The Director is Starving! A Divine Lunch Made with Wild Onions

Lin Mo held a rusty iron tong in his hand, and with a slight twist of his wrist, he inserted the tong deep into the bottom of the pile of firewood that was still barely clinging to life.

Long, slender fingers applied gentle pressure to the rusty handle.

With his terrifying wrist strength, he managed to lift up the thickest, wet logs at the bottom.

The pile of firewood, which was originally crammed together, was cleverly elevated in an instant, forming a perfect triangular support.

Immediately afterwards, Lin Mo used the tip of the fire tongs to pry open a fist-sized ventilation hole at the bottom of the stove.

The chilly air of early winter rushed back into the depths of the stove through this opening.

One second, two seconds, three seconds.

Less than five seconds had passed.

Accompanied by a faint but clear "crackling" sound, the originally thick and pungent white smoke seemed to be magically dissipated and disintegrated quickly.

The faint sparks suppressed at the bottom were given a frenzied nourishment of fresh oxygen.

With a soft "boom".

A bright and vigorous orange-red flame, like a fire dragon reborn, shot up in an instant.

The flames greedily licked the edges of the firewood, completely dispelling the dampness.

The crisis of the earthen stove was easily resolved.

The warm firelight illuminated Lin Mo's sharply defined profile, giving him a soft yet resolute glow.

Lin Mo casually tossed the fire tongs back into place, making a crisp metallic clanging sound.

He patted non-existent dust off his palms and looked around the simple kitchen.

He turned and walked out of the kitchen, striding towards the overgrown wasteland in the backyard of the old house.

A damp, chilly air permeated the weeds of early winter.

But Lin Mo's gaze was as sharp as that of a seasoned hunter.

In less than three minutes, he pulled out several thick, sturdy wild scallions with a strong, pungent aroma from the deepest part of the weeds.

Immediately afterwards, he easily found the dilapidated grass hut left behind by the villager behind the house.

Reaching out, I found two fresh, still slightly warm, free-range eggs.

Returning to the kitchen with his meager spoils, Lin Mo stood once again before the wooden cutting board.

The person's aura underwent a dramatic change in that instant.

That old kitchen knife, which was a bit bulky and even had a dull blade, seemed to have a soul in his hands.

The cool well water washed over the earthy vegetables, making a pleasant splashing sound.

He washed the pork belly with the skin on and laid it flat on the old wooden cutting board.

"Knock knock knock knock—"

A rhythmic clatter of chopping vegetables echoed from the cutting board, so fast it was dazzling.

Between swift movements of the knife and its swift cut, there was not a single unnecessary action.

The heavy cleaver moved with exceptional agility in his hands, precisely slicing the pork belly into perfectly uniform mahjong tile-sized pieces.

The potatoes were quickly peeled, cut into chunks, and soaked in cool well water for later use.

The robust wild onions were chopped into fine pieces.

The free-range eggs were quickly broken up with chopsticks in the rough porcelain bowl, making a crisp clanging sound.

The firewood in the stove was burning brightly.

The large, antique-looking black iron pot quickly emitted a layer of blue smoke under the intense heat of the fire.

Lin Mo did not pour a single drop of oil.

He poured the chopped pork belly chunks directly into the scalding hot iron pot.

"Sizzle—"

A loud explosion rang out in the kitchen.

Under the cruel pressure of high temperatures, the rich animal fat quickly seeps out from the skin and fat of the meat.

A rich, pure aroma of meat instantly filled the small, dilapidated kitchen.

Lin Mo held the heavy iron wok handle with one hand and a spatula in the other, stirring the food slowly and deliberately.

His movements were relaxed and casual, yet they exuded an indescribable air of mastery.

Continue frying until the surface of the pork belly turns a light golden brown and the excess fat is completely rendered out.

He found a half-empty jar of rock sugar left by a fellow villager in the corner of the cupboard, and casually pinched off a few pieces and threw them into the bottom of the pot.

The rock sugar melted rapidly in the boiling hot oil, producing dense, reddish-brown bubbles.

Lin Mo flicked his wrist, and the iron pot drew a perfect arc in mid-air.

As the pork belly in the pot tumbled and rolled, it was evenly coated with a tempting layer of amber-colored syrup.

Bright red and eye-catching, it exudes a sweet, caramelized aroma.

Add a ladle of water to cover the meat pieces, then add the drained potatoes.

Cover the pot with the heavy wooden lid.

After the fire boiled, Lin Mo removed the two pieces of firewood from under the stove and turned the fire to a gentle simmer.

While the meat was stewing, a small pot of white rice was already bubbling and steaming on the small stove next to it.

The pure aroma of rice mixed with the scent of meat began to waft uncontrollably out of the yard.

Twenty minutes later.

Lin Mo timed it perfectly and lifted the wooden lid of the large iron pot.

"boom!"

A thick plume of white steam shot into the sky, heading straight for the roof.

The broth at the bottom of the pot had thickened, resembling a layer of glossy red glaze, tightly coating the soft, tender meat chunks and creamy potatoes.

The broth was gently bubbling and trembling in the pot, making an enticing "gurgling" sound.

Lin Mo quickly scooped the braised pork out and plated it.

Without even washing the pot, he directly poured the beaten eggs into the iron pot, which was still covered in the rich meat juices and oil.

Accompanied by the intense "wok hei" (wok aroma) unique to wood-fired earthen stoves.

The egg mixture expanded and set instantly, with golden, crispy edges forming a delicate, golden-brown border.

Lin Mo sprinkled in the chopped wild onions.

The pungent and assertive flavor of wild onions, combined with the rich and mellow aroma of free-range eggs, undergoes a dramatic chemical reaction under high temperatures.

The interplay of bright yellow and emerald green creates an unreasonable and highly aggressive fragrance.

Finally, he deftly scrubbed the wok and quickly stir-fried a plate of crisp and juicy greens.

Three dishes and one rice.

In this dilapidated and drafty old house in Jiangnan, Lin Mo managed to create a state banquet-level impact with the most rudimentary conditions.

And at this very moment.

Inside the official surveillance vehicle, hidden under a large tree at the village entrance, a hundred meters away.

The air pressure was terrifyingly low, as if the air itself was about to freeze completely.

Director Li Lin was holding a cold, hard boxed lunch of green peppers and shredded pork, chewing mechanically.

Suddenly, a gentle breeze of early winter slipped silently in through the crack in the car window.

Accompanying the breeze is a complex aroma that blends the rich, oily fragrance of braised pork, the bold, spicy scent of scrambled eggs with wild onions, and the unique smoky aroma of a wood-fired stove.

The fragrance, like a tangible hook, forcefully and unreasonably assaulted the nostrils of everyone in the surveillance vehicle.

It hooked their already hungry stomachs.

"Gurgle..."

I don't know which cameraman swallowed loudly.

The sound was like the first domino falling.

Immediately afterwards, a series of rumbling abdominal sounds, like thunder, filled the entire monitoring vehicle.

Li Lin looked at the dry, soulless cold rice in his hand.

Look up at the monitor screen again—

The plate of bright red pork belly, dripping with tempting oil, and the plate of golden, crispy wild scallion scrambled eggs.

He felt that the boxed lunch in his mouth was even harder to swallow than chewing wax.

"This smells amazing!!"

Li Lin's eyes instantly turned bloodshot, filled with grief and indignation.

He slammed the plastic lunchbox in his hand onto the control panel in front of him.

"I'd heard he was a good cook, but nobody ever told me it smelled this good!"

The assistant director silently put down the half-eaten bread in his hand.

He wiped the drool that had involuntarily spilled from the corner of his mouth and cautiously leaned closer: "Director Li, how about... we go to the old house to negotiate, say we're checking the equipment, and while we're at it... grab a bowl of soup?"

"What a load of rubbish! Don't they have any shame?!"

Li Lin frantically pulled at his hair, his eyes filled with undisguised envy, jealousy, and hatred as he stared at the screen.

He could only grit his teeth and forcefully endure the spasms in his stomach.

And in the courtyard of the old house.

The chat in the official live stream room had long been completely drowned out by the wails of tens of thousands of netizens.

"Help! What kind of poison are they putting out in the middle of the day?! My instant noodles suddenly don't taste good anymore!"

"Lin Shen's wok-flipping technique is so cool! That piece of pork belly is practically glowing!"

"Wild onions stir-fried with free-range eggs! This is absolutely divine; I can almost smell the aroma through the screen!"

"Please stop talking upstairs, my tears are already streaming down my face."

Lin Mo carried the dishes to the stone table in the courtyard, which had been barely cleaned.

Jiang Ruoyun had already been sitting obediently on the stone bench, like a kindergarten child waiting to be fed.

The moment I saw the braised pork served.

This is a tycoon's daughter who usually only eats at Michelin three-star restaurants in Beijing's high-society scene and is extremely particular about calories.

Those clear, peach-blossom eyes instantly shone like two-thousand-watt searchlights.

She held the large, rough porcelain bowl filled with white rice in both hands, completely disregarding any of the reserve and etiquette expected of a wealthy heiress.

Pick up a piece of bright red and tempting pork belly and stuff it directly into your mouth.

The fatty meat melts in your mouth, while the lean meat is soft, tender, and fragrant.

The perfectly balanced sweet and salty sauce, rich and mellow, explodes on the tip of your tongue.

Then add a bite of mashed potato chunks that have soaked up the essence of the broth.

"Well……"

Jiang Ruoyun squinted her beautiful eyes happily and let out a sigh of extreme satisfaction.

She couldn't even speak; her cheeks were bulging out, like a little hamster desperately guarding its food.

A bite of wild scallion and scrambled eggs, a bite of white rice.

They ate with such gusto and gusto, as if they were swallowing mountains and rivers.

Lin Mo sat opposite her, holding a bowl in his hand, but barely touched his chopsticks.

He rested his chin on his hand, and his deep eyes, which always exuded a hint of laziness and nonchalance, were now filled with a tenderness that even he himself was unaware of.

He naturally reached out with his chopsticks.

He precisely picked out the softest and most flavorful pieces of lean meat from the plate and placed them into Jiang Ruoyun's bowl.

"Eat slowly, no one's going to take it from you."

Lin Mo's deep, magnetic voice rang out in the courtyard, exuding a strong sense of fatherly doting.

"Be careful not to choke."

Jiang Ruoyun's mouth was full of meat, and she nodded repeatedly, like an obedient ornament.

But her ears blushed slightly because of this blatant and undisguised favoritism.

Less than twenty minutes.

The three dishes on the stone table were completely devoured, leaving them spotless, as if a dog had licked them clean.

Even the last bit of sauce at the bottom of the plate of braised pork was eaten clean by Jiang Ruoyun with her last mouthful of rice.

She let out a small, unladylike burp.

He leaned contentedly against the stone pillar and rubbed his slightly protruding belly.

But in early winter in Jiangnan, the air is always damp and chilly.

Jiang Ruoyun sat on the cold stone steps, feeling the chill on her buttocks, and couldn't help but shrank her shoulders slightly.

The abandoned old house was empty.

There isn't even a chair that people can comfortably lean on, or a place to avoid the wind and digest their food.

Lin Mo took in her subtle movements.

He slowly stood up and cleared the bowls and chopsticks off the stone table.

Under Jiang Ruoyun's questioning gaze, Lin Mo turned and walked towards the door.

He walked to the moss-covered stone block and casually picked up the old wood-chopping knife he had just used.

The blade was rolled and rusted, and the handle was covered with a layer of dark patina.

"Lin Mo... what are you doing with that knife?"

Jiang Ruoyun blinked and asked in a somewhat dazed manner.

Lin Mo picked up the broken piece of iron and stretched his broad, upright shoulders.

His gaze passed over the courtyard wall and landed on the lush old bamboo grove in the backyard of the old house.

A winter wind blew by, and the bamboo leaves rustled.

Lin Mo turned his head and looked at Jiang Ruoyun, who was sitting on the sidelines.

A casual yet extremely authoritative and confident smile curved at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm full, let's do some physical work to help digest."

He lightly flicked the rust-covered blade with his slender fingertips, producing a crisp "clang" sound.

"These stone steps are too cold, I'll go cut you a sofa set."