"Brother Ninth, you're finally back! Look what I bought!"
Yan Shu climbed excitedly onto the round stool and lifted the lid of the earthen pot with a flourish. A wave of rich, savory aroma instantly filled the room. Inside the pot, the broth was thick yet not overly dense, and the noodles lay neatly coiled in the glistening red soup.
Xie Qi was momentarily stunned by the fragrance. "It smells amazing. Where did you get this?"
Having been away for so long, Xie Qi and Yan Shu—a pair who couldn’t even start a fire—had mostly survived on flatbreads and roasted millet, except when staying at inns. It had been days since they’d had a proper hot meal.
"I bought it from the lady next door in Room B-6." Yan Shu had already set out the bowls and chopsticks. Standing on the stool, he ladled out two portions of the noodle soup, carefully picking out the meat from the sauce and giving it all to Xie Qi. Then he climbed down and tugged at Xie Qi’s sleeve. "Brother Ninth, come eat while it's hot."
Xie Qi hadn’t had much of an appetite lately. He and Yan Shu had embarked on this journey to search for rare books for his father. His family descended from the illustrious Xie clan of Chenjun, a prominent noble lineage during the Jin dynasties. Though a minor branch, they still carried the prestige of being one of the "Five Surnames and Seven Clans." While the Wang and Xie families of old had long faded into obscurity, the Xie family continued their scholarly traditions, though none had achieved great success in officialdom.
The imperial court had expanded the Imperial Academy and established the Piyong Academy to curb the resurgence of noble families, favoring scholars from humble backgrounds instead. Xie Qi’s father, despite his literary brilliance, had been held back by his aristocratic origins. After decades of effort, he remained a mere eighth-rank proofreader in the Imperial Library.
Last month, his father had returned from court with a troubled expression, saying the emperor sought the long-lost Jijiu Zhang, rumored to have been found among Han-era bamboo slips in Dunhuang’s Xiaofangpan City. A merchant had reportedly obtained fragments of the text but vanished after reaching Jinling.
When the emperor demanded something, no matter how improbable, his officials had to comply. Recently, many officials in Bianjing had been dispatched on assignments—some braving the journey to Dunhuang to dig along the Shule River for more bamboo slips, while others searched discreetly for the merchant in Jinling.
Though Xie Qi was only sixteen, his family had arranged his marriage years ago. With the wedding date approaching and half the betrothal rites already completed, his father had sent him off, hoping to curry favor with the emperor. "Brother Ninth, first go to Jinling to look for those bamboo slips. If you find nothing, it’s no matter. On your way back, stop in Chenzhou to finalize the betrothal."
He had been engaged to his aunt’s eldest daughter since childhood, but due to the distance between their families and the strict separation of genders, Xie Qi had only met her three or four times. His last memory of her was three years ago, during the betrothal ceremony—a silent, indistinct figure standing behind a screen.
As expected, searching for the merchant in Jinling proved futile. Xie Qi lingered for a long time but only managed to acquire a few other rare books and paintings, none as precious as Jijiu Zhang. Still, it was enough for his father to present as a token of effort.
After informing his father by letter, he set off for Chenzhou. The betrothal gifts had already been sent ahead, but for some reason, his aunt’s family had not replied. The closer he got to Chenzhou, the more his right eyelid twitched, and an uneasy feeling settled in his chest.
Thanks to his family’s emphasis on learning, Xie Qi believed that traveling ten thousand miles was more valuable than reading ten thousand books. He often accompanied his uncles on scholarly trips and was accustomed to the hardships of travel. This journey had been unusually smooth—unlike past trips plagued by bandits, shipwrecks, or overturned carriages. Yet now, for the first time, he felt restless and had lost his appetite.
How strange.
Was he about to face misfortune again?
Yan Shu handed him a bowl, his own mouth watering. "Brother Ninth, don’t overthink it. Eat while it’s hot."
Xie Qi glanced at the bowl and picked at the tender meat with his chopsticks. "Is this pork? Where did it come from? Pork is so gamey—it’ll ruin this bowl of noodles. You can have it all. I’ll just eat flatbread."
He set his chopsticks down.
Pork carried a strong, unpleasant odor, much to the disdain of Song dynasty elites, who, like their Tang predecessors, prized mutton.
Among scholars, this disdain was even more pronounced. The characters used to describe delicacies—shan, xiu, geng, zhuan—all contained the radical for "sheep," never "pig."
The Book of Rites even stated, "A gentleman does not eat the meat of filthy animals." Thus, in the Song dynasty, from nobles to commoners, few enjoyed pork, and some even considered it food fit only for servants.
Yan Shu, originally the son of a prosperous farmer, had been sold to the Xie family as a servant after his family was ruined by locusts. Illiterate and unfamiliar with the Book of Rites, he had witnessed starvation and held no prejudice against pork. He had no idea nobles avoided it to uphold their "gentlemanly" image.
While Xie Qi hesitated, Yan Shu had already devoured half his bowl, heedless of the heat. He shook his head vigorously. "Brother Ninth, just try it! I swear, even the best cook in the Xie household can’t compare. This lady’s skills could land her a job at Fan Tower! Smell it—there’s no gamey taste at all. The broth is rich, the noodles perfect. I’ve never had anything so delicious in my life—I could swallow my own tongue!"
Watching Yan Shu practically bury his face in the bowl, Xie Qi was swayed. The aroma was irresistible. He picked up his chopsticks and spoon again and took a cautious sip of the broth.
To his surprise, the feared gaminess was absent.
Instead, the deep savoriness of the meat, the umami of mushrooms, and the richness of the broth exploded on his tongue. Before he knew it, his chopsticks were already scooping up noodles.
Yan Shu watched, wide-eyed, as Xie Qi abandoned his usual refined, almost ritualistic dining manner and polished off the entire bowl, even scraping up the shredded radish, cucumber, and cabbage at the bottom.
Who was it who’d refused to eat just moments ago?
"This noodle soup..." Xie Qi wiped his sweaty brow with a silk handkerchief, then dabbed his lips, exhaling in satisfaction. "And this sauce—a perfect match! A single bowl has warmed me through. Marvelous!"
He patted his stomach. "It’s been so long since I’ve had something this good. I still feel like I could eat more."
Yan Shu grinned and produced two steamed buns stuffed with mushrooms. "The lady also gave us these. She said a young master like you, still growing, ought to eat well. They’re all for you!"
Xie Qi took only one. The Xie family was well-off, and he was no stranger to fine food. The initial thrill of the meal fading, he smiled and ruffled Yan Shu’s hair. "You found this feast—we’ll share it."
Yan Shu beamed. "Thank you, Brother Ninth!"
The two resumed eating the steamed buns. Xie Qi took a bite, and the fluffy, thin outer layer gave way instantly to the savory filling inside. The minced meat mixture seemed to include something extra—not only did it carry the rich umami of mushrooms and meat, but there was also a delightful crispness to it.
The lingering deliciousness from earlier returned to Xie Qi’s palate. After devouring the bun in a few bites, he couldn’t help but sigh and shake his head. "This sauce is truly exceptional. What a shame we’ll have to leave once we reach Chenzhou tomorrow—otherwise, we could’ve asked the lady to prepare a couple more jars for us to bring home as gifts for the elders. Grandmother’s teeth are weak now, so she can’t handle anything hard. She’d surely love this sauce with her congee."
Indeed, who knew when they’d get to enjoy such delicacies again? The thought made Yan Shu reluctant to finish the mushroom bun. She nibbled at it slowly, then suddenly brightened with an idea. "Ninth Brother, that lady is also from Bianjing. Why don’t I ask her where she lives when I return the earthen pot later? Once we’re back in the capital, we can seek her out and buy more. What do you think?"
