Chapter 43: Wok Hei

The next morning, Lu Beigu rose early, carefully storing the "Spring and Autumn: Revealing the Sovereign's Subtleties" he had obtained the day before. This book was profound and extensive; merely comparing its scrolls against the Three Commentaries on the Spring and Autumn Annals would take several months to finish.

He prepared brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, placed these items in his satchel, and set off toward the Chengnan Yizhou Road Transport Commissioner's Office.

Their group was currently lodging at the Qingyang Palace.

Yes, the famous Qingyang Palace in Chengdu.

In this era, it was very common for scholar-officials traveling privately to lodge in Taoist temples or Buddhist monasteries; it was sufficiently low-profile, the accommodation fees were not expensive, and the environment was good.

Inside the palace gate, Lu Beigu saw an octagonal, double-eaved, pyramidal-roofed stele pavilion on the right, with a three-legged bronze incense burner in front of it, though it held little incense.

Since they had not entered through the main gate yesterday, he had not seen this object.

Now that he was idle and not in a hurry, Lu Beigu walked into the pavilion to take a look.

Inside stood a stele much taller than him, carried on the back of a Bixi; the stele body appeared carved from Qingcheng stone, a material with hard texture and fine grain, very suitable for inscribing steles.

"The 'Inscription on the Qingyang Palace of Xichuan'?"

Lu Beigu squatted down and glanced below; it was written by a former Tang Shangshu named "Le Penggui."

Afterwards, he silently recited the text above in his mind.

"The hills are towering, the towers and terraces are bright and open, equal to the palaces of Dongming and Yuanjiao in the eastern sea; they rival the palace of the Transformation Man in the far west, drawing the spiritual power of Jian Pass to gather at the imperial journey; they cluster the pure qi of Mount Emei, half entering the capital city. Mist clings to the green altar, wind carries the clear sound of the chime."

Reading it, Lu Beigu roughly understood the situation: previously, this place was actually called Qingyang Guan; Emperor Xizong, fleeing the Huang Chao rebellion, had come to Sichuan and stayed here temporarily.

Emperor Xizong thought this place was excellent; since he had turned danger into safety this time, it perhaps was his blessed land, and maybe next time he fled to Shu, he would have to stay here again.

So after Emperor Xizong returned to Chang'an, he specifically allocated funds from the internal and external treasuries to massively construct it, changing the name from Qingyang Guan to Qingyang Palace.

And since this place had not suffered war damage, it actually had a history of nearly two hundred years.

Hmm, this often meant there would be many crowded ancient building complexes nearby—or rather, old, dilapidated, small residential areas.

He hadn't walked two steps forward when, sure enough, it was so.

Exiting the gate of Qingyang Palace, the morning mist of Chengdu had not yet fully dispersed, but the surrounding alleys were already full of the smoke and fire of human life.

—Literally the "smoke and fire of human life."

Pedestrians came and went like woven threads, and the alleys and streetside spots were filled with various breakfast stalls.

Lu Beigu originally did not want to eat here, but the smell was so damn fragrant that it made him hungrier the further he walked.

He figured he hadn't eaten the local delicacies in Chengdu when he arrived yesterday, so he simply picked a stall in an alley that looked relatively clean and had few people to eat.

"Young sir, what would you like to eat?"

"What do you have?"

"Just two kinds of meat noodles," the stall owner said. "One is thick-soup big boiled noodles with meat topping, and the other is small or large washed meat noodles seasoned with orange and wild chives."

Because Chengdu summers are relatively humid and hot, Lu Beigu felt sticky and uncomfortable from his clothes at this moment, so looking at the thick-soup meat noodles, he actually didn't have much appetite.

He said, "Bring me a portion of the orange and wild chive seasoned noodles."

The noodles were about to be cooked, so they were served very quickly.

Lu Beigu took the bowl and saw the noodles topped with amber-colored meat sauce; the minced meat was fine and oily and shiny, and on the very outside was a layer of orange and wild chives, with one side of fine orange shreds cut as thin as hair, and the other side covered with the green-white minced bits of wild chive bulbs.

He picked up a chopstickful of noodles to taste first; the salty and savory meat sauce wrapped around the noodle fragrance and spread in his mouth. The noodles had been rinsed in well water, smooth and chewy, soaking up the sauce yet not sticky at all.

Then he picked up another chopstickful of the orange and wild chive sauce; the orange shreds were very crisp and tender, chewing with a faint fruity fragrance, while the pungent aroma of the wild chive bulbs perfectly cut through the greasiness of the meat sauce.

Left chopstick, right chopstick, and the bowl of noodles was finished very quickly.

Lu Beigu ate until sweat slightly beaded on his forehead and still felt reluctant to stop, so he simply scraped the sauce at the bottom of the bowl clean with the noodles.

After finishing, he let out a long sigh, feeling the damp heat and irritability of the morning sweep away completely, leaving him feeling refreshed.

The stall owner happened to free his hand, saw him eating with relish, and asked with a smile, "Young sir, are you satisfied?"

Lu Beigu nodded, took out copper coins and handed them over: "This orange and wild chive seasoning is excellent; the sweet and sour taste opens the appetite, making it perfect for eating in the hot season."

The ancients said, "When granaries are full, people know propriety and righteousness."

People only start overthinking after they have eaten their fill.

Looking at the various breakfasts of these stall owners, Lu Beigu walked while thinking.

Newton, as a scholar, seeing an apple fall did not think about whether the apple tasted good, but rather why the apple fell.

Lu Beigu was also a scholar, but he was different from Newton; he was very seriously thinking about matters of eating.

During this period, he had tasted many kinds of food in Sichuan.

But he discovered that in the current Great Song, although steamed and boiled foods had countless varieties, and pastries and dim sum were of excellent appearance.

However, stir-frying was far inferior to the modern era!

Why?

Was it because the wok was no good?

Lu Beigu glanced at the woks of the stall owners in the alley; obviously, it was not so.

In this era, the thin-walled iron wok truly suitable for stir-frying, namely the "Huo," had already been widely used, and the folk had formed the concept of "Huo Qi," which is commonly known in modern times as "wok hei."

Then was it a problem of fuel?

Nor was it.

Although some people here used firewood, more people chose stone coal (coal); the combustion efficiency of stone coal was certainly sufficient to meet the needs of stir-frying.

Thinking more carefully, it was even less a problem of oil.

The Great Song's oil-extraction technology had made a leap-and-bound progress compared to the former Tang; sesame oil, rapeseed oil, soybean oil, and other vegetable oils were very cheap, with rapeseed oil selling for only a few dozen copper coins per jin, a price far lower than lard, and vegetable oils were heat-resistant with high smoke points, originally suitable for stir-frying.

After eliminating all options by the method of elimination, Lu Beigu arrived at an answer that made him feel somewhat helpless and amused.

—That was that although the cooks of the Great Song knew how to stir-fry, many had not yet figured out how to stir-fry dishes that were delicious enough!

"If this were to let Sister-in-law open a restaurant, and I taught her how to stir-fry, wouldn't the diners be overcrowded every single day?"

A thought rose in Lu Beigu's mind.

However, although it looked very feasible, opening a restaurant required not just good cooking, but also capital, manpower, and connections.

Lu Beigu shook his head, pushing the thought aside for the moment.

Soon after, he crossed several streets and alleys, and soon caught sight from a distance of an official building with green bricks and gray tiles; the seven large characters "Yizhou Circuit Transport Commissioner's Office" on the lintel gleamed in the sunlight.

Lu Beigu straightened his clothes and stepped forward.

The guard at the gate asked, "What business brings you to the office?"

"I need to see Commissioner Zhao."

Lu Beigu handed over the official credential written by Zhao Bian yesterday with both hands.

The clerk took the credential and examined it carefully; seeing Zhao Bian's private seal stamped upon it, his expression immediately grew more respectful, and he performed a deep bow.

"Instructions were given long ago; please follow me."

Going around the main hall where officials came and went frequently, and passing through several courtyards, Lu Beigu noticed that although the Transport Commissioner's Office was not small in scale, it exuded simplicity everywhere.

The vermilion paint on the corridor pillars was peeling in many places, and the corners of the stone steps were worn, yet every spot was swept spotless.

Not long after, they arrived at a secluded small courtyard in the rear offices.

In the courtyard, an old plum tree that had long since shed all its blossoms stood proudly alone; beneath it, the stone table and stone stools were dustless.

The guard stopped at the door: "The Commissioner gave instructions long ago; simply go in."

After thanking him, Lu Beigu entered the courtyard alone and saw that the main room's doors stood wide open; Zhao Bian was bent over his desk, writing swiftly.

Hearing the footsteps, he raised his head, and a rare smile appeared on that usually stern face.

"You've come rather early."

(End of this chapter)