Chapter 279

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Protagonist:

Song Miao

Not having seen each other for many days, the visitor was much thinner than at the parting, and quite a bit darker, yet still looked very spirited.

His eyes were bright and piercing; upon seeing Song Miao, he glanced once, then looked long and hard once more, before calling out: "Stall Owner Song."

It was precisely Han Li.

Song Miao was very happy, and asked: "When did Young Master return?"

Hearing this question, Han Li paused a moment, then smiled and replied: "I returned not long ago, and brought you some things."

Song Miao saw that although he had changed his outer robe, his trouser legs and shoes were entirely splattered with yellow mud dots, and there were water stains; the old clothes he had just taken off, now draped over the horse's back, were even more covered in mud slurry, looking rather as if he had just entered the city and headed straight for the food shop.

She couldn't help but say: "A journey of hardship; Young Master ought to properly rest for a few days. A thousand-mile goose feather — whether a few days early or a few days late, what difference does it make?"

Seeing her words held little polite formula, the laughter in Han Li's eyes could no longer be contained, and he said: "Tomorrow I must report to the Du Shui Jian; afterward there are many trivial matters to handle, and also messy handover reports — who knows when I'll truly have free time. In the end my heart kept thinking of it, so better to come back first."

For a moment Song Miao also smiled, and said: "Why just stand there? Young Master, come in and speak."

Speaking, she stepped forward to help lead the horse.

That horse was familiar with her; seeing a person approach, it already snorted loudly, then stuck out its long tongue, first licking its own nose and mouth; finished licking, it went *badaba* wanting to lick her hand.

Song Miao hadn't yet had time to stop it, when Han Li hurriedly pulled its head away, saying: "Tie it up front is fine — in a moment I'll put down the things, drink a mouthful of water, then leave."

"Not eating a meal?"

Han Li shook his head: "Not eating; this trip is solely to deliver things."

As he spoke, he unloaded two baskets and two small bundles from the ground and the horse's back.

Song Miao was extremely surprised, and said: "How come so many?"

Han Li then said: "Some are local specialties of Huazhou, given by locals; also some sent by Tongpan Cen and various officials; still others seen by chance on the road, deemed suitable, bought personally."

He spoke to here, paused slightly, as if pondering how to say it.

But after pondering a while, he smiled again, putting on an honest confession air, and said: "Right now I'm sometimes at the Taixue, sometimes outside, with no fixed place; leaving them there would waste things, so might as well send them all together, borrowing flowers to offer Buddha — entirely counting as my own sentiment. Does Stall Owner Song mind or not mind my laziness?"

These words pressed a bit close.

A kindness delivered specially, Song Miao naturally didn't utter a single word of refusal.

She likewise honestly smiled and said: "Let me first see what things they are, then see whether they're acceptable; if not acceptable, then naturally I'll mind."

Speaking, she went to receive those baskets and bundles.

Han Li only handed her one small bundle, and said in a low voice: "You take this in first."

Song Miao saw him being this careful, not knowing what was inside, carefully received it; after putting it away properly, she turned back out, and saw Han Li with one foot on the horse saddle's stirrup changing shoes.

Hearing movement inside the door, the other party rarely showed some fluster, withdrew his foot, then randomly stuffed the things in his hand into the remaining bundles; after straightening the freshly changed *luan* shirt, he then shouldered a bundle, lifted one large back-basket in each hand, and came forward, saying: "Let me first beg a mouthful of tea to drink."

Song Miao didn't ask further, smilingly welcomed him in, half a step slower, turned back to look once.

That horse had originally been tied by Han Li with its head toward the alley mouth, rump toward Nanlu Academy; unknown whether it sensed Song Miao's gaze, it immediately turned its head back, happily licking its tongue, blinking its two extremely large eyes at her.

First time, its half-body also turned back along with it.

A pair of shoes full of mud dots hung at the saddle's hanging opening.

The rain in the Capital had stopped many days already; although roads occasionally still had a puddle or two, there was no way to splash shoes this dirty.

Song Miao had earlier only three parts guess; now already seven parts certain — this one, after entering the city, did not go back, but came straight to Suanzao Alley.

She didn't rush to ask, just followed a few steps and asked: "The well has hawthorn leaf tea steeped — does Young Master still drink that?"

Han Li assented, put the bamboo basket on the ground, casually draped the bundle on a bench to the side, and said offhandedly: "I'll go get it myself, conveniently wash my hands; is anyone at the back, convenient or not?"

Also pointing at those many things he said: "You look first, then say whether to mind or not."

He went in and out very familiarly; Song Miao also didn't stand on much ceremony, only called toward the back "Er Niangzi", and reminded: "Young Master Han has come."

Han Li entered following the sound.

Soon, Cheng Erniang's greeting voice was heard, then Xiao Lian's happy delighted voice, then Cheng Erniang's scolding voice: "This child! Wash your hair clean before coming out to speak with Young Master Han, don't drip water all over the floor!"

Song Miao found it funny listening, and conveniently picked up the basket on the ground, opened it to look at the things inside one by one.

The first basket was very large; inside, oil paper wrapped many layers; layer by layer opened, inside surprisingly was a bolt of plain fine cloth.

Besides the cloth, the basket also had a large bundle; in the middle a thick stack of shoe insoles, a rough glance sweeping past, no less than seven or eight pairs, all finely stitched with fine cloth, made very exquisitely; taking them in hand to test, they could easily be folded in half, especially soft.

Again similarly seven or eight pairs of cloth shoes.

The shoes used plain cloth, also no embroidered patterns, but workmanship and cloth same as the insoles, extremely soft.

Be it insoles or shoes, Song Miao compared them, all were her size.

Looking again at other things in the bamboo basket, indeed mostly food and use items; some at a glance very expensive, mostly bestowed by Cen Dezhang and a crowd of officials; also obviously unknown which farm household's own handiwork, such as dried lotus leaves and oil paper layer upon layer wrapping head vegetable, salted dried vegetable, dried daylily, dried cucumber, dried bean, etc.

Song Miao looked through one by one, then saw at the side a separate peach-blossom-colored small bundle, took it and opened to look, first saw grass-woven gloves several pairs, all fingerless; also several bottles of snow oil ointment — when Song Miao was in Huazhou, the students also gave some to her and Big Pancake, it is a local specialty, very moisturizing.

On bottle bodies and gloves each tied a paper slip, one wrote a "Cheng" character, one wrote a "Liu" character.

Also another bamboo-woven box, on top wrote a "Lian" character.

The box slightly larger than an adult palm, woven very exquisitely; Song Miao surmised this was a gift for Xiao Lian, so didn't open it, planning to wait for the child to unwrap this surprise herself.

Things looked through one by one; indeed a few items somewhat expensive, but Song Miao thought a bit, and didn't take them out, only picked up that last bundle again.

When unwrapping, she felt a bit strange.

This bundle, hand touching it was actually warm.

Once opened, inside that bundle surprisingly held another universe.

A piece of cloth, inside sewn many pockets; some holding personal medicines, some holding several folded clean handkerchiefs, some holding brush ink paper inkstone, even two name seals; taking them out to look, sure enough one engraved "Han Li", one engraved "Zheng Yan De Xian", clearly Han Li's own personal seals.

Seeing here, how could Song Miao still not know she had unwrapped the wrong one — no wonder this one bundle was placed alone on the armchair; it was originally Han Li's own personal carry-along.

She accidentally touched the other party's personal belongings; she should have hurriedly put them away and returned them to their original place, but Song Miao couldn't help taking another look.

Everything else in the bundle was packed neatly and tidily, organized very efficiently; only one thing was somewhat out of place — three oil cakes.

Those oil cakes were wrapped in a lotus leaf on the outside; obviously, in the haste, they hadn't been wrapped tightly, and by now the wrapping had come loose.

The lotus leaf wasn't large enough, and a corner was exposed; Song Miao was afraid the biscuits would dirty the bundle, so she took another clean lotus leaf from the shop, intending to wrap it around the outside.

Just as she was wrapping, her hand suddenly paused.

The cakes were hot; the topmost one had two large bites taken out of it.

Song Miao turned her head to look at the water clock.

It was already half past the Wei hour.

People of this era mostly ate dinner early; by this time, the dinner hour had already passed.

Is this a case of rushing to buy them to stave off hunger?

Song Miao thought for a moment, then put the bundle back properly.

She had finished looking at every single thing, even counting and studying the cakes that Young Master Han had hidden away — they should be the large oil cakes from street-side Pan Ji — yet the person still hadn't come out.

Song Miao found it quite strange; she couldn't help but also enter the Second Gate.

Upon reaching the Back Courtyard, she heard Cheng Erniang speaking with Xiao Lian in the water room, but the courtyard itself was very quiet.

In a corner, Han Li stood facing those two stoves, motionless for a long while.

Song Miao walked over and said: "Young Master returns at just the right time; the stoves are already done. These past days I've tested their temperament, and they're very handy to use. Before long, they'll be ready to roast goose and bake pig!"

Han Li turned his head and asked: "How so fast? Last time you said these stoves were hard to make — where did you find the craftsman?"

"It's Liang Yan-shixiong's relative." Song Miao simply explained how Liang Yan had acknowledged Zhu Shi as grandaunt, then entered the Xu Clan Wuguan, and how he introduced Shixiong Yang Mian's maternal uncle to help make the stoves.

"These stoves are very well made..."

She praised a couple of sentences, then spoke of recently making Black Char Siu and roast pigeon, inviting Han Li to come eat when he had leisure.

But as she spoke, she looked up and saw that Han Li's expression was somewhat forced; she immediately found it strange and asked: "Does Young Master dislike eating roasted and baked dishes?"

Han Li shook his head and frankly said: "I knew you needed to make stoves here, so I already sought out two Military Patrol Commissioners from the Government Office to help find people. Word came back that they'd both been found. I was just planning to come today to discuss with you, see which day was free, and have someone come by to see which one to use, or use both together..."

Speaking to this point, he couldn't help a bitter smile: "Didn't expect a child would snatch the lead..."

Hearing this, Song Miao was truly extremely surprised, and couldn't help saying: "Censor Xin previously came to the door too, bringing a craftsman, saying he wanted to help make stoves..."

Han Li's complexion became even more complex.

Song Miao understood all too well the frustration of such wasted effort.

She hurriedly said: "Although the stoves are done, right now roasting with them is very laborious; ultimately the inner racks are still lacking — I've searched everywhere for a long time, but no one dares take the job. The Censor is currently inquiring about it; could Young Master also help ask around?"

Han Li agreed almost immediately.

The two spoke as they went together to the Front Hall, each taking a seat.

Song Miao took a large cup, first poured more than half a cup of Hawthorn Leaf Tea, waited for Han Li to finish one cup, then refilled another. When he set the cup down, she said softly: "I was just about to apologize to Young Master."

Han Li was startled, looking up at her.

Song Miao pointed to the bundle placed on the armchair and told of how she had accidentally opened it with a slip of the hand just now.

"A trivial matter; why suddenly make such a ceremony of it?"

Song Miao smiled, didn't explain, but shifted the topic and asked: "Where did Young Master buy the oil cakes?"

Han Li abruptly paused.

Seeing his reaction, Song Miao instead tasted a few layers of meaning.

She said: "If it were anyone else, I certainly wouldn't presume to ask more. A guest is a guest; once I open my mouth, it would make people think I'm monopolizing the business, convinced that if a guest comes to my house they can't go to others', which would create some awkwardness..."

"But after all it's Young Master Han; I'm also not afraid to speak a bit more freely — has Young Master already eaten and truly isn't hungry, or simply has no appetite?"

Han Li hesitated a few breaths, then said: "First, they've been hot for a long time, so I have little appetite. Second, it's not easy to come a trip, and I didn't want to just sit down and have you bustling about. Besides, the dinner hour has passed; everything's been cleaned up, and firing up the wok and stove again would be very troublesome..."

Speaking here, he paused for a long while.

—Third, I didn't want you to think I come back every time just for a bite to eat.

This sentence, he truly weighed and weighed again, but in the end swallowed it back down.

"So it's just no appetite, not that you're not hungry?"

Han Li nodded in the end.

Song Miao smiled and stood up, asking: "I'll cook a bowl of noodles; Young Master just eat a few bites, how about it?"

"This is a food shop; even for ordinary guests, if they come in hungry, I can't let them leave on an empty stomach — how much more so for Young Master Han."

As she spoke, she pointed at the stove: "The stove fire is still burning, the stove is still hot. The water vat has kept kneaded dough year-round; it'll be ready in a moment. I know Yan Prefecture Pass people often eat Jiangshui Noodles in summer to whet the appetite; pity there's no time to make Jiangshui this time — how about something else for now?"

How could Han Li still say a word of refusal.

He stood up and said: "Let me tend the fire?"

Song Miao smiled and shook her head: "Young Master just mind yourself, not the horse? Take it to the back first to eat and drink a bit!"

So while Han Li led the horse around to the Back Courtyard, familiarly took out oats to feed it food and water, then brushed its coat for a while, and went out again, a bowl of pan-fried egg salted plum noodles was already set on the table.

The finely pulled noodles were soaked in milky white soup, the edges a ring of semi-translucence; one look and you could tell they had soaked up the flavor fully.

Atop the noodles lay two pan-fried eggs, glistening with oil. One was fried through and then swirled in the soup, cooked honest and thorough. The other had egg white with burnt lacy edges, the edges also crisp, while the center yolk was half-set.

Chopsticks placed on top, a light touch — the inside could still easily be poked to show fluidity. With a bit more force to pierce the surface, an alluring runny yolk would flow from the center.

Before eating, just leaning close one smelled a very invigorating salty-sour aroma — contributed by crushed salted plums together with salted plum juice, carrying the unique fragrance of green plum. Without even entering the mouth, that aroma alone could make one salivate and the appetite wide open.

One bite of noodles: the noodles were fine, very smooth and slippery, truly soaked full and coated with soup. First salty, then sour, then returning sweet, plus the fragrance of egg and wheat.

One sip of soup: the broth was salty, sour, fresh, fragrant, yet didn't fight for the tongue. Where the soup went, comfort followed.

One bite of fried egg: egg white charred fragrant, yolk runny, eaten together with the noodles — noodles wrapped in salted plum soup, uncoagulated thick yolk, a bit of crushed salted plum all entering the mouth together. The soup also had garlic crisp and celery bits and scallion grain; all the fresh, fragrant, salty, sour flavors turned round and round in the mouth, turning until the mouth didn't know what "no appetite" meant, only sucking in noodles with big mouthfuls.