Chapter 1 — Taste of Home

After three years of marriage, my husband and I both go home early and come home late, and my mother-in-law stays home alone. I love her, so every night, no matter how tired I am after work, I prepare enough rice and soup for the next day. Braised ribs, stir-fried vegetables, egg tomato soup, I change dishes every day. The mother-in-law has never complimented her and only says one word every day: "Salty." I began to doubt my taste buds, and even bought a separate spoon to control the amount of salt, accurate to every tenth of a gram. She still said salty. This time, I didn't add any spices at all, just boiled the vegetables in plain water. At night, the mother-in-law slowly said: "Today is still a bit salty." Without adding a grain of salt, where does the salty taste come from? I returned to my room, turned on the camera in the living room, and dragged the progress bar to twelve noon. I saw my mother-in-law sitting in front of the dining table, what was placed in front of her made my eyes immediately turn red. 01 Mother-in-law is not the type of person who likes to retort. When I first became the Luc family's daughter-in-law, she gave me a generous envelope to change my name. She also never raised her mother-in-law's face in front of relatives. The day Luc Canh Hoa and I got married, she put one of her gold bracelets in my hand. She said: "I only have one son. In the future, there will be one more person to love him, and I will also have one more person to look forward to." The second day after the wedding, I cut my hand chopping vegetables. She kicked me out of the kitchen, saying her newlywed daughter-in-law was not here to work. So, after she moved in, I was very happy. With one more person in the house, the light also seems to have an extra layer of warmth. It's just that Luc Canh Hoa and I are both very busy. By the third year after getting married, mine and Luc Canh Hoa's alarm clock still rang at six-thirty in the morning. He works at a software technology park in the south of the city, and I work at a design company in the north of the city. One goes south, one goes north. Every day when I leave the house, it's just dawn. Every day when I get home, the sensor light in the hallway seems to light up half a beat slower. Mother-in-law is home alone. She moved here last winter. At that time, my father-in-law had just passed away half a year. With her mouth, she said she was used to living alone. But every time she made a video call, Luc Canh Hoa saw that behind her she only turned on a light. The kitchen was cold and deserted. There is usually only one bowl of porridge on the dining table. Luc Canh Hoa hung up the phone and sat on the sofa for a long time without saying anything. I picked up his phone to look at it and said, "Let's welcome mom to stay with us." He raised his head to look at me. “You don't have to be reluctant.” I said: "I'm not reluctant." Those are sincere words. My mother-in-law is old, her knees are not good, standing for a long time will hurt. In the first days of her arrival, she was always scrambling to cook rice. Every time I walked into the house after work, I saw her leaning against the stove, her forehead covered in sweat. I was startled. “Mom, don't do it again.” She waved her hand. “Mom has nothing to do if she has free time.” I forced her to sit down in the dining chair. "If you have free time, you can watch TV, you can go under the sun, but you can't use your knees to compete with the pots and dishes." She laughed. “Why are you so weak?” Luc Canh Hoa stood next to him and said: "Mom, listen to Nam Am." My name is Hua Nam Am. Normally my mother-in-law calls me Nam Am. From that day on, the cooking was done by me and Luc Canh Hoa. Every night when I get home, I change my shoes, wash my hands and then go to the kitchen. Luc Canh Hoa is in charge of washing and chopping vegetables. I'm in charge of stir-frying vegetables and stewing soup. We put the next day's lunch in a fresh-keeping box and carefully attached a note. Which box is rice? Which box is the food? The soup needs to be heated for a few minutes. Ribs must be covered. The next day, my mother-in-law just put it in the microwave, pressed a button and it was ready to eat. I'm afraid she'll get bored of eating forever, so I often change the menu. Monday is braised ribs, stir-fried broccoli, and dried squash and shrimp soup. Tuesday is beef stew with potatoes, sauteed lettuce with garlic, and egg seaweed soup. Wednesday is stir-fried tomatoes with eggs, braised chicken with mushrooms, and mixed cucumbers. There were times when I worked late and came home late, barely able to open my eyes, still trying to finish cooking rice for the next day. Luc Canh Hoa loves me. “Tomorrow I'll order food for mom.” I shook my head. “The food outside is greasy.” He said: "Don't let yourself get too tired." I covered the pot. “Mom is home alone, having a hot home cooked meal

Only when I eat do I feel at ease." My mother-in-law also knows I work hard. When I came home, she would leave a lamp in the entryway. She would collect my clothes from the balcony and fold them neatly. On rainy days, she will text me early to remind me. “Nam Am, remember to bring an umbrella, go slowly.” But when it comes to eating and drinking, she never gives a compliment. Not to say it's not delicious. It's not that I don't like to eat. She only said one word. “Salty.” The first time I heard it, I was pouring soup for the next day into a thermos. The mother-in-law sat at the dining table, holding a spoon to taste a piece of ribs from the previous day. She frowned slightly. “Nam Am, this dish is a bit salty.” I was stunned. Luc Canh Hoa poked his head out of the kitchen. “Mom, Nam Am's cooking is very bland.” Mother-in-law laughed. “Maybe now mom eats lighter than before.” I immediately nodded. “Then I will add less salt in the future.” The next day, I reduced the salt by half. At night, my mother-in-law still said: "Today's chicken dish is a bit salty." My hand holding chopsticks stopped. Luc Canh Hoa looked at me. He put the bowl down. “Mom, has there been a bitter taste in your mouth lately?” Mother-in-law said: "No, it's just salty." Her voice was very light, not reproachful at all. But that word is like a small stone falling into the water. Not heavy. But every day it makes noise. Day three, salty. Fourth day, still salty. Thursday, salty soup. Day six, salty green vegetables. Even in the steamed egg dish that I intentionally didn't add soy sauce, she said it was salty. I started to doubt my taste buds. At the end of the week, I pulled Luc Canh Hoa into the kitchen and laid out all the spices in the house on the table. Salt. Light soy sauce. Oyster sauce. Seasoning powder. Bean sauce. I looked at the ingredient list one by one. Luc Canh Hoa leaned against the refrigerator, feeling sorry for me and laughing at the same time. “Hua Nam Am, are you cooking or doing an experiment?” I don't laugh. "Mom is old, can't eat too salty food." He walked over and took the salt shaker out of my hand. “You gave very little.” I said: "But every day mom says it's salty." Luc Canh Hoa was silent for a moment. “Tomorrow I will take my mother to have her taste buds and blood pressure checked.” I nodded. But the mother-in-law refused to go. She said she was not sick. She even patted the back of my hand: "Nam Am, I didn't say you didn't cook well, don't take it to heart." I want to say I don't take it to heart. But that night, I still ordered a salt control spoon online. Accurate to the tenth of a gram. When the goods were delivered, I felt like I had grabbed the straw that saved my life. I washed the spoon and placed it next to the spice box. From that day on, I weighed the exact amount of salt in every dish before adding it. Luc Canh Hoa stood next to read the number. “Zero point eight grams.” "Enough." “This soup has a little less.” It was like the two of us were solving a serious math problem in the kitchen. I even write down the salt amount of each meal on a sticky note and stick it on the refrigerator door. Monday, nine grams of pork ribs. Tuesday, beef stew is not minus seven grams. Wednesday, steamed eggs are not minus three grams. I think doing so will definitely not be a problem. At night, my mother-in-law sat on the sofa watching TV. When I changed my shoes, she raised her head to look at me. “Nam Am, you have worked hard today.” I smiled and asked: "Mom, can I eat lunch today?" The mother-in-law hesitated for a moment. Her fingers lightly stroked the remote control. Then she said: “Still a bit salty.” The light from the entrance shined on the back of my hand. I lowered my head and saw that there were still small scratches on my fingertips from cutting ginger last night. At that moment, I said nothing. Luc Canh Hoa also said nothing. In the kitchen, the refrigerator beeped softly. It's like someone swallowed back what they wanted to say. 02 That night, while cooking, I was unusually quiet. Luc Canh Hoa finished washing the vegetables and stood by the sink looking at me. “Nam Am, don't keep it to yourself.” I cut the zucchini into slices. “I don't keep it to myself.” He said: "The sound of your chopping vegetables today is louder than usual." The knife stopped on the cutting board. I lowered my head to look at the thin row of vegetable slices and suddenly wanted to laugh. Not laughing because of anger. It's a very helpless smile. Since childhood, I grew up with my grandmother. She doesn't cook too fussy, but always says the same thing. What do cooks fear most? Don't be afraid of getting tired. I'm just afraid that no one will eat properly. I didn't understand before. Now

I got it. I don't need my mother-in-law to praise me. I also don't want her to say I'm gentle. I just hope that when she sits alone at the dining table at noon, she can eat and drink a little more comfortably. Just tell me this dish is not salty today. I can also be happy for a long time. Luc Canh Hoa turned off the water faucet. He walked up to me, lowering his voice. “How about I talk to my mom tomorrow?” I shook my head. “Don't for now.” "Why?" “She has no bad intentions.” After saying that, I also stopped. It's the truth. My mother-in-law has always treated me very well. She dried the blanket for me and cooked red apple tea for me. She was afraid that I would get a stomach ache, so she always kept small cookies in the drawer. One time when I had a cold, she sat outside in the living room until two in the morning. Whenever she heard me coughing, she would knock on the door to bring in water. She is not the type of mother-in-law who intentionally tortures her daughter-in-law. So I don't understand even more. Why does she always say it's salty at every meal? Luc Canh Hoa sighed. “So what are you going to do?” I put the sliced vegetables on the plate. “I'll try it again tomorrow.” “Try what?” I looked at the salt shaker on the table. “I don't add salt.” He was stunned. “Absolutely not allowed?” "YES." I pushed the salt shaker deep inside. “No soy sauce, no oyster sauce, no seasoning powder.” Luc Canh Hoa frowned. “So can you still eat it?” “Boiled vegetables in white water, steamed eggs, light stewed tofu.” I said: "If mom still says salty, then the problem is not with the food." The kitchen was quiet again. There are still a few drops of water left on the sink. Drop by drop fell into the pot. Luc Canh Hoa looked at me and finally nodded. “I support you.” You're always like that. Very rarely loudly expresses his stance. But as long as I seriously say something, he will stand by my side. That night, we cooked the blandest meal ever. Let's just blanch cabbage with clean water. Tofu is only boiled in boiling water. Steam eggs only in warm water. Even green onions are not sprinkled. When I put three lunch boxes on the table, I also felt that this meal was too bland. Luc Canh Hoa tasted a piece of Chinese cabbage. He frowned. “This really only tastes like vegetables.” I asked: “Is it salty?” He shook his head. “If you say salty, you probably have a problem with your tongue.” I also tasted a piece. No salt. No sauce. There is only a slight taste inherent to Chinese cabbage. I closed the lid of the lunch box. Each box still has a note stuck on it as usual. Heat for two minutes at noon. Steam eggs for one minute. Three-minute tofu soup. Writing the last line, I looked at the note for a long time. Luc Canh Hoa hugged me from behind. “Don't think anymore.” I said: "I'm afraid that this little thing will become a big deal." He said: “You didn't.” “But what if my taste really changes?” “Then we'll take mom for a checkup.” He gently rested his chin on my shoulder. “If not, we will ask clearly.” I won't say any more. The next morning, my mother-in-law woke up even earlier than us.