Chapter 3 — Taste of Home

The mother-in-law stood at the door, looking toward the elevator for a moment. Then she came back in and slowly straightened my slippers at the entrance. My heart softened. Luc Canh Hoa also saw it. He didn't say anything, just pulled the progress bar back. Nine o'clock. Mother-in-law sat on the sofa knitting a scarf. Ten o'clock. She grabbed the tea table, stood up, and went to the balcony to dry her clothes. Half past ten. She received a phone call. The camera does not record audio so the content cannot be heard. Only her expression could be seen. At first she laughed. Then the corners of the lips slowly lowered. After hanging up, she sat on the sofa for a long time. Luc Canh Hoa and I looked at each other. He stopped the image. “Do you know who it is?” I shook my head. “Mom never told me.” He continued to play. Eleven forty. Mother-in-law went into the kitchen. I held my breath. She opened the refrigerator and took out the lunch boxes I prepared the night before. She didn't warm it up right away. First, she placed three lunch boxes on the dining table and sat and looked at them for a long time. In the image, her hand is placed next to the lunch box. On the back of the hand there is a very light age spot. I suddenly remembered that when I pasted the note last night, I wrote very carefully. The mother-in-law peeled off the sticky note but did not throw it away. She smoothed it out and pinned it to an old calendar under the tea table. I was stunned. Luc Canh Hoa also said nothing. Image continues. She carried the box of cabbage into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she brought out a small, clean thermos. She added cabbage, tofu and steamed eggs one by one. Movement is very slow. As if afraid of spilling it. After closing the lid of the jar, she put it in a cloth bag. I frowned. “Where are you going to take it?” Luc Canh Hoa's hand holding the mouse tightened. “Let's continue watching.” At exactly twelve o'clock, the doorbell rang. Mother-in-law stood up and opened the door. A food delivery worker wearing a yellow shirt stood outside. He put in a big bag. The restaurant's logo is printed on the bag. My heart suddenly sank. Turns out she ordered food from outside. Besides, it's not just occasionally. In the picture, the mother-in-law receives the food and says thank you. She put the bag on the dining table. Each box of food was taken out. Braised meat. Eggplant with fish sauce. Stir-fried meat with chili. There's also a bowl of soup. Looks very greasy. The color is also very bold. I looked at those food boxes, my throat felt like something was blocking it. Luc Canh Hoa's face darkened. He asked in a low voice: "Why do you eat this?" I don't answer. Because I don't know either. If you criticize me for not cooking well, you can say it directly. If you want to eat outside, you can also tell us. I won't stop you. I just can't understand. On the one hand, she brought the rice I cooked. One side speaks to me every day. Salty. On camera, the mother-in-law did not immediately eat the food ordered from outside. First she looked at the clock on the wall. Then pick up the phone and make a call. This time, she talked for a long time with the person on the other end of the line. Camera has no sound. But I saw her eyes turn red. The self-pity in my heart suddenly stopped. Luc Canh Hoa pulled the progress bar back a bit and continued playing. A quarter past twelve. My mother-in-law carried the cloth bag containing the rice I cooked outside. At twelve thirty, she returned. The bag was empty. She sat down in front of the dining table and pulled the takeaway box in front of her. But she did not move her chopsticks. She just opened the phone and looked at the screen. Looking for a moment, she raised her hand to wipe the corners of her eyes. My heart immediately sank. “Are you crying?” Luc Canh Hoa said nothing. His throat moved slightly. In the image, the mother-in-law finally picks up the chopsticks. She picked up a piece of braised pork and put it in her mouth. Just take a bite and put it down. Then she covered the food and pushed it aside. She got up and went to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water. After drinking, she returned to sit in front of the dining table. The phone screen is still bright. From the camera's angle, only a little light is visible. I leaned closer to the computer. Luc Canh Hoa enlarges the image. Image quality is a bit blurry. But I still see it. Next to the food bag, there was a hospital receipt pressed underneath. On the receipt there was also a folded piece of paper. The mother-in-law reached out and opened the paper. She took a look and tears suddenly fell. My whole body stiffened in the chair. Luc Canh Hoa's breathing also changed. He enlarged the image again. The text at the top of the last sheet of paper

It's also a little bit clearer. That's not the menu. Nor is it a food bill. It's an inspection report. 04 Luc Canh Hoa stopped his image on that piece of paper. I looked at the screen for a long time before I could read a few blurred words on it. Obstetric ultrasound report card. Not the mother-in-law's name. Nor any of the relatives we knew. The full name field was mostly covered by her finger, revealing only the word Chu. My mind was blank at first. After that there was even more chaos. Luc Canh Hoa said in a low voice: "Mom, why are you holding someone else's autopsy report?" I shook my head. I do not know. In the camera image, the mother-in-law wipes her tears and carefully folds the report. She couldn't conveniently put it in a drawer. I took out an old iron box from under the tea table. That is the box my father-in-law used to store medicine. Mother-in-law brought it with her when she moved in.