Chapter 4: Sadness is sad (Part 1)

I asked Uncle Nhien "Why do you love Miss Linh?" then he could not answer, and his confusion surprised me.

Later, when I learned of my eighth love, I understood that explaining why we don't love someone is much easier than explaining why we love them.

It is said that a man is willing to marry a girl for a beautiful chin, but a woman never marries a man for a pair of beautiful thighs. That is not true. Neither man nor woman will marry the other for one part if he (or she) truly believes that marrying one person means his life is tied to that person by the solid chain of number. parts.

The beautiful chin or beautiful eyes attract the attention of the opposite person, but it only acts as a light bulb in the hand of the person who guides the place in the theater. When the velvet curtain is up, the folo lights are on and the characters appear on the stage, then the adventure of the soul really begins and depending on the fascinating or bland play we will decide. plan to sit back until the last minute or leave halfway.

Love is the same, the outside impression is very significant, but even more remarkable is whether the appearance is hiding something significant behind it or not.

Oh, what screw am I swinging?

I'm talking Uncle Nhien.

Nhien Nhien loves Miss Linh.

They are a couple.

A completely different pair of me and my son Ti su or the guy Hai stork and the cub.

The most obvious difference is that they are about to get married.

They are going to be husband and wife. Real husband and wife.

We are still late.

I don't know if the sheriff would marry a flight attendant when he grew up, but the principal was definitely not foolish to bring Snow White home.

The reason the Tíún is out of my marriage plan (if I really do plan to get married at the age of eight) is for one simple reason: the daughter Tíún is the worst cooking girl of the children. the girl I used to know and would know.

With that said, I don't eat or drink picky. I do not care about the nutritional content of the dish. Much later, as my age was piling up and my body started to turn against me, I began to notice what percentage of proteine, cholesterol, glucide, lipide was in the stuff I was about to put in my stomach. But when I was eight, fat was as valuable to me as fiber, and protein and sugar were obviously the same thing.

Back then, I only liked three dishes: instant noodles, instant noodles and of course instant noodles. It was something that if caught me hugging in any way, my mother would pull away from me, even by violent means, which was completely contrary to her gentle nature.

In short, if I want to eat instant noodles, I have to escape to Tí's house and ask him to cook for them. Calling to cook noodles is called for oai, but actually just cook a kettle of boiling water. The Tí vermicelli just put the noodles in a bowl, then added the available seasoning bags and poured boiling water.

There is probably no dish in the world that is as easy to cook as instant noodles. So easy for it to be, coated an egg suddenly turned into the same complexity as launching a spaceship to the moon. Yet Tí sún has never been able to cook a bowl of noodles in his whole life, if his life was only up to the age of eight.

The bowl of noodles one day is not too dry, and the other day the water is so much that I feel like if the Little Snake didn't want to drown some invisible enemy and fell into the bowl, he would want to take revenge on me for shouting when I married her a few days ago. There is also a time when the Ti vermicelli meets the oyster that cooks the boiling water just right, but in such rare times it always forgets to put the seasoning in the bowl of noodles.

Because of all that, I only allow Ti vermicelli to cook noodles for me a total of three times. On the fourth time, I retorted (even though we are not playing the game of husband and wife at the moment, Tí sún still obediently obeyed me):

You move! Bring a kettle of boiling water here, do it yourself!

oOo

When I was nine years old, my mother gave birth to a baby.

When I was seventeen, my sister was eight years old, the same age as Tí rut when I said she "moved away".

At eight years old, my sister knows how to cook rice, stock fish, sweep the house, wash dishes and master a ton of other crimes.

My mother said:

Girls must know how to do everything. Tomorrow when you grow up, you will get married, look at you skillful or clumsy, people will know how your mother teaches you.

My mother spoke like a Westerner who wrote proverbs. The Frenchman said "Tell me what you read, I will say who you are!". My mother's saying is like "You tell me how your daughter does housework, I will say who you are!".

That is the way of thinking of my mother, also the way of thinking of all Vietnamese traditional mothers. Based on this assessment, it is clear that the mother and daughter Tí sun never taught him any meals.

That is the truth. Tí sún's mother did not teach me.

His mother died as soon as it was born. It was said that his mother was bleeding.

Tí sún is an orphan and she has only one way to learn how to cook badly from her father.

Of course at the age of eight, I did not have a sister and my mother had not had the opportunity to utter such golden words. But at that moment, I was determined not to marry Tí sun as a wife, even though the two of them would definitely grow up side by side from childhood until each of them had to get married. Play the game of husband and wife and give birth to Hai stork and a Bon to scold him. But becoming a real husband and wife never.

My partner's standards at that time were not very high. There is only one small standard: Must know how to cook instant noodles for me to eat. However, the standard is as small as that ant, and the Tíún does not meet it.

When you read this place, you will surely smile: Oh my, childish story!

But it's not. When I was growing up, I still found that cooking was quite important in my married life. Of course housework does not play a significant role in the process of falling in love between a man and a girl. Up to now, there are thousands of old East-West novels written on the subject of love, but none mention a love in which he falls in love with her for cooking or he abandoned her for soup. She cooks too salty. Romeo despite the hostility between the two families to pursue Juliet certainly not because of her fish ball dish. There is nothing wrong with that, because writers write love stories, not marriage stories. Therefore I still believe that Romeo and Juliet's love is so beautiful because they both died before they could get married and Juliet had not had the opportunity to cook instant noodles for Romeo.

You have to think about it: Is it true that until the boys get home, the boys do not have a single chance to evaluate their future spouse's culinary skills?

This place needs to be clear to avoid misleading: It is because the boys are not interested, not the girls are deliberately hiding it. Bathing in the romantic atmosphere of the days of love, eating is clearly secondary, even classified as mundane. Love must definitely be more poetic than eating, as the heart is bound to be nobler than the stomach. Truong Chi in the old days must have thought that and Truong Chi in the past probably did not think otherwise.

Then you think again: Is it true that when he falls in love, he still likes to take her out to eat? More money goes to luxury restaurants or dining areas in the plaza, less money goes to popular restaurants, with less money than a little money, then go out to the side of the road to sit with clams and shellfish. Every day he was empty, he decided to lie at home with a very noble reason "Today I am busy with work." No guy ever thought of inviting a beauty home to make her cook for him. They all thought, very self-respecting: What the hell is so important to eat! Properly people love each other by sight, hearing, smell and touch, only rude mortals love each other by taste!

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