Chapter 14: Wonderful Kitchen Chapter 14: Urging

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Protagonist:

Song Miao

Hearing this person say so, Cheng Zijian became even more spirited.

One must know: a gift of a peach is repaid with a plum.

He hurriedly pushed the food box forward again, stepped back several paces, made a great bow, and asked: "Brother, you show me such kindness—surely you won't refuse even this bit of food?"

Seeing his conduct, the man did not dilly-dally; he reached out and took the food box.

Cheng Zijian, fearing he would not eat, stood for a while, waiting for him to open the food box lid, then bowed again and went to sit at the front, carefully examining the topic the man had written on the paper.

It was about plow oxen.

Great Wei forbade the slaughter of plow oxen; unless an ox was old, sick, or injured to the point of being unable to plow, and had been inspected by officials and granted permission, one could not slaughter or sell them at will. But as long as one had money, beef on the market was not hard to find.

Not only that, there were also shops specializing in beef buns, beef oil cakes, beef soup, and so on, though they often hung signs for mutton or chicken.

People say "hang a sheep's head, sell dog meat," but at this time it was "hang a sheep's head, sell beef."

A few years ago, an official was bribed by someone and secretly distributed slaughter permits, until the court investigated; but not long after a new official took office, he was reported for accepting bribes and allowing butchers to slaughter oxen at will.

As for common folk stealing oxen and slaughtering them in secret, such cases were all too common.

The question asked: why does the ban on slaughtering plow oxen fail to stop the practice despite being prohibited?

The topic did not seem difficult at first glance, but Cheng Zijian had barely put brush to paper when he felt that no matter where he started, it was hard to write anything outstanding; it seemed no matter how he wrote, he could only begin with severe punishment and strict orders, then add more public notices in the countryside—every method was something already being done at present.

Yet after doing this for so long, there was no effect at all!

He racked his brains, considered several directions, all unsatisfactory, and was just worrying when he smelled a fragrance drifting over from behind.

Such a familiar scent.

Earlier in Food Alley, when that Song Xiaoniangzi lifted the steamer basket lid, he had smelled it.

It was mutton buns!

White and plump mutton buns, with pleats pinched neat and tidy, very pleasing to the eye; and among them, one bun that the Song Xiaoniangzi had lifted with chopsticks had a red, oily sheen seeping out from below...

Meat juice, perhaps?

Such fragrant meat juice, such a beautiful color—how delicious the filling must be!

Cheng Zijian dared not recall it further.

He had come in a hurry that morning and had not had time to eat breakfast; carrying the food box and running all the way, he was already starving, and now smelling this aroma, his saliva truly could not be controlled, flowing without cease.

Besides, his stomach kept growling, "Gulu..." "Gulu~~~~" "Gulu!!!" with different pitches, one sound after another, just like beating a drum.

Right now there were only two people in the study hall, which was already quiet, with only the faintest sounds of bowls and chopsticks clinking and pages turning; for a moment, Cheng Zijian's stomach growls simply could not be concealed.

He wanted to gather his spirit, but his saliva and thoughts would not obey him; just as he felt embarrassed, he saw the person behind him come over, place the food box on a side table, and say: "Eat breakfast first."

Cheng Zijian felt somewhat flustered and quickly said: "No need, wait for me to write..."

His words had not yet fallen when his stomach let out an extremely long growl.

The man did not urge him, only speared a mutton bun with a bamboo skewer from the food box and handed it over.

Cheng Zijian swallowed a mouthful of saliva, and the words of refusal could no longer be spoken.

He was truly too hungry; as soon as he took the bamboo skewer, he bit into the bun.

The bun steamed with heat, softer than ordinary buns; the outer dough was not thin, so one could better taste the fragrance of the dough itself—not the distinct layers of old dough with no chew, but rather very soft, fluffy, and light, making it easy to bite into the filling inside.

As soon as he bit into the filling, Cheng Zijian drew a sharp breath—it turned out the meat juice inside had leaked out and scalded his tongue.

So hot! But also so fragrant!

Mutton and pork were pan-fried over high fire with lard; the charred aroma of the surface mixed with the meat juice inside, the sweetness of carrot and wild scallion, the fragrance of wild scallion; the wild scallion whites were specially kept in long segments, and once one bit into a slightly larger segment of scallion white, one could taste a bit of pungent scallion bite.

The pungent scallion bite was very refreshing, pairing perfectly with the mutton, cutting greasiness and enhancing flavor; chewing and chewing, one also bit into a bit of crispness, click-click, appearing and disappearing; looking closely, it turned out to be minced wood ear.

Cheng Zijian opened his mouth and blew several breaths outward to cool the food in his mouth; blowing on one side, he could not resist the temptation of the aroma and helplessly gulped it down whole.

When hungry, everything tastes fragrant; eating this hot mutton bun was simply so fragrant he wanted to stomp his feet on the ground.

The filling was also well-seasoned; besides the fresh fragrance, there was a hint of Sichuan pepper aroma, but not at all numbing, present in just the right measure.

The meat inside was even in chunks; the meat in chunks had an extremely rich aroma, and one bite brought a mouthful of meat juice; while the minced meat formed into balls mixed with the sweetness and soup of carrot and wild scallion, each had its own chew—simply oil filling the mouth, the whole mouth fragrant.

A fist-sized mutton bun; Cheng Zijian divided it into only five or six bites and ate it clean; after swallowing, he subconsciously looked toward the food box again—the food box lid was still open.

Looking up again, "Zheng Yan" was also eating a mutton bun.

He ate in silence, no longer reading, only eating while staring at the meat filling inside the bun; his face seemed to have no expression, but Cheng Zijian always felt that when he chewed, it seemed especially meticulous, and his expression while looking at the meat filling was even somewhat focused; compared to when he had just examined him, his eyebrows and eyes seemed different, looking rather relaxed.

The other party seemed to notice Cheng Zijian's gaze, lifted his eyes to look, then speared a Huang Bobo with a bamboo skewer and handed it to him.

Compared to Huang Bobo, Cheng Zijian actually wanted to eat more mutton buns—he felt he could eat another ten or eight—but since they were delivered to his face, how could he refuse?

Huang Bobo was naturally delicious; if not delicious, he would not have specially gone back yesterday to ask that Song Xiaoniangzi to reserve some—the fragrant red bean date paste filling, eating with a sandy texture, the dough soft and fluffy, yet still retaining a bit of roughness; because of this bit of roughness, the unique fragrance of the grain became stronger.

Fragrant, slightly sweet.

The red bean paste lay between coarse and fine; knowing there was date paste inside, he savored it carefully, and indeed tasted the sweet fragrance of red dates; chewing and chewing, the flavors of beans, grain, and dates blended well together, making the slight coarseness of the barnyard millet dough become a unique flavor.

Even though Cheng Zijian was not from Guanzhong, he felt this Huang Bobo was well worth eating.

But after he finished the Huang Bobo in a few bites, he could not help but want to look at the mutton buns again.

This time, the man took a lotus leaf wrap out of the food box, placed it on the table, then with a "da" sound, closed the food box lid, and took it behind him.

"It's not early anymore," he urged.

Cheng Zijian quickly focused his mind, finished the glutinous rice in two or three bites, and then honestly began writing the opening of his essay.

Perhaps it was the boost from this fragrant breakfast; after eating his fill, though his thoughts did not gush forth like a spring, they were much smoother; he hurried to finish the opening and framework, only the ending was a bit rushed; he put down his brush, blew on the half-dry ink marks, and respectfully handed it to the other party.