Chapter 88: Three Years Later

Southern Song Jiaxing Year One, three years since the Black Wind Twin Demons met their end, and Wu Chengyu had been in this world exactly five years.

Early spring in Gusu City truly lived up to its reputation of heaven above, Suzhou and Hangzhou below.

Orioles about to sing at the mouth of Huangli Alley, ice about to melt at the head of Wuque River.

Green waves east, west, south, north; red railings across three hundred and ninety bridges.

Bai Juyi's poems captured the splendid spring colors of Gusu City, and were very fitting for the season.

The Wu Family's Wumei Tower was right at the mouth of Huangli Alley, beside Wuque Bridge.

The big flag for Wu Family Hot Pot in front of Wumei Tower was now somewhat worn; winter had passed, and hot pot customers had dropped by more than half.

At this moment, by the window on the second floor of Wumei Tower, a rather tall figure dressed entirely in green, his hair tied up with a green ribbon, held a book in his hand, but his attention was clearly not on it; his eyes gazed toward Wuque Bridge, unfocused—he was actually spacing out.

The soft girls of Gusu City passing under the bridge from time to time were all like Yingying and Yanzan; many covered their faces with their hands yet couldn't help but sneak glances at this figure, their gazes shy, but unfortunately so many girls received no response at all.

After noon market, Wu Chengyu had sat by the window, holding his own transcribed copy of "Laozi Xiang Er Zhu," reading for a long while without turning a single page, his thoughts long since flown to the clouds beyond.

Wu Chengyu had indeed inherited Mu Qingyin's strengths, with sword-like eyebrows and starry eyes, white teeth and red lips; most importantly, his gaze was bright, and after years of bitterly studying Daoist scriptures, he had acquired a touch of an unworldly air, already a famous handsome youth for ten li and eight villages.

He did indeed attract women's gazes when seated, but if he stood up, it did not match his handsome face.

Over five years, his height had exceeded 1.8 meters, not far from the planned 1.85, but for some special reason, he had set his height goal at at least 1.9 meters, with how much beyond that to be determined.

1.8 meters was already very tall in ancient Jiangnan, but the reason his build did not match his appearance was truly the aftereffects of these years of practicing Ox and Horse Stake; height could be controlled by opening and closing the epiphyseal lines, but the entire skeleton inevitably expanded.

Wu Chengyu's build, seen from behind, was like a wall—bear back, bee waist, ape arms; because his shoulders were truly too wide, when he spread his arms, his wingspan approached two meters.

If walking toward someone face-to-face on the street, unfamiliar people seeing Wu Chengyu would instinctively stop, even retreat several steps.

Wu Chengyu was now nearly sixteen; although still far from the twenty-year-old Guan coming-of-age ceremony, no one dared treat him as a child anymore given his current height and relatively mature thinking.

These years Wu Chengyu went nowhere, staying cooped up in his room either practicing martial arts or reciting Daoist scriptures; aside from occasionally exchanging information with Lu Zhiyi and others, he had very little contact with the outside world.

Although Wu Chengyu had contributed greatly to the Wu Family, those uncles were somewhat dissatisfied.

A young man hiding in his room all day—what sort of appearance was that?

So early this year, Wu Zhengliang made the decision to hand Wumei Tower over to Wu Chengyu to manage, with no refusal allowed.

Wu Chengyu had no choice but to change his reading spot to Wumei Tower, watching the spring colors outside while pretending to recite books, actually troubled in his heart.

He had thought that with a few Daoist scriptures containing annotations, he could just learn step by step.

But Wu Chengyu discovered he truly had no talent for studying Daoist scriptures; he had memorized them backward and forward these past years, but still could not find the way in.

Ancient classical Chinese Daoist scriptures were truly obscure and difficult to understand, with no punctuation; sometimes a short sentence of just a dozen characters, Wu Chengyu would stare at it for a long time without knowing the meaning, thinking he understood after one look, only to read the second time and find the opposite meaning.

Although there were annotations by Daoist School sages, these people's understandings sometimes went in opposite directions, and they could even fight each other.

With no one to teach him, he could only read books himself; he had indeed sought out old Daoist priests in Gusu to ask, but the old priests' explanations were all different.

Sometimes he asked the Bamboo Slips, and the Bamboo Slips' reason was that these true meanings had to be comprehended by oneself; understood was understood, and if not understood, others' explanations were useless.

But every time he thought he understood, the Bamboo Slips would say, "Did you really understand?"

After furious helplessness, those things he had thought he understood before became illusory and vague; this thing had no standard at all.

Spacing out for a while, he moved his gaze back to the book before him, smiled bitterly, and steeled himself to continue studying hard.

Between heaven and earth, is it not like a bellows!

Empty yet not collapsing, moving yet ever issuing forth.

Much hearing exhausts the count; better to hold to the center.

The valley spirit does not die; this is called the Mysterious Female.

Continuous, as if existing; used without weariness.

Just then someone came up the stairs from the first floor, thump thump, and upon seeing Wu Chengyu spoke.

"Twenty-One, stop pretending to read; I've made the dishes according to your recipe—come taste them."

The speaker was Wu Jinshui, a member of the Wu Family's collateral branch, always part of the Wu Clan Third Branch, with the whole family living on Wu Family Slope.

Wu Jinshui had just turned twenty this year; ordinarily extremely greedy, he was practically a bosom friend with A Ku, extremely interested in cooking, sent to learn cooking at a young age, and indeed having some talent, at a young age Wu Zhengliang had sent him to Wumei Tower as head chef.

Since Wu Chengyu had taken over Wumei Tower, he certainly could not draw a salary without doing work.

Every winter, Wumei Tower was crowded with guests because of hot pot, but except for winter, especially in summer, hot pot's appeal dropped greatly.

As for dishes, they still lost to Gusu's top restaurants by a measure.

To do one's duty in one's position; since taking over, Wu Chengyu had remade the menu according to information he knew from his previous life and the Bamboo Slips' instructions.

The Five Flavors generally refer to sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, and salty; the signature dishes he set for Wumei Tower were five in total.

Pickled Fish with Sauerkraut, Sweet and Sour Pork, Bitter Melon Stewed Duck, Wu Family Tofu, and Eight Treasure Pickled Vegetables.

Bitter Melon Stewed Duck was a Yunnan dish; Mapo Tofu without Mapo was directly changed to Wu Family Tofu, and without chili peppers, Cornus Fruit was used for seasoning; however, with the Bamboo Slips' guidance plus Wu Chengyu's amazing sense of taste, this Wu Family Tofu definitely differed from later Mapo Tofu, but had its own unique flavor.

Wu Chengyu put down the book, picked up chopsticks, and tasted them one by one; Wu Jinshui had made the dishes according to his recipe with seventy or eighty percent of the flavor, already usable for attracting business.

The two discussed dishes while chatting gossip, and time quickly passed.

At this moment Wu Jinshui suddenly sighed and said to Wu Chengyu.

"Heard the news? Since Han Xianggong was executed, now that Shi Miyuan holds power, I've been hearing some rumors lately."

That Shi Miyuan last year sent Han Xianggong's head to the Jin Kingdom to seek peace, and public resentment was already boiling over.

Now someone actually says this Shi Miyuan wants to restore Qin Gui's title and posthumous name, just letting Qin Gui make a comeback like that?

What's to become of this; who knows if we'll still be able to eat fried dough ghosts in the mornings from now on."

(Chapter End)