Chapter 158 I can't cook this dish, you should go find another place to scam me.

Jiang Jianguo slumped to the ground, slapping his thighs hard with both hands.

The large, worn-out military overcoat swayed back and forth with his movements, emitting a pungent smell of mothballs.

"I don't want to live anymore—"

He strained his parched throat and let out a dry howl, his voice hoarse as if a rusty saw were tearing at a dead tree.

The drawn-out sob startled several sparrows that were resting on the eaves.

"My family was so poor when I was a child, we were so poor we could barely afford to eat!"

Jiang Jianguo buried his head between his knees, his shoulders twitching.

He secretly observed the surrounding activity through the edge of his reading glasses and continued to increase his bets.

"During years of famine, there wasn't even tree bark to gnaw on; the whole family was so hungry they were practically vomiting acid..."

"But my poor mother felt sorry for me!"

Jiang Jianguo suddenly raised his head, and two crocodile tears were forced out of his cloudy eyes.

"To make sure I had a decent meal, they scraped together all the ingredients, even selling everything they owned, and made me crab-stuffed oranges..."

Upon hearing this, the diners who had been sympathizing with him were instantly stunned.

Only the rustling of the cold wind through the treetops remained in the courtyard.

A young girl wearing glasses couldn't help but nudge her companion's arm, looking completely bewildered.

"So poor they can't even afford to eat food, not even tree bark, yet they go to eat crab-stuffed oranges, a famous dish from the Southern Song Dynasty imperial court?"

"Isn't this old man's childhood a bit too surreal?"

The diners at the next few tables all lowered their heads and covered their mouths, trying hard to suppress their laughter, but this did not affect Jiang Jianguo's Oscar-worthy performance in the slightest.

He completely ignored the logical flaws in the script and just kept acting.

"I'll remember the taste of crab meat and orange for the rest of my life!"

Jiang Jianguo pounded his chest, heartbroken, as if he were about to faint at any moment.

"I just wanted to taste that familiar flavor one last time before I left, why is that so difficult?"

He pointed tremblingly with his withered fingers at Lin Mo, who was standing a few steps away.

"Young people these days are so materialistic and snobbish!"

"They complain that I, an old man, don't give them enough money, and won't even give them a hot meal. They're driving me to my death!"

While howling, Jiang Jianguo secretly applauded his own performance.

These words not only labeled the speaker as disrespectful to the elderly and children, but also conveyed a sense of pathos.

I don't believe this kid won't take the challenge.

Wang Cuncun, standing to the side, was still clutching the old-fashioned bamboo broom he used for sweeping the yard.

He sneezed twice from the strong smell of old camphor balls on Jiang Jianguo.

The head of the architecture department at Tsinghua University had never seen such a scene of someone throwing a tantrum on the ground.

He pushed up his thick-rimmed glasses, which had slipped down, and frowned with disgust.

"Sir, your logic is completely flawed."

Wang Cuncun couldn't help but correct him in a rigorous academic tone.

"Crab-stuffed oranges require ripe, yellow oranges with two stems, live crabs, and aged Shaoxing wine."

"If your mother could have sold everything she owned to buy all this, how could she have been so poor that she didn't even have tree bark to eat?"

Jiang Jianguo choked for a moment, and his howling stopped for half a second.

But he reacted very quickly, his eyes widened immediately, and he continued shouting at the top of his lungs.

"What do you know! That's great maternal love! Can maternal love be explained by common sense?"

Wang Cunzhu was so intimidated by this unreasonable attitude that he took a step back.

He couldn't stand the old man's unreasonable and irrational behavior, and he couldn't stand the pungent smell.

Wang Cuncun gripped the bamboo broom tightly and turned to look at Lin Mo with annoyance.

"Boss, this guy is obviously here to cause trouble and stage an accident."

He suggested in a low voice.

"How about I just sweep him out the door with a broom, so as not to disturb the other guests while they drink tea?"

Lin Mo did not speak.

He stood quietly in place, his deep eyes calmly gazing at Jiang Jianguo, who was slumped on the ground.

With Lin Mo's discerning eye from two lifetimes, he could naturally tell that the old man was acting.

The exaggerated expressions, the clumsy lines, and the melodramatic story that couldn't stand up to scrutiny.

Everywhere you look, there's a cunning glint in her eyes, a desire to force him to cook.

Lin Mo's expression remained calm, except for a slight frown.

He turned around and slowly walked to the solid wood counter next to him.

A feather duster, usually used for dusting, was stuck in the corner.

Lin Mo stretched out his slender hand and grasped the bamboo duster handle.

He didn't really want to hit anyone; he just wanted to get rid of the noisy old man and have some peace and quiet.

He had finished his work for the day and just wanted to lie down quietly for a while.

Just as Lin Mo, holding a feather duster, turned around and prepared to walk towards Jiang Jianguo.

Jiang Jianguo was still yelling at the top of his lungs on the ground.

"My poor mother..."

"This is all I have left in this life—the taste of my mother's cooking. Am I only going to take it to my grave?"

The words "the taste of mother" drifted into Lin Mo's ears on the cold autumn wind.

Lin Mo abruptly stopped in his tracks.

His fingers tightened unconsciously as he gripped the feather duster.

Those eyes, which had previously held a hint of nonchalance and indifference, suddenly froze at that moment.

The surrounding noise, the diners' chatter, and Wang Cunxin's complaints.

Everything seemed to recede like a tide in that instant.

Images that Lin Mo had buried deep in his heart began to surface uncontrollably in his mind.

That's a memory from this life, from that always-leaky, fly-infested little restaurant in the Jiangnan water towns.

Under the dim light, a cast iron pot, blackened by cooking fumes.

His parents toiled away for most of their lives in that cramped kitchen.

My mother's hands were always rough, covered with cracks from years of soaking in dish soap and cold water.

To save every penny for his tuition and living expenses.

In Lin Mo's memory, her mother's most frequent action was to raise her arm and wipe the sweat from her forehead in front of the steaming pot of noodles.

It was a heavy, selfless debt of gratitude that could never be repaid.

Even if one is reborn and possesses skills that are difficult for ordinary people to achieve.

The pain of "wanting to care for one's parents but finding them gone" remains the deepest scar in his heart.

A cold wind blew across the eaves of the courtyard house, causing the antique-style lanterns hanging on the corridor to sway gently.

The warm yellow light shone on Lin Mo's handsome profile, making his expression appear somewhat obscure.

He knew that the old man on the ground, wearing a tattered military coat, was talking nonsense.

He also knew that the flawed story of the "poor mother who eats crab and stuffs oranges" was a completely fabricated script.

However, the old man's words revealed his deep attachment to the "taste of motherhood."

Unwittingly, like a sharp thorn, it completely touched Lin Mo's empathy nerve.

Obsessions are irrational.

Even if it's fake, the longing for deceased loved ones is enough to break a person's defenses.

The courtyard had fallen completely silent at some point.

The diners seemed to sense the change in Lin Mo's aura and all shut their mouths.

Even Jiang Jianguo, who had been howling just moments before, inexplicably stopped.

He peeked at Lin Mo through the gap between his knees, his heart pounding.

Why did this kid's eyes suddenly become so deep? Is he really going to hit himself with a feather duster?

The richest man swallowed hard and subconsciously moved back half an inch.

Lin Mo stood there, silent for a long time.

A while later.

Lin Mo slowly loosened his grip on the feather duster.

He casually tossed the duster back into the corner of the counter, making a soft clanging sound.

Then, he let out a deep sigh.

The sigh was soft, yet it seemed as if a long-held defense had been lifted.

Lin Mo strode forward and walked step by step to Jiang Jianguo.

He stopped a step away from the old man and looked down at him.

Lin Mo's face remained calm, and his tone sounded as stiff as ever, without much variation.

"Alright."

Lin Mo lowered his eyes slightly, his voice low and steady.

"Stop crying, it's giving me a headache."

Jiang Jianguo was stunned for a moment, not yet realizing what those words meant.

Lin Mo had already turned around, picked up the clean white towel from the back of the chair next to him, and slowly wiped his hands.

"The stove is off today, and we've run out of ingredients."

Lin Mo draped the towel over his wrist, his tone carrying a rare hint of compromise.

"But I'll make an exception for you today."

"I didn't have crab or oranges, so I could only use what I had to imitate the taste."

He paused, his gaze calmly sweeping over Jiang Jianguo's astonished face.

"Don't blame me if it's not done well, and don't cause trouble if you don't like the taste."

After saying that, Lin Mo pulled over a chair next to him and gently pushed it in front of Jiang Jianguo with his toes.

"The ground is cold, please sit and wait."

After saying that, Lin Mo didn't look at Jiang Jianguo again.

He turned and walked towards the kitchen, directly lifting the heavy blue windproof curtain.

The tall, slender figure disappeared behind the kitchen door.

The courtyard remained silent.

Zhou Yang, behind the counter, was nearly crushing the mahogany abacus in his hands.

His eyes, behind his reading glasses, widened in disbelief.

Wang Cunzhu, who was standing to the side, was completely dumbfounded.

He was still holding that bamboo broom in his hand, and his mouth was wide open enough to fit a salted duck egg.

The two of them had only one thought in their minds.

The boss, Mr. Lin, who usually ruled by the law and kept countless powerful and wealthy people out, was actually moved by an old man's clumsy acting skills?

Amidst a sea of ​​shocked gazes.

Jiang Jianguo, who had been slumped on the ground, slowly got up from the bluestone slab.

He slowly patted the dust off the back of his coat.

Jiang Jianguo took the opportunity to sit on the bench that Lin Mo had just pushed over, putting on a pitiful look.

She even sniffed, as if it were part of the occasion, and wiped away non-existent tears from the corner of her eye with the back of her dry hand.

However, the reflection from the reading glasses obscured the view.

Jiang Jianguo's mouth, hidden under the brim of his hat, was already wildly turned up to the back of his ears.

They've taken the bait!

This silly boy is still too young and too easily swayed by emotions!

Jiang Jianguo tucked his hands into the sleeves of his military overcoat, his heart already bursting with joy.