Chapter 116: Grilled Lamb under the Red Willows

“Alright, let’s warm things up a bit!” Di Chunhua, seeing the situation, said no more. This meeting was so brief—she’d never seen one so short. In her experience, meetings usually began with a long spiel about performance, then some new rules would be announced to address loopholes in the factory. For example, some people exploited the excuse of going to the bathroom to linger on the clock, so rules would be issued regarding frequency and duration. Then came the tales of hardship, the threat that the factory would soon go under if things continued as they were, culminating in a rousing speech to stir everyone’s hearts.

Seeing her mother had nothing more to say, Zhong Di breathed a sigh of relief. Gradually, he thought, his mother’s views would change.

“Zakeer, Dad, you two start butchering the sheep. Make sure to pick one that’s just right—not too old, not too young.” When it came to grilled lamb skewers, it was quite different from making soup. For Zhong Di, the lamb couldn’t be too tender or too tough. If it was too young, the flavor wouldn’t come through; too old, and the texture would be off. A medium-sized sheep was perfect.

“Yakexi, we’ll butcher the sheep,” Zakeer replied, and he and his father went off to choose one. He was quite adept at butchering.

(Yakexi means “okay,” and saying “first-class Yakexi” means “very good.”)

“Shaohong, let’s go prepare the red willow skewers.” Zhong Di fetched two electric pruning shears. Red willow was sturdy stuff. With today’s group, each person could easily eat seven or eight skewers—forty or fifty sticks at least. They needed to prepare even more, and that would take some time. Without electric shears, their wrists would pay the price.

Zhong Di and Shaohong drove their electric tricycle to a spot where red willow grew thick. There were none in the orchard. Red willow typically grows in sandy areas, especially those with a touch of alkali salt. Where red willow thrived, a large sand mound usually formed beneath, mostly the roots—a superb sand-fixing effect.

This was a secluded place, one Zhong Di had found before, surrounded by abandoned orchards, so hardly anyone ever came. Soon enough, they set to work. There was not only red willow but also saxaul, which made things a bit tougher.

“Shaohong, don’t just strip one red willow bare!” Zhong Di watched as Shaohong slowly denuded one tree.

“Quit whining and get on with yours,” Shaohong muttered.

Zhong Di ignored him and searched for his own branches. Red willow needed to be moist—dead, dry twigs wouldn’t do. They might snap before the meat was even cooked. Though you could use dead wood for slow roasting, it was tricky to sharpen and unsuitable; fresh branches were best.

Before long, they’d cut enough red willow for their needs.

“Zhong Di, look at this!” Shaohong was about to load his armful onto the tricycle when he spotted something odd in a corner.

“Hmm? There are actually two wild cistanche plants here,” Zhong Di followed Shaohong’s gaze and found them—what a treasure, and wild to boot.

They didn’t hesitate, digging them out directly. The roots were deep—over half a meter. Quite the find.

Cistanche is a parasitic plant, lacking the structures to make its own nutrients. Saxaul is its best host. In recent years, wild cistanche has become increasingly rare due to overharvesting, most of it now artificially cultivated. So finding two wild specimens was truly lucky.

They didn’t bother searching for more nearby. This was enough; in nature, one must take only what’s appropriate and never be greedy.

“Zhong Di, when did someone set up a picking garden here?” On their way back, they took the route Gao Lin had used to drop him off, and Shaohong asked in confusion.

“No idea. I’m curious too. It looks just like ours, even raising chickens. What are they feeding them? Looks like herbal medicine!”

Zhong Di observed and noticed even more—wolfberry, sand jujube, and other plants.

“Are they trying to copy us? What should we do?” Shaohong was a bit anxious.

“Maybe, but don’t worry. There’s no way we’ll be the only ones making money. It’s nothing.” Zhong Di replied, continuing to watch for a while.

There were people in lab coats, too. Last time he’d looked, it hadn’t been like this—their hardware had gone up fast, far better than his own. This wasn’t a local venture; locals were mostly short on funds. Someone with money had invested.

But Zhong Di didn’t care—it had little to do with him.

They soon returned to the orchard. The sheep had already been butchered and was being processed—the size was just right.

Zhong Di and Shaohong handled the red willow: cutting it to length, sharpening the points, and washing them clean.

“The sheep’s testicles are mine!” Before they even started on the lamb, Shaohong declared.

Zhong Di’s mouth twitched. He really had a thing for them. “All yours, nobody’s fighting you for them.”

“Um, could I have one?” Zakeer muttered, quickly adding, “They’re delicious!”

Zhong Di: …

Soon, they got to work preparing the lamb. Red willow skewers were big, so the meat couldn’t just be threaded as it was—it needed to be marinated first.

They added onion, ginger, cilantro, salt, and some soy sauce.

Once everything was mixed in, his older sister donned disposable gloves and kneaded it thoroughly so the flavors would soak in.

Meanwhile, the spot set up for grilling was ready—with a grill and a fixed earth pit for roasting.

They decisively chose the earth pit; it retained heat well and grilled beautifully.

First, they burned a fire, using charcoal made on site. For grilling, it was best to use half-burned wood charcoal to avoid toxic fumes.

When the fire was ready and the lamb skewers threaded, they prepared the final seasonings—cumin, salt, and chili powder. That was all they needed.

They didn’t bother with five-spice or barbecue seasoning; lamb skewers were best kept simple.

Zhong Di looked at the generous skewers with satisfaction—this was the real deal. Between every two pieces of meat, a chunk of lamb fat. Lamb skewers without fat just weren’t fragrant.

Once everything was ready, they set the skewers over the fire to roast. Zakeer tended to the grilling while Zhong Di and the others prepared side dishes.

The bread oven hadn’t been set up yet; otherwise, pairing the skewers with flatbread would have been heavenly.

Before long, the red willow-grilled lamb was done.

It looked mouthwatering, and the aroma was almost unbearable.

Zhong Di ate skewer after skewer, utterly delighted. The combination of lamb fat and meat was simply irresistible.