Chapter 91

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Protagonist:

Song Miao

The sixty-year-old man hurriedly asked: "Old Chen, did you hire that skilled cook? Why do I smell something wrong? Wasn't it supposed to be Pig Trotter Rice and Taro Braised Pork?"

Chen Fuzi shook his head: "How would I know! This Xiao You has been gone half a day without a word, who knows where he's wandered off to!"

Whether it was fried fish or simmered chicken, the four people who hadn't eaten well for two days, without prior agreement, all quickened their pace.

Chen Fuzi walked ahead; when they returned to the pavilion from before, he looked up and indeed saw Song Miao busy inside.

He was delighted in his heart, swallowed his saliva, hurried forward to greet her, and said: "Young Lady, coming all this way, you've worked hard, worked hard!"

Then he pointed to the few old men behind him: "These are all my old friends from years past."

He didn't introduce them, just briefly mentioned them on both sides.

Song Miao returned the greeting and performed a bow.

At this moment, the few old men were either carrying buckets or holding poles, having played around all day, all looking disheveled and quite bedraggled; now they could only put on an appearance of restraint, some nodding and smiling in response, some grunting "en," smiling and gesturing.

Song Miao said: "Since time is tight and I couldn't make braised pork belly or pig trotters, I discussed with Xue Zheng You and changed to two dishes."

"This time it's outdoor cooking, everything is unfamiliar, I can't show my skills, only two or three simple dishes—I don't know if that's acceptable?"

Everyone was already starving; hearing this, though disappointed, they weren't picky, each nodding.

Chen Fuzi said: "It's fine, Young Lady, do as you please—it's just that we are truly hungry, and faster would be better!"

Yesterday they attended a banquet, today toured the courtyard, composed poems and painted, and fished for a long while—though they caught no fish, even a young person would be tired, let alone several old men in their sixties or seventies.

Everyone smelled the aroma and wanted to ask what dish it was, but wanted to maintain their dignity, so they went back and forth every few steps to a stone table and stone stool outside to rest.

The four had barely sat down, just sipped two mouthfuls of tea, when they saw the book attendant carry over a jar and a basket.

The jar contained leftover rice from noon, kept in the food box delivered by the restaurant; the storekeeper had placed charcoal under the bottom layer of the food box, so the rice was still hot, though it looked a bit dry.

The basket contained pastries shaped like flower rolls, but with finer rolled dough, thread by thread, clearly separated, and without scallions.

"What is this?" someone couldn't help but ask.

"Is it Silk Thread Roll?" The only old man who had caught two shrimp and a fish recognized it: "I ate it when I was in Chenzhou, soft and smooth, fragrant and sweet—you refused to go south when you were young, no knowledge, right?"

Chen Fuzi said: "Don't say he lacks knowledge; I've been to Chenzhou too, but I've never eaten this Silk Thread Roll."

The old man holding the fish was surnamed Min, long retired, now very old, still unwilling to idle, currently teaching at Lu Zhou Academy.

He at this moment first picked up a Silver Silk Roll with chopsticks, put it back in his bowl, but didn't hurry to eat, instead showing off: "This roll has a trick; if made well, pick up a single thread in the middle, just shake it..."

As he spoke, he indeed used chopsticks to pick up a single thread of the roll dough.

But before he could shake it, just as he lifted the chopsticks, the coiled dough threads fell down like the Silver River stars scattering, dragging a long tail, thread by thread, oily and glossy white, very beautiful.

Seeing such rolled dough threads, let alone the other few who hadn't eaten it, even Min Fuzi himself was stunned.

He didn't speak again, but directly stuffed the Silver Silk Roll into his mouth.

Recalling the taste of Silk Thread Rolls from before, but this one, he didn't know if it was because he was too hungry, or because it had just come out of the pot, steaming hot, eating it was especially soft, slightly sweet, with a very clean and comfortable lard aroma.

If you shook it apart and ate it thread by thread, it would be very interesting.

The dough threads seemed to have almost no presence, soft and fluffy, sweet and sweet, like biting a thin cloud with a milky fragrance.

If you bit into the whole thing, layer upon layer, threads distinct, yet especially soft, fragrant and sweet, fine and delicate, no need for teeth.

The other three, seeing this, all learned to do the same, picking one up and putting it in their bowls, shaking it back and forth, playing for a while, but after all they were hungry, and didn't care to comment, quickly burying their heads to eat.

One Silver Silk Roll went down, the young attendant, using a cloth pad, brought over a coarse pottery pot.

He set the pot down, lifted the lid, and at once steam rose, a fragrance that had been shut away for a long time finally surged out with it.

Very fragrant!

It was chicken fragrance!

Very rich, and very special.

The chicken pieces were sizzling in the coarse pottery pot—the oil was still extremely hot, crackling and popping in the pot, splashing out hot chicken oil aroma everywhere.

"What is this?"

While asking, Chen Fuzi, not yielding to anyone, had already taken a piece with chopsticks, saying: "Gentlemen, I won't stand on ceremony!"

The chicken pieces were cut to roughly the same size; the piece he picked was from the middle of a large chicken leg, and was still very hot to the mouth.

Chen Fuzi blew on it hard several times, took a big bite and chewed, and immediately tasted a flavor different from all chicken he had eaten before.

The meat was especially tender, so tender that he even had the illusion that his new teeth had replaced old ones, and his teeth worked again.

The coconut aroma inherent in Five-finger Peach had already been baked into the flavor, making the chicken fragrance richer, wrapped with scallion and ginger aroma; biting into it, the chicken skin was fragrant and smooth, the chicken meat fragrant and soft, the meat juice flowing into his mouth, extremely rich and fresh.

Chen Fuzi ate while blowing on it, and before he had swallowed the meat in his mouth, his chopsticks reached into the pot again, piece after piece into his bowl.

The attendant stood to the side, honestly saying: "Young Lady Song says this is Five-finger Peach Braised Tender Chicken."

Chen Fuzi still had that mouthful of meat fragrance lingering at the root of his tongue, savoring it; hearing this, for a moment he couldn't react, stunned: "What? What braised chicken?"

The few old men beside him were busy eating chicken pieces; not one had time to pay attention to him.

The book attendant also couldn't hold it in, saying: "Young Lady Song said it's Five-finger Peach coming—shall I go ask again?"

"Is Five-finger Peach this flavor?"

Chen Fuzi instead kicked the old man beside him, calling out: "Old Feng, don't eat anymore, is that Five-finger Peach you brought me fake? Was Dezhang deceived by someone? How do I taste a mouthful of mud flavor? This Young Lady Song uses it, and it's so good, so fragrant?"

Old Feng narrowly avoided spitting at him, cursing: "Dezhang specially had his family find a familiar mountain person to dig it; nothing could be better or more fragrant; don't take advantage and act cute!"

Chen Fuzi was half-believing, half-doubting; after studying for a while, he looked down again and saw that the chicken in that coarse pottery pot had already been eaten more than half, only a few pieces left.

He was greatly shocked at once, calling out: "There are other dishes later; why eat so fast? Leave some for me!"

Everyone had been hungry all day; who would pay attention to him.

Chen Fuzi could only blame himself for his heavy curiosity just now, which had delayed his mouth; he hurriedly rolled up his sleeves and joined in.

This chicken was originally a tender chicken; chopped into pieces, it just barely covered the bottom of the coarse pottery pot, and was soon cleaned up completely.

Only then did everyone have the leisure to wipe their mouths and speak.

"Truly fragrant."

"Tender too, both tender and fragrant!"

"Actually we could have another one; I feel I could eat a whole one by myself!"

"You'd better stop; 'can you still eat rice'?"

"A mere chicken; you go ask that young lady to make another, and this old man will eat it right before your eyes!"

Everyone slowly tore the silver silk rolls to eat while chatting idly; before they knew it, a whole large basket of flour rolls had been eaten up just like that.

Staring at each other in dismay, fortunately the servant boy timely brought a tray over.

The tray held a large bowl, and at its side were four soup bowls.

In the large bowl was an extremely rich white crucian carp soup, inside which lay quite a few slices of white tender fish meat, and also emerald green spinach, white and green, dotted with several bright red goji berries — color and fragrance both complete.

The little servant helped serve the soup right there; each soup bowl received two large spoons of fish meat, one large spoon of spinach, and was filled half full with soup.

That Min Fuzi watched the servant ladle a bowl and asked: "What fish is this?"

"It's crucian carp, crucian carp spinach soup." The little servant replied.

"Then it's troublesome; this fish has many bones, I can't eat it; just give me more spinach and fish soup instead." Old Min said regretfully.

The serving servant had just personally witnessed Song Miao debone the crucian carp and slice the fish pieces, and was feeling amazed; at this moment how could he bear such knife skill being questioned? He hurriedly said: "Song Xiaoniangzi already picked out all the bones clean; when I washed them I didn't see a single one left; you just eat with peace of mind!"

As soon as his words came out, he saw the remaining few old men at the table all look over; one wondered if it was an illusion, but their gazes seemed to carry a few threads of killing intent.

"Fool, you just do your task; why so much nonsense." It was Chen Fuzi sighing: "He won't eat fish; you just divide his portion of fish meat among us, isn't that it!"

Everyone were decades-old friends; here they either teased each other or mocked each other — just jokes.

In a moment the servant finished dividing the soup; the four each took theirs; that Min Fuzi was still somewhat timid, and dared not eat fish first, but drank the soup.

The moment the soup entered his mouth, he couldn't help laughing.

Fish soup fragrant, rich.

The gelatinous texture of the fish had already been stewed out, practically about to glue his upper and lower lips together.

Min Fuzi was not skilled at eating fish, but loved the taste of fresh fish, so he often drank fish soup; over decades he considered himself quite knowledgeable about fish soup, yet rarely encountered a bowl like this.

Early spring crucian carp, by rights not as fat as winter, and often carrying a hint of earthy fishiness.

But this soup somehow achieved not a trace of fishiness, only delicious freshness.

Crucian carp is originally the top grade of freshness among fish; this time Song Miao used twenty-odd large and small crucian carp, first pan-fried then stewed, boiling until the gelatin from fish skin and fish bones fully precipitated, making the soup extremely delicate.

One mouthful swallowed, Min Fuzi only felt this fish soup so rich that when he swallowed it down, a kind of sluggish sensation would arise in his throat, and the unique fresh sweetness of river fish lingered windingly.

But just as he was about to find it overly rich, a faint ginger spiciness blended with the pungent fragrance of pepper spread across his tongue tip and tongue root, and followed sliding into his belly together.

A truly comfortable mouthful of soup.

Although unwilling to admit his body was not as before, after being busy for two days, being able to drink a bowl of such hot soup to warm the stomach indeed dispersed much of his fatigue, and his spirit and vigor slowly returned somewhat.

He drank several mouthfuls in succession; only then did Feng Fuzi exhale a mouthful of turbid breath, and reached with chopsticks for a piece of spinach.

Song Miao's spinach was not put directly into the pot; rather it was first blanched, wrung dry, then put into the fish soup to cook together.

The withered spinach absorbed its fill of crucian carp rich soup; at this moment leaves and stems had already returned to the same plump appearance as when lying on the ground; eating it was soft but not mushy, one bite a pool of juice.

Spinach itself has an extremely slight astringency, a bit like grass, yet more transparent and distinct than grass flavor.

Even without teeth, the tooth cavity touches and juice bursts out, mixing into that somewhat thick soup, giving the crucian carp soup another wonderful clear sweetness, extremely harmonious.

Having drunk soup and eaten vegetables, Feng Lao's chopsticks involuntarily stretched toward the fish slices beside the spinach.

He hesitated a moment, picked up two slices and put them in his mouth, tentatively chewed twice, then chewed a few more times.

Crucian carp meat sliced to less than one-tenth thickness, one could taste a very distinct meat texture, fine and tender-smooth; a somewhat unfamiliar yet somewhat familiar crucian carp flavor, extremely delicious.

After swallowing into the belly, very strangely, Feng Lao actually had a kind of inexplicable sense of expectation fallen empty.

Truly tender, truly fresh-sweet!

No wonder this crucian carp is called the world's utmost freshness!

But how was this achieved?

— Crucian carp, unexpectedly really can have no bones??

Then all these years I've lived, the many years I dared not eat crucian carp meat — whose fault is that??

A bowl of soup fully the size of a washbasin, by several starving old gentlemen in three moves five divisions eaten cleanly, even the bottom wanting to be scraped a circle, taken to mix with dry rice.

With this good fish soup mixed in, that rice left for half a day, already turned dry and tasteless, became flavorful again.

Those who didn't snatch the last few mouthfuls of soup were beating their chests and stamping their feet, hating they couldn't write a long manifesto to scold these neither-sincere-nor-beneficial friends; just then they smelled a fragrance, looked up, and the servant came again!

This time he carried a large plate of fragrant spicy tender tofu.

Fragrant pan-fried pork mince mixed with egg crumbs, xun guan sichuan pepper adjusting numbing-spicy flavor, and a bit of fermented black beans enhancing fragrance.

That tofu tender-tender, already crushed, wrapped in pork fragrance and egg fragrance, numbing, spicy, fresh, fragrant; used to mix rice, the bowl could be gnawed clean.

Several old men eating and eating, simply too full to want to move, just slumped sitting here.

Already this age, and no outsiders, they didn't care about any posture or bearing; holding breath half a day, letting out a long long burp, truly comfortable.

Everyone you burp finished I appear; unknown who sighed a sentence: "If only we'd had Old Deng's sedan chair from the carriage brought down — a backrest, a cushion, much better than sitting on bare stone!"

"I'll have Xiao You arrange people to fetch it." Chen Fuzi said subconsciously.

Only as he finished speaking, he suddenly froze.

"Where is Xiao You?"

East of the Garden, a Xiao You turning and turning.

This courtyard is very large; he circled the lake, clearly following the book servant's pointed direction, yet a full small half hour passed, in this spring day walking a head full of sweat, still not finding a single person.

He walked along, muttering to himself.

"Where did they run off to? Those old men have been fishing for this long — they must have caught a thousand or eight hundred fish by now, right?"

"I'm hungry already; how can they not be hungry?"

After eating their fill of rice and soup, the several old men inevitably had the chef summoned over to speak first; each had things they wanted to ask.

That Min Fuzi wanted to ask how to debone crucian carp, so he could go back and instruct the kitchen to learn to make it, so he himself could often eat these boneless crucian carp slices.

Another wanted the method for Silver Silk Rolls, planning to have them on the table regularly as breakfast.

Song Miao answered in detail.

Different trades are like different mountains; the methods for removing fish bones and making Silver Silk Rolls all left the several old men with headaches.

Song Miao then promised to draw diagrams and write out recipes after she returned.

The old men inevitably offered thanks.

Song Miao was just about to speak when Chen Fuzi at her side said: "Don't just thank with your mouth, do something practical!"

These words were rather out of the blue, leaving everyone stunned.

Chen Fuzi continued: "Old Min, I recall you had a student who entered the Three Departments, specifically handling purchasing bids; later he even married your internal niece, didn't he?"

"Not internal niece, it's a niece. What, you want to stir up something again?"

Chen Fuzi then said: "Song Xiaoniangzi's family has run into some trouble; she wants to know where the original posted notice volumes for the commoners are kept after the purchasing bid."

"I've asked around; they all say the Three Departments manage it, but only Old Lu is in the Three Departments, and I don't get along with him, so it's awkward to approach him."

"Have your nephew-in-law help inquire, see if he can find the volumes for the Zhuque Gate Tingjiao Hang purchasing bids these past two years. You've eaten Song Stall Owner's such fine food and drink — shouldn't you help out in return?"

As Chen Fuzi spoke, he also looked at Song Miao, blinking at her.

Min Fuzi immediately burst out laughing: "So that's what it is — you went around in such circles for this."

He then said to Song Miao: "Posted notices, investigated afterward — they originally belong to the yamen's division. Since the young lady seeks them for use, I'll go back and ask him — where does the young lady live? Once I find out clearly, I'll send someone to pass word to you."

A matter very troublesome for her, in his mouth was merely "ask a question" to resolve.

Song Miao was overjoyed for a moment, hurriedly offering thanks.

Here Song Miao gained an unexpected delight; leading three squads of patrol soldiers and a number of patrol officers to surround Guangji Temple, Han Li and Xin Feng the two men also encountered an unexpected delight.

Guangji Temple was originally not large in scale; inside, counting the lodging travelers and passing monks, there were only thirty or forty people.

The patrol soldiers sealed the front and rear gates, guarded the walls, searched room by room, and quickly turned up a large chest of gold and silver valuables in a guest room, plus a number of prohibited weapons.

Seeing those long swords, long spears, and also knives and axes, Xin Feng was simply overjoyed, shouting: "Whoever searched them out gets first credit!"

For a moment the searchers up front all searched with even more vigor.

But this time they searched for half a day more, with no other gains.

Especially that "Xu Da's" room — it was dug three feet deep; truly even the table and chair legs were unscrewed, yet not a trace of other discoveries.

Because the "Er Niangzi mother and daughter" Song Miao spoke of were not present at this time, no one went to question them; Xin Feng sent people out to search for the two women while cursing anxiously.

Han Li stood guard at the side; seeing everyone had searched to the limit, he also walked a few circles inside the rooms.

All common places had been searched; Guangji Temple was searched seven or eight parts full, yet they still did not find the abducted victims they originally speculated were hidden in the temple.

Han Li carefully sorted through the case details once more, then recalled the situation Song Miao described in the morning; he did not look elsewhere, but seriously examined the bedding and clothes shaken out from the bed.

Sure enough, though not every piece, many garments had an "Xu" character embroidered on the sleeves — and in Hairpin Flower Script.

Upon entering, he had already carefully examined this room.

Inside the room things were a mess; chairs one east one west; the used towel wasn't hung back but casually draped over a chair back; there was even a used set of bowl and chopsticks not put away, not washed, already moldy.

A meticulous person would not be this casual in life.

From these bits and pieces, and from that Xu Da's confession specially retrieved in the morning, this man did things without foresight, putting only convenience and handiness first.

If he hid people, he wouldn't hide them far; he would definitely pick a place convenient for himself.

Han Li thought a moment, then searched carefully again, and sure enough quickly found several pairs of shoes under the bed.

There were wooden clogs, cloth shoes, straw sandals — all very dirty; especially those straw sandals, already half rotten, almost unwearable.

Han Li didn't bother with the other shoes, but examined that pair of wooden clogs for a long time.

The day before yesterday it rained all day; according to Xu Da's confession, he didn't go out that day.

The wooden clog crevices were stuffed with mud, with a leaf and half a flower pressed in, already dried, only vaguely showing their shapes.

Han Li directly called two Guangji Temple monks over, asking them: "All along the way I see you have yellow mud; where is there black mud? And nearby there grow white roses."

The two monks looked at each other; one quickly said: "This temple has roses everywhere; with you asking like this, it's hard to answer at once."

The other said: "Didn't notice where there's black mud."

Han Li didn't waste words with them, directly telling the first: "You lead the way up front; when you've found all the white roses in the temple, that's when I'll let you go."

To the second he said: "You take people to find this black mud; if you can't find it by day, I'll have lanterns lit for you to continue at night; find it or don't stop."

Speaking, he designated several patrol soldiers to come out.

His gaze was icy; when he spoke the four words "find it or don't stop," his tone was especially cold and hard.

Once the armed patrol soldiers stepped forward, the two monks almost simultaneously changed color.

One shouted: "South side! South side has a few dilapidated rooms! I've seen Xu Da loitering near that room several times!"

The group followed the two monks, heading straight for the south courtyard.

The dilapidated rooms the monk spoke of were very concealed, hidden behind a half low wall and a grove; without a guide, they'd be easily missed.

Before long, Han Li saw at the edge of the rightmost room a patch of blooming roses not far away, the ground covered in white petals.

Unlike other places, the mud here was blacker.

He stepped forward, searching a circle on the ground.

Perhaps because few people came here, and yesterday there was a heavy rain, at this moment they could actually still find deep footprints matching those wooden clogs.

"Search that room carefully."

Seeing the winding Burn Mark on the Earth, he pointed to the room on the far right.

A brand-new lock hung on that Door.

The leading monk hurriedly said, "It's not a lock from the temple; no one has managed this place for ages!"

A Patrol Soldier had already fetched an axe and split the lock, and the one following behind lifted his Knife and rushed in.

Almost immediately, the one who entered shouted from Inside, "Someone! Quick, someone!"