The War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression Begins in Songhu

Chapter 118 Have a bowl

Pacific time, 5:36 p.m., on every highway in Los Angeles.

With a long friction sound of "creaking", Uncle Bo stepped on the brake hard.

The car, which was originally traveling at a speed of at least 60 mph, suddenly came to a complete stop, and the friction of its tires on the road emitted a strong burnt smell.

It left several deep tire marks on the ground before it came to a complete stop.

Such a sudden brake almost caused a Ford pickup truck following behind him to rear-end him.

The pickup truck driver swerved the steering wheel and narrowly avoided the collision.

Even though he avoided the rear-end collision, the black guy in the pickup truck was still in great fear.

He still rolled down the car window, raised a thick middle finger to Uncle Bo, and then gave him a series of fierce and loud verbal greetings.

After almost a minute of saliva-splattering greetings, he drove away cursing.

He seemed quite unwilling to leave. If Uncle Bo wasn't still wearing a soldier's uniform, the black guy might have attacked him directly.

After watching the pickup truck leave, Uncle Bo steered the car and slowly pulled it over to the side of the road. He couldn't help but curse:
"What the hell! What a mess!"

What is different from the rookies who traveled through time this time, such as AT, Chaozi, Black Star, Huang A'di, and Dahammer.

When the above-mentioned people opened their eyes, it was around three in the morning, when it was late at night and everyone was asleep, and they were all staying at home.

Because Uncle Bo was in North America, there was a twelve-hour time difference between the two places, so he was working at a military logistics base in Los Angeles at the time.

However, when he traveled to the Battle of Shanghai, he was squatting in the bathroom.

Because he didn't sleep well last night, he took a nap while squatting in the toilet, and as a result, he was unexpectedly traveled through time and space, starting a crazy experience.

When he traveled back in time and opened his eyes again, he found himself still sitting on the toilet.

If it weren't for the Battle of Shanghai medal neatly pinned on his chest, he really couldn't believe that such an outrageous thing as time travel actually happened to him.

Then, this man in his forties, affectionately called "Old Cucumber" by Hu Biao and others, sat in the bathroom for more than an hour and did not come out until it was almost five o'clock when he got off work.

During this period of time, he was either playing with the commemorative medal or looking at the two photos over and over again.

All the things that happened during the time travel, and the familiar faces of the Sichuan Army and the Guangxi Army brothers, kept flashing through his mind again and again.

They were laughing, they were playing with each other, they were roaring and fighting, and for a moment everyone was in a daze.

Because he had been squatting for too long, Uncle Bo's legs were numb when he stood up, and he couldn't stand up successfully at once; his subsequent walking movements didn't seem to be smooth either.

Fortunately, I accidentally solved a small problem.

While he was still thinking about how to explain to his colleagues why he had been slacking off for so long.

His superior, an old white man, patted him on the shoulder, gave him an understanding look, and said politely:

"No need to explain, man, I understand.

As men get older, they always encounter this embarrassing situation when going to the toilet; I know a magical oriental ointment, which, when applied at such times, will cool your soul.

I'll send you the pictures later, and you can buy it online at Amazon, Walmart, and other platforms."

"Fuck! You have hemorrhoids, your whole family has hemorrhoids." After being confused for a while, Uncle Bo finally understood what the other party was talking about and started yelling like this...

******
Of course, it was definitely not because someone misunderstood that he had severe hemorrhoids. Uncle Bo remembered it almost an hour later and still came to the brakes in anger.

It was not the fire in Los Angeles where he was, but the one that attracted the attention of everyone in the world.

At this point, the fire has only been brought under control in some areas, and there are still many fire spots that have not been extinguished, and it is far from time to put them out.

This made Uncle Bo worry that his house would also be burned down.

The fundamental reason was that he inadvertently saw a small Chinese sign among a row of shops full of English signs on the roadside.

On the sign, written in familiar Chinese characters were four words: Guilin Rice Noodles. God knows why, when I saw this sign, Uncle Bo swallowed a big mouthful of saliva.

This reminded him of the big bowl of Guilin rice noodles he had eaten on that cold morning at the Dunwu Temple position, and the delicious taste that he still remembered.

In an instant, not only the gluttony in my stomach was aroused.

There was also an indescribable longing in my head, which was also a remembrance of those brothers in the Gui Army.

Then, under an inexplicable impulse, I slammed on the brakes and almost caused a rear-end collision.

After parking the car, he walked towards the shop.

Uncle Bo successfully adjusted himself from the depressed mood of being almost rear-ended in a very short time.

Because even though he was still twenty or thirty meters away from the shop, he seemed to be able to smell the alluring aroma of sour bamboo shoots, brine, and sour beans mixed together.

His pace quickened and he soon pushed open the door of the shop.

The moment he pushed open the door, he shouted loudly like a gourmet who often eats Guilin rice noodles:
"Boss, give me five ounces of rice noodles, cook them in a double pot, add more pickled bamboo shoots, minced garlic, and pickled beans; and..."

There was a long string of shouts, and Uncle Bo suddenly stopped halfway through.

Because he was surprised to see a thin, dark-skinned man with an oriental face and a tall chef's hat walking out.

Although when he opened his mouth to greet me, his iconic big yellow teeth were no longer visible.

But his appearance and the temperament when he smiled were exactly the same as Huang Sanxi, the former chief cook of the 1020th Regiment of the Gui Army.

After a brief moment of confusion, Uncle Bo's heart was filled with endless joy. He quickly stepped forward and gave the other person a big hug.

Judging from the extremely surprised and even somewhat terrified expression on the other party's face when Uncle Bo hugged him, Huang Sanxi definitely no longer remembered him or anything that happened on the Battle of Shanghai.

But this is not important. What is important is that the other person can live in this beautiful era and enjoy the life they once longed for.

After releasing his embrace, Uncle Bo quickly tried to explain his rather violent actions by saying:
"Great! I've been dreaming of having a bowl of authentic Guilin rice noodles for a long time. Master, your style is definitely authentic."

The reason why Uncle Shi Bo said this was that he had no intention of telling the other party what happened on the battlefield of Dunwu Temple.

The sufferings of the past are over. While remembering these sufferings, we now need to look forward and continue to live well.

Yes! That's how it should be.

After hearing Uncle Bo's explanation, Huang Sanxi, who thought he had met something in the modern dimension, first breathed a sigh of relief.

Then, in a plastic Mandarin with a strong Cantonese accent, he confidently shouted:
"Handsome boy, you have finally come to the right place. I, Huang Sanxi, have been making Guilin rice noodles for 20 to 30 years, and my craftsmanship is absolutely authentic.

Don't worry! The moment I saw you, I felt a sense of familiarity, as if I had seen you somewhere before. This bowl of rice noodles is not only filled with toppings, but also comes with a small Chinese sausage.

I guarantee that after you eat it today, you will want to eat another bowl tomorrow."

Later, while Huang Sanxi was busy, Uncle Bo stood at the door of the kitchen, and the two of them chatted casually.

I then learned that the other person had immigrated from China more than ten years ago.

He is the owner, chef and waiter of this small shop. Although the shop is not located in Chinatown, the business is quite good and many white people often come here to patronize it.

Such statements made Uncle Bo even more excited.

Then, when a big bowl of Guilin rice noodles was brought in front of him, Uncle Bo stirred it skillfully, picked up a big chopstick and put it into his mouth.

The next second, he almost cursed out loud.

Because the Guilin rice noodles made by Huang Sanxi were probably modified to suit the taste of white people. I wonder how much sugar was added to make that sweet taste.

But Uncle Bo still finished this bowl of rice noodles without leaving any, and decided to have another bowl when he has time.

It wasn't for the sake of satisfying her appetite, but just to have a quick chat with this man who was her comrade in her past life...

(End of this chapter)