Chapter 216: Miao Chu Chapter 218: Dreaming

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Protagonist:

Song Miao

Around the middle of the Hai hour, Han Li finally led the boatmen back first.

The hour was too late; although Hua Prefecture was a superior prefecture, it was ultimately not as bustling as the Capital. By this time there were no other guests in the official post station's front hall, and the station runner, following Han Li's prior instructions, had pushed the tables together into two rows and arranged chairs.

Song Miao had bought fresh fruit early on and brewed cool drinks; everything was already set out.

Thus, as soon as the group entered the door, they saw two long tables laden with many plates, each plate holding various washed fruits — small plums with white frost, large yellow apricots and large red peaches hanging with water droplets, and also apples the size of newly laid chicken eggs, each one a blend of bright red and tender yellow, so inviting to look at that the sour-sweet flavor seemed already on the tongue, making one unable to resist swallowing saliva.

The fruit varieties were very common, but their quality was exceptionally good, and they were fresh, with vivid colors and lush appearance; one need not eat them, just looking made one happy.

Besides the fruit, before each seat there was also a large sea bowl brimming with cool tea.

When everyone took their seats, they were still somewhat restrained, waiting for Han Li to invite them to drink tea; but after the stifling heat of the journey, no one could bother with politeness anymore, and they all drank in big gulps.

The tea soup was brownish-yellow, heavy in color yet very clear; one smelled only a faint hawthorn sourness, the taste was sweet and mellow, and after drinking, saliva would naturally well up in the mouth, quenching thirst extremely well.

Seeing that in the blink of an eye everyone's bowls were empty, Han Li picked up the pot and went around refilling tea for each person.

Everyone hurriedly expressed thanks.

After the tea was refilled, Han Li first relayed the whole situation of this trip, and finally called two people up to help distribute the yamen reward money.

When strings of copper coins, heavy and solid, were tucked into everyone's bosoms, the atmosphere in the room instantly shifted from the original slight restraint into irrepressible joy.

Only then did Han Li question the crowd.

Rather than questioning, it was more like idle chat; he first asked everyone about their daily fishing — how many catties they could catch, whether it sold well, which fish sold best — then asked if the new river channel opened and the water diverted, with a checkpoint every ten li, it might affect the fishing season, and whether they had any countermeasures.

After asking these, he asked further: if the new channel were used, the checkpoints would not only need regular maintenance but also constant inspection; if they got such a post, the subsidy would be small but the responsibility very heavy — was there anyone among those present willing to form a squad and take turns patrolling?

He explained clearly, and finally said: "Because this matter is extremely tedious and binding, you gentlemen might as well consider carefully after returning; when you have thought it through and can truly endure it, come find me privately — it depends on each person's willingness; if at some point one is too busy or cannot leave, that is also perfectly reasonable, no need to overthink."

However, his voice had barely fallen when someone immediately shouted: "Master Xiucai, I, Lao Huang, sign up!"

And added: "My whole family lives off the river; we have suffered no little hardship — my second son was swept away by floodwater during a great flood, survived only by clinging to a tree, yet his leg was broken; if I join this squad, then in the future any news from the yamen or from the river channel, I ought to be the first to know, right?"

Han Li nodded: "Definitely you would know earlier; after all, when something really happens, it will still be the squad members who go into the river channel to spread the word."

As soon as the two exchanged words, the room suddenly fell quiet; not long after, another person hurriedly said: "Master Xiucai, I, Lao Meng, also sign up!"

"Count me in too; no matter how troublesome, with more people, dividing the work gets it done in a flash — if everyone shirks and something breaks or fails without timely discovery, causing a water disaster in the end, won't it be us boat people who suffer!"

"Exactly!"

At the two tables, basically no one needed to go back and think further; except those with truly special family circumstances who could not spare the hands, everyone else signed up.

Since ancient times, matters are only most cared about when they concern oneself.

River channel affairs are naturally most cared about by those who live off the water.

Relying solely on those few yamen runners to inspect periodically, if a water gate broke or leaked, there might not be anyone to discover it in time — similar incidents have happened far too many times before.

Han Li had accompanied inspections of many local dams, river dikes, and diversion checkpoints, and had made comparisons; he naturally knew that relying on spontaneous civilian effort, the number of times disasters were stopped in time far exceeded the yamen — after all, once the yamen discovers a problem, it is often already too late.

Since it is so, this time he planned to have yamen runners, fishermen, and boatmen work together.

Now seeing everyone so cooperative, he confirmed a few details, then said: "This time, sending men to summon you in the middle of the night, thank you all for giving me face and coming at one call, and doing the job beautifully, finally catching the thief — Han Mou ultimately has no official identity and no dispatch; many matters are inconvenient for me to handle openly, so I can only take advantage of everyone being here today to treat you to a late-night snack, merely as a token of my sincerity."

Speaking, he stood up and walked two steps, bowing deeply to all the boatmen and fishermen in the room, startling everyone at the tables into hurriedly standing up to return the bow, and crying that it was improper.

Someone said: "Master Xiucai is being too polite; this time you sought us out, that itself is looking up to us, and moreover you caught such a major kidnapper — truly our ancestors' graves are smoking blue smoke to let us do such a glorious thing — when this man's case is judged and he is dealt with, I will definitely tell everyone about it and earn some face!"

For a moment the whole room was filled with voices of agreement.

Just as they were talking, Song Miao carried a large tray, followed by station runners holding trays and bowls, and Da Bing, Liang Yan, and several others.

She stepped forward and smiled: "Disturbing you all; I received Young Master Han's instructions to carefully prepare late-night snacks, but since it is deep into the night, it is not suitable to arrange meat dishes, lest they sit heavy and cause heartburn in the middle of the night, so I made something simple."

"Even so, the Young Master spent plenty of silver, and his sincerity need not be mentioned; I also used top-quality ingredients — if it is not tasty, blame only my poor skill, and please be forgiving!"

As she spoke, the station runners and Da Bing had already begun distributing bowls and chopsticks, while Liang Yan busily served the dishes.

Song Miao placed the soy milk on the tables and introduced: "This soy milk drink comes in sweet, plain, and with added ingredients — the additions are lotus seeds, lily bulbs, coix seeds, and also freshly made fresh yuba; if anyone doesn't eat sweet, there is also salt here — everyone may choose according to their own preference."

As she spoke, plate after plate was set on the table.

Freshly wok-fried rice noodles and fried noodles, both with egg, shredded pork, pickled vegetable shreds, sour cowpea shreds, carrot shreds, mung bean sprouts, scallion granules, and crushed cornelian cherry stir-fried together — the accompaniments so rich that reading them in one breath leaves one breathless; even with ample breath, the tongue would tie itself in knots.

Biting down, the mouth holds both a riotous profusion and a proper hierarchy where the stars support the moon.

All the accompaniments are supporting players for the two leads, noodles and rice noodles, to respectively set off the rice fragrance and wheat fragrance; yet these two leads are also supreme chiefs, harmonizing all the accompaniments and seasonings so that the supporting cast each gets a chance to display its own flavor in the mouth.

Ingredients fresh, stir-fried with perfect heat control, all carrying a touch of wok hei — that wok hei exists only to enhance fragrance and color; fried rice noodles and fried noodles without a touch of wok hei simply lack soul — at this moment, steaming hot, the moment they hit the table the aroma refuses to behave, darting everywhere, now teasing this one, now provoking that one, yet fleeing as soon as it teases, making one desperate to grab those noodles and rice noodles with chopsticks.

Knowing today's diners had all done a day of hard labor, Song Miao used heavier seasoning when stir-frying — salt and soy sauce both two parts more than usual — eating it piping hot, the flavors of wok hei, fragrance, salt, spice, meat, oil, freshness, etc., practically tumble out on the tongue simultaneously, leaving the tongue utterly overwhelmed, wanting this and wanting that.

— If that tongue also grew a mouth, it would surely be cursing the street in anxiety right now.

Heavy oil and salt will certainly cause thirst.

Thirst is just right for drinking soy milk.

The soy milk basin just lifted from the well bottom, its walls meeting the hot air outside, instantly beaded with large droplets; the moment the lid was opened, cold air rushed out; a bowl ladled out, before it even entered the mouth, just brought to the bowl's rim, that chill hit the face, and the heat in a person had already dissipated by half.

One sip down, the mouth still coated by the previous seasonings, the taste not yet discerned, the soy milk had already slid into the stomach; coolness ran straight from the stomach to the four limbs and hundred bones, the whole person cooled down, and only then did the mouth belatedly react to how rich and fragrant that mouthful was.

Soybeans washed and soaked in hot water then ground, boiled three times, and rock sugar used — three measures combined, driving the beany odor away early; drinking it yields only mellow fragrance, and after just one sip one cannot help but want to gulp it down in one go.

Compared to maltose and white sugar, rock sugar's sweetness is more rounded and moist; and because it was chilled thoroughly at the well bottom, the sweetness drunk is gentle and smooth, perfectly supporting the soy milk's fragrance and richness; that richness is not sticky in the throat but extremely crisp and clean, leaving only a hint of aftertaste at the tongue root.

Besides iced soy milk, there is naturally also hot soy milk.

Hot soy milk is even richer and more fragrant; as for the portion with added ingredients, because Song Miao boiled them separately then simmered together with the soy milk, they both absorbed the soy milk flavor and retained the best texture and original taste of each ingredient.

Among them, Jianlian lotus seeds are especially outstanding; they look like intact grains, but biting down, the outer layer has a distinct wall feel yet is exceptionally thin, its existence seemingly only to wrap the clear fragrance and cottony powder inside.

The powder inside is sandy, and it is the world's most delicate light lotus sand, as if some immortal who liked playing with sand gently pinched it with water, giving it a seemingly firm shape, but with just a little effort moving the mouth, the outer shell opens and the inside turns into a cluster of powder carrying lotus fragrance, refreshing and sweet without being cloying.

Ginkgo nuts have a glutinous feel and are very soft, with their own unique fragrance; coix seeds are cottony soft, the very center retaining a tiny granule holding out in stubborn resistance; because of that granule, once bitten, repeated chewing yields a springy bounce while also contributing a very fitting hint of grain fragrance.

Besides these, inside there was also fresh yuba.

Same root born, same pot boiled, that wet yuba had a richer and more fragrant bean flavor than soy milk, and because it was stirred apart and wrapped into layers by chopsticks, there were more gaps between the layers, and those gaps all hid soy milk; when eating one could very clearly feel a burst of juice in one mouthful, but even the soy milk it burst out was richer, more fragrant, and sweeter, so rich it clung to the throat.

Soy milk naturally must be paired with fried dough sticks.

The large fried dough stick was crisp on the outside, both the crispness and crunch were very light, the inside was practically hollow, biting down went kacha kacha, but because it was a gentle crispness, it absolutely would not hurt the mouth in the slightest, salty and fragrant, salty and fragrant; dipped in hot soy milk drink, while it had not yet soaked soft, eating it with that bit of crispness, crisp fragrance and mellow richness, salty and sweet intertwined, the flavor within — those who have eaten all understand.

The small fried dough stick was a short little section; it was neither crisp nor crunchy, although the middle also had holes, those holes were fine and dense, even a bit solid, eating it was very soft and fluffy, slightly firm — used to soak in soy milk, it can soak for a long time, even if soaked through, chewing it is still fragrant and chewy.

As for the small fennel fried dough stick, the small fennel was roasted fresh for use, its fragrance thoroughly activated.

The fried dough stick itself was a thin, long strand, its size just like a small lotus stem; eating it combined the characteristics of large and small fried dough sticks, the outside was scorched fragrant, even crispier, even harder, the inside was fluffy and soft, eating it one would occasionally bite into a small fennel seed, so fragrant it made one shiver.

Besides various fried dough sticks, there were also sesame balls.

That sesame ball was a large one, made of glutinous rice, deep-fried in high heat oil, testing one's hand skill.

This sesame ball was brought to the table, almost everyone went to look at the novelty.

Because it fried up like a Cuju Ball Ball ball, hollow, the outer wall an especially thin layer, golden yellow and scorched crisp, embedded with white sesame; a light tap with chopsticks and it immediately cracked open a mouth, tearing off a piece by hand, eating the glutinous rice fragrance, sweet fragrance, sesame fragrance, oil fragrance fused as one, bursting and splashing out.

Fried dishes, stir-fried dishes, braised dishes, each had its eating points; to the side those fruits that earlier made people drool were all unceremoniously shoved aside by the crowd, only annoyed they took up too much space, affecting their own eating of delicious food.

For a moment the whole room was full of eating and drinking sounds, and also a few mouths busy stealing leisure to speak — "This large fried dough stick is fragrant, you taste this one, Lao Huang!"

Opposite there was a son-in-law who had studied a few days, a boatman blowing his beard: "I hear you randomly plucking the zither here! Clearly it is this long fried dough stick that is fragrant, do you know how to eat or not!"

"Nonsense, clearly it is the fried rice noodles and fried noodles that are fragrant — you lot just don't know how to eat!"

"How do I feel none compare to this soy milk with many toppings?"

The moment this person's words came out, it drew the front few pairs of eyes like sharp arrows to glare over.

Portions prepared sufficiently, the crowd did not need to snatch, eating and drinking, yet could not help but compete for the "most delicious" position for the food they loved more.

The crowd ate in the front hall, Dabing and Liang Yan were busy running back and forth.

Only after much difficulty were the dishes all served, and they waited a while; seeing the crowd eating with wolfing gulps and tiger swallows, and hearing them praise that the soy milk was fragrant and rich, the two who had been busy an entire afternoon and half a night both unconsciously grinned.

Just as they were grinning, they saw someone ask: "Surname Song Cook, this soy milk drink of yours, how is it so good to drink? Is there some secret method you can tell?"

"If for home eating, there is a recipe: grab a handful of rice and millet soak together and grind; if there are dried jujubes, can add a few dried red jujubes; the soy milk boiled out will have more flavor, sugar also need not be added — but I don't like to use it; today's soy milk also didn't use this recipe."

"Then what recipe is today's?"

"Just pure yellow beans, select good beans, be patient, grind them very fine, three boils three rolling boils, repeatedly stir so as not to burn the bottom — all relies on piling ingredients, piling manpower — today I have two good helpers, only then could the soy milk be boiled this fragrant, this mellow; you've also seen them, just the two youngsters who came to serve dishes a moment ago."

"Oh my, impressive! Looking at them they're quite small, to have this skill and patience, in future they can totally go set up a soy milk stall — unknown how many times better than other stalls!"

Dabing and Liang Yan's faces swished red like monkey buttocks, unknown who stepped first, huala they ran straight to the back, while running still not forgetting to cover their faces — only those two faces were all smiles, covering couldn't cover them away.

Ran all the way to the back kitchen, just entered the door, the two people saw on the middle table a plate placed — inside held several large and small fried dough sticks and three or four sand weng — the latter looked like several whole hemispheres pieced together, surface very rough, but that golden yellow color was even more enticing than the sesame balls, like the small fried dough sticks the outside was all wrapped in a layer of ice sugar powder.

Besides these, there were also a few bowls of drinks.

Dabing immediately went to wash hands, also called Liang Yan to wash hands, passed over a sand weng, said: "Quick eat, this is what Young Lady left for us!"

Liang Yan busy an entire afternoon, praised until his face was still hot, at this moment received it, learning Dabing's manner, first drank a mouthful of soy milk — sure enough one's own ground is just good to drink — then ate a mouthful of sand weng.

He person instantly froze.

That ice sugar powder he also helped grind; after grinding well, Song Xiaoniangzi ground it again; rather than say sugar powder, better to say sugar frost.

At this moment powder-form sugar frost and ice sugar sand together wrapped on the sand weng; one mouthful down, it was not like maltose, it was a kind of thick and flowing sweet, needed to wait for it to completely cover the tongue, after a while, then could taste the flavor; also not like brown sugar, white sugar, needing either to chew or hold in mouth, waiting for that sugar to melt, only then could feel that sweetness carrying杂味.

Ice sugar powder frost completely gave no time for reaction; the moment it touched the tongue it immediately sweetened, sweet and penetrating, simple, pure, direct, not greasy at all, sweetening the tongue comfortably.

Extremely few children would not love eating sugar; at least Liang Yan loved it.

He licked the sugar on his lips, took a big bite down.

The sand weng's outer thin crisp shell was fragrant and sweet to the extreme; only "kacha" once, immediately ate into the inside's piping hot egg-milk fragrance; because besides sugar frost there was also ice sugar sand, chewing went gezi gezi, texture very wonderful.

Wait until bitten inside, texture even more wonderful.

The middle really too loose too soft, like a ball filled with air sweet egg-milk paste, but also didn't have that "paste" feeling; inside it was very moist, light, fluffy, completely without substance, making Liang Yan eat until couldn't help wanting to ask — are you a cloud?

It is, is a cloud with organization, discipline, and shape, or one about to rain egg-milk rain.

Liang Yan eating such fragrant sweet cloud, drinking soy milk ground by his own hands, seemed as if his whole person floated on the cloud, beautiful simply like in a dream.

Seeing the crowd eat seven or eight parts full, Song Miao found a spare moment, lightly called Han Li once, used eyes to make a signal.

The latter immediately looked over, saw Song Miao turn and had already walked, hurriedly stood up, following walked toward the back courtyard.

?? Sorry for the late update, thought it was just a bit late, writing and writing it became now, typos will fix tomorrow morning QAQ……

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