never been back to their hometown for the New Year.
As I grow older, I seem to have some kind of homesickness. I am obsessed with learning to make all kinds of snacks in my hometown and pestering my mother to teach me from time to time. But I will never learn, so I waste a lot of ingredients. My mother is always very helpless: "No young people in the village always want to learn such a mess. If you want to eat, go back to your hometown and cook it for you. "
"This is your ace. Of course I want to learn. I can cook it for you when you are old. " I said.
"If it is really the day I can't do it, who will think about eating these? Are there not many snacks in the city? " Mother smiled and shook her head. "Now who will push this mud in their own homes? You can buy it on the street, and it's very cheap. You'd better concentrate on your work, earn more money, educate your children, be a good family and live your own life. Don't think about such trivial things. "
There are still many things in the Spring Festival this year, and going home for the New Year has become a bubble. My parents planned to take their grandchildren to Hangzhou after the Chinese New Year, but they were banned from flying because of the epidemic. My parents are worried about us and miss our grandchildren. I often video with my wife. Busy at home, usually say a few words. Most of the time, my wife and children are chatting with my parents.
I was working in the living room at noon the other day. My mother and my son are recording. My son misses his grandmother and talks endlessly. I was too noisy, so I hid in the study. After a while, the wife pushed the door with her mobile phone and came in: "Mom is looking for you."
I answered the phone and asked, "Mom, what's the matter? What's wrong? "
"What's the matter? Your mother made some pushers and she wanted to show them to you. " Father interjected with a bowl and chopsticks.
Mom handed her mobile phone to dad, only to find that there was a steaming mill on the stove at home. The steamer in the iron pot was still steaming, and the familiar fragrance slowly got into the nasal cavity through the screen.
"Oh, I haven't eaten for a long time. Mom, you have done so much. Can you two finish eating? " I said.
"I advise your mother not to do so much. Your mother wants to do so much, saying that she will bring it to your brothers. " Father paused, "I don't know when this virus will be cured, or you two brothers will have plenty of food and clothing at home." That it would be great ... "
In the video, the mother ignored her father's feelings, just frowned and smacked her lips: "The taste is still a little worse."
"Didn't you make it yourself?" I was surprised. "How bad can it be?"
Mom smiled: "Maybe I am old, and I can't even cook well when I am old."
"It may be the raw materials." I comforted my mother.
"It may be that the pulp ground by electric mill is a bit thick. If you two brothers were at home, you would definitely use a stone mill. Your father and I are too old to push the stone mill. "
"No, your mother stayed in the big city for a long time, ate too much ash (delicacies), and her mouth became awkward." My father appeared in the camera with a bowl in his hand. "It's still delicious to me, and the taste is similar to before."
"Put your shit, my ash pin can have you eat more? You have been lazy for more than 30 years and haven't eaten delicious food? " My mother's voice suddenly grew louder-in her eyes, my father has been a village official for so many years, regardless of his family. Although I didn't earn money, I didn't eat less wine and meat, and my body was ruined. She talks about it a lot on weekdays.
"You have been in Hangzhou for a long time, and your taste has changed." Father looked angry and took a sip of rice wine on the stove.
"Let's drink! Didn't you say just one sip? Are you going to die? " Mother took it away. My father is "three highs", and my mother doesn't let him drink on weekdays, so my father has to look at my mother helplessly.
My old parents gradually changed roles at home, and I couldn't help laughing. Mom smiled, too, a little embarrassed.
"Your grandmother also loves to push the paste together. She used to do it during the Chinese New Year and always gave it to your grandmother. " Father began to get emotional again.
"Look at your father (father), think of your grandmother when something is good!" Mother said, paused and glanced at her father. "It's really that when I was a child, I couldn't get the care of my parents, and when I grew up, I was more filial!"
Father looked at the wine bowl in his mother's hand and took a deep breath: "Eat quickly, don't say so much, they (my uncles) will send her back to her hometown after the Chinese New Year."
The medical conditions in the county are good. Grandparents have been living there since they retired, and their sons take turns to take care of them. I casually commented: "Grandma is in such poor health that she is always ill in hospital. It seems bad to go back to my hometown now. Who is responsible for the accident? "
"This is a generation ago. Don't worry so much, just don't be like them! " Father sighed, "the relationship has been getting worse and worse over the years, and it is no longer Jixin. Now you must take care of your grandmother. There are many contradictions, and each has its own excuse! "
I have something to say, but I hesitated for a while and didn't dare to say it-in recent years, uncles and uncles have always looked down on each other, those with more money look down on those without money, and those who have gone to college look down on the countryside. They have long forgotten that they have the same blood in their bodies.
"(Grandparents) let them live in the county when they can take care of their children and work. Now they can't move, so they will be sent back to their hometown-their books have been read on dogs, and your grandmother doesn't want to come back at all, alas." The mother was indignant and said to her father, "Your brothers are too selfish. No one who went to college and attended your father's class was filial and United, but their handwriting was beautiful. "
My father was silent. He squatted in the kitchen and added some wood to it. He lowered his head and blew the fire into the kitchen with a blowtorch. He pushed too hard, choked on the kitchen dust and kept coughing. Seeing that he didn't respond, my mother felt bored and stopped talking. She leaned her cell phone against the wall and pointed the camera at them.
I watched my parents quietly eating an ordinary meal in front of the stove as usual. There was silence all around, only the water in the pot gurgled and the steam struggled to escape from the steamer. Gradually, the scene of childhood began again in front of my eyes. I think it's better to let my parents stay in their hometown for a long time. Perhaps, in the process of chewing and swallowing a meal, the "home" stripped by my brother and I will return to their hearts bit by bit. When we are far away from our hometown, our life and hometown have already had a watershed, and it is difficult to return to the past life.
The only regret is that my son doesn't even want to try Mo Zhai, which I think is delicious. Seeing that I am a little lost, my wife always laughs at me: "You have read so many books, but you don't even understand this truth? He grew up in Hangzhou and definitely likes hangzhou dishes better. "
My wife is right. Father's hometown is my hometown, but my hometown is not my son's hometown. Some things have changed a long time ago.
A month later, Hangzhou was unsealed, and my wife and I finished working at home. My mother took the risk to come to Hangzhou to help with the children. Before I came to Hangzhou, I always told my mother not to bring anything with me, but to bring my own clothes. Mother readily promised, but when I picked her up from hangzhou east railway station, I found that the suitcase was too heavy for me to carry upstairs alone. Before I went home and opened it, I specially weighed it, which was close to 70 Jin-such a heavy box. I don't know how my mother carried it from her hometown to Hangzhou alone.
Open the box, which contains 10 frozen chickens and many Mo Zhai. Mother always thinks that feed chickens in chicken farms are not as nutritious as chickens raised in mountains. Every time she goes back to her hometown, she will bring us a lot, but she never moves chopsticks when eating: "You eat more, I ate a lot in my hometown, and I can't absorb it when I am old, so I don't waste it." It is no use trying to persuade.
And these workshops are naturally brought to us by my mother.
"It was originally a gray water push, and it was stopped when I entered the train station. This year, the epidemic was particularly severe, and it was useless to plead, so we had to dump the gray water-unfortunately, there was no gray water, and it all cracked and the taste would be much worse. " Mother squatted on the ground, sighed and looked at the cracked mill. She was very annoyed. "This year's push is very neat. It seems that I can't eat any more. "
Title picture: golo