Chapter 53: Banquet

Zhang Jie, whose hearing far surpassed that of ordinary people, caught every word spoken by the two juren.

He smiled silently at the two juren’s thoughts:

He was certainly not the illegitimate son of any minister of the Great Song court.

He was absolutely certain he was the late-life son of his adoptive father, Zhang Dahu.

The old steward, who had been like a brother to Zhang Dahu, had watched him be born and grow up.

The chief examiner of the provincial examination favored him because Zhang Jie’s essay struck straight at his heart.

He believed Zhang Jie was truly a kindred spirit, sharing his deepest interests.

Zhang Jie could write an essay that struck the chief examiner’s heart because he knew the examiner’s life story well.

The chief examiner’s surname was Li, his given name Gefei, one of Su Dongpo’s disciples who had recommended Gao Qiu.

He stood alongside Liao Zhengyi, Li Xi, and Dong Rong, known collectively as the “Four Later Disciples of Su.”

Before his transmigration, Zhang Jie had never cared much for the “Four Disciples of Su.”

He knew Su Shi, Su Dongpo, only through his poetry and Dongpo pork.

Zhang Jie knew Li GeFei’s life story because Li had a famously illustrious daughter—a daughter hailed as the “greatest female talent of all time.”

Indeed, Li GeFei’s daughter was the one who wrote: “Live to be a hero, die to be a ghostly champion.

Even now I think of Xiang Yu—he refused to cross the river eastward.”

Zhang Jie had once been deeply interested in this poem.

He had searched online for information on Li Qingzhao and, incidentally, read up on Li GeFei’s biography.

Thanks to his steadily increasing mental acuity and memory,

Zhang Jie had now recalled every detail he had once skimmed over.

Though he knew that according to 21st-century historical records, Li GeFei should already have been demoted

and should not have been sent to Shandong to preside over the provincial exam, Zhang Jie could only accept it.

After all, he had already crossed into the world of Water Margin—an impossible thing—so a minor alteration in Li GeFei’s path was trivial.

Knowing Li GeFei was deeply concerned about the realm’s dangers, Zhang Jie subtly referenced in his essay

the profligate lifestyle of a certain Prince Duan, thereby winning Li GeFei’s favor.

Of course, Zhang Jie, ever the man who sings the song suited to his mountain, never voiced his desire to overthrow the Great Song.

He merely followed convention and offered gentle counsel to Emperor Huizong.

In essence, echoing Hai Rui’s “First Memorial to the Empire”: “If Your Majesty would only rouse yourself,

then our Great Ming (Great Song) shall flourish again.”

Soon after, besides Li GeFei, who had arrived early, the deputy examiners and the highest civil official of Shandong also arrived.

Like leaders in the 21st century, after a dull, empty speech, the Lu Ming Banquet officially began.

The banquet must begin with the playing of the “Lu Ming” melody,

followed by everyone reciting the “Lu Ming” song to enliven the atmosphere.

“Lu Ming” originally came from the “Xiao Ya” section of the Book of Songs, consisting of three stanzas.

The first line of each stanza was: “The deer calls softly, feeding on the wild ping.”

“The deer calls softly, feeding on the wild song.”

“The deer calls softly, feeding on the wild qin.”

Its meaning: the fawn, finding good food, does not forget its companions, calling out “yōu yōu” to invite them to eat.

Since ancient times, people have regarded this as a virtue, so rulers emulated it: the Son of Heaven feasted his ministers,

local officials feasted their colleagues, provincial juren, and local magnates,

using this ritual to win hearts and demonstrate their reverence for talent.

“Brother Li, please.”

“Brother Wang, you as well.”

Joyful, the newly minted juren gradually grew unrestrained, clinking cups and pouring wine.

Zhang Jie, however, ate slowly and deliberately at the low table before him.

He truly had no desire for these unnecessary social formalities.

In an age of poor transportation and difficult travel,

after parting from these juren here, he doubted he would ever see them again in this life.

After years of development, the dishes of the Lu Ming Banquet had become standardized.

Main dishes included venison (symbolizing good fortune and talent),

Wenshi tofu (symbolizing quick-wittedness), Zhuangyuan Jidi porridge (symbolizing early success in the imperial exams),

Hanlin chicken (blessing a smooth official career), and Four Joy Meatballs (representing “Fortune, Rank, Longevity, Joy”).

If the deer had a soul, it would surely protest:

“You claim moral superiority! You think yourselves noble!

You praise my virtue while feasting on my flesh!”

If the deer were alive in the afterlife, it would surely protest:

As Zhang Jie ate the clearly mass-produced, standardized dishes, his thoughts drifted far away:

“By the way, these dishes probably won’t please Maomao.

After all, Maomao has always loved only one flavor.”

When Maomao grew up and tasted a dish from Xibei, he exclaimed happily:

“Yes! This is the taste of my childhood!”

The server replied: “Of course! This is exactly the same batch you ate as a child!”

After growing up, Maomao took a bite of Xibei’s dish and exclaimed happily:

Zhang Jie continued tasting dishes and pastries with sour, sweet, spicy, and salty flavors,

while channeling the spirit of the Supreme Grand Luo Purple Pole Yin-Yang Merit and Demerit Master, the Flying Yuan True Lord, the Ten Thousand Years Emperor:

“This meal—neither good nor bad—eat when it’s good, discard when it’s bad.

Never take lightly any meal made by another; only when you can cook for yourself is it truly good.

Salt nourished the populations of northern provinces; sweetness nourished the populations of southern frontiers.

How could one favor only what tastes good, nor neglect what tastes bad?”

The Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown is but illusion; I allocated only one million.

The banquet ended. Zhang Jie and Chen Wenyun, slightly drunk, left the yamen.

The Imperial Lord of Loyalty and Filial Piety, the Flying Yuan True Lord, and the Ten Thousand Longevity Imperial Lord, possessing the Supreme Great Luo Purple Ultimate Palm of Yin-Yang:

“Master Chen.”

As Zhang Jie and Chen Wenyun stepped out the yamen gate, Pan Jinlian and Wu Song stepped forward to meet them.

Zhang Jie, knowing they had waited specifically for him, felt touched.

Having lived in the Water Margin world for over a decade, he had, without realizing it,

formed many attachments he could not and would not let go.

They boarded the carriage; Wu Song drove them back to Hao Ke Lai Inn.

“Jieyuan Gong, Master Chen.”

At the inn, Wang Lao, who had been waiting a long time, greeted them with a smile.

As Zhang Jie and the other exited the yamen gate, Pan Jinlian and Wu Song stepped forward to meet them.

Zhang Jie nodded in response.

“Wang Lao, you’re too formal.”

At this, Chen Wenyun’s drunkenness lessened somewhat.

“Jieyuan Gong, Master Chen, I’ve prepared a special banquet just for you two—please don’t refuse.”

Wang Lao said, his smile unwavering.

Upon reaching the inn, the long-waiting Boss Wang greeted them with a smiling face.

Zhang Jie considered it and realized he could not refuse.

He had stayed here for over half a month; though Wang Lao was greedy and worldly,

his character and conduct were quite good—he had helped them with many small favors.

He also had no objection to Wang Lao calling himself “this old man.”

The Great Song was an ancient world; even without natural disasters or war,

without antibiotics or medicine, a simple cold or flu could bring down a strong man in mere days.

Ordinary people, limited by medical standards and hygiene,

Zhang Jie pondered for a moment and realized he couldn’t refuse.

Having stayed here for over half a month, Master Wang, though greedy and worldly,

was still quite decent in his dealings and had helped them with many small favors.

He also had no particular thoughts about Master Wang’s habit of calling himself “this old man.”

Da Cong is an ancient world; apart from natural disasters and human misfortunes, just the lack of antibiotics and other medicines

means a common cold or flu can bring down a strong, ox-like man within just a few days.

Ordinary people, limited by medical standards and hygiene conditions,

Due to war and other factors, average life expectancy was only about 30 to 35 years.

Master Wang, over forty, could rightly call himself an old man.

According to Zhang Jie’s knowledge, Master Wang was already a grandfather with two grandsons.

Here it must be mentioned that doctors skilled in using antibiotics,

hormones, and vitamins—the “three-element doctors”—were widely criticized in the 21st century,

for instance for breeding super-resistant bacteria, but in Da Song,

they were unquestionably peerless divine physicians, surpassing Bian Que and Hua Tuo.