Chapter 15: The "War" Sparked by a Bowl of Malted Milk

The aroma of malted milk spread far and wide. Especially in the military district compound where every household burned coal stoves and the air was always tinged with the smell of coal smoke, that rich, sweet, milky fragrance was like a flickering flame in the dark—impossible to ignore.

The window of Zhou Susu’s home was half-open, and that captivating scent wafted gently through the crack, drifting across the courtyard and landing precisely in the nose of the neighbor, Wang Xiaohu.

At that moment, Wang Xiaohu was crouched at his doorstep, happily playing with mud.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar, sweet aroma so enticing it made his mouth water slipped into his nostrils.

“Sniiiff—”

Wang Xiaohu sniffed hard, and drool uncontrollably dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

What was that?

So fragrant?

Even better than the meat during the New Year!

Like a dog catching the scent of a bone, he followed the fragrance step by step until he reached the windowsill of Zhou Susu’s house.

He tiptoed, clinging to the windowsill, peeking inside furtively.

Just in time to see An An holding a small cup, gulping down the drink with great relish, finishing it and licking her lips with a satisfied smile, white foam clinging around her mouth.

And that sly, fox-like stepmother was looking on indulgently, holding a large iron canister in her hands.

Wang Xiaohu’s eyes instantly reddened.

It was that money-draining Lu An An!

She was drinking something good!

Why should she get to drink something good? Good things should be mine!

Wang Xiaohu felt deeply wronged.

He dashed back to his own house, kicking the door open.

“Mom! Mom!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, howling like a slaughtered pig.

Zhang Cuihua, scrubbing a two-foot-long labor cloth in the kitchen and cursing Zhou Susu for being wasteful, was startled.

“Stop screaming! Did your father or mother die or something?” she snapped irritably.

“I want to drink it! I want to drink that too!” Wang Xiaohu stomped his feet and pointed toward the neighbor’s house, unleashing a full tantrum.

“Which one? Say it clearly!” Zhang Cuihua was getting a headache from his noise.

“The one Lu An An is drinking! It smells good, tastes sweet! I want to drink it too!” Wang Xiaohu was drooling so much he nearly sprayed her face.

Zhang Cuihua paused for a moment, then realization dawned.

Sweet-smelling, sweet-tasting...

It was that little brat Zhou Susu’s malted milk powder she had just bought that day!

“Drink what?!” The thought of how expensive that stuff was made Zhang Cuihua’s heart ache as if a chunk had been ripped out. “That’s medicine! It’s for the sick! You’re not sick, so why drink it?”

She tried to brush him off with that excuse.

But Wang Xiaohu wasn’t so easily fooled.

“I don’t care! I don’t care! If Lu An An can drink it, I want to drink it too! If you don’t buy it for me, I won’t eat! I’ll roll on the ground until I die!”

With that, he flopped onto the cold concrete floor, limbs spread wide, kicking and screaming.

His wailing was so loud and mournful that it sounded like someone had died in the village, echoing through the entire building.

“Oh my ancestors!” Zhang Cuihua felt overwhelmed.

“You little brat, get up! The ground’s cold,” she said, reaching out to pull him.

“No! I won’t!” Wang Xiaohu kicked his legs. “Buy it for me! Buy it now! Or I won’t get up!”

“Buy, buy, buy! Fine, I’ll buy it for you!” Zhang Cuihua had no choice but to grit her teeth and agree.

She fished out a few wrinkled bills from the money box, her heart bleeding with every step as she muttered curses and headed to the supply store.

“A money-losing thing, it’ll ruin all my savings sooner or later!”

“Blame that little fox Zhou Susu! A jinx! She buys it for herself but has to make our Xiaohu crave it too!”

By the time she returned home with the outrageously priced tin of malted milk powder, Wang Xiaohu had stopped crying and was sitting cross-legged on his little stool, waiting eagerly for his drink.

“Hurry! Make it for me!” he ordered imperiously.

Zhang Cuihua looked at the tin, feeling a pang of guilt.

Something so expensive couldn’t be wasted.

She carefully opened the lid, scooping just a shallow half spoonful of the powder into his bowl.

Then she filled a large bowl with hot water from the kettle.

The tiny amount of malted milk powder struggled briefly before dissolving.

A faint sweet scent drifted in the air, nothing compared to the rich aroma she had just smelled at Zhou Susu’s place.

“All done, drink up,” Zhang Cuihua pushed the bowl toward her son, feeling a little uneasy herself.

Wang Xiaohu couldn’t wait.

He lifted the bowl and took a big gulp, imitating An An.

The next second—

“Pfft—!”

He spat out the entire mouthful, spraying Zhang Cuihua’s face.

“Yuck! Yuck! Yuck!” he stuck out his tongue in disgust, his chubby face contorted. “What is this? It has no flavor at all! Tastes like dishwater! So gross!”

Zhang Cuihua, drenched in spit, flared with anger instantly.

“You little brat! What do you know? Malted milk powder tastes exactly like this!” she said stubbornly. “Something this expensive, and you still say it tastes bad?!”

“I don’t care! It doesn’t taste like that!” Wang Xiaohu slammed the bowl on the table and resumed his crying. “Lu An An’s is so fragrant! Yours is fake! Fake!”

“You’re talking nonsense! I bought this myself from the supply store. How could it be fake?”

“It is fake! I want Lu An An’s! I want Lu An An’s!”

Wang Xiaohu’s crying was piercing.

He jumped around inside, turning the house upside down.

Zhang Cuihua felt a pounding headache and as if her blood vessels might burst.

“If you keep crying, I’ll give you a beating!” she raised her hand threateningly.

But seeing her son’s tear-streaked, red face, she couldn’t bring herself to strike.

“Waaah... I want to drink... only Lu An An’s...” Wang Xiaohu, realizing crying didn’t work, moved on to the next stage—refusing to eat.

He ran to the table and swept all the freshly cooked dinner to the floor with a crash.

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