Shuiyuelou

page views:1 Publication date:2023-06-11 09:53:02

Author: Prince Shi

Yi

likes two things: Shuiyue'er's bound feet and Ma Laoqi's wok.

In a few days it will be the Dragon Boat Festival, and the breeze sweeping across Shichahai Lake has become warmer. Waterbirds lazily sunbathe, letting the tender green willow branches sway before their eyes. According to past years, the dragon boats should be on the lake by now.

Young men, stripped down to only a short jacket, their long, black braids coiled on their heads, practice paddling with a "whoosh, whoosh" sound to the deafening drumbeats. Dragon boat racing is about having fun and winning prizes. We neighborhood guys, who are we afraid of!

But this year is different. The Prince's Mansion by the lake has issued a decree: "The Eight Barbarians are causing chaos in China," and large numbers of foreign troops are marching into the Legation Quarter. The Empress Dowager has appointed Grand Councilor Zhao Shuqiao to pacify the Boxers, support the Qing, and exterminate the foreigners. The righteous people are preparing to fight the demon soldiers and generals! The capital region is in turmoil; all lantern and dragon boat festivals are strictly prohibited this year!

The men, young and old, were greatly alarmed. They quickly inquired among themselves, discovering that the Prince had consulted the Zi Wei Dou Shu (Purple Star Astrology) using the Twelve Fates method. Guess what? Well! In the twenty-sixth year of the Guangxu Emperor's reign, the year of Gengzi, a day of

inauspicious influence clashing with the dragon, a great calamity for the court! At the end of April in the lunar calendar of 1900, three things sold out in the capital: mugwort, calamus, and realgar wine. The Prince returned to his residence, strolled into his study in the east wing, stroked his goatee, and coughed twice. The steward and the elephant attendant in the courtyard, as if by prior arrangement, immediately bowed and retreated, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

The clinking of jade pendants grew louder as the Prince listened intently for a while, his dim eyes suddenly lighting up. He smiled and sat down in the armchair, watching Shuiyue'er carry a cup of jasmine tea as she swayed across the threshold.

"Greetings, Your Highness," Shuiyue'er said respectfully, bowing and curtsying. The prince grunted and beckoned her over, nearly knocking over the teacup. Shuiyue'er quickly placed the covered bowl on the desk, forcing a smile as the prince pulled her into his arms.

The prince embraced Shuiyue'er and kissed her with his dark lips. This girl was only eighteen or nineteen years old, originally a country girl from beyond the Great Wall. She had fled famine as a child, begging for food until she arrived in the capital, where she was kidnapped and sold into a brothel. The madam was ruthless, binding the girl's feet until they were small and pointed, just the right size to be held in one hand. Coincidentally, the prince had a particular fondness for this type of girl; after one visit, he couldn't give her up and insisted on paying to redeem her, intending to take her as another concubine. The old lady of the Fujin (Prince's wife) had always turned a blind eye, but this time she was truly anxious. Trembling

, she ran to the prince's study, gave a cold laugh, and curtsied, saying, "Your Highness, congratulations! Tomorrow, when the Imperial Clan Court receives the news and reports to the Empress Dowager, there will surely be a generous reward." The prince, horrified, hurriedly asked what she meant. The old lady of the Fujin glared at him: "First, I'll reward you with a green headscarf instead of your red hat, then I'll reward our manor with a large plaque—'The Happy Forest of the Eight Great Hutongs'!" The prince was startled and changed his mind, taking Shuiyue as a maid in his main room, and they met openly and secretly every day.

The prince sat in his armchair, holding Shuiyue's embroidered shoes in his left hand, while his right hand frantically kneaded her small feet, occasionally smelling them and biting them, tormenting Shuiyue until she groaned and begged for mercy, drenched in sweat.

The prince finally became excited, his spirits lifted considerably. He then coughed lightly, "Where is everyone?"

As if by magic, a person appeared out of nowhere in the east wing, which had been completely deserted just moments before. The head steward, with his hands at his sides and head bowed, stood at the bottom of the steps outside the window and replied, "Yes, sir!"

"Go ask the cook if the offerings for the Empress Dowager's Dragon Boat Festival banquet are ready."

"Yes, sir!"

The kitchen was in the west wing of the Prince's mansion, where the stoves were always blazing, filled with smoke. The cutting boards were piled high with venison, camel hump, abalone, tortoise, and seasonal fruits and vegetables. A dozen or so burners lined up on the stoves, some stewing, some simmering, never idle. A roasting oven was built against the east wall, with a juicy suckling pig hanging from the hook, the aroma of fruitwood mingling with the smell of roasting meat, making one's mouth water. According to the rules of the Prince's mansion, the Prince's lunch and dinner must consist of four cold and four hot dishes. In summer, soups were served, and in winter, hot pots were set up. Morning tea and evening wine, followed by afternoon snacks—one sweet and one savory—with the menu changing daily. The cooks serving the prince were divided into those responsible for the stove, cutting board, dishes, and pastries; four or five servants were needed year-round, along with about ten menial laborers. However, whenever the prince mentioned a cook, he always referred to one person: Ma Laoqi.

"Ma Laoqi" was a nickname; he didn't actually have a real name. He just had a few light pockmarks on his face, probably the seventh in his family, in his early forties. This nickname was more fitting than his usual shoes, a perfect fit, impossible to remove! Judging from

Ma Laoqi's accent, he seemed to be from Jingdong. This man's culinary skills, learned from somewhere, were truly remarkable.

To put it simply, ever since Ma Laoqi started working at the prince's residence, the prince had developed a particular fondness for hosting banquets. The guests were all accustomed to delicacies, but they were incredibly astute. Whoever had their meal disturbed was now eagerly anticipating the next. A three-finger-wide red invitation was handed over, and immediately, a flurry of activity ensued. The banquet began at dusk, and by late afternoon, the princes and ministers were already seated in the hall, drooling. They had been drinking and socializing the previous night, and now they were all standing guard together. In the imperial palace, wouldn't it be better to have someone to look out for them?

Next, the prince considered seeking the Empress Dowager's help. A month or so ago, he heard that foreign ministers had demanded that Cixi relinquish power to Guangxu—how could the Empress Dowager tolerate this! Just then, the Boxers marched north from Shandong, setting up altars to practice their martial arts, killing foreign monks and Christians, burning foreign temples, and destroying railways. The prince had a firm grasp on the Empress Dowager's intentions. When the Empress Dowager said she wanted to summon righteous people to the capital to protect the country, the prince contacted the leaders of the Boxers to come to the palace to pay homage. When the Empress Dowager wanted to go to war with the foreigners, the prince said that for the sake of the country, war was unavoidable. After court, even the chief eunuch, Li Lianying, greeted him politely, clearly showing that he was currying favor with the Empress Dowager. But the prince knew perfectly well that this "currying favor" was far from "being truly favored." To truly catch the Empress Dowager's eye, he had to do his best in matters of pleasure and indulgence.

So, the prince gave the order: On the Dragon Boat Festival, the Empress Dowager would definitely host a banquet at the Summer Palace, drinking and watching opera. He ordered the kitchen to prepare exquisite banquet delicacies, sparing no expense and working tirelessly to create unparalleled dishes that would please the Empress Dowager! This

task

, however, truly troubled Ma Laoqi!

The Empress Dowager's meals were an extravagant affair. Each meal featured over a hundred dishes. She must have tasted almost every delicacy imaginable, excluding dragons and phoenixes that fly in the sky and unicorns that roam the earth. Old Ma pondered deeply, the more he considered rare and exotic animals, the more uncertain he felt.

That evening, Old Ma gathered up the leftovers from the Prince's meal, reheating and stewing some, and setting out a table of chicken, duck, fish, and meat in the courtyard. He also brought out a jar of spring wine from a corner of the woodshed, and had a servant quickly invite several eunuchs from the South Pond. They drank and ate merrily for half the night. From those clean, smooth lips, Old Ma learned that the Empress Dowager, like many elderly women, had recently developed a fondness for sweet desserts and fresh fruits. Yesterday at lunch, there was a bowl of bean sprout and chicken paste. This dish requires hollowing out the bean sprouts vertically with an embroidery needle, stuffing them with minced chicken, and then stir-frying them in oil. The Empress Dowager tasted a couple of bites and seemed quite pleased. There was also a dish of lamb tenderloin stir-fried with sugar and sweet bean sauce, resembling honey, piled on a plate like dried apricots; the Empress Dowager also loved it.

After seeing off several unsteady eunuchs, Ma Laoqi squatted under the eaves and smoked a dozen or so pipes of dry tobacco. Finally, he tapped his pipe on the sole of his shoe, stood up, and muttered to himself, "Now that things have come to this, let's go all out, let's refine the ice furnace!"

Early the next morning, accompanied by the steward of the outer courtyard, Ma Laoqi went to the accounting office, retrieved five silver dollars, mounted his horse, and rode straight to the Tongzhou wharf. Just then, several boats carrying loquats from Dongting Mountain in Suzhou had just arrived and hadn't yet entered the inn. Needless to say, the entire capital city hadn't even been listed yet. Without a word, Ma Laoqi tossed down the deposit and pointed to several boatloads of loquats, instructing the innkeeper: "These boatloads of loquats, please carefully select the best, the largest, juiciest, and sweetest, and send them to the Prince's Mansion in Shichahai."

Not far from Tongzhou, they saw a group of people gathered at the entrance of a village by the roadside, men, women, and children. Standing in the center of the crowd were several Boxer Rebellion members, all dressed in red headscarves, red leggings, and red wristbands, holding large knives, chanting incantations and performing rituals. Ma Laoqi had heard that these heroes were protected by gods and invulnerable to swords and spears in battle, and he was itching to see for himself. So, he and the steward who had come with him took the reins and sat on their animal to observe closely.

A fat monk sat upright in the circle of people, wearing a red straw hat and a red kasaya, facing the altar with clear water and incense. His eyes were slightly closed, and he was chanting incantations. Behind the fat monk stood four boys, each with their hair in two buns, their hands clasped together, chanting along with the fat monk: "Bajie, Wukong, no wind allowed, iron eyebrows, iron eyes, iron shoulders and chest! Grandfather is here!" After chanting for a short while, the fat monk suddenly trembled, then swayed and stood up. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and danced around, muttering something unintelligible. Suddenly, the Boxers who had been standing outside the four boys knelt in a row, kowtowed three times to the altar, and also trembled, jumping and dancing.

But the one with the greatest supernatural power was the fat monk. Look, he picked up a piece of green stone and stubbornly banged his bald head against it. With a loud "crash," the fleshy head was unharmed, but the stone shattered. The other monks, one stabbing at me with the tip of a knife, the other swinging a blade at me, all seemed to be playing around, completely unharmed, leaving everyone dumbfounded.

After a moment of astonishment, the four boys burned a talisman on the incense table and performed some gestures. The fat monk and his fellow monks, as if doused with ice water in the dead of winter, sneezed and jolted awake.

They stared blankly, seemingly oblivious to what had just happened. Immediately, a group of mud-covered children pestered the fat monk, wanting to join him and learn magic. The fat monk spoke up, "You naked kids, if it weren't for the Boxers setting up their altar here today, you'd all be eaten alive by those foreign monks sooner or later." He looked around and continued, "The other day, the Empress Dowager summoned the Boxer leader to the palace and asked him what official position he wanted. Our leader said he didn't want any official position, just the heads of one dragon, two tigers, and three hundred sheep. Folks, those Russians are a scourge to our Qing Dynasty, and those bastards are even more damn accomplices! Let's rise up, we have the golden law to protect us, let's march together into the Legation Quarter and curse those Russian ancestors for eight generations!" As he shouted, the fat monk drew a circle on the ground with the tip of his knife, then drew a cross inside the circle, and then slammed the knife handle hard into the cross. A ball of flame shot up with a "whoosh," almost setting the banner ablaze.

Ma Laoqi, standing nearby, couldn't help but marvel at this. After a while, he came to his senses and saw that it was already noon. He hurriedly went back with the steward. After returning the livestock to the stable

three times

, Ma Laoqi went to the west courtyard, drew water from the well to wash the dust off his face, ate a few bites of cold bread with yellow soybean paste, and then locked himself in the north room with a "thump."

For three whole days and three nights, Ma Laoqi did not step out of the north room. He first poured a basin of mung beans from the porcelain jar and soaked them in pure snow water that he had collected during the winter. These beans were unusually green and round and lovely, each one like a jade pearl. In all the country, only a small patch of fertile soil the size of a palm on the banks of the Nenjiang River produced this treasure, yielding no more than a hundred catties a year. This jar of rare stuff was specially sent by General Weiyuan from beyond the Great Wall as a tribute to the prince.

He soaked the mung beans to remove the skins, then simmered them in plum juice over a low heat until they turned into fine sand. He then soaked them in honey wine, dried them, and repeated this process many times. While the red bean paste was drying, a sparrow flew in and pecked at it, its back window in the north room wide open. Old Ma stomped his feet to chase it away, but the sparrow, unafraid of people, circled the windowsill and wouldn't fly far. Old Ma had no choice but to close the window. Suddenly, he heard a "plop" sound. Looking out the window, he saw that the sparrow, having tasted the paste, had tried to come inside and ended up crashing into the window frame and dying.

"Alas, though you had a life, it wasn't blessed with good fortune," Old Ma sighed softly.

That evening, the Tongzhou wharf warehouse delivered loquats to his residence. Following instructions, they gathered all their workers, and after a long day's work, finally managed to select a small basket of loquats, weighing only about ten pounds in total. This small basket of loquats was truly breathtaking: each one was as big as a spring peach, a bright yellow color, so fresh that it seemed to burst with honey juice at the slightest touch. The whole room was filled with a sweet fragrance, which even the door couldn't contain, as the loquats sizzled and squeezed through the cracks.

Old Ma carefully peeled the loquats, removed the pits, and filled them with mung bean paste. After completing this step, he immediately gathered a group of servants from the Prince's mansion and headed straight for Jade Spring Mountain.

Halfway up the mountain, there was a sunny hollow where several watermelons, half-grown and full of juice, grew in the cracks of the rocks.

Not far away, there was a thatched hut where an old man with a white beard sat. Ma Laoqi stepped forward and bowed deeply: "Great-Grandpa, Qi'er greets you."

Great-Grandpa looked Ma Laoqi up and down: "Qi'er, you want to refine the ice furnace?"

"I wouldn't dare, Qi'er is just gambling on luck."

"You brat! Do you think my life's cultivation is for you to gamble on?"

"Great-Grandpa, don't take it to heart, Qi'er knows he was wrong."

"Hmm. I knew you'd come sooner or later, that's why I'm guarding these few rascals, afraid they'll be ruined by wild animals. Go on!"

"Thank you, Great-Grandpa!" Ma Laoqi kowtowed, kneeling on the ground and hesitantly asked: "Great-Grandpa, do you think Qi'er can refine it tonight?"

"That depends on whether the gods protect you. If the White Lady passes by here at midnight, then it will be considered a success." Ma Laoqi kowtowed again, stood up, and took out a feathered knife. He scooped three or four holes in each watermelon, removed the pulp, stuffed loquats inside, covered them with the rinds, sealed the openings with yellow mud, leaving the stems exposed for the juice to seep in. After finishing, Ma Laoqi squatted by the stream to wash his hands. Downstream, a splash of water erupted, and fish in the pool darted towards where he washed his hands, startling the servants.

At midnight, the mountain grew cool. The servants huddled together, shivering. Ma Laoqi, however, kept muttering to himself: "The colder, the better." As the night wore on, a sudden chill appeared from nowhere, and a layer of frost creaked and groaned on the grass and branches. The fish, which had been quietly dozing, all slid to the bottom of the pool with a "whoosh," and a layer of ice formed jagged edges along the edge of the water. Looking at the few watermelon eggs again, they were completely covered by the white frost formed from dewdrops, like crystal balls in a dragon palace. Old Ma rushed into the shack: "Great-Grandpa, the White Lady is here! The ice furnace is finished!"

No one answered.

Looking closer at the straw mat, the white-bearded old man had passed away peacefully.

Had he survived a year? Or perhaps a lifetime? It was terrifyingly long, everything frozen into the chaotic shape before the creation of the world, utterly silent.

In fact, only one day had passed from dawn until now.

At dusk, movement came from the front gate of the courtyard; the prince's eight sedan chairs landed in front of the screen wall. Old Ma's heart suddenly pounded wildly. Hearing the prince enter through the hanging flower gate, the entire mansion gradually fell silent.

A series of footsteps quickly approached from afar, though so faint as to be almost drowned out by the rustling of the wind, but Old Ma could still recognize them as the sound of the steward's quick boots. Whenever there were any orders from the main house, it was this steward who relayed them. If the cook pleased his master, the steward would greet him with a cheerful, "Seventh Master!" But if a dish wasn't prepared properly and the main house seemed to be blaming him, the steward's address would be anything but polite: "Hey, Ma Qi!"

Ma Laoqi would be led into the courtyard, barely daring to breathe, waiting for the steward's greeting.

"Well, well, come with me to the study to report back." Looking at the steward's unpredictable expression, Ma Laoqi knew that the man hadn't grasped the prince's intentions either. Dazed,

he followed the steward into the back courtyard through the hanging flower gate, then past the screen wall of three gates, and Ma Laoqi felt a sudden chill run down his spine. Serving in the prince's mansion, the servants in the front courtyard were not allowed to approach the hanging flower gate, let alone enter the prince's study in the east wing. The women and maids were all absent, and the surroundings were so quiet that not even a sparrow could be seen. The steward stopped Ma Laoqi at the foot of the stone steps outside the study window, then bowed his head and said in a voice neither too loud nor too soft , "Your Highness, it is cook Ma Laoqi who reports to His Majesty." He then vanished without a trace.

Ma Laoqi, unable to control himself, collapsed to his knees with a thud.

"Ahem," a cough came from inside the study, "Ma Laoqi, the tribute 'Ice Furnace Peaches,' the Empress Dowager graciously used a few. Who knew..." The prince coughed again, catching his breath, and continued, "Who knew the Empress Dowager, in her boundless grace, would bestow such a reward upon him."

Instantly, Ma Laoqi felt as if a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from his shoulders; his whole body went limp, and he almost fainted. Forcing himself

to stay awake, he blurted out, "Thank you for your grace, Empress Dowager! Thank you for your favor, Prince!" What followed was so shocking that Ma Laoqi could hardly believe his ears: "Well, this is an imperial decree from the Empress Dowager, ordering you to go to the Hall of Benevolence and Longevity in the Summer Palace, to serve in the Imperial Kitchen. Ma Laoqi, you really have the good fortune to rise to such heights!"

Ma Laoqi kowtowed repeatedly: "This servant thanks the Empress Dowager for her grace! Thank you for your honor, Prince!"

Inadvertently, Ma Laoqi glanced at the study and suddenly saw Shui Yue'er's figure dart past. In that fleeting moment, half of Ma Laoqi's body went limp. This woman, with eyes like bright stars, a face like a full moon, plump breasts, and a round bottom, made Ma Laoqi, who had never been with a woman before, fantasize wildly.

He couldn't remember how he got out, but Seventh Master Ma wandered around incoherently, then went into the west courtyard and lay down on the kang (heated brick bed). The steward warmly escorted him to the kang, saying, "According to the Empress Dowager's decree, Seventh Master, you must go to work at the Hall of Benevolence and Longevity in the Summer Palace. However, May is a month when all insects emerge from their burrows, a very unlucky month. The Imperial Household Department is afraid of offending anyone, so they don't allow strangers into the Imperial Kitchen. You're currently helping out at our Prince's residence, and the head eunuch has said that after this month, you should ask for a better position."

Just moments

ago, he was suffering in an icy abyss, and suddenly he was lifted to the highest heavens. The combination of fever and chills, the extreme highs and lows, was unbearable for poor Seventh Master Ma! His face was flushed red from the fever, and he tossed and turned on the kang, talking nonsense.

The other cooks working in the Imperial Kitchen, because Seventh Master Ma always had the upper hand, didn't usually treat him well. They were polite on the surface, but deep down they hated him. The old men finished preparing dinner and had the young men brew some flower tea. They didn't bother asking whether Ma Laoqi was alive or dead, and sat in the courtyard, legs crossed, chatting idly.

"An ice furnace! I've only heard about it since I was a kid, but I've never actually seen one. Hey, Ma Laoqi really managed to make one!" one of the older men said. "Think about it, red bean paste always has a hint of heat when it's simmered, and the flavor slowly rises outwards with that heat. Outside, the watermelon is filling with juice, carrying the essence of heaven and earth, pushing its way in through the frost. Ice and fire intertwine, yin and yang communicate—even refining an elixir couldn't be better!"

One of the younger men chimed in, "That's right. I heard that the Empress Dowager ate one of these ice furnace peaches, and her white hair instantly turned black. She ate another, and all the wrinkles on her face disappeared!"

"Go to hell with your nonsense!" another objected. "The workings of heaven and earth, the balance of yin and yang, are these things to be trifled with? In my opinion, while Ma Laoqi has successfully forged the ice furnace, he has also offended the gods and incurred divine retribution!"

Just as they were talking about divine retribution, a strange wind suddenly swept through the courtyard, making the heads of the men, young and old, tingle and raising goosebumps. They huddled together, fearfully glancing at the small hut where Ma Laoqi slept.

The Empress Dowager sat high on her lotus throne, like a Bodhisattva. Ma Laoqi trembled as he offered a plate of tribute fruit, not daring to even lift his eyelids.

"Ma Laoqi," the Empress Dowager's voice drifted from afar, "I have a reward for you!"

Instantly, Ma Laoqi changed into official robes, clutching a handful of gold ingots. After thanking the Empress Dowager for her great favor, he entered his old family home, a three-room dilapidated thatched hut.

His family owned vast fields and numerous servants. Old Ma Qi was on friendly terms with the local officials, acting all high and mighty! However, something puzzled him: why were he always coming and going from the same three dilapidated thatched huts?

"Tear them down!" Old Ma Qi reached out to pull at the thatch under the eaves, but a group of children came running over, chattering and clamoring for their father to hold them. Old Ma Qi muttered to himself: when did he get married? Where did all these little brats come from! He turned his head and saw Shui Yue'er smiling to the side. Oh, isn't that my wife?!

Somehow, he ended up on the bed with his wife, seeing her plump breasts still leaking milk. Looking down at her lower body, all he could see was a white, misty mass, and he couldn't make out anything. Suddenly, he felt a strong swelling, and before he could figure out what was happening, a wave of intense pleasure erupted.

Old Ma Qi jolted awake. Slowly regaining his senses, he realized he was soaking wet beneath him. He spat at himself, feeling both ashamed and annoyed: "A half-dead man like me, still causing trouble!" He quickly pulled a clean pair of underpants from under the mat and changed in the dark.

The next morning, he was completely cured.

Everyone in the household knew that Ma Laoqi was going to serve the Empress Dowager. Even the clerk, who usually didn't pay much attention to the servants, was incredibly polite to Ma Laoqi: "Seventh Master, have you eaten yet?"

Because he was eagerly awaiting news from the Imperial Household Department, Ma Laoqi's mind kept wandering outside the gate, feeling that the commotion in the market was growing louder every day. The Boxers and the Red Lanterns had, within days, filled the entire city. Because the prince, following the Empress Dowager's wishes, vigorously advocated war against the foreigners, the Boxers held him in high esteem. They even set up a boxing ring in front of the prince's mansion, with a large flag at its entrance proclaiming, "Acting on behalf of Heaven, by Imperial Decree, the Boxers." Whenever the prince went out, his fellow disciples, each carrying a large, menacing sword, would stand on either side, hands on hips

, to escort his official sedan chair. This display of power even made Ma Laoqi feel quite proud. However, there were also things that terrified Ma Laoqi. Besides practicing boxing and performing rituals, the area in front of the gate was also used by the Boxers as an execution ground. Those who believed in foreign religions were brought in bound hand and foot, and with a few strokes of the sword, heads rolled, leaving large pools of blood on the stone pavement every day. Several officials, because of their association with foreigners, were also beheaded by the Boxers with their swords. It was said that these families were completely ransacked, and the women also suffered.

These days, the Prince's mansion has been unusually busy with guests. Sometimes, when guests are invited to dine, the conversations coming from the main rooms are quite different from before. Previously, they were particular about the finest food, sparing no expense. Now, the dishes served are just a token gesture; the more economical, the better. According to Ma Laoqi, the Prince not only doesn't lack money, but is actually filling his chests with piles of gold and silver. Officials who come to pay their respects must first present a long list of gifts. Those who aren't of high enough status try to curry favor with the steward and clerks, offering them money and brief documents. Ma Laoqi thinks this is probably all thanks to the Empress Dowager's influence.

With his changed status, Ma Laoqi has more free time. Sometimes, he finds himself wandering outside the hanging flower gate. Finally, one day, the charming woman in the courtyard showed her face. Seeing Ma Laoqi's dazed expression, she suddenly smiled, a smile that was exactly like the scene in his dream. The guards didn't know whether to stop her or not, so they cleared their throats as a reminder.

Counting on his fingers, the day of departure was getting closer and closer.

Gunshots had been ringing out in the distance for several days. The steward said that foreign soldiers and generals were attacking the city. The boxing ring at the gate had been removed, and his fellow disciples had gone to reinforce their troops to attack the Xishiku Church. The prince hardly went out, and the people who came to visit him had disappeared.

Ma Laoqi was still thinking about the matter of the imperial kitchen and asked the steward of the main house to go in and ask for a word. He asked several times, but the steward always replied that the prince was busy. When he asked again, the steward's tone was different.

A sense of foreboding spread in Ma Laoqi's heart.

Finally, the foreign troops breached Beijing, burning, killing, and looting everywhere. Boxer followers lay scattered across the streets, their bodies riddled with bullet holes. On the day the city fell, a troop of foreign soldiers stormed into the Prince's mansion, killing a dozen or so servants wielding knives and clubs. They looted all the valuables and antiques, and chased away the women and maids, who cried out in despair. Ma Laoqi, along with the cook and servants, were all dragged out from under the straw hut in the woodshed. Two foreign soldiers put the prince's red hat on Ma Laoqi and forced him into a court robe. Then, the two soldiers got into a rickshaw, pressed a bayonet against the back of Ma Laoqi's head, and treated him like an animal.

Ma Laoqi dragged the rickshaw into a winding alley and suddenly overturned it. The two soldiers, laughing and joking, were caught off guard and fell to the ground, unable to get up for a long time. Seeing an opportunity,

Ma Laoqi took off running and disappeared in the blink of an eye. He

then made his way out of Beijing that very night, begging for food as he headed south. He was determined that the Jiangnan region was a land of plenty, where he could at least find a meal. Fortunately, the weather was warm, making his journey easy during the day, and he could find a straw hut to sleep in at night.

The further south he went, the more peaceful the land seemed, and the easier it was to ask for help.

After traveling for more than ten days, he arrived at Qingjiangpu. Ma Laoqi had a distant relative who worked at the River Governor's Office. He finally managed to meet him, but the relative, upon hearing he was from the capital, worried he might be involved in the Boxer Rebellion, so he gave him some travel money and sent him on his way. Ma Laoqi took a boat south along the Grand Canal, passing Yangzhou, and arrived at Yizheng, where he disembarked, stayed at an inn, and changed to a riverboat. Ahead was Huangtiandang at the mouth of the Yangtze River; from there, he could go east to Suzhou and Hangzhou, or west to Nanjing. Ma Laoqi pondered that night: man proposes, God disposes. Tomorrow morning, if an east wind blows, he'll head to Nanjing; if a west wind blows, he'll naturally go to Suzhou.

The next morning, Ma Laoqi went out to look around and saw the teahouse signs fluttering westward. Just like Zhuge Liang borrowing arrows with straw boats, an east wind had risen!

After the New Year, the main road in Nanjing was finally completed. The rickshaw pullers, climbing Huangni Ridge and Gulou Slope, felt they could save a lot of energy. But they had to be extremely careful; at the sound of a yamen runner shouting, they had to quickly give way. A moment's hesitation, and a whip would come lashing down.

At this moment, Zhang Zhidong, the Viceroy of Liangjiang, rode in his large green sedan chair, with a tall apricot-yellow umbrella in front, winding along the main road. Two years ago, during the Boxer Rebellion, Zhang Zhidong was still serving as the Viceroy of Huguang, and he absolutely opposed allowing the Boxers to "support the Qing and destroy the foreigners." When the Eight-Nation Alliance besieged Beijing, the court issued an edict ordering various warlords to lead troops to "serve the emperor." Zhang Zhidong and several other southern warlords agreed to "protect themselves in the southeast," none of them heading north to fight the foreigners. They showed no respect for the Empress Dowager; their audacity was truly astounding!

Look, the Eight-Nation Alliance breached Beijing, and the Empress Dowager, along with Emperor Guangxu, fled to the Guanzhong Plain, too frightened to return to Beijing for almost two years. Li Hongzhang negotiated peace with the foreigners with trepidation. The princes and ministers who had suppressed the Boxer Rebellion were either beheaded or exiled, and the court had to pay the Japanese a staggering 450 million taels of silver in reparations. The court lost face, and the people of Tianjin and Beijing suffered greatly. Conversely, the southeastern provinces remained peaceful.

The grand sedan chair entered the Governor-General's residence and stopped outside the ceremonial gate. Zhang Zhidong walked around the offices and the main hall, and in the second hall, he was given his official hat and his robes loosened. His attendant served him a cup of pre-rain tea, which he slowly ate to catch his breath before asking,

"Is there any official business?"

A clerk entered from the corridor and replied, "Reporting to the Governor-General, two official documents have just arrived at the signing office. One is a telegram from Tianjin, and the other is a memorial from Magistrate Lin of Jiangning."

Zhang Zhidong took the telegram and unfolded it to examine it closely. The telegram, sent by the Beiyang Governor-General's Office, had been retrieved by the signing office according to both Chinese and Western calendars. It stated that the Jinling Arsenal had conducted a test launch of rockets in Tanggu, which had exploded again.

The rocket branch of the Jinling Arsenal was an asset left by Li Hongzhang. The greatest threat to the Qing Dynasty throughout history had been the superior ships and cannons of the foreigners. Once rockets were installed on the coastal forts, the foreign warships could easily unleash a barrage of fire from afar, sending the foreigners home to meet their grandmothers! However, the rockets just wouldn't be built. This time, the American mechanic hired, Ma Renli, had wrecked the rockets during the test launch. Zhang Zhidong was furious and wrote several large characters: "Dismiss Ma Renli, and order the head of the rocket branch to investigate!"

After catching his breath, Zhang Zhidong picked up his second official task. This is a memorial from Prefect Jiangning, roughly stating that some prefectures and counties are using the levy of taxes to extort money from the people, causing unrest among the populace. He requests that the Commander-in-Chief order the abolition of these schools. After reading it, Zhang Zhidong asked, "Is Prefect Lin here?"

The clerk replied, "He's still waiting in the signing room."

"Summon him!"

A moment later, Prefect Lin bowed and entered the second hall. After exchanging greetings and taking his seat, his attendants served tea.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Zhang Zhidong asked directly, "In your opinion, is it better to abolish the practice of raising funds and levying donations for schools, as it easily breeds abuses?"

Prefect Lin bowed and replied, "Your Excellency is wise. My concern is twofold. First, when prefectures and counties are tasked with establishing schools, officials inevitably engage in extortion and other corrupt practices. Some commoners, with only a thousand strings of cash to their name, are charged as much as three hundred strings of cash annually, almost to the point of widespread public resentment! Second, throughout history, the imperial court has had the Imperial Academy, and each province has prefectural and county schools. The foundation of a scholar's career lies in 'excelling in learning to become an official.' If we allow Western-style schools to flourish, how will Your Excellency face the scholars of the land?"

Zhang Zhidong knew that this Prefect Lin, who had only passed the imperial examination at over fifty years old, was particularly concerned about the hardships of scholars.

During his tenure in Jiangning Prefecture, he enjoyed exchanging poems with local luminaries, and his literary works were renowned throughout Jiangsu and Zhejiang. He was an official who refused bribes, ensured no wrongful convictions, and achieved excellent results in examinations. He especially loved visiting the county schools of Jiangning and Shangyuan near Confucius Temple to inspect their work, review students' essays, and encourage younger generations.

Therefore, although Prefect Lin was his subordinate, Zhang Zhidong still showed him exceptional respect.

Zhang Zhidong sighed and showed the telegram from the Jinling Arsenal to Prefect Lin: "What you say, brother, is indeed true. My elder brother, to all accounts, was the top scholar in the imperial examination of the Dingwei year of the Daoguang reign. I, your brother, became the top scholar in the provincial examination at fifteen, and at twenty-six, I was fortunate enough to become the third-ranked scholar in the palace examination. This is all thanks to the court's grace, how could I not repay it! But look, even if one excels in studies, can one become an official? Can we withstand the powerful ships and cannons of the foreigners? There is no one in the country to build ironclad warships or rocket launchers, so we have to hire foreign mechanics at high salaries. The hearts of the foreigners are unfathomable, and important military matters are being delayed again and again! Brother, in the current situation, if I do not fail the scholars of the world, the scholars of the world will fail the country and the nation!"

Seeing Zhang Zhidong's agitated expression and two lines of tears in his eyes, Prefect Lin remained silent for a long time before slowly taking his leave.

As evening fell, the kitchen brought out the evening wine, starting with Zhang Zhidong's usual four favorite dishes: bird's nest with shredded duck, stir-fried shrimp, three-delicacy pigeon eggs, and braised duck kidneys. He took a sip of Shaoxing rice wine, picked up a piece of duck shreds with his chopsticks, and put it in his mouth, finding the taste too bland and too tough to chew.

"Sigh," Zhang Zhidong thought silently, "the cooks in the kitchen, like this Prefect Lin, are all getting old."

After dinner, Zhang Zhidong picked up his pen under the lamp and began drafting the "Memorial on the Establishment of the Sanjiang Normal School," which he had been preparing for some time. The news of

the six

marshals submitting their memorials caused a stir in the

Confucius Temple area. The Confucius Temple, located on the banks of the Qinhuai River, was known as the "Number One School in the Southeast," its grandeur awe-inspiring. The screen wall of the Confucius Temple stood across the river, with the middle channel serving as the Pan Pool, and

the "Lingxing Gate" archway standing on the north side of the Pan Pool. Behind the Dacheng Hall of the Confucius Temple were the county schools of Jiangning and Shangyuan, where scholars studied and lectured. To the east of the Dacheng Hall was the examination hall for the Jiangnan provincial examinations. Every three years, a grand examination was held; if a scholar passed and became a Juren, he could take the Jinshi examination three years later. According to the old imperial calendar, a Jinshi was guaranteed an official position.

This year was another grand examination year, and tens of thousands of scholars gathered along the banks of the Qinhuai River. The wealthy young men rented spacious riverside halls, hired glamorous courtesans, and happily "studied by the company of beauties." The lesser scholars, more frivolous, simply stayed at the homes of prostitutes on Shiba Street, engaging in fleeting affairs. The inns were packed, bustling with activity.

Thanks to the patronage of wealthy gentry and scholars, the restaurants, teahouses, and snack stalls along the Qinhuai River were thriving. However,

once news broke that the imperial examinations were to be abolished, not only were the scholars filled with anxiety, but the food and beverage industry also felt a sense of unease.

Ma Laoqi had been running a small food stall outside the Confucian Temple for almost three years. Hearing from a friend in Beijing that the Prince's Mansion in Shichahai had been ruined by foreigners, he gave up the idea of returning. He rented a dilapidated boat on the Qinhuai River, preparing ingredients, tidying up his equipment, and sleeping there at night. In the morning, he would go ashore, set up a makeshift shelter, a crooked table with four narrow stools, and place a chopstick holder and sauce jars on the table. After setting up the fire tongs, his morning market business would begin. Most of the nearby food stalls were of the Yangzhou style, but Ma Laoqi's was authentically Beijing, and he offered different dishes every day: premium steamed buns, lotus leaf pastries, alfalfa sweet cakes, shredded chicken noodles, and hot and sour duck soup. The scholars, discerning enough, noticed that Ma Laoqi's stall was different, even exuding a subtle air of grandeur. Therefore, they flocked to it, and business was exceptionally good.

After Ma Laoqi's food stall, a restaurant called "Zhao's Restaurant" opened. The signboard was indeed apt: the shop was so small it could only fit two dining tables. The owner, Zhao Guisheng, was in his early twenties, unmarried, and worked as both cook and apprentice. Being young, Zhao Guisheng's skills were still developing, so business wasn't booming. The shop had been passed down from their ancestors; they did business during the day, and at night, once the doors were closed, the master and apprentice would put the dining tables together and sleep.

Even so, Zhao Guisheng didn't think much of Ma Laoqi. According to him, he was at least a young shopkeeper. No matter how

bustling the stall was under the shade of the eaves, it was still just a makeshift stall.

Ma Renli, dismissed by Marshal Zhang, was sent back to Nanjing by the American Methodist Episcopal Church to preach. He changed his name to Ma Shanren, sporting a long, bright yellow braid, pink boots, and a mandarin jacket. During the day, he played the sanxian (a three-stringed plucked instrument) and sang "Investiture of the Gods" at the Confucius Temple teahouse, and at night he rested on his rented painted boat. This foreigner spoke fluent Chinese, becoming quite a sight on the Qinhuai River.

Ma Laoqi, having finished his morning market stall, squatted by the riverbank washing his tools when Ma Shanren came ashore with his sanxian to sing a soul-stirring tune. Seeing Ma Laoqi had made the river water greasy, he was displeased: "Hey, friend, this isn't good. The river isn't clean, and neither is your livelihood!"

Ma Laoqi glared at him, thinking to himself: "Bullshit! What right do you have to tell me what to do?" Ma Laoqi cursed under his breath, deliberately splashing water to wash himself. Ma Shanren, afraid of getting his clothes wet, shook his head and left without a word.

Ma Laoqi, basking in his smugness, suddenly saw Zhao Guisheng returning from his shopping trip, a birdcage in his left hand and a Yixing pottery teapot in his right, sitting on a stone bench by the river, sipping tea and staring blankly. He couldn't help but call out, "Manager Zhao, taking a break?" It

was clearly a polite greeting, but Zhao Guisheng, that idiot, misunderstood. He thought to himself: What does this mean? My business is doing well, but does that mean you're the one to dabble in it? His suspicions ran, and he sneered, "Oh, Ma Laoqi, so busy! Making money, huh? So much work!"

Ma Laoqi chuckled inwardly: This fool, why is he arguing with me, Master Qi? "If you're so capable, improve your cooking skills. Don't cook anything that looks like a coffin lid. Don't look down on me, kid. I'm just setting up a stall here today, but one day you'll have to look up to me." While his mind was racing, he spoke sweetly, "Well, look at what Manager Zhao is saying, it's all thanks to your help." After a brief joke, he went back to preparing for the afternoon market. Nine cannon shots rang out in front of

the

examination hall, and the three gates opened one after another. Prefect Lin, in his official robes and hat, bowed in the courtroom and began letting the students into the examination hall. Because they would be staying inside for three days and three nights, each student, in addition to their stationery, carried a bamboo basket containing food, cooking utensils, bowls, chopsticks, and an oilcloth. To prevent cheating, two constables stood at the entrance and searched each student. The examination hall was packed with people, and it wasn't until nightfall that everyone had entered. Only after the gates of the training ground were sealed off did Prefect Lin return to the academy in his sedan chair and have dinner at the Zunjing Pavilion.

Normally, Ma Laoqi would have already prepared a white broth with a whole chicken and lean ham, chopped up the glistening skin of a roasted duck, and prepared shredded chicken, diced wild mushrooms, shredded tofu, chopped cilantro, and a dash of vinegar. As soon as the official sedan chair entered, he would quickly prepare the spicy and sour duck soup in a small bowl and simmer it over a low flame. After three cups of wine, Prefect Lin would invariably send his attendant out, ensuring the soup was cooked to perfection. The piping hot duck soup was brought in, and by the time it reached the Zunjing Pavilion, it was cooled just right to drink. It was perfect for sobering up and aiding digestion—this was exactly what Prefect Lin loved. After serving dinner, the attendant would bring out the small bowl; in addition to the regular bill, the attendant's tips were all personal gifts. Therefore, the attendant treated Ma Laoqi with even greater enthusiasm than if he were seeing his own father.

But tonight, Ma Laoqi remained unhurried, sitting calmly smoking his pipe as if nothing had happened.

As usual, not long after, his attendant strolled leisurely out of the Dacheng Gate, a confident expression on his face. He stopped beside Ma Laoqi and stretched out his hand: "Ma Laoqi, soup!"

Ma Laoqi looked at his attendant: "What soup?"

"Ahem!" The attendant sensed something was amiss, "The lord's spicy duck soup!"

"Oh, I didn't make it today."

The attendant's face turned pale instantly: "Oh dear, Master Qi, how am I supposed to explain this to the lord!"

Ma Laoqi smiled: "Don't worry. You tell the lord that Ma Laoqi offered sacrifices to the stove god today, so that he can bring fresh food to the lord tomorrow. If the lord asks again, just say that Ma Laoqi has to answer in person."

The attendant, with a bitter face, looked back several times as he hesitantly walked inside. Sure enough, a moment later, the henchman came out again, staring at Ma Laoqi for a long time as if he didn't recognize him, before finally uttering, "Seventh Master, go up and report to the magistrate."

Entering the Zunjing Pavilion, he saw a black lacquered table with gold trim in the main room, with four side dishes and a wine pot on it. Magistrate Lin sat behind the table, holding a thread-bound book, squinting at it under the lamplight. Ma Laoqi bowed respectfully and stood aside with his hands at his sides.

Prefect Lin glanced at him: "Old Ma, what kind of fresh seafood do you want?"

Old Ma replied calmly: "Your Excellency, I wish to offer the freshest seafood of heaven and earth."

"Oh! What do you mean?"

"Your Excellency, tomorrow evening, around sunset, I would like to invite three or four distinguished guests to take a small boat and drift to the heart of the Yangtze River. I will then prepare the seasonings and, with a sharp knife, prepare three or four whitefish that the fishermen have just caught in their nets, so that Your Excellency may enjoy some river delicacies." Having stood outside the academy for three years, Old Ma had acquired a scholarly air in his speech.

"Ha!" Prefect Lin became interested. "I wonder what's so special about this river delicacy?"

"My lord, I'm foolish, but I know your heart is ancient, and you can't stand this filth. I've heard scholars in the academy talking about a book called *Lüshi Chunqiu*, which says: the most beautiful flavors in the world are in the water. Especially the heart of the Yangtze River, connected to the spirit of the heavens, free from any dust. A harmony of heaven and man, yin and yang in perfect balance. My lord, isn't this the flavor you've been looking for?"

Prefect Lin was stunned, and it took him a while to recover. He looked Ma Laoqi up and down, then stood up with a thud and said, "This isn't a cook, he's simply… he's simply…" Prefect Lin hesitated for a long time, unable to find the right words, then suddenly asked, "How much reward do you intend to ask for for this river delicacy?"

"Your virtuous character, Lord Lin, is renowned among us. If you are satisfied, I'd rather not ask for a reward, but only hope to serve you under your tutelage for a long time."

"Such a skilled chef, it would be against all reason not to keep you!"

"Thank you for your grace, Your Excellency!"

The following

evening, a painted boat rowed out of the Qinhuai West Water Gate, sailing down the Sancha River into the Yangtze. Behind the painted boat, a small stove boat followed with a creaking sound.

Far off in the middle of the river, a fishing boat was moored, an old fisherman wearing a straw hat and raincoat, his net scattering the starlight across the river. The painted boat rowed up to the fishing boat, just as the moon rose over the eastern hills. It was a midsummer night, the sky a clear blue. In the distance, fishermen sang their evening songs, and stars twinkled. Such a beautiful scene stirred a desire in Prefect Lin and several scholars in the cabin to

retire into seclusion. The painted boat and the stove boat moored next to the fishing boat. Old Ma Qi emerged from the stove cabin and bowed to the old fisherman across the side of the boat.

The old fisherman nodded, and "swish!" another net was cast. Slowly, the rope was pulled in, and several white fish were seen leaping and splashing as they were hauled onto the boat.

A flock of gulls flew over, circling for a long time.

Old Ma took a bamboo basket, dipped it in river water, and placed the white fish on the table. He scaled them, removed the gills, and gutted them, his hands moving swiftly up and down like the wings of gulls. In an instant, several plump, whole fish were laid flat on a porcelain plate. He sprinkled on ginger shreds, scallions, and chrysanthemum leaves, poured on soy sauce and wine, and steamed them over a high flame.

Inside the painted boat, several officials had just taken a couple of sips of hot tea when a plate of steamed white fish was served.

Outside the porthole, a string of shooting stars fell from the Milky Way in the night sky.

This single plate of river delicacies had emptied a jar of fine Shaoxing wine. Prefect Lin was tipsy.

Suddenly, a fast boat sped out of the Longjiang Water Gate, gliding swiftly toward the painted boat. As they drew nearer, the large characters "Jiangning Prefectural Government Office" on the lantern at the bow of the boat became clearly visible. Prefect Lin's expression changed, and he quickly stood at the bow, ordering his yamen runners to demand the reason for the arrival.

The person who had come by boat was a clerk from the Jiangning Prefectural Government's ceremonial office. From a distance, this clerk shouted incoherently, "Your Excellency, the examination hall is on fire!"

Prefect Lin stumbled, nearly falling into the middle of the river.

In the sweltering summer heat, those in the examination cells wore oilcloths for shade, fearing the scorching sun. Underneath, small stoves were lit, used for haphazardly cooking. Things were different now; examination rules were utterly lax, and the inspectors turned a blind eye. Even smuggled-in students were allowed in. What wouldn't these students do in the examination cells?

No wonder Zhang Zhidong was determined to abolish the imperial examination system.

That night, the candidates were half-asleep in their cells when sparks from the charcoal stoves ignited the oilcloths, and a draft swept them onto the roof tiles. This fire spread like wildfire, "a single drop of water worth a thousand pieces of gold." Prefect Lin arrived at the examination site, realizing the gravity of his crime. While ordering his yamen runners to clean up the mess, he pondered: this was a huge disaster. If the governor's office reported the truth, the court would hold him accountable, and he might even face imprisonment. Furthermore, Commander Zhang had long wanted to establish a school in Jiangning Prefecture, but Lin had repeatedly submitted memorials opposing it, and he had heard that the Governor-General was already considering finding someone more capable. Perhaps it would be better to resign now and live out the rest of his life in peace.

Early the next morning, Lin submitted his resignation to the Governor-General's office. Zhang Zhidong, mindful of Lin's reputation as an official, didn't make things difficult for him.

A few days later, the Sanjiang Normal School was officially established in the Jiangning Prefecture government office.

Lin retired to a life of seclusion, his attendants and staff went their separate ways, and even the cook reluctantly left.

Ma Laoqi sat alone in the dilapidated cabin, clutching a jar of cooking wine and a dish of salted beans, eating and crying intermittently, never having felt so heartbroken. While eating and crying, he went out to urinate and saw Ma Shanren's boat parked right next to him. Fueled by alcohol, the man unleashed all his pent-up resentment, filling Ma Shanren's painted boat with a foul stench. Hearing the commotion, the boy sniffed and leaped from the cabin to the bow, grabbing a pole and striking Ma Laoqi across the face. Ma Laoqi tried to dodge but couldn't, taking several solid blows. The man, enraged, grabbed a wine jar and swung it: "Take this!" A sharp crack echoed as the boy's forehead was smashed.

Ma Shanren, injured, swollen his head like a doll in the wind. He quickly wrapped it in cloth, making him look like a woman in the throes of passion from afar. He called the local constable, who dragged Ma Laoqi to Shangyuan County, terrifying the magistrate. Remembering how many officials had been beheaded in the chaos of fighting, he knew his post would be in jeopardy if negotiations broke out, and he nearly ended up kowtowing to the plaintiff.

Ma Shanren explained the whole story, and Ma Laoqi had no way to argue, dejectedly awaiting his punishment. Shangyuan County was just about to do this when Ma Shanren, with a sudden glint in his eye, said Ma Laoqi would have to serve him for three months. After a hundred days, once his injuries healed, everything would be fine, and the three months' wages would be considered compensation. If his injuries didn't heal, then severe punishment could be carried out later.

Shangyuan County only cared about satisfying the foreigners; whatever Ma Shanren said was acceptable. Ma Laoqi's hard labor became "Shangyuan County's screen wall—made of planks" (planks: Nanjing dialect, definitely).

What

bad luck!

Ma Laoqi gritted his teeth in hatred, squatting at the stern of the painted boat, huffing and puffing as he sharpened his knife. He scooped up a handful of river water and poured it down the back of the blade; the red rust flowed like blood.

Every time he just encountered good fortune, misfortune struck. This time, he was being held captive in the cabin by the foreigners, like a slave, utterly dejected!

When it came to foreigners, Ma Laoqi felt nothing but hatred. However, as time went on, he began to find this foreigner surnamed Ma rather "unusual." First, despite being the master, he was surprisingly polite to his servants, greeting Ma Laoqi whenever he came in or out. He even insisted on being called "Mr. Ma" instead of "Lord Ma." Second, aside from going out to sing the sanxian (a three-stringed plucked instrument), Mr. Ma spent his time reading, writing, and drawing at the low table in his cabin. He neither smoked opium nor played mahjong, and he didn't frequent prostitutes. These habits were commonplace in the government.

Gradually, Mr. Ma started chatting with Ma Laoqi when he had free time. "Why are there stars in the sky? Why are there mountains and rivers on the ground?" he would ask, gesturing as he spoke, sounding just like a foreigner singing "Little Cowherd." Ah! It was Mr. Ma's banter that broadened Ma Laoqi's horizons considerably.

In the afternoon, he saw clouds rising over Purple Mountain outside the city, with faint rumbles of thunder. Mr. Ma didn't go out. While watching Ma Laoqi cook braised fish, he steered the conversation towards the wind and rain. Mr. Ma lifted the pot lid, pointed to the dripping water droplets, and said, "Water vapor rises from the ground to the sky, condenses into clouds when it cools, and when the clouds are thick, it rains. It's the same principle as the water droplets dripping from the pot lid." Ma Laoqi asked, seemingly understanding, "Then where are the Wind God and Rain God?" As he spoke, a torrential downpour filled the ground with white steam. Suddenly, a commotion arose: "The Dragon King is drinking water!" Looking up, he saw a black dragon hanging from the clouds, swaying its head and tail. Ma Laoqi was so frightened that he dared not breathe, muttering angrily, "Mr. Ma, you must never lie again, or the Dragon King will punish you!"

"Smack!" Ma Laoqi received a light tap on the head. Mr. Ma, his face pale with anger, produced a long tube from somewhere and tapped Ma Laoqi on the head, saying, "This is a telescope. Let me show you what kind of dragon that is!"

Ma Laoqi, trembling with reluctance, was dragged along by Mr. Ma and, mustering his courage, held the telescope to peer through. Strangely, the dragon's head, horns, whiskers, claws, and scales he had seen in the Dragon King Temple were nowhere to be found. He looked and looked, but it was just a cloud of mist. Ma Laoqi stood there for a long time, stammering, "That's a real dragon emperor..." before he quickly covered his mouth and stopped.

That night, under a bright moon and few stars, Ma Laoqi used the telescope to look at the moon again. Well, the moon turned out to be a freak, covered in scars. All that talk about the moon palace, Chang'e, and the jade rabbit was utter nonsense. Putting down the telescope, Ma Laoqi seemed a little uneasy again. The knowledge stored in his head for so many years vanished in an instant, leaving him feeling quite uneasy.

From then on, Mr. Ma frequently spoke to Ma Laoqi about various things, and he didn't just talk nonsense; he had vivid examples to back it up. He talked about trains, steamships, telephones, airships, transoceanic radio, and so on. These things might not seem so novel to students in modern schools, but for Ma Laoqi, an illiterate cook, they were completely unheard of!

Moreover, Ma Laoqi knew that America didn't have an emperor; instead, the people elected a "Prince Edward" to govern the country. There, it wasn't the people who feared the officials, but the officials who feared the people. Because the people paid the officials, and disobedience would cost them their jobs.

This was completely different from our Qing Dynasty, wasn't it?

Although Ma Laoqi didn't understand many things, he vaguely sensed that the emperor and the government, like the railings of the Wende Bridge at the Confucius Temple—unreliable!

Time flies, and three months passed in the blink of an eye. On the hundredth day, Ma Laoqi invited the local constable, and Mr. Ma publicly returned the contract, thus severing all ties between the two.

Before he could leave, Ma Laoqi turned back: "Mr. Ma, may I ask you a few questions?"

"Of course, please speak."

"Mr. Ma, can our Qing Dynasty become like your America?"

"That's a very big question. I don't know; only Jesus knows." "

Mr. Ma, your America surpasses our Qing Dynasty in every way. Why don't you stay home and enjoy your life, instead of coming all this way to suffer here?"

"Oh! Your cities are wonderful, the food is excellent, and the women are beautiful. I like them." "

Since you enjoy good food and beautiful women, why do you foreigners always bring guns and cannons to attack us?"

"Because your emperor forbids us from coming." "

Mr. Ma, shouldn't we be reasonable? Even if you're just visiting your neighbor, you should at least say hello. You can't just barge in like that."

"Hahaha!" Ma Shanren laughed, his face turning deathly pale. "Old Ma, look at the Dacheng Gate in front of the Confucius Temple. Would you have dared to go in before? No, you couldn't. And what about now? The walls have collapsed, the gate is destroyed, and inside there's only an old, thin temple keeper who loves smoking opium. If you like it, if you want to, you can step through this gate anytime!"

The Ten

Dynasties officially abolished the imperial examination system and established schools.

The examination halls for the Jiangnan provincial examinations and the academy behind the Dacheng Gate were overgrown with weeds. Scholars stopped coming, government officials were rarely seen, and the market suddenly became desolate and quiet.

Old Ma moved his carrying pole to the fish market street. Here, the river connects Confucius Temple to the south and Xuanwu Lake to the north. Every day before dawn, boats laden with fish and shrimp creak and groan as they row to the North Gate Bridge, filling the river. People, carrying loads on their shoulders and baskets in their hands, gather here to look at the goods and haggle over prices, buying and selling. The bustling crowd makes it a lively market. After daybreak, the fish market disperses. Those who have finished their business often start having morning tea at this time.

Old Ma also runs a morning market, but since there aren't many scholars here, he needs a change. Winter is here, so the afternoon before, he goes to Qijiawan to carry a basket of fresh beef from the Ma Huihui slaughterhouse, simmering it, skin and bones, over a low flame until midnight. This thick broth is as thick as gelatin. Then, he adds a generous amount of spices and old braising liquid to the beef, simmering it until it's fragrant and tender. Then he made flatbreads. His flatbreads were well-leavened, fluffy, sweet with a hint of sourness and a touch of wine. At the morning market, he'd have a piping hot bowl of thick soup, sprinkled with chopped coriander and a sprinkle of white pepper; a couple of sips and he'd be sweating buckets. He also made flatbreads stuffed with beef—fragrant, meaty, and substantial—five coins a serving. For that reason alone, would you believe that Old Ma's business wasn't doing well?

That day, the fish market closed, and the teahouse gradually filled with customers. Old Ma set up his stall under someone's eaves, naturally. While doing business, he kept noticing something "strange" about the place. Looking closer, he saw a man in the teahouse, drinking tea and constantly glancing in his direction. Looking closer, he saw this man wearing a blue cloth jacket and trousers, the front of which was greasy. He had a large bamboo basket at his feet, which a servant was watching. The bamboo basket contained tender leeks, winter bamboo shoots, shepherd's purse, water chestnuts, and water spinach, with saury and large grass carp still smacking their lips on the leaves. There was also a sturgeon from the Yangtze River, wagging its tail and shaking its head, making several turtles nearby too scared to stick their

heads out. Seeing these things, he knew that the man must be from the mansion, so he smiled and nodded in greeting.

Seeing Ma Laoqi's greeting, the man simply stood up and came over. When he reached the fire stand, he raised his hand and said, "Friend, please." His voice had a Beijing accent, which sounded familiar to Ma Laoqi.

"Oh, this friend, you've come from the north, haven't you?"

"Ah, that's right. It's not easy to come all this way to be a servant!"

After chatting, Ma Laoqi learned that this friend was from Zhili, a distant relative brought from his hometown by Zhang Zhidong, the Governor-General of Liangjiang, and worked as a purchasing agent in the Generalissimo's kitchen. It turned out that the Generalissimo's head chef had retired to his hometown, and the mansion was in need of a chef who could cook northern dishes. The purchasing agent, noticing Ma Laoqi's Beijing accent and having tasted his beef soup and meat-filled flatbread, knew Ma Laoqi was not only tactful but also exceptionally skilled. He approached Ma Laoqi, intending to recommend him for a job as a cook at the Marshal's mansion. The trial period was satisfactory, with a monthly salary of three silver dollars.

Ma Laoqi said, "Thank you, brother! How about this, I'll recommend someone else to you, whose skills are no less than mine, guaranteed to be reliable."

They agreed to meet the next morning. Ma Laoqi brought the person for the trial period, and the two friends parted ways.

Under the Lishe Bridge at the Confucius Temple, there was a bathhouse called Qingyingquan. The owner was from Yangzhou, and the servants—tea servers, foot masseurs, back scrubbers, and other menial workers—were all from Yangzhou. The large white stone pool was heated by a low-heat heating system, and the soap tongs used for scrubbing emitted a pleasant fragrance. Just as dawn broke and the first bath was boiling, Zhao Guisheng entered, arms crossed.

Zhao's Little Restaurant hadn't been open for some time. The same braised dishes they made at the beginning of the month, reheated several times, still hadn't sold. Luckily, the weather was cold, so the taste wasn't too bad, and they used them to pay respects at their family's ancestral temple. While other nearby restaurants were also struggling, they weren't as deserted as his establishment.

Old Ma's abandoned stall was always on the move, going wherever the business was booming. Zhao Guisheng, unwilling to relinquish his position as the young master, left his apprentice to starve. Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore and found an excuse to change his business. Now, Zhao Guisheng was a bachelor, his nose running from the cold at night. Even in this state, he couldn't shake off his "smoky, rebellious air."

Plus, the lobby was warm, which suited him well; he got up early for a soak.

After soaking in the large pool, he grabbed a large towel and wiped himself thoroughly. Normally, he would lie down on the bed and receive a full set of services, including a back massage, foot massage, and toenail trimming. He'd then brew a pot of Anhui Maojian tea, order a basket of chicken soup dumplings, and sleep until the afternoon. But today, if he could have a crispy sesame seed cake, he'd consider himself well-off!

Zhao Guisheng closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, partly to prolong the warmth and partly to avoid the relentless, nagging gaze of the tea server.

Around noon, in the neighboring greenhouse, a group of young tycoons were indulging in a lavish feast with several Yangzhou girls. The aroma of food and wine, along with the "Yangliuqing" folk song, seeped through the cracks in the walls, making Zhao Guisheng contemplate suicide. Just then, as if a living Buddha had fallen from the sky, Ma Laoqi lifted the curtain and entered.

"Manager Zhao, it's been a while!" Ma Laoqi, taking off his cotton robe and trousers, handed them to the tea server to be hoisted onto the roof beam with a long fork. He then shuffled down into the large pool in his wooden clogs, not forgetting to call out, "Tea server, could you please order a bowl of large meat noodles from outside? Manager Zhao, please have some first. Bath fees, tea money, and small bills are all mine!"

This large bowl of meat noodles made Zhao Guisheng eat comfortably and enjoyably! Just as he put down the bowl, Ma Laoqi emerged from the pool, smiling as he lay down beside Zhao Guisheng. It's true what they say, "Poverty makes one lose ambition"—he'd learned to say the young manager's polite words without even being taught. The two men chatted casually, and Ma Laoqi gradually got to the point: "Manager Zhao, although you're short on cash, if you were to sell the shop, it would cost at least thirty silver dollars."

"Thirty dollars? Seventh Master, I'd be willing to pay half that amount!"

"A gentleman's word is his bond, so I'll sell it to you for thirty dollars," Ma Laoqi said earnestly. "Thirty silver dollars is equivalent to thirty dan of rice. If you're frugal, it'll last you a year or two. Besides, I'll recommend you to a place where you can make money." As he spoke, "slap! slap! slap!" three stacks of silver dollars were slapped in front of Zhao Guisheng.

It was truly a case of "Zhou Yu beating Huang Gai, one willing to hit, the other willing to be hit." Immediately, they invited Manager Li of Qingyingquan, Manager Sun of Sunji Southern Goods, and Zhou Chaofeng of Fuji Money Shop to act as intermediaries. The parties signed and sealed the contract, each swearing never to go back on their word.

At noon, Ma Laoqi hosted the lunch again. While the soup was being served, a table of food and drinks was set up in the adjacent warm room, consisting of five main dishes—four cold and four hot—plus a soup pot. A whole jar of Gaoyou papaya wine was brought out, to be eaten hot as needed, and several Yangzhou girls were invited to join them. Zhao Guisheng, shirtless and belly exposed, ate, drank, and sang with the girls in his arms, so happy he was practically ready to climb into the roof.

Zhou Chaofeng of the Fuji Money Shop, while drinking, couldn't help but wonder. He knew that in recent years, Ma Laoqi hadn't wasted a single penny of his earnings, keeping it all in the money shop to collect interest. Now, with the economy in a downturn, he was buying houses and throwing banquets—he really didn't know what he was up to.

It wasn't until the sun was setting that everyone dispersed, tipsy.

On the eleventh,

Zhao Guisheng opened the door to Zhao's Restaurant, plopped down on a stool, and started burping. Ma Laoqi picked his teeth, surveying the room inside and out. He noticed cobwebs in the corner of the main room and a thick layer of dust on the tables and stools. The ceiling was moldy, with rat droppings dripping down. The stove was clogged with ashes, the pot rim was rusted, and the bowls and plates were chipped and cracked—not a single piece of furniture was in order. Ice had formed in the vat, and the cold was biting.

Without a word, Ma Laoqi first carried the fire-carrying pole from the riverbank into the house, then unloaded all the belongings one by one.

Zhao Guisheng, being sensible, had almost sobered up and got up to leave. Ma Laoqi called him back: "Guisheng, tomorrow you'll be working at the Marshal's mansion for your trial period. I have a few words to say to you."

Zhao Guisheng had no choice but to stop, feigning attentiveness.

"When cooking for older people, you have to remember four words: tender and flavorful. Otherwise, they won't blame you for having loose teeth and a heavy mouth; they'll insist the cook didn't serve you properly."

Zhao Guisheng nodded quickly. Ma Laoqi then said, "Guisheng, you have a high talent; your future skills will be no less than your brother's. Today I'll teach you two dishes, one meat and one vegetable, and the principles are all in them. No matter what delicacies you cook in the future, you'll always adhere to these principles."

Zhao Guisheng hurriedly washed the pots and pans, lit the stove, and listened to Ma Laoqi's instructions. That night, the two stayed in the room for a long time, and no one knew what techniques Ma Laoqi was teaching. Anyway, the next day Zhao Guisheng went to the mansion to try out the skills and was kept on the job that very day. Not long after, Zhang Zhidong was promoted to Grand Councilor, and Zhao Guisheng went to the capital with him.

Over the next few days, Ma Laoqi tidied up his shop, changing only one character on the storefront to "Qi Ji's Little Restaurant." It turned out his surname was Qi!

Strangely enough, the Confucius Temple gradually regained its former prosperity and bustle. The scholars left, and merchants arrived; the examination hall was demolished, and trade flourished. North-South goods shops, gold and jewelry shops, antique and calligraphy shops, and silk shops lined the streets, and more and more people flocked to the Confucius Temple. As the saying goes, a rising tide lifts all boats; restaurants, taverns, and teahouses of all sizes prospered day by day. Master Qi was especially successful; his restaurant served excellent food in generous portions, and he was honest with his customers. Whether it was dine-in, takeout, ordering dishes, or banquets, his business was booming. He needed more staff, so he first hired an accountant, then took on apprentices, then hired cooks, and finally, the number of tea servers alone increased to seven or eight. The shop expanded into the back courtyards, no longer just a "little restaurant."

Not long after, Matchmaker Wang came to the door, arranging a marriage for Master Qi. The girl was originally a maid from the mansion. The mansion was now dilapidated, and everything that could be sold was being put up for sale. The maid's name was Cui'er; she was sturdy, especially her large feet, which were quite startling.

Master Qi, however, thought this was a sign of good fortune and many children. Besides the formal dowry, he was also generous with the matchmaker's fee.

When Cui'er married into the family, seeing that her groom was a middle-aged man, she was deeply distressed and cried incessantly.

Master Qi, however, remained calm and patient, sitting under the wedding lanterns telling jokes, and gradually the girl picked up on the jokes. Under the cover of night, Master Qi found out his bride's preferences, then quietly took her to the stove and cooked a bowl of shrimp wontons in broth. From then on, everything went smoothly!

This maid had already experienced many things in life; on her first night there, she noticed that Master Qi, though a bit old, was quite robust, much better than the old beast from the mansion. Adding to her kindness and good fortune, she devoted herself wholeheartedly to being a proprietress. Not long after, she became pregnant.

Her first child was a big, healthy boy, much to Qi Ye's delight. A lively celebration was held for his 100-day-old son. After the guests left, Qi Ye, slightly tipsy, half-reclined on the bed watching his wife breastfeed. Suddenly, a thought struck him: he'd long forgotten what his mother's milk tasted like, so he put his mouth to his wife's breast and began to suckle. His wife felt a ticklish, tingling sensation, and her undergarments became sticky. Annoyed that the baby was awake while nursing, she kept playfully pinching his head with her fingers. Finally, after managing to soothe the baby to sleep, the two resumed their activities, enjoying their time together. They worked until the moon was high in the sky before finally collapsing from exhaustion.

Looking at the moon outside the window, Master Qi said leisurely, "Tomorrow, let's add another floor to this shop, make the windows big and bright, and put a few tables as elegant seating areas. Look, bright stars hanging on the window panes, and the Qinhuai River flowing below—what a view! The customers will surely have a few more drinks, won't they?" As Master Qi spoke, he couldn't help but feel a little lost, muttering, "If this building is finished, it should be called Water Moon Pavilion."

Cui'er poked her husband on the pillow, laughing and scolding, "You men, you get all these wild ideas as soon as you earn a little money. What Water Moon, what kind of vixen is that?"

Master Qi was stunned, and looked at his wife more closely. Her eyes flickered in the moonlight, and there was a resemblance to Water Moon in her features. He was startled, thinking: Could it be that Water Moon is no longer alive, and her ghost has come to haunt me?

He remembered the dream he had after finishing the ice furnace, and a shiver ran through him.

Fortunately, it was just the first crow of the rooster, and dawn was approaching.

[The End]

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