The stewed vermicelli noodles were long and soft, making them easy to spill if not served carefully. So, Zhao Youcai picked up Li Dayong's lunch box with one hand, gave the pot a stir with a large ladle in the other, and plopped a heaping spoonful into the metal container.
Normally, one ladleful was a single portion. But the person getting food was Li Dayong. How could one scoop be enough?
After the second scoop was plopped in, the aluminum lunch box was full. In the Northeast dialect, you'd call it a box "piled high."
Then, Zhao Youcai set down the metal ladle, picked up a pair of wooden tongs, and started grabbing cornbread buns for Li Dayong from a steamer basket.
As Zhao Youcai placed the cornbread buns on the lunch box lid, Li Dayong handed his meal tickets over and said, "Brother, shouldn't those two boys be back by now?"
"Who knows," Zhao Youcai said, sounding indifferent.
Hearing this, Li Dayong chuckled. "So you don't miss your son?"
