TTTQF Chapter 18

The Most Delicious

With the crowing of the roosters, Jiang Miao opens his eyes. His arms are warm, much more comfortable compared to the usually cold bed.

There are already sounds outside, the girls’ soft whispers sound as pleasant as springtime larks, particularly melodious.

He gets up and tidies himself, then calls Xiao Shitou to get up as well. They go out to wash up and have porridge together. The porridge seems to be mixed grain porridge; besides a little brown rice, it has a lot of sweet potatoes and corn grits. It doesn’t look good, but it tastes sweet and is very filling.

After eating, Jiang Miao intends to call a bullock cart in the village to take them out, but after asking Wang Xiaochun, he learns that there are no bullock carts for carrying people in the village, only a few oxen used for farming. Wang Xiaochun, unaware that the Jiang Miao before her has changed, only laments that life in the city is indeed better. Even someone as frugal as Miao-ge knows to take a cart when going out.

Helplessly, he can only take his younger brother and walk out. Although he has never walked this path before, Xiao Shitou knows the way and quickly leads him out.

Outside the village, there is only a narrow path between the fields, with paddy fields on both sides. It is winter, so the grass and trees are withered, and the fields only have inch-long stubble, with no water stored. Xiao Shitou, used to walking on the field path, seems very light-footed, but Jiang Miao stumbles several times, nearly falling into the fields. He silently complains, no wonder there are no bullock carts in the village. Even if there were carts, they wouldn’t know where to go! The saying “to get rich, first build roads” is really true!

After walking about four or five li, they finally see the main road. It is a dirt road, wide enough to accommodate two horse-drawn carriages side by side, and compared to their village’s narrow path, it is like a broad highway. Of course, it can’t compare to the road leading to Puling Temple in the north of the city.

On the main road, they occasionally see people riding fast horses, kicking up clouds of dust. Jiang Miao and Xiao Shitou, standing by the roadside, often end up eating a mouthful of dust. Helpless, Jiang Miao tears off some cloth from his bundle, making headscarves for himself and Xiao Shitou to block the dust.

After walking for a while, they see a bullock cart at a crossroads ahead. Jiang Miao’s eyes light up, and he shouts, “Hey, uncle, wait!”

Jiang Miao quickly pulls Xiao Shitou and runs a few steps, catching up to the bullock cart ahead. The driver is dressed like an old farmer, with many burlap sacks piled high on the cart, their contents unknown.

“Young man, why are you calling me?” The old man stops the cart, turns his head in confusion, and sees the panting pair. At first, he thinks it’s a young woman with a child, wearing headscarves, but on closer look, it’s a young man.

“I want to ask where you are headed, sir. Could you give us a ride?” Jiang Miao has walked mountain roads for half a day yesterday and has been walking for so long today that his legs feel like they are stepping on cotton; he can’t walk any further.

The old man looks at Jiang Miao, then at Xiao Shitou, who is staring at him eagerly, and asks, “I’m heading to Liangjing City. Where are you two going?”

“We’re going to Liangjing City too! Just drop us off at the city gate. Name your price, and if I can afford it, we’ll get on,” Jiang Miao says, weighing a small piece of silver he has left, roughly worth one qian.

“Never mind, get on. This isn’t a cart for passengers, so it’s not right to charge you. Let’s just say I’m doing a good deed today. Just watch your step and don’t damage my things,” the old man replies.

Jiang Miao thanks him profusely, then lifts Xiao Shitou onto the cart before climbing up himself and finding a good spot to sit.

Once they are settled, the old man gives a shout, and the ox starts moving.

An ox-drawn cart is different from a donkey-drawn one; though slower, it’s much steadier. After sitting for a while, Jiang Miao begins to chat with the old man. He has a knack for striking up conversations with strangers, quickly becoming friendly, often described by some internet users as having a “social butterfly syndrome.”

“Uncle, what’s your surname? I saw you turn from the previous junction. Which village is that?” Jiang Miao asks.

“My surname is Zhou. I’m from Liantang Village. What about you?” The old man is obviously quite talkative.

“Uncle Zhou, I’m from Jiangjiawan, surname Jiang, and my name has three water radicals in it, so you can call me Sanshui. This is my younger brother, Xiao Shitou,” Jiang Miao replies.

“Oh, Jiangjiawan! I know that place. My second aunt married there. I visited several times when I was a kid…”

The two of them chat animatedly all the way. Old Zhou is glad he has picked up the two brothers; otherwise, the journey would have been quite boring. Jiang Miao is also very pleased because he has learned more about the nearby villages along the way. Now, when he goes home, he will have something to talk about.

At the end of the main road is the east gate of Liangjing City. It is almost noon when they finally arrive. The inspection for entering the city is more complicated than that for leaving the city. Jiang Miao sits on the ox cart, observing the passersby. While people living near the west gate are generally poor, those living on the east side are generally wealthier. As soon as they enter the city gate, it is evident that the people’s attire and demeanor are different.

During their chat, Jiang Miao learns that Uncle Zhou comes to Liangjing City because of a distant relative named Zhao Xing, who works as a steward in the kitchen of the Zhu residence at the east gate. The residence needs to buy lotus roots, and since Liantang Village has an abundance of lotus roots at this time of year, they have asked Uncle Zhou to bring some.

Knowing the sacks are filled with lotus roots piques Jiang Miao’s interest, as he thinks lotus root buns are quite tasty and fresh, and the locals don’t use lotus roots to make buns. Jiang Miao inquires about the price and wants to buy some to try. However, Uncle Zhou mentions that if the quantity is small, he usually won’t come, as the distance from home is too far and not worth the trip.

Jiang Miao decides to follow Uncle Zhou to the Zhu residence, help carry the lotus roots in, and discuss with Zhao Xing about buying a few pounds to try. If it works out well, he will find a way to get more.

The Zhu residence isn’t far from the east gate, and the ox cart reaches the back gate after crossing two streets. Uncle Zhou parks the cart and goes to negotiate with the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper, with sharp eyes, sees they are ordinary people and is quite dismissive, only agreeing to notify the kitchen after much persuasion.

After a while, a man comes out, greets Uncle Zhou as “Uncle,” and instructs them to carry the goods inside. Jiang Miao carries a burlap sack, accompanied by a sleepy Xiao Shitou beside him. He has been sleeping in Jiang Miao’s arms the entire way and hasn’t been woken up by their lively conversation.

There is a distance from the backyard to the kitchen, and Jiang Miao walks straight ahead, focusing solely on carrying the goods. In a big household with strict rules, he can’t afford to cause any trouble. This isn’t like modern times where dialing emergency services would bring help.

After three trips back and forth, they finally unload all the sacks from the cart. While weighing the goods, Jiang Miao discusses his request with Zhao Xing. Perhaps out of respect for Uncle Zhou, Zhao Xing is quite accommodating and sells him five pounds. After settling the bill, Zhao Xing even escorts them out.

“Dear nephew, Be careful not to let the lotus roots spoil, If they aren’t washed, they can last for about half a month, so don’t wash them all at once,” Old Zhou says, worried that if they spoil, his nephew might be blamed by the household.

Zhao Xing smiles and reassures him, “Don’t worry, uncle. These lotus roots will be finished in a day.”

Uncle Zhou is incredulous, “Don’t joke with me. There are eight or nine sacks. How can they be finished in a day?”

“Do you know why I bought these lotus roots? The master of our residence is celebrating his grand birthday the day after tomorrow, and the chef from outside has prepared a dish called Osmanthus Honey Lotus Roots. All these roots will be used for that feast,” Zhao Xing explains.

Uncle Zhou is shocked, wondering how many tables would be set up to use so many lotus roots? Won’t it bankrupt the household?

Jiang Miao, listening on the side, has an idea.

“Brother Zhao, has Chef Bai from your residence arranged everything for the master’s birthday? I can make longevity buns and other snacks,” Jiang Miao offers.

Zhao Xing looks at him, somewhat incredulous. “We don’t need to hire another chef for the pastry. The chefs here at the residence can handle it.” It’s enough to invite someone for the main dishes.

Not discouraged by the refusal, Jiang Miao says, “The longevity buns I make are different from those at the residence. It would add prestige if they were brought out. If Brother Zhao changes his mind, he can find me in Tianshui Alley, Yifeng Street, near the west gate.”

For wealthy households hosting banquets, prestige is crucial. His skill in making longevity buns is learned from five-star chefs. Not to mention the taste, the appearance alone is impressive enough to impress.

Zhao Xing nods absentmindedly, still wondering who this overly familiar lad is and why he has come with his old uncle. Although he can’t find the answer, he remembers the address Jiang Miao has given.

Exiting from the back gate of the Zhu Mansion, Jiang Miao carries five pounds of lotus roots and leads Xiao Shitou to say goodbye to Uncle Zhou. After watching him leave, the two of them wait by the roadside for a while, hail a donkey cart, and spend fifteen copper coins to return to the west gate. It is quite a distance between the east and west gates, and it takes a while to get there.

The silver coins are exchanged for copper coins with Zhao Xing. Jiang Miao hands him fifteen wen and leads his brother into the courtyard through a side gate. The events of the past three days have left Jiang Miao mentally and physically exhausted. He feels as though a long time has passed, and upon stepping into the courtyard again, he is overwhelmed by a sense of having entered a different world.

“Xiao Shitou, we will live here in the future. Are you hungry? You can play over there for a while, and I’ll cook for you.” Jiang Miao opens the door, puts down their belongings, and then scoops some rice to wash at the well.

Seeing his brother go out, Xiao Shitou doesn’t listen to him and goes to play by the bed. Instead, he walks to the stove, searches around, and then skillfully picks up the fire striker to light the fire. Once the fire is burning, he scoops some water from a nearby jar into the pot and tiptoes to start scrubbing the pot.

“…Let me handle these from now on,” Jiang Miao says with a tinge of sadness. He had at least had a happy childhood, but Xiao Shitou was forced to be responsible from an early age.

Xiao Shitou hmms in acknowledgment but continues to focus on tending the fire at the stove.

Jiang Miao shrugs and thinks, Well, at least the stove will keep us warm in winter. He adds water to the pot with rice, goes in and out several times to change the water in the basin, then uncovers another small jar. A sour smell emanates from it—these are the cabbage he had pickled when he first arrived, almost two weeks ago. They are ready to eat.

He takes out a piece of pickled cabbage and chops it up, stir-frying it. Once the pickled cabbage is ready and the porridge cooked, they have a simple meal of porridge and pickled cabbage.

Jiang Miao feels a bit embarrassed; it seems a little plain for his brother’s first meal here. “Xiao Shitou, let’s have a simple meal for now. I’ll make something else tasty for you later tonight.”

“Plain rice porridge is very delicious; Brother doesn’t need to make anything else.” In the past, he could only drink plain rice porridge during special occasions and festivals.

“In the future, I’ll make a lot of delicious things for you to eat. Then you’ll see, there are many things even tastier than plain rice porridge!”

“Okay!” Xiao Shitou smiles, his eyes shining brightly. In truth, he feels that the rice porridge his brother made today is already the most delicious thing in the world.

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