Chapter 129

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Protagonist:

Song Miao

A group of tutors were making a fuss here; inside, Song Miao had long heard the commotion and came out to welcome them, smiling: "There's food ready on horseback, gentlemen, please sit a moment; it'll be ready in the time it takes to drink a cup."

Being regulars, they needed no guide and knew to go wash their hands in the back courtyard themselves.

After they came out one by one, each found a seat and sat comfortably in the armchairs, wiping hands and faces with their own towels while waiting for the dishes, sipping lukewarm purple perilla boiled water, feeling the damp evil that had seeped into their bodies from days of rain disperse entirely with that thin layer of sweat.

Sitting idly drinking tea, their mouths would be empty.

Students together usually complain about teachers; teachers teaching have their own bitter tears, and gathered together, they inevitably complain about students too.

Good students aren't worth mentioning; before colleagues, boasting only makes one seem to show off, but poor students are worth pouring out grievances about.

Knowing your students are worse makes you feel less miserable, and instead brings comfort.

On a great afternoon, after glaring and blowing their beards at a roomful of students all day, they had plenty of fire in their bellies and inevitably began comparing miseries.

"Students nowadays are truly worse year by year; I already thought the previous batch of Lower Hall students was bad, but this year is even more outrageous. Many crucial points in the classics, clearly said eight or ten times, they still get wrong when tested—their brains are like they've been filled with water!"

"In class, everyone's eyes are wide open, but when asked what I just said, someone doesn't remember a thing, just an empty shell sitting in the schoolhouse listening, who knows where their soul has flown—how did such people get selected into Taixue!"

"Hah, you ask me, I'd like to ask you! Last time I graded new students' essays, one had several Zhuangzi allusions I'd never heard of, and I thought a learned man had arrived, but the writing didn't seem like it. When I asked the source, he said his surname was Zhuang, and the allusion was made up by him—naturally it was 'Zhuangzi said'!"

Everyone burst into laughter.

Then another tutor said: "Yours is bad enough, at least it's Lower Hall. I gave them a topic to calculate military provisions, and a student in Upper Hall actually calculated that one horse needs three shi of oats a day—over a hundred jin of oats. I just want to shove it all into his mouth to see how many days it takes him to finish! I don't know how he got promoted!"

Someone said: "Oh come on, yours just have bad brains. My students don't read much but think a lot. Eating and drinking outside is one thing, but there's one who sneaks off to Xiaotianshui Alley to stay overnight, and he knows how to hide—I can't catch him several times. I'm afraid something will happen; he doesn't fear death, but I can't bear that responsibility!"

Seeing them get angrier the more they spoke, the atmosphere grew stifling. When the food arrived, everyone fell silent; the resentment on their faces vanished, and they smoothed their wrinkles into chrysanthemum smiles, busy with chopsticks and bowls, no time to speak of annoying students.

First brought was a pot of porridge, white porridge, not much rice, cooked until just bursting, making the porridge water clear but not bland—rather than rice porridge, it was more like rice soup.

Accompanied by several small dishes: besides the usual pickled vegetable shreds, sour bamboo shoot shreds, and meat jerky, there were several pieces of split fermented bean curd, and another plate of Polygonatum stir-fried eggs, mildly spicy, and a plate of stir-fried Chinese cabbage.

This time both dishes were cooked with clear oil.

Considering most tutors had bad teeth, Song Miao specially stir-fried the Chinese cabbage until soft.

The vegetable itself was very sweet, a tender sweetness; the clear oil's role was to draw out that sweetness. No water added, just a little salt, and it oozed out plenty of soup juice, which was also sweet.

When eating the tender vegetable stalks, a burst of sweet vegetable juice would spurt onto the tongue; the leaves were coated with a thin layer of clear oil, very soft, eating them there was only pure vegetable sweetness, not greasy, no off-flavor. Even after swallowing, the mouth and tongue root remained fresh and clean.

The Polygonatum stewed eggs were fresh and fragrant, mildly spicy. The Polygonatum was thoroughly soaked in cold water, lightly parboiled in advance to remove the beany smell, wrung dry, then stir-fried with oil and a little minced garlic until fragrant, pushed to one side to fry eggs, then water was added to boil both into a thick soup.

This dish was boiled over high heat until both ingredients were extremely soft; the fried egg pieces had a slight chew. Both brought rich flavors: Polygonatum was beany and sweet, fried eggs were roasted and fragrant. Both had many air holes, absorbing the soup juice, which was also very rich. With cornel added, it had a slight fresh spiciness. This dish, not used to accompany rice, would be a waste of heaven's bounty.

Sure enough, not long after, Song Miao brought up a small pot of rice alone, saying: "Today although there are meat buns, I see that Masters Xiao and Wang don't like wheaten food, so I specially prepared some rice, with two side dishes to go with rice."

Xiao and Wang held their bowls and chopsticks, for a moment moved to tears that would flow together with the rampant saliva.

And the tutors who had just tasted the Polygonatum stewed eggs inevitably called out too: "Young lady, I also love eating rice!"

"Although I'm a northerner, I've never had any bias toward rice or wheat; as long as it's made in your shop, I love eating anything!"

While everyone was still shouting, Cheng Erniang on the side had already brought over several tall stacks of steamer baskets.

"Today I also made buns, meat buns and plain buns both available, and there's still rice on the stove," Song Miao smiled. "Gentlemen, please try them all and see which you like."

The steamer basket lids were lifted, and the complaints at the table all vanished with the white mist, who knows where they drifted.

Small bamboo steamers, small buns, each only the size of an egg, without pleats, white and plump on top, round and moist. Pinch one up, and you'd find the bun skin underneath soaked through with oil.

"These are pleatless buns. The meat ones have carrot mutton filling—the ones soaked through with red oil soup. The pickled cabbage pork filling—the ones soaked through with brownish-yellow oil soup. The plain ones have tofu filling—this one soaked through with pale yellow oil soup. And there's also a mushroom and rapini filling..."

Song Miao said while pointing to introduce them to everyone.

The tutor who had just been arguing he was impartial toward rice and wheat no longer mentioned rice, but quickly reached for a meat bun with carrot mutton filling.

The carrots were cut into fine shreds, mixed with mutton filling, with a bit of scallion in the middle.

The carrots were first stir-fried in oil, so the sweetness and red color first merged into the oil, then into the half-raw, half-cooked meat filling, mixed with scallion flavor. One bite, a mouthful of meat juice, making the filling taste incredibly good—earlier that southerner Cheng Zijian ate until he wanted to stomp his feet, and Han Li tasted one and wanted to cover the box, unwilling to let others have any. The flavor can be imagined.

That tutor ate only one bun and no longer said he "loved eating anything." His chopsticks desperately reached into the steamer, picking up meat buns one by one.

A table full of people, hearing Song Miao's introduction, each reached for what they liked. Soon, no talking could be heard, only the sound of blowing—wanting to quickly stuff the buns into their mouths.

The pickled cabbage pork bun was sour, fragrant, and rich. The pickled cabbage was the soul of it: first stir-fried dry, then heavily oiled and stir-fried, then stir-fried with minced pork and cornel crumbs, absorbing meat juice and fat, full of meat aroma and oil aroma.

Wrapped with such filling, the bun's surface already looked shiny with oil. One bite, sour and spicy, appetizing.

As for the two plain filling buns, the mushroom and rapini filling had crisp, tender, refreshing rapini, still keeping a very beautiful emerald green color. The mushrooms were soft, chewy, and substantial. The seasoning had nothing extra; eating it was oily yet not greasy, natural and delicious.

Most special was that tofu bun.

The tofu was tender tofu, extremely tender. Inside were added pickled vegetable granules and sour cowpea granules, then stir-fried with cornel fried in lard and fermented black bean crumbs, bringing out a spicy fragrant flavor. Poured over the tofu cut into small pieces, topped with green scallion, lightly tossed.

This bun tasted wonderfully tender, wonderfully soft, wonderfully fragrant. The tofu absorbed flavor especially well. The pickled vegetable and sour cowpea granules were sour and salty, the cornel was spicy, fully spicy and fragrant.

The tender tofu crumbled as soon as it touched the lips without even entering the mouth. The skin was already soaked through with oil. Just looking at it made one's mouth water. Eating it, only the two words "amazing" could describe it.

The pleatless buns had more fragrant skin at the sealed edge, the filling inside was more fragrant and rich, and less likely to leak soup juice.

One small steamer after another full of buns was brought up, and one empty steamer after another was taken away.

After eating for a while, the tutors finally couldn't stuff another bite, so they put down their chopsticks, sighing repeatedly. Relying on their old age that no one would mind, they began boasting wildly to each other.

"If I were born twenty years younger, tonight I'd eat three more steamers of these small buns no matter what!"

"You eat three steamers? I can eat at least five!"

Song Miao listened and smiled. Seeing the time was about right, she quickly wrapped seven or eight large buns in dried lotus leaves, wrapped them again in a cloth bundle, and gave them to Xue Zheng You, asking him to take them back to Cheng Zijian for a late-night snack. Around twenty years old, exactly when one eats a lot; taking them to share with classmates and dorm mates, they'd be gone.

This was being passed around, but unexpectedly a sharp-eyed tutor at the side saw it. He didn't ask openly, but took advantage of people's inattention, quietly called Song Miao aside, and asked: "Young lady, do you have more buns here? Can you pack some to take along?"

Song Miao said: "Originally they were made for us to eat ourselves. Although I made some extra, the ones with pleats are the kind that easily leak soup. Although they can be packed, when taken back they won't look so pretty. Besides, buns kept overnight won't taste as good the next day, and might even spoil. Sir, you can't eat any more tonight, can you?"

The tutor let out a full burp and said: "Such good things, no matter what, could they be worse than the canteen? Besides, my granddaughter at home has always loved eating plain buns. If I take this back for her, I don't know how happy she'd be."

Speaking this, he grabbed a handful of money from his waist money pouch and said: "If there are leftovers, set aside several for this old man."

After he returned to his seat carrying a small bundle, some acquaintances secretly asked about it; one said his old wife loved mutton buns, another said his parents loved pickled vegetable buns.

Word spread, and by the time everyone went home, quite a few people were quietly carrying cloth bundles; only the dull-witted and slow-witted failed to notice at first.

That very night, many scholars' households were eating Song Family Eatery's unfolded steamed buns.

The next day at noon, after finally finishing their work, a group of scholars gathered in the canteen.

Having eaten so well the previous night, and quite satisfied that morning, now faced with thick-skinned small-filling cold buns and two or three spoonfuls of large pot dish before them, they could only stare at each other.

After a while, someone could not help but exclaim: "Once you've seen the sea, no other water compares—even if the noon hour is short and it's inconvenient to go out, must we eat this?"

"How so, you've been eating this for so long, and after going out to eat a few meals you can't stand it?" said a scholar who had not yet had a chance to join the Song family meal.

But he soon sighed as well, saying: "It was hard to eat before, and even harder to eat lately; they won't even spare more filling."

"They say the city is flooded too deep, prices for everything are skyrocketing, and the canteen can't afford many ingredients..."

"Nonsense! Even before the flooding, it wasn't any good—it's just poor cooking!"

Someone who had eaten yesterday's Song family bun took three bites in a row before finally getting a bit of filling, and couldn't help asking: "Can we ask the canteen to buy that Song Xiaoniangzi's bun recipe from last night, and have them make it accordingly?"

"Nice thought! I ask you: using the same brush and ink to write essays, the writer has the same five fingers, so why is there a difference in quality in what is written?"

"It has nothing to do with the recipe, only with the person!"

"Then what do we do?"

After swallowing buns for a long while, someone finally said: "Old Peng, you and Cen Jiancheng are from the same year and are closest—tell him, can our canteen go to that Song Family Eatery every day to get some buns to sell back here?"

"Good idea! Even if all of us chip in to buy, the quantity is small, and we might not eat buns every day; once the flood recedes, that Song Xiaoniangzi will have to set up her stall and take banquet orders, so she might not be free to make them—even if she's agreeable, I'd be embarrassed, but if the portions were larger it would be easier to discuss!"

Old Peng hesitated a little, saying: "I don't carry much weight when I speak; it would be better if several of us went together..."

"I'll go with you!"

"I'll go too!"

Soon a swarm of people wanted to join the excitement.

Someone else said: "We can tell Chen Xiansheng; if Cen Jiancheng can't decide, we'll need to ask Deng Jijiu, and he'll have to step in!"

"Why not go ask that Song Xiaoniangzi today, and see how many buns a day she's willing to make?"

"Best to discuss the glutinous rice and shaomai as well, and see if they can be made."

On this side, a group of scholars, eager to introduce Song family buns to Taixue as soon as possible, chewed on the unpalatable canteen buns while gathering together to plot and scheme.

On the other side, Han Li rode hard all the way and finally returned to the Capital by afternoon.

He did not return to Taixue, nor go to the Capital Prefecture Office, but went straight to deliver an invitation card to Counselor Li Zhai's residence.

By now the news that Six Dao River would be transferring manpower again was no secret.

Even Tang Lv could be used as a gift to curry favor; one could imagine how widespread the news had spread.

Li Zhai, as Counselor, was already high-ranking and powerful, and this time he was also in charge of presiding over the reconstruction of Six Dao River, making him even more influential; carriages, horses, and people crowded the front of his residence.

Some waited at the gatehouse, some waited outside the gate, and some even waited inside their carriages—not truly seeking an audience—they clearly knew the Counselor would not grant an audience, merely wanting to show an attitude of seeking an audience.

People waiting were everywhere; although the Li family gatekeeper put on a patient appearance, he was actually quite impatient, though he did not show it.

So when he saw a young commoner arrive, his first reaction was to take the visiting card and send him away directly.

But seeing that the other's appearance was extraordinary and his bearing unusual, the gatekeeper became alert, and hurriedly glanced at the signature on the visiting card.

Seeing the two characters "Han Li," his heart tightened; first he thought of the news circulating from the residence, second he thought of what happened to Counselor Cao that day, and he dared not be arrogant; he hurriedly invited Han Li inside to wait seated, while he himself rushed in to report.

Not long after, he came running out, courteously leading the way at the front.

"Young Master Han, my master invites you!"

Seeing the newcomer, a young man, almost without waiting, enter directly, while those who had waited outside for half a day, or came day after day, full seven or eight days, even ten-odd days, could no longer sit still and began to clamor.

"Who is that? A son or nephew of the Counselor's family? Why can he just go in?"

"They say his surname is Han; I haven't heard Counselor Li has any Han-surnamed sons or nephews; he shouldn't be a junior of the family."

"Then what right does he have?"

Someone couldn't help but go ask the gatekeeper, and not long after, returned dejected.

"It's Han Li..."

"Ah, it's Han Douji!"

A group of people scattered like birds and beasts.

?? Reply to Food Friends' question: Tian Luo Niao is scrubbed shell first then tail cut, cutting off two or three rings; when scrubbing the shell it's already cut, if not cut there's no way to pry out the snail meat and innards, they'd get stuck inside; perhaps I split it into two chapters and everyone didn't notice. Later Xiao Miao used scissors to cut snail shells for the scholars, cutting inward from the already-cut opening, considered cutting open the largest belly shell ring of the Tian Luo Niao; I don't know if this explanation can be understood.