We squat, sit, stand, suck noodles, chew the canned beef and pork, wipe the oil from our mouths onto our hands, and then licked the oil into our mouths. Sometimes we need to pull out whole cabbage leaves from our mouths, the leaves that were torn by hands get stuck in our throats, but because we eat too quickly to chew them, we have to pull them out of our throats and do another round of rumination.
Shepigu protests: "You said you don't want rust."
Yaoma says in a very low voice: "The cabbage is fine! It's just too salty!"
He is afraid that Dragon will hear. The one who eats the most politely among us is Dragon, because he is not as hungry as others and has the ability to distinguish. Every small bite he takes, he needs to check the reactions of others. Dragon isn't in despair, he needs someone to do some flattery to his stewed pork and noodles.
"Is it okay? The taste is fantastic, isn't it? I only prepare this dish during festivals, and you really catch this chance."
Dragon asks with almost flattery. Bula, whom he asks, gives a wild stare, and then begins to burp one after another. Dragon begins to feel truly distressed and says, "It's really difficult to serve. The dish is too good to be served. He is choking on the foods because they're too delicious."
I finish another bowl, pour some water into my mouth to rinse off the bitterness and saltiness that almost numb my mouth. I roll my eyes and find Bula as if he is planning to choke to death in one hiccup after another. That's choking on the salty meat and cabbage. Dragon added too much salt which can marinate an entire pig to the pot.
I hand the water to Bula and think he will take a sip, but this guy just shakes his head, his throat becomes salty and makes the voice change, but he insists on speaking his truth: "Drink water can't be full."
Stuttered by the salt, Bula stumbles towards the pot and adds new contents to the unfinished contents of his bowl. I also realize that one sip of water now means one less bite of food, and I stumble towards the pot as well.
Although Dragon doesn't eat the stewed pork and noodles he has imagined, he still has a proud smile.
The content in the pot is absolutely unbearable for a normal person. Dragon added too much content to the pot which makes the pot feel like a drought, while soy sauce even stains the bottom of the pot. The meat and oil, along with noodles and cabbage leaves, are tightly twined, becoming a mess. I fill my bowl with a big lump, there's no need to scramble, in fact, there's still a lot left in the pot after everyone gets a full meal. I belch and realize that I really can't eat anymore. I look outside of our circle, and Li Wula is still lying there, looking at the night sky with a lost expression. I don't care what he is muttering, and I don't care what made him so. I only know that expression often appears on my face.
I turn around to look at Dragon, who is forcing Yangdanzi to finish the bowl of food that probably won't provide anything except heat, but I have the feeling that he just looked at me. What does that have to do with me? I pass by and give Li Wula a gentle kick, giving him the bowl of mess. Li Wula quickly sits up, holding the bowl in the dark, his head almost buries in it. We hear a kind of eager eating sound that can only be made by pigs.
The bowl is already empty when it is handed back to me. Li Wula, without gratitude, without anger, doesn't even have the physiological reaction of feeling too salty like we do.
Dragon looks at Li Wula, his expression regains its coldness and provocation. "Sir, shouldn't you express something after eating?"
Li Wula speaks: "This is not how stewed pork and noodles is made in Northeast China."
Dragon throws a large stick of firewood onto Li Wula. That sound makes us all feel pain, but Li Wula doesn't react much and still has that irritating tone. He looks like a warrior at the moment, "This is really not Northeast stewed pork and noodles."
He gets up and leaves, returning to his solitary place. There is a thump in our circle. That is Yaoma, who had jumped up to chase after Li Wula, was hooked to the ground by Dragon. We watch that guy sink into the darkness step by step.
The craziness of Dragon has passed, and he seems to have regained his composure. At this moment, he becomes distant and terrifying again. "Go away. Go away. There is no table that cannot be parted, and it's unfortunate that all the good meat is for the animals to eat."
Vet Hao, one of the animals, stands up at the first moment. He stands by the pot and bows to everyone: "Thanks for saving a bit. Thank you, bros."
He covers the pot and lifts the whole pot. Dragon, who is about to leave, looks strangely at Vet Hao who is walking into the back courtyard — Dragon doesn't understand our regulations, so he feels a bit resentful and wants to fight against injustice, even though it is only a kind of himself-allowed resentment: "What is he doing?"
Yi kindly explains: "We leave some to eat every meal. For the wounded soldiers he raises."
"Who asked you?" But he doesn't object anymore: "I'm going away."
Even he doesn't ask us and we are also doing our dispersal. It's like this every day, finding every meal temporarily, and then starting to pass every night. What's different today is that the wealthy man Dragon turns his occasional homesickness into meat and oil in our pot, and then wants to distance us — he doesn't care about our dinner tomorrow.
I am carrying the pot with vet Hao, and I also want him to help me take a look at my leg.
Vet Hao is still heartbroken: "This meal is too wasteful. It's enough to eat for three days."
That's right. I turn my head and find Dragon: "Why should we just disperse? Talk for a while?"
The northeast accent I learn temporarily stuns Dragon for a moment. He doesn't say yes or no, but just follows us silently, like Pavlov's dog.
Vet Hao expresses his opinion softly: "Is that good?"
I pretend not to hear and let Bean replace my position, so that I can approach Dragon to get close. Dragon stays because he is so wealthy and lonely. We keep him here because we find that he is truly generous when he is lonely.
I am thinking about how to get close to Dragon, while Vet Hao stumbles along, accompanied by Bean carrying a pot. Vet Hao is the only good person among us. He asked us to leave a meal for the wounded soldiers every day, and in return, he promised to take good care of us when we are ill or injured. I don't know how a veterinarian who doesn't even have aspirin takes care of a wounded person, nor how we agreed to him. In the end, we have just to say, he is a good person.