Shuiyuelou

Water Moon

Author: Shi Yan

I.

The Prince liked two things: Water Moon's tiny feet and Old Man Ma's wok.

A few days later it would be the Dragon Boat Festival, and the breeze blowing across Shichahai Lake had become warmer. Water birds lazily sunbathed their wings, letting the tender green willow branches sway before their eyes. According to previous 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, practiced paddling with a "whoosh, whoosh" sound to the deafening drumbeats. Dragon boat racing, after all, is about having a great time and winning prizes. We neighborhood men, who are afraid of anyone!

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 destroy the foreigners. The righteous people are preparing to fight against the demonic 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 servants attending him 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 they approached. The Prince strained his ears with his hand for a moment, then his dim eyes suddenly lit 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 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 instructed 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. Not to mention, the entire capital city hasn't even been listed yet. Without saying a word, Ma Laoqi threw down the deposit money, pointed to several cabins of loquats, and instructed the innkeeper: "Please select the best loquats from among the thousands, the largest, the juiciest, and the 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 circle were several Boxer Rebellion members, all dressed in red headscarves, red leggings, and red wristbands, holding large knives and chanting incantations. Ma Laoqi, having heard that these heroes were protected by gods and invulnerable to swords and spears in battle, was itching to see for himself. So he and his steward, holding the reins, sat on their animal and observed carefully.

They saw a fat monk sitting upright in the circle, wearing a red straw hat and a red kasaya, facing a table of water and incense before an altar, his eyes slightly closed, chanting incantations. Behind the fat monk stood four boys, each with double buns on their heads, their hands clasped together, chanting along with the monk: "Bajie, Wukong, no wind allowed! Iron eyebrows, iron eyes, iron shoulders and chest! Grandfather is here!" After a short while, the fat monk suddenly trembled, then swayed as he stood up. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and gesticulated wildly, muttering something unintelligible. Suddenly, the Boxers who had been standing around the four boys knelt in a row, kowtowed three times to the altar, and then, trembling, started jumping and dancing.

But the one with the greatest supernatural powers was the fat monk. He grabbed a piece of green stone and stubbornly banged his bald head against it. With a "crash," his head was unharmed, but the stone shattered. The other monks, however, attacked him with knives, one stabbing him, the other slashing him with a blade, as if it were child's play, completely unharmed, leaving everyone dumbfounded.

After a while, the four boys burned a talisman on the incense table and performed some more rituals. Suddenly, the fat monk and his fellow monks seemed to have been doused with ice water in the dead of winter, sneezed, and jolted awake.

He was still staring blankly, seemingly oblivious to everything that had just happened. At that moment, a group of mud-covered children pestered the fat monk relentlessly, wanting to join him and learn his 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, 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.

For three whole days and three nights, Ma Laoqi didn't step out of the north room. He first poured a basin of mung beans from a porcelain jar and soaked them in pure snow water collected during the winter. These beans were unusually green and round and lovely, each one like a jade pearl. In all the land, only a small patch of fertile soil the size of a palm along the Nenjiang River produced this treasure, yielding less than a hundred catties a year. This rare delicacy 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 flame until they became 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 flow. 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 swept in from somewhere, and frost appeared on the grass and branches. The fish, which had been quietly dozing, all slid to the bottom of the pool with a "whoosh," and ice crystals 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-bearer sedan chair 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 certainly be unpleasant: "Hey, Ma Qi!"

Ma Laoqi would greet him in the courtyard, not daring to breathe too loudly, 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 this guy hadn't figured out the prince's intentions either.

In a daze, Ma Laoqi followed the steward into the back courtyard through the hanging flower gate, and then past the screen wall of three gates. A sudden chill ran down his spine. Servants in the Prince's mansion were forbidden from approaching the hanging flower gate, let alone entering the Prince's study in the east wing. The women and maids were all gone; the surroundings were so quiet you couldn't even see a sparrow. The steward told Ma Laoqi to stop at the foot of the stone steps outside the study window, then bowed and said in a voice neither too loud nor too soft, "Reporting to Your Highness, cook Ma Laoqi has come to report to his master." Then he vanished without a trace.

Ma Laoqi, unable to control himself, his legs went weak, and he knelt on the spot with a thud.

"Ahem," a cough came from the study. "Seventh Prince Ma, the Empress Dowager graciously used a few of the tribute 'Ice Furnace Peaches.' Who knew..." The prince coughed again, catching his breath before continuing, "Who knew the Empress Dowager's

boundless grace would bestow such a reward upon him." Instantly, Seventh Prince Ma felt as if a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from his shoulders, his body going limp, almost fainting. He forced himself to stay awake and blurted out, "Thank you for the Empress Dowager's grace! Thank you for the Prince's favor!"

What followed made Seventh Prince Ma almost unable to believe his ears: "Well, this, the Empress Dowager's decree, orders you to go to the Hall of Benevolence and Longevity in the Summer Palace, specifically to serve in the Longevity Kitchen. Seventh Prince Ma, you really have the good fortune to rise to such heights." Seventh

Prince Ma kowtowed repeatedly: "This servant thanks the Empress Dowager for her grace! Thank you for the Prince's favor!"

Inadvertently, Seventh Prince Ma glanced at the study and suddenly saw Shui Yue'er's figure darting past. In that instant, 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.

He couldn't remember how he got out, and Ma Laoqi wandered around in a daze, entering the west courtyard and lying 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 people, so they don't allow strangers into the Imperial Kitchen. You are 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 ice cave, and suddenly he was lifted to the highest heavens. Beset by alternating chills and fever, experiencing extreme highs and lows, poor Ma Laoqi couldn't bear it! His face was flushed red with fever, and he tossed and turned on the kang (heated brick bed), talking nonsense

. The other cooks working in the kitchen, because Ma Laoqi always had the upper hand, usually didn't treat him well. They were polite on the surface, but deep down they hated him. The old men finished preparing dinner, had the servants brew some flower tea for them, and without asking whether Ma Laoqi was alive or dead, they 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 Qi really managed to make one!" an older man 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!"

A servant chimed in, "That's right. I heard that the Empress Dowager ate just one ice furnace peach, and her white hair instantly turned black. After eating another, 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.

Five.

Ma Laoqi sneaked out of Beijing that very night, begging his way south. He was determined that Jiangsu and Zhejiang were lands of plenty; at least he could find a meal there. 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 terrain seemed, and the easier it was to ask for help.

After 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 Beijing, worried he might be involved in the Boxer Rebellion and gave him some travel money before sending him away. Ma Laoqi took a boat south along the Grand Canal, passing Yangzhou, and arriving 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. "If the east wind blows early tomorrow morning, we'll head to Nanjing; if the west wind blows, we'll 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, the east wind had risen!

After the New Year, the main road in Nanjing was finally completed. Rickshaw pullers and porters climbing Huangni Hill and Gulou Slope felt they could save a lot of energy. But they had to be careful; if they heard a yamen runner shouting, they had to quickly move aside. If they were even slightly slow, a whip would come lashing down.

At this moment, Zhang Zhidong, the Governor-General of Liangjiang, rode in a large green sedan chair with eight slats, 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 Governor-General 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 lords to lead troops to "serve the emperor." Zhang Zhidong and several other southern warlords agreed to "protect the southeast," none of them heading north to fight the foreigners. They dared to defy the Empress

Dowager! Look at this: when the Eight-Nation Alliance breached Beijing, the Empress Dowager and Emperor Guangxu fled to the Guanzhong Plain, too terrified 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 was forced to pay the Japanese 450 million taels of silver. 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 court rooms and the main hall, and in the second hall, he was given his official hat and his robes loosened. A clerk was served a cup of pre-rain tea by the squad leader. Zhang Zhidong ate slowly, catching his breath before asking,

"Is there any official business?"

A clerk entered from under the eaves and replied, "Reporting to the Commander-in-Chief, the signing office just received two official documents. One is a telegram from Tianjin, and the other is a memorial from Lord Lin of Jiangning Prefecture."

Zhang Zhidong took the telegram and unfolded it to read it carefully. The telegram was sent by the Beiyang Governor-General's Office. The signing office had already found it using both Chinese and Western calendars, stating that the Jinling Arsenal had tested rockets in Tanggu, but another explosion had occurred.

The rocket branch of the Jinling Arsenal was a legacy 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, they wouldn't be afraid of foreign warships firing a barrage of bullets from afar, sending the foreigners home to see their grandmothers! But who knew that rockets just couldn't be built? This time, the American mechanic hired, Ma Renli, had also messed up during the test launch. Zhang Zhidong was furious. He picked up his brush and wrote several large characters: "Dismiss Ma Renli from his post. The head of the Rocket Bureau is to investigate!"

After catching his breath, Zhang Zhidong picked up a second official document. This was a memorial from the prefect of Jiangning, which stated that some prefectures and counties were using the levy of taxes to extort money from the people, causing unrest among the populace. They requested that the commander-in-chief order the abolition of the schools. After reading it, Zhang Zhidong looked up and asked, "Is Prefect Lin here?"

The clerk replied, "He is still waiting to see me 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 attendant 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 long-awaited "Memorial on the Establishment of the Sanjiang Normal School." The news of

Marshal

Zhang's memorial 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, the middle of which served as the Pan Pool, with the "Lingxing Gate"

archway standing on its north side. 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 beautifully dressed 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 gentlemen and scholars, the restaurants, teahouses, and snack stalls along the Qinhuai River were thriving.

Upon hearing the news of the impending abolition of the imperial examination system, not only were the scholars filled with unease, but the food and beverage industry also felt

a sense of impending doom. 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 abandoned any thought 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, sensed that Ma Laoqi's stall was different, even exuding a subtle air of grandeur. Therefore, they flocked to it, and business was exceptionally good.

Behind Ma Laoqi's snack stall was a restaurant called "Zhao's Little Restaurant." The name was quite fitting: the shop was so small it could only fit two tables. The owner, Zhao Guisheng, was in his early twenties, unmarried, and worked as both cook and waiter. Being young, Zhao Guisheng's skills were still developing, so business wasn't booming. The shop was inherited from his ancestors; they did business during the day, and at night, once the doors were closed, the master and apprentice would put the tables together and sleep.

Even so, Zhao Guisheng didn't think much of Ma Laoqi. In his words, he was at least a young manager. No matter how

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

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 the Benevolent, 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 a teahouse in the Confucius Temple; at night, he rested on his rented painted boat. This foreigner spoke fluent Chinese, becoming quite a spectacle on the banks of the Qinhuai River.

Old Ma Qi, having packed up his morning market stall, squatted by the riverbank washing his tools when Ma Shanren came ashore with his erhu to sing a soul-stirring tune. Seeing Old Ma Qi 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!"

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

Old Ma Qi, feeling smug, looked up and happened to see Zhao Guisheng returning from buying goods, a birdcage in his left hand and a Yixing pottery teapot in his right, sitting on a stone bench by the river, drinking tea and staring blankly. He couldn't help but call out, "Manager Zhao, free now?"

It was clearly a polite greeting, but Zhao Guisheng, that idiot, misunderstood. Thinking to himself: What does this mean? My business is doing quite well, but who gave you the right to come and savor it? His mind raced, and a sour smile crept across his face: "Oh, you're so busy, Ma Laoqi! Do you even make any money? You're so lazy!" Ma Laoqi chuckled

inwardly: This silly bastard, what's he arguing with me? If you're so capable, improve your cooking skills, don't make everything look 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 look up to me. While his mind was racing, he said sweetly: "Hey, look at what Manager Zhao said, it's all thanks to your help." After a brief joke, he went back to his afternoon market duties. Seven.

Nine

cannon shots rang out in front of the examination hall, and the three gates opened one after another. Prefect Lin, dressed in his official robes and hat, performed the rites in the courtroom before allowing the students to enter the examination hall. Because they would be staying there for three days and three nights, each student carried not only writing materials but also a bamboo basket containing food, cooking utensils, bowls, chopsticks, and an oilcloth. To prevent cheating, two constables stood at the entrance, searching each student individually. The examination hall was packed with people, and entry didn't finish until nightfall. Only after the gates were sealed did Prefect Lin return to the academy in a sedan chair, where he went to the Zunjing Pavilion for evening drinks.

Normally, Ma Laoqi would have already prepared a white broth using a whole chicken and lean ham, chopped the glistening roasted duck skin, and prepared shredded chicken, diced wild mushrooms, shredded tender tofu, chopped cilantro, and a few drops of vinegar. As soon as the official sedan chair entered, Ma Laoqi 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; the bowl of delicious food was just right. The duck soup, piping hot, was brought in, and by the time it reached Zunjing Pavilion, it was cooled to a perfect temperature. It was perfect for sobering up and aiding digestion—a favorite of Prefect Lin. After serving the evening drinks, the attendant would bring out the small bowl; besides the regular bill, any tips were given to the attendant as a token of respect. Therefore, the attendant treated Ma Laoqi with more warmth than if he were his own father.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The follower looked bitter, turning back every few steps, and hesitantly went inside. Sure enough, after a while, the follower came out again, staring at Ma Laoqi as if he didn't recognize him for a long time before uttering: "Seventh Master, go up and report to the lord."

Entering 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. Prefect Lin sat behind his desk, holding a scroll of thread-bound book, squinting at it under the lamplight. Old Man Ma bowed respectfully and stood aside.

Prefect Lin looked up at him: "Old Man Ma, what kind of delicacies do you wish to bring?"

Old Man Ma replied unhurriedly: "Reporting to Your Excellency, I wish to bring the finest of heaven and earth."

"Oh! What do you mean?"

"Your Excellency, tomorrow evening, at sunset, I would like you 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, clean three or four whitefish that the fishermen have just caught in their nets, and invite Your Excellency to taste some river delicacies." Having stood outside the academy for three years, Old Man Ma had acquired a scholarly air in his speech.

"Ha!" Prefect Lin's interest was piqued. "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 master chef, it would be against all reason not to keep you!"

"Thank you for your grace, Your Excellency!"

The following

evening, a painted boat sailed out of the Qinhuai River's western gate, heading 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 lay moored, an old fisherman wearing a straw hat and raincoat, his net scattering the starlight across the river. The painted boat rowed to the fishing boat, just as the moon rose over the eastern hills. It was a midsummer night, the sky a clear, bright blue. In the distance, fishermen sang their evening songs, and the stars twinkled. Such a beautiful scene stirred a desire in Prefect Lin and several scholars in the cabin to retire into seclusion.

The pleasure boat and the stove boat moored next to the fishing boat. Ma Laoqi crawled out of 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 reeling in the line, several white fish were seen "fluttering" and jumping as they were pulled onto the boat.

A flock of seagulls flew over and circled for a long time.

Ma Laoqi took a bamboo basket, dipped it in river water, and placed the white fish on the table. He scaled them, removed the gills, and cleaned the internal organs. His hands moved swiftly up and down like the wings of seagulls. In an instant, several plump, whole fish were laid flat on a porcelain plate. He sprinkled ginger shreds, scallion segments, and chrysanthemum leaves on top, poured in soy sauce and wine, and steamed them over high heat.

Inside the pleasure boat, the adults 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 under 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 towards the pleasure boat. As it drew closer, the large characters "Jiangning Prefectural Government Office" on the lantern at the bow became clearly visible. Prefect Lin's expression changed, and he quickly stood at the bow, ordering his yamen runners to inquire about the matter.

The person who had arrived 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, the people in the examination hall's cells wore oilcloths for shade to avoid the sun. Underneath the oilcloths, small stoves were set up, and they cooked haphazardly. Things are different now than before. Examination rules have fallen into disrepair, and officials turn a blind eye. Even smuggling in cheaters is possible; what won't these students do in the examination halls?

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 oilcloth, and a draft swept them up onto the roof tiles. This fire spread like wildfire, "a single drop of water costing a fortune." Prefect Lin arrived at the examination hall, realizing his serious offense. While ordering his yamen runners to clean up the mess, he pondered: this disaster is terrible. If the Governor-General's office reports the truth, the court will reprimand him, and he might even be dismissed and imprisoned. Besides, Commander Zhang has long wanted to build a school in Jiangning Prefecture, and he has repeatedly submitted memorials opposing this. He's heard the Governor-General is considering finding someone else. Perhaps he should resign now and live out his remaining years in peace.

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

A few days later, the Sanjiang Normal School was established in the Jiangning Prefectural Government.

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

Old Ma 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, he vented all his resentment in his urine, giving Ma Shanren's painted boat a foul stench. Hearing the noise, he snorted, jumped from the cabin to the bow, grabbed a pole, and started hitting Ma Shanren in the face. Ma Laoqi tried to dodge but couldn't, taking several solid blows. The man was fed up, grabbing a wine jar and swinging it: "Take this!" A crisp "clang" rang out, and the boy's forehead was "crushed."

Ma Shanren, injured, saw his head swell up like a giant doll. He quickly wrapped it in cloth, making him look like a woman in the groin from afar. The local constable dragged Ma Laoqi to Shangyuan County, terrifying the magistrate. Remembering how many officials had been beheaded in the chaos of fighting, he knew his position was in jeopardy if negotiations broke out, and he almost ended up kowtowing to the plaintiff. Ma

Shanren explained the situation, and Ma Laoqi, without much argument, hung his head, awaiting punishment. Shangyuan County was about to proceed as planned when Ma Shanren, with a glint in his eye, said Ma Laoqi would serve him for three months. After one hundred days, when his injuries healed, everything would be settled, and the three months' wages would be considered compensation. If the injuries didn't heal, then more severe punishment would be served.

As long as the foreigners were satisfied, Shangyuan County was happy; whatever Ma Shanren said was fine. Ma Laoqi's hard work became "Shangyuan County's screen wall—made of planks" (planks: Nanjing dialect, definitely).

Nine

. 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 even confined to the cabin by the foreigners, like being sold into slavery—utterly dejected!

Speaking of foreigners, Ma Laoqi felt only one word: hatred. However, as time went on, he seemed to find this foreigner surnamed Ma a bit "unusual." First, although he was the master, he was surprisingly polite to his servants, greeting Ma Laoqi whenever he came in or out. He even told him not to call him "Master Ma," insisting on calling him "Mr. Ma." Secondly, aside from going out to sing the sanxian (a three-stringed plucked instrument), Mr. Ma would sit at the low table in his cabin reading, writing, and drawing. He neither smoked opium nor played mahjong, and he certainly didn't frequent prostitutes. These kinds of 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 spoke with gestures, sounding just like a foreigner singing "Little Cowherd." Alas! It was Mr. Ma's chatter that broadened Ma Laoqi's horizons considerably.

In the afternoon, they saw clouds rising over Zijin Mountain outside the city, with faint rumbling thunder. Mr. Ma didn't go out. While watching Ma Laoqi cook braised fish, he steered the conversation to the topic of 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 water droplets dripping from the pot lid." Old Ma, seemingly understanding but not quite, asked, "Where did the Wind God and Rain God go?" As he spoke, a torrential downpour filled the air with white mist, and 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 in mid-air. Old Ma, terrified, dared not breathe, muttering resentfully, "Mr. Ma,

never tell lies again, or the Dragon King will be angry!" "Smack!" Old Ma received a light tap on the head. Mr. Ma, his face pale with anger, produced a long tube from somewhere, tapped Old Ma's head, and said, "This is a telescope. Let me show you what kind of dragon that is!"

Old Ma, trembling and unwilling, was dragged along by Mr. Ma, and mustered his courage to hold the telescope and peer. Alas, strangely, the dragon he had seen in the Dragon King Temple before—horns, whiskers, claws, scales—was nowhere to be seen. It was just a cloud of mist. Old Ma stood there dumbfounded for a long time, stammering out "That true dragon emperor..." before he was so startled that he covered his mouth and stopped.

That night, the moon was bright and the stars were few. Old Ma used his telescope to look at the moon again. Well, the moon turned out to be a leper, its face covered in scars. All that talk about the moon palace, Chang'e, and the jade rabbit—it was all bullshit. Putting down his telescope, Old Ma felt a little uneasy. All the knowledge he'd accumulated over the years had vanished in an instant; he felt a bit uneasy.

From then on, Mr. Ma often talked to Old Ma about things, and he didn't just talk nonsense; everything he said was backed by vivid imagery. Trains, steamships, telephones, airships, transoceanic radio, and so on. These things might not be so novel to students in modern schools, but for Old Ma, an illiterate cook, they were completely unheard of!

Not only that, Ma Laoqi also knew that America didn't have an emperor; instead, the people elected a "Prince" to govern the country. There, it wasn't the common people who feared officials, but rather the officials who feared the common people. This was because the common 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 both the emperor and the government seemed as unreliable as the railings of the Wende Bridge at the Confucius Temple!

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 now? The walls have collapsed, the gate is destroyed, and inside there's only an old, thin temple keeper who loves opium. If you like, if you want, you can step through that gate anytime!"

Ten .

The imperial court 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, 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 the Confucius Temple to the south and Xuanwu Lake to the north. Every day before dawn, boats carrying fish and shrimp would creak and groan as they rowed to the North Gate Bridge, filling the river. People carried loads on their shoulders and baskets in their hands, gathering here to look at goods and haggle, buying and selling. The flow of people was bustling, making it a lively market. After dawn, the fish market dispersed. After finishing their business, people often start having morning tea at this time.

Old Ma still runs a morning market, but there aren't many scholars here, so he needs a change of pace. 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 glue. Then he adds a generous amount of spices and old braising liquid to the beef, simmering it until fragrant and tender. Next, he bakes flatbreads; his flatbreads are well-leavened, fluffy, sweet with a hint of sourness and a touch of wine. At the morning market, he gets a piping hot bowl of thick soup, sprinkled with chopped coriander and a sprinkle of white pepper, and after a couple of sips, he's sweating buckets. He also has flatbreads filled with beef—fragrant flatbread and plenty of meat, very substantial—five copper coins a serving. For that alone, would you believe Old Ma's business isn'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. Today, while doing business, he kept noticing something "strange" about the place. Looking closer, he saw a gentleman in the teahouse, sipping tea and constantly glancing in his direction. Looking closer, he saw the man was wearing a blue cloth jacket and trousers, the front of which was greasy. At his feet was a large bamboo basket, watched by a servant. Inside the basket were tender leeks, winter bamboo shoots, shepherd's purse, water chestnuts, and water spinach; on the vegetable leaves, saury and large bluefish were still smacking their lips. There was also a sturgeon from the Yangtze River, wagging its tail, making several turtles nearby too scared to stick their heads out.

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

Hearing Old Ma's greeting, the gentleman simply stood up and came over. Upon reaching the fire stand, he raised his hand and said, "Friend, please." His voice carried a Beijing accent, which sounded familiar to Ma Laoqi.

"Oh, this friend, you've come from the North?"

"Ah, indeed. It's not easy coming all this way to be a servant!"

After exchanging pleasantries, Ma Laoqi learned that this friend was from Zhili, a distant relative brought from the hometown of Zhang Zhidong, the Governor-General of Liangjiang, and worked as a purchasing agent in the Grand Marshal's kitchen. The Grand Marshal's previous head chef had retired and returned to his hometown, and the mansion was in dire need of a chef who could cook Northern dishes. Hearing Ma Laoqi's Beijing accent and having tasted the beef soup and meat-filled flatbread, the purchasing agent knew that Ma Laoqi not only understood the local dialect but also possessed exceptional skills. That's why he approached him, intending to recommend him for the position of head chef at the Grand Marshal's kitchen. After a satisfactory trial period, he was paid three silver dollars a month.

Ma Laoqi said, "Thank you so much, brother! Here's what we'll do: I'll recommend another one to you. His skills are no less than mine, and I guarantee he won't mess things up."

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

Under the Lishe Bridge near the Confucius Temple, there was a bathhouse called Qingyingquan. The owner was from Yangzhou, and the tea servers, foot masseurs, back scrubbers, and other servants were all Yangzhou "Xuzi" (a derogatory term for men who do menial tasks). 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 was breaking and the first batch of soup was boiling, Zhao Guisheng came in, arms crossed.

Zhao's Little Restaurant hadn't been open for some time. The braised dishes they made at the beginning of the month had been reheated several times, but they still hadn't sold. Fortunately, the weather was cold, so the taste wasn't too bad, and they used them to pay respects at their own Wuzang Temple (a place associated with dirt and grime). The nearby restaurants, though also struggling, weren't as deserted as his establishment.

Old Ma's 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 destitute. Eventually, unable to bear it any longer, he found an excuse to switch businesses. Now, Zhao Guisheng is a bachelor, his nose running from the cold at night. Even in this state, he can't shake off his "smoky, old-fashioned" air. The

warm bathhouse suits him well, so he took a soak early in the morning. After

soaking in the large tub, he wiped himself with a large towel. As usual, he'd lie down on the bed for a back massage, foot massage, and toenail trimming—the whole service. Then he'd 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 his appetite acceptable!

Zhao Guisheng pretended to be asleep, partly to prolong the warmth and partly to avoid the relentless, nagging gaze of the tea server.

Around noon, in the adjacent warm room, a group of young tycoons were indulging in a lavish feast with several Yangzhou girls. The aroma of food and wine, mingled with the strains of 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 long time!" Ma Laoqi, stripping off his cotton robe and trousers, handed them to the tea server to use a long fork to lift onto the roof beam. Slipping into his wooden clogs, he descended into the large pool, not forgetting to say, "Tea server, could you please order a bowl of large meat noodles from outside? Please have a bowl, Manager Zhao. Bath fees, tea money, and small bills are all mine!"

This generous bowl of large meat noodles made Zhao Guisheng eat comfortably and thoroughly! Just as he put down his bowl, Ma Laoqi emerged from the bath and lay down beside Zhao Guisheng with a smile. It's true what they say, "poverty makes one lose heart," even the young manager could speak polite words without being taught. The two men chatted casually, and Ma Laoqi gradually got to the point: "Manager Zhao, although you're short on money, if you were to sell the shop, it would cost at least thirty silver dollars."

"Thirty dollars? Seventh Master, if someone offered half that, I'd be willing!"

"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, "Thump! Thump! Thump!" three stacks of silver dollars were slapped in front of Zhao Guisheng.

This was truly a case of "Zhou Yu beating Huang Gai, one willing to hit, the other willing to be hit." They immediately invited Manager Li of Qingyingquan, Manager Sun of Sunji Nanhuo, and Zhou Chaofeng of Fuji Qianzhuang 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. They ate noodles with soup, and in the adjacent warm room, a table was set with 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. Several Yangzhou girls were also invited to join them. Zhao Guisheng, shirtless and belly exposed, ate, drank, and sang with the girls, seemingly enjoying himself to the point of wanting to go to the rooftop.

Zhou Chaofeng of the Fuji Money Shop, 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.

Zhao

Guisheng opened the door to Zhao's Restaurant, plopped down on a stool, and started hiccuping. Ma Laoqi picked his teeth, surveying the place inside and out. Spiderwebs covered the corners of the main room, and a thick layer of dust covered the tables and chairs. The ceiling was moldy, with rat droppings dripping down. The stove was clogged with ashes, the rim of the pot was rusted, and the bowls and plates were chipped and worn—not a single piece of furniture was in order. Ice had formed in the vat, and the air was chilling.

Without a word, Ma Laoqi carried the fire-starting pole from the riverbank into the room and then unloaded all the belongings.

Zhao Guisheng, being sensible, had almost sobered up and got up to leave. Ma Laoqi called after him, "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, pretending to listen attentively.

"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 well."

Zhao Guisheng nodded quickly. Ma Laoqi then said, "Guisheng, you have a high talent, and your future skills will be no less than your brother's. Today I will teach you two dishes, one meat and one vegetable, and the principles are all in them. In the future, no matter what delicacies you cook, you will not be able to do without these principles."

Zhao Guisheng hurriedly washed the pots and pans, cleared the stove and lit the fire, listening to Ma Laoqi's instruction. That night, the two stayed in the room for a long time, and no one knew what tricks Ma Laoqi was teaching. Anyway, the next day Zhao Guisheng went to the mansion to try his hand at the craft and was kept on that day. Not long after, Zhang Zhidong was promoted to Grand Councilor of the Imperial Court, and Zhao Guisheng went to the capital with him.

In the following days, Ma Laoqi tidied up the shop, changing only one character on the storefront to "Qi Ji Xiao Guan" (Qi's Small Restaurant). It turned out that his surname was Qi!

Strangely enough, the Confucius Temple gradually regained its former prosperity and liveliness. The scholars left, and merchants came; the examination hall was demolished, and business flourished. Goods shops, gold and jewelry stores, antique and calligraphy shops, and silk shops lined the streets, and the number of people visiting Confucius Temple increased. 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 fortunate. His restaurant served excellent food in generous portions, and his hospitality was honest. Whether dining in, ordering meals, or catering, his business was booming. He needed more staff, so he first hired an accountant, then apprentices, then cooks, and eventually, the number of tea servers alone increased to seven or eight. The restaurant expanded into several courtyards at the back, no longer a "small restaurant."

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

Master Qi, however, thought it was a physique that would bring him many children. Beyond the formal dowry, the matchmaker's reward was also generous.

When Cui'er entered the household, seeing the groom was a middle-aged man, she felt a deep bitterness and cried incessantly.

Master Qi, unperturbed, sat under the wedding lanterns telling jokes, and gradually the maid picked up on the banter. 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, already experienced in such matters, saw on her first night that Master Qi, though a bit older, was quite robust, much better than the old beast in the mansion. Coupled with his kind heart and smooth life, she wholeheartedly became the proprietress. Not long after, she became pregnant.

Her first child was a big, healthy boy, which delighted Master Qi immensely. A lively 100-day celebration with several tables was held. After the guests left, Mr. Qi, slightly tipsy, lay half-reclined on the bed watching his wife breastfeed. Suddenly, a strange 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 the pleasures of lovemaking. They continued until the bright moon hung 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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