Chapter 96: I Don't Want to Be an Official

Chen Wuji, because his movements were still not very smooth, handed the cooking task over to Fuwa.

Looking at the meat and vegetables Fuwa had bought, Chen Wuji chose the relatively simple Dongpo Pork.

Having a dish with this much substance should be enough for what they have learned during this period.

"First prepare the ingredients; the process must be careful," Chen Wuji told Fuwa and the others. "The pork should be a mix of fat and lean, cut into small cubes; scallions and ginger are indispensable, remember to prepare plenty of them."

Fuwa and the others, clearly not people who often linger by the stove, fumbled clumsily.

After a chaotic scramble, the dish was finally set up properly.

"Add cold water to the pot, put in the meat, add scallions, ginger, and wine, blanch for ten minutes to remove the scum," Chen Wuji instructed. "Unfortunately, this dish lacks the most crucial ingredient—sugar—so the flavor will be a bit off."

Sugar is an extremely scarce commodity in the Dayu Dynasty, and its price is absurdly high.

As a tribute item in the palace, ordinary folk could never even imagine it.

Even the merchants with fortunes worth ten thousand strings often cannot buy it despite having money.

Moreover, it is said that the sugar of this era is coarse, essentially low-quality brown sugar.

If white sugar could be produced, it would surely become a huge business.

Perhaps anyone could become an Imperial Merchant and make a leap through the Dragon Gate.

"We are humble commoners; we have no right to eat that," Yang Tiejiang sneered. "But you don't seem like an ordinary hunter—adding wine and sugar for a single dish—only the nobles would dare such a taste."

"All these are things I learned from books. Though I'm just a hunter, my San Shu knows astronomy and geography, is well‑versed in ancient matters, and I've learned a lot from him," Chen Wuji said with a smile.

Chen Bushi, that scholar, is truly a born scapegoat.

"Studying is hard; when you earn money, you should try the imperial examinations—that's the promising path," Yang Tiejiang sighed, glancing at Fuwa and the others. "These kids don't even know what a book looks like; in our Clan Interior, we haven't produced a scholar in decades."

"We'll see later. I study without aiming for the exams; knowing some things on my own is fine," Chen Wuji laughed, covering the past.

Fuwa clumsily skimmed the foam from the pot and asked, "Uncle Chen, what do we do next?"

"Hm?!" Chen Wuji was taken aback.

Laborers, not even twenty, what did you just shout?

"We are peers discussing, so it's not wrong for these youngsters to call you uncle," Yang Tiejiang said.

Chen Wuji was speechless for a while. Goodness, the generational gap had risen too quickly.

"Scoop it out for later use, add oil to the pot, toss in the meat pieces and stir‑fry over high heat. Then add scallions and ginger, pour in wine and soy sauce with spices, and simmer on low heat," Chen Wuji instructed.

I don't know exactly what the simplified version will taste like, but it shouldn't be too bad.

Fuwa, clumsy as ever, began his official cooking.

Yang Tiejiang's wok was perfect, and the stir‑fry was silky.

Only the cook seemed to watch with a hint of impatience.

Chen Wuji nearly lost his temper several times, wanting to kick Fuwa.

After a series of calamities—hot oil splashing like a face wash, meat cubes flying about—this batch of Dongpo Pork finally entered the low‑heat reduction stage, and the aroma grew rich, bubbling up from beneath the pot lid.

Fuwa and the others began to drool uncontrollably, letting saliva slip down carelessly.

Especially the anxious Fuwa standing by the pot, who dared not speak; whenever he opened his mouth, either saliva spilled out or he choked on it.

Under everyone's eager gazes, the first Dongpo Pork finally left the pot.

Chen Wuji tasted a piece first.

It's just a home‑style preparation, not dazzling, but it is tasty.

Given the standards of the Dayu Dynasty's catering industry in Yunan, this dish, when served, should become a signature plate and certainly earn some fame.

"Everyone, have a taste," Chen Wuji cleared a spot and said to Yang Tiejiang and the others.

Fuwa pressed his lips tightly, bracing his whole body, hurriedly carried the large iron plate to Yang Tiejiang, and said, "Uncle of the Clan, you try first; just by the smell I can tell it must be delicious."

"It's meat, of course it's tasty," Yang Tiejiang said impatiently, pinching a chunk with his fingers and tossing it into his mouth; after two chews, his eyes lit up instantly.

"Delicious, delicious! Damn, it's really delicious!"

He shouted repeatedly, snatched another piece, tossed it into his mouth, savored it, and his face instantly showed the blissful daze of a smoker after a cigarette.

"Damn... how did anyone think of doing it like this..."

Fuwa and the others watched Yang Tiejiang, each throat bobbing rapidly, all making gurgling swallowing sounds.

The phrase "longing with eyes" materialized vividly before Chen Wuji at that moment.

Ancient idioms truly aren't invented on a whim.

"Longing with eyes" is just too vivid.

"Everyone eat, eat!" Yang Tiejiang snapped back to his senses, licking his dark fingers and shouting.

"Brother Wuji, this dish should be enjoyed on a rainy, leisurely day with a couple of cups of wine, sipping slowly. Eating it straight like this is a bit extravagant; selling it on the street wouldn't be appealing either,"

The man with a fierce, rough exterior surprisingly had a fresh green‑ant wine, a red‑clay stove, and when evening came and the sky seemed about to snow, he could drink a cup of refined elegance.

"A good dish will spread our reputation faster among the Yunan folk," Chen Wuji said.

"We could fry a pot on the street morning and evening; if a customer wants to buy, we serve it in a small bowl—selling it for three to five coins to the poor, or one or two bowls for the rich, as they wish. If we could set up some tables and benches, we could even offer drinks alongside,"

"I'll handle procuring these items, and leave the rest to Fuwa. After doing it once, he should have learned most of it. If he forgets a step later, just find time to give him a bit of guidance," Yang Tiejiang said immediately.

"Brother Wuji, we need a policy for this. This is a Daying venture; regarding the dish's flavor, I'm not worried the kid will lose business. I'll take the lead: for the first month, shall we take a 20% profit? The dish is tasty but the cost is high, so we need to calculate,"

"Ten percent is enough," Chen Wuji said. "Selling wine and dishes isn't my goal; the focus is the pot."

"Listen first: let Fuwa continue for now, calculate at a 20% profit. Once we figure out the actual profit margin, we can settle the accounts in detail, okay?" Yang Tiejiang said.

Seeming afraid Chen Wuji would refuse, he quickly added, "Brother Wuji, logically this kid should bow to you now, become your disciple, and support you in old age—this is a great craft."

"I bow! I'll see you off, Uncle!" Fuwa immediately said.