14 Fresh Pork Dumplings

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The reddish-brown cubes of rabbit meat were mixed together with bright red dried chilies until it was nearly impossible to tell one from the other.

The surface of the rabbit meat was slightly dry, but its juices had been sealed inside. It was not stringy in the least—crisp on the outside and tender within. The spicy, numbing flavor was exceptionally intense. One bite was enough to make it impossible to stop reaching for more.

When eating spicy rabbit cubes, it was all too easy to accidentally pick up a chili or a Sichuan peppercorn. The former was tolerable, but if one bit into the latter—even half of one—the entire mouth would instantly go numb and tingly. At the same time, however, it stimulated an abundance of saliva, leaving an unforgettable aftertaste.

Xu Xiu was unfortunate enough to fall victim to one. Her features twisted under the numbing sensation.

Wen Mengdong was eating his own special five-spice rabbit, but his large eyes kept darting toward the plate of spicy rabbit a little farther away.

“Sister, can I have one bite? Just one.” He raised his index finger solemnly, having completely forgotten the suffering he had endured in the kitchen earlier.

Seeing how badly the little fellow wanted it, Wen Zhongxia nodded with a smile. “All right, just a tiny piece.”

The child happily received a chunk of rabbit about the size of a knuckle and popped it into his mouth. After chewing twice, he immediately stuck out his tongue.

“Hiss, hiss… hiss…”

It was far too spicy and far too numbing!

First the chilies had beaten up his nose, and now they were assaulting his tongue.

He held his mouth open and fanned his tongue repeatedly, as though that might blow away the heat.

Wen Zhongxia and Xu Xiu laughed heartlessly, then hurriedly filled him a bowl of warm egg-drop soup with fresh mushrooms to soothe the burning.

The little fellow gulped down the fragrant, delicious soup. The grown-ups’ world was simply too brutal.

…

At last, the bell signaling the end of term rang. The students cheered with delight. They were finally on holiday.

Most of the students at the Imperial College were sons of officials serving in the capital. In the future, they could enter officialdom through hereditary privilege, so they felt little pressure to study.

Apart from having to worship their ancestors with their elders on the first day, they were free to spend the rest of the holiday as they pleased.

Feng Yuan was surrounded by several attendants who flattered him like a cluster of stars around the moon. Together, they discussed where to go for entertainment during the holiday.

As they chatted and laughed, He Ran hurried past them. Feng Yuan called out and stopped him.

“Brother He, do you have any plans for the Qingming holiday?” Feng Yuan asked with a grin. “There’s a cuju match at the Great State Temple. I’ve arranged excellent seats for everyone. All you need to do is show up and watch.”

He Ran replied apologetically, “I’m afraid I can’t this time, Brother Feng. My entire family is going to worship our ancestors. Afterward, we’ll be staying at our country estate outside the city for several days, so I won’t be able to return.”

“Then forget it.” Feng Yuan did not press him. Lowering his eyes, he noticed that He Ran was holding not only several books but also two familiar-looking oil-paper packages.

“Those… don’t tell me they’re those wretched green rice cakes again?”

He Ran smiled foolishly, cradling the packages as though they were treasures. “I finally managed to buy two portions today. Once we reach the estate, I can eat two a day. Green rice cakes have a special flavor even after they’ve cooled.”

“It’s a pity that the hand-grabbed flatbread doesn’t taste very good cold. Otherwise, I would absolutely have bought a few more to eat on the road.”

He Ran prattled on, oblivious to Feng Yuan’s increasingly ugly expression.

“Did that woman drug you? You’re making it look as though we young masters have never eaten anything good in our lives.”

Someone beside him chimed in, “Exactly. It would be humiliating if word got out.”

“My friend, you’re mistaken,” He Ran said solemnly. “I used to think that food from roadside stalls was merely meant to fill one’s stomach. But after tasting Madam Wen’s cooking, I realized that good food has nothing to do with status. It depends only on the skill of the cook. Perhaps it isn’t to your taste, but it certainly suits mine.”

Feng Yuan gave him a complicated look, moving from his expression to the oil-paper packages in his hands.

He had definitely been drugged!

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He Ran suddenly hugged the oil-paper packages closer and said warily, “Brother Feng, you said that you wouldn’t eat them even if they were handed to you.”

“You don’t think I’m interested in those packages of yours, do you?” Feng Yuan sneered. “Are shark fins not delicious enough, or is bird’s-nest soup not good enough to drink? Only you would treat this as a treasure.”

He Ran let out a sigh of relief. He was not willing to share them in the slightest.

Watching He Ran walk away, Feng Yuan’s doubts only grew heavier. His close friend seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper.

He had once heard a rumor that a cook from the barbarian lands of the southwest used a poisonous flower to make a drug and secretly added it to his food. Once diners became addicted, they would crave more after every meal.

That woman surnamed Wen had very likely employed such a vile scheme. Otherwise, there was no way to explain his classmate’s condition.

He could not simply stand by and watch. He had to find an opportunity to expose that woman and prevent her from ensnaring any more of his fellow students.

During the Qingming season, rain fell in endless showers. Sure enough, a fine drizzle began early that morning.

The Imperial University was closed for five days. Quite a few students from out of town nevertheless remained at Xiqing Court, but Wen Zhongxia still gave herself two days off.

She had been rising early and retiring late for quite some time. Even if she was not tired, her sister-in-law and little brother needed a rest as well. A proper balance between work and leisure would make them twice as effective with half the effort.

Wen Zhongxia placed fresh green willow branches across the doorway. This was a Qingming custom of the Great Song: willow branches were inserted above the door, a practice known as “brightening the eyes.”¹ It was said that “when willow branches are placed upon the door, no evil spirit will enter the household.”²

After the original owner’s mother died, she was buried in the family graveyard in their native village, far away. Thus, Wen Zhongxia and the others did not need to visit her grave. Instead, they arranged a simple altar in the courtyard and faced it in the direction of their old home.

Once the rain gradually stopped, they lit incense and candles, burned spirit money, and set out vegetarian wine, fruit, and one plate each of pork, mutton, and beef.

The three of them knelt and kowtowed in turn.

After the ritual ended, the offerings could be eaten. This was known as “drinking the blessings.” Offerings made to one’s departed family were believed to bring good fortune to their descendants.

Once the worship was complete, there was nothing else to do. Since the rain had stopped entirely by afternoon, Wen Zhongxia decided to take Wen Mengdong to browse the bookshops.

For one thing, her little brother needed to continue his elementary education. For another, she wanted to see what kinds of books the bookshops of this era sold—and, if possible, find a few entertaining tales.

Xu Xiu had no interest in bookshops. She intended to tidy the house and put away the thick winter clothes.

No wonder it was a holiday. The moment Wen Zhongxia stepped onto the street, she felt that there were many more people than usual. Even the gloomy rain had not dampened everyone’s mood for an outing.

The bookshop was crowded as well. It had two floors, with elegant rooms upstairs where distinguished customers could drink tea while reading. Its business model was almost identical to that of a modern bookstore.

The lower floor held the usual classics, histories, philosophy, and literary works, along with collections of poetry and essays by several contemporary masters.

Wen Zhongxia casually flipped through one or two volumes. Sure enough, this was not the Song Dynasty she remembered. She did not recognize a single famous name.

After finding the elementary primers, she had Little Dong point them out one by one and discovered that he had already studied the Three Character Classic, the Thousand Character Classic, and A Child’s Guide to Learning, among others.

That made things difficult. She truly had no idea what children in ancient times were supposed to read after finishing their primers.

“Sister, I’ll study this.” Wen Mengdong had an idea of his own and directly picked up a copy of The Primer of Mathematical Calculation.³

“Sister certainly supports your studying arithmetic. You could become an excellent mathematician in the future. But if you want to attend the Imperial University, arithmetic alone may not be enough.”

Although the Imperial University offered arithmetic classes, they were merely supplementary subjects. The most important studies were the interpretation of the classics and policy essays.

“Should he start on the Four Books and Five Classics?” Wen Zhongxia murmured, thinking it might be best to ask the shopkeeper.

“At his age, he can begin with the Analects and the Book of Songs.”

The sudden voice from behind startled Wen Zhongxia. She turned around and smiled in surprise. “It’s you, sir. What a coincidence.”

Hang Yao cleared his throat. “Forgive me for interrupting.”

He had not expected to encounter this Madam Wen in the bookshop either. Judging from the way she handled the books, she could do more than merely recognize a few characters.

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“Not at all, not at all.” Wen Zhongxia’s eyes lit up as she looked at him. Wasn’t he a ready-made person to ask for help?

“You said he should read the Analects and the Book of Songs. Is there anything else?”

“If he can thoroughly master those two books, he should essentially be able to pass the examinations at the elementary level. Still, it would be best to hire him a tutor.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Wen Zhongxia’s voice was clear, and her face shone with a bright smile. “Say, among the professors who teach at your school, are any of them willing to tutor children outside the academy?”

Hang Yao was puzzled. The professors who taught him? Did she think he was a student?

Wen Zhongxia’s requirements were not modest either. “Preferably someone with a gentle disposition. A customer once mentioned that you have a professor surnamed Hang who is extremely strict. That won’t do. My little brother is timid, and I’m afraid he might frighten him.”

Professor Hang himself: …

He fell silent for a moment, utterly unsure how to explain matters. In the end, he could only say, “I’m not entirely certain. I’ll ask around for you later.”

“That would trouble you. If there’s no one suitable, never mind. I can look for a tutor elsewhere.”

Wen Zhongxia understood perfectly well that the professors at the Imperial University were all great Confucian scholars. If her father had not been demoted, there might still have been some hope. Now, however, it was probably nothing more than wishful thinking.

After obtaining the Analects and the Book of Songs, Wen Zhongxia went in search of the tales she had been longing for. She picked out two romantic legends about love and two strange tales of spirits and anomalies—perfect reading for passing the time.

When she went to pay, she once again happened to encounter that kind-hearted customer.

Hang Yao glanced at the copy of Strange Accounts of the Extraordinary⁴ lying at the top of the stack in her hands. A trace of surprise flashed through his eyes, but he said nothing.

It was not until the two of them parted ways outside the bookshop that Wen Zhongxia remembered she had once again forgotten to ask his name.

The two blissful days of holiday passed in the blink of an eye, and Wen Zhongxia’s snack stall had to open again.

This time, the stall looked slightly different. She had added two square tables because she was introducing a new item: fresh-meat wontons.

Whether it was meat stuffed into flatbread or hand-grabbed flatbread, eating too much of either was liable to leave one’s mouth dry. At such a moment, a sip of soup brimming with the fresh fragrance of wontons would be perfection itself.

Since she had added so many new things, Wen Zhongxia also raised Uncle Li’s wages.

The Imperial University had not yet reopened, but the moment the students who had remained there saw her stall open, they were overjoyed and hurried to spread the news.

“Madam Wen, you have no idea how I survived these past two days. The dining hall becomes even more negligent during the holidays, and the food is truly impossible to swallow,” complained Qin Qian, one of her most loyal customers.

“Who told you that the person in charge of the dining hall is a relative of the director? No matter how much we object, it does no good.”

“Fortunately, Madam Wen is back. I feel alive again.”

The students chattered away, and Wen Zhongxia found the familiar bustle rather comforting.

“Madam Wen, what new food do you have this time? And are there seats available?” Qin Qian asked in delight.

“This time, the new item is fresh-meat wontons.” Wen Zhongxia smiled as she lifted a square wooden board from the counter. On it were more than ten rows of tiny wontons, each row holding over twenty.

The delicate wontons were arranged in neat lines. Their wrappers were thin as cicada wings, and the pink meat filling within could be seen clearly.

“I’ll have a bowl.”

“I want a large serving too.”

Without another word, the students hurried to claim seats first.

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