Young Master Ji’s Illegitimate Fan
Who knows if Third Young Master Min had a loose screw in his brain, but when Ji Hong said his surname was Wang, Third Young Master Min didn’t doubt it for a second. He even cupped his hands and apologized, saying gracefully, “My apologies, I mistook you for an old acquaintance.”
“No problem,” Ji Hong replied, ready to leave.
Third Young Master Min seemed to have an epiphany and caught up to him, saying, “Since it’s fate, why don’t I host you two for a drink? Coincidentally, today at the Spring Breeze Delight Building—”
Before he could finish, Ji Hong cut him off mercilessly, “No need.”
Third Young Master Min looked as if he had been suddenly choked by an invisible bun, standing frozen while watching Ji Hong walk away, holding the hand of a nearby handsome young man. After a while, he snapped out of it, kicking the small stones at his feet and pondering, “Is it him or not?”
He hadn’t seen that person for many years, and his memory of that person still lingered on their twelve or thirteen-year-old appearance, making it truly difficult to determine if it was indeed him.
At that moment, two young men dressed in blue hurriedly ran out of the crowd. They were both tall and strong, one carrying an exquisite wooden box and the other with several jars of good wine tied to his waist. Their unusual attire, covered in words of all sizes, caused a stir among the onlookers.
The two young men seemed accustomed to the attention and didn’t mind. Upon seeing Third Young Master Min, their anxious expressions relaxed, and they sighed, “Third Young Master, please don’t get lost again! Here’s the pine soot ink from Zhu Xian Zhai and the pine liquor from Dong Gui Xuan you requested.”
Third Young Master Min suddenly grabbed them and said, “Shi Qing, Hua Yi, quickly look, does that person resemble Third Brother Ji?”
These two grown men, one named Shi Qing and the other named Hua Yi, had names so embarrassing that they couldn’t lift their heads. But even these embarrassing names were ones they had fought for, considering that the names Third Young Master Min originally intended for them were “Green Luo” and “Red Shang.”
—What could they do when they had such an eccentric and self-proclaimed refined master?
Hua Yi, with a dark expression, said, “Third Young Master, wake up. Since we headed south, how many times have you mistaken someone for Third Brother Ji?”
Shi Qing added, “Not to mention Third Brother Ji is critically ill. Even if he were lively and came this far, he would have run away upon hearing you were here, not waiting to run into you.”
Third Young Master Min hung his head as he walked towards Fulai Inn with the two, sighing sadly, “It’s been so many years since I’ve seen Third Brother Ji. Second Brother is always praising how much more dashing and elegant Third Brother Ji has become over the years. He goes out for tea and poetry gatherings every day, while I’m stuck only hearing about his poems and not seeing him. It’s enough to make me furious!”
The Min family was a noble and prestigious family with scholars in the court and strict family rules comparable to monastic laws. However, for some unknown reason, this generation produced a black sheep, Third Young Master Min. He looked proper and decent when still, but once he moved, he was like a wild horse, creating chaos at home. Scholars in the capital, who prided themselves on their clarity and integrity, mocked him as “both mad and foolish.” When this reached Third Young Master Min’s ears, instead of getting angry, he had a barrel of fine wine carried and went with a dozen people to make the mocker his sworn brother, scaring the scholar into thinking his life was about to end and fleeing in panic.
Despite Third Young Master Min’s notorious reputation, he had a steady and mature elder brother and a second brother praised as a “once-in-a-century talent,” so he wasn’t expected to inherit any responsibilities. Thus, he indulged in poetry and paintings, traveling extensively and engaging in refined activities. Unfortunately, his taste was so peculiar that his attempts at refinement were disastrous and laughable.
Shi Qing and Hua Yi, being household servants, had grown up with Third Young Master Min. They were both his attendants and companions. When their young master ran around naked, they would follow behind picking up his pants; when he caused trouble as he grew older, they would clean up the mess.
Since Third Young Master Min didn’t behave like a proper master, they became increasingly casual, spending more than half the year traveling with him, free from the strict eyes of their family’s elders.
Their young master had a peculiar obsession, ignoring property and wealth, but deeply admiring Ji family’s young master’s poetry. He was infatuated, longing day and night, dreaming by the water’s edge.
At this moment, Shi Qing and Hua Yi started to bicker with Third Young Master Min, one after another, saying, “Speaking of Third Brother Ji, isn’t it all your fault? Who was obsessed with Third Brother Ji’s poetry, pestering him non-stop, demanding a long poem praising your red-faced rooster?”
“And insisting on the title ‘The Red-Faced General.'”
“That was still okay, but later you hid behind a fake mountain during a banquet at Ji’s residence. Our family thought you were lost and searched the city all night. You, on the other hand, sneaked into Third Brother Ji’s window in the middle of the night, scaring him so much he fell ill for several days.”
“Yes, and when you were banned from entering Ji’s residence, you threw stones with copied poems into his yard.”
……
At that time, the third son of the Ji family was only twelve or thirteen years old. He was already elegant and graceful, like an immortal transformed from a jade sculpture. After this brutal incident, he never wanted to see the insane third son of the Min family again. Their poor son’s admiration flowed away with the water. Later, as the third son of the Ji family grew older, although he was often confined indoors due to his weak health, he became even more talented and charming. Their family’s son, desperate for poems, often climbed over the walls of the Ji residence, only to be coldly driven away by the Ji family servants.
This loss of face became known throughout the capital. The literati of the city gave him the nickname “Min San Feng” (Crazy Min the Third), saying he was “crazy for poems, crazy for paintings, and crazy for the third son of the Ji family.” This nickname stuck and could not be shaken off.
“Isn’t this understandable?” Third Young Master Min muttered, increasingly embarrassed, until he returned to the Fulai Inn. Closing the door behind him, he still defended himself, “Who hasn’t made a fool of themselves in their youth? Haven’t I gotten better now?”
He had just grabbed someone off the street and called them the third son of the Ji family. This habit seemed hard to break—Shi Qing and Hua Yi, in unison, sighed lightly, their tacit understanding evident.
Third Young Master Min ignored them, eagerly taking out his newly purchased pine soot ink. The pine soot ink from Zhuxian Studio was famous and rare. If he hadn’t heard that a new batch was recently put on the shelves, he wouldn’t have detoured to Xinan County during his travels.
As soon as the ink was out of the box, a pleasant smoky fragrance filled the air. One side of the ink stick was engraved with a crane calling against the sky in gold and silver mud, and the other side bore the name of Zhuxian Studio. Third Young Master Min couldn’t wait and said, “Shi Qing, quickly grind the ink for me to try!”
While Shi Qing ground the ink, he unfolded a sheet of lotus paper and, after some thought, began to write, “It’s been a while since I left. Let me write a letter to my second brother to let him know I’m safe.”
He casually recorded the day’s events, ending with “All is well, do not worry,” and signed it with “Your brother Mao.” After finishing, he asked Hua Yi to send it back to the capital, feeling relieved. He then went on to drink and enjoy poetry.
——
Back at the “One Bowl” noodle shop.
Yu Jinnian saw that Ji Hong didn’t explain the meaning behind the previous person’s words, so he didn’t ask either. He changed his clothes, washed his hands, and went straight to the kitchen to prepare the “Four Beauties Soup.”
Qing Huan was helping by washing the fresh, tender water shield leaves. Just hearing the name “Four Beauties Soup” made her curious, and she couldn’t help but ask which four beauties were in the soup.
Yu Jinnian took out a cleaned crucian carp, meticulously cutting the tender meat from the fish belly, placing it on a plate, drizzling a bit of yellow wine, and covering it with a few fresh slices of green onion and ginger before steaming it. As he finely chopped the mushrooms, he smiled and said, “The ‘Four Beauties Soup’ actually has no fixed ingredients. Any fresh and delicious ingredients can go into the soup. Today’s version is famous because an ancient person once made it.”
After chopping the mushrooms, he asked Qing Huan to cut the water shield leaves into thin strips while he steamed the cleaned female crab. He explained, “In September, female crabs are full of roe and their meat is tender; in October, male crabs are full of white fat. No matter whether it’s male or female crabs, their white flesh and golden roe are enough to make anyone drool.”
Feeling hungry himself, he said, “The ‘Four Beauties’ are mushrooms from the land, water shield from the water, crab roe, and fish belly. Each ingredient is so fresh that you could swallow your tongue, and when combined in a soup, it’s simply unbeatable.”
Qing Huan thought for a moment and couldn’t help but click her tongue, “Wow, that’s incredibly fresh!”
Moreover, water shield could detoxify and stop vomiting, and alleviate stomach pain. Cooking it with crucian carp also had the benefit of strengthening the spleen and stomach, which was good for Ji Hong’s health and beneficial for Aunt Xu’s recuperation.
As they were chatting, a customer called out from outside, and Qing Huan had to stop her work to attend to the guests. Nowadays, Qing Huan could handle things on her own, quickly learning how to make noodles. Even if Yu Jinnian wasn’t at the shop, she could manage for a couple of days. The customer seemed difficult, and Qing Huan didn’t return for a while. The crabs on the stove were ready, but Yu Jinnian was busy with the fish belly and couldn’t free his hands. Suddenly, a shadow appeared beside him.
He looked up and saw Ji Hong reaching over his head to lift the lid and pick up the crabs.
They worked seamlessly together, no words needed.
Yu Jinnian took the tender meat from the fish belly, scraped out the yellow roe and white meat from the crab’s abdomen. He fried the crab roe in a bit of oil until it was smooth as sand, then combined the crab and fish with the shredded water shield and minced mushrooms to simmer into a soup. Once the fragrance wafted out, he thickened the soup with a bit of corn flour.
After the soup was ready, he made a cold dish of marinated kelp.
He soaked the kelp, rinsed off the excess salt repeatedly, then quickly mixed it with mashed garlic, ginger flowers, soy sauce, and vinegar, adding a spoonful of chili oil and sesame oil. This became a refreshing and appetizing side dish. Although kelp was cool in nature and not suitable for those with weak stomachs, it wasn’t necessary to strictly follow health rules all the time. Treating it as a little snack, eating a few bites occasionally, was fine.
Finally, he reheated the buns Qing Huan had made. Yu Jinnian then brought the three dishes back to the room with Ji Hong.
Yu Jinnian wiped his hands and said, “It’s noisy outside now. Let’s eat here.”
Ji Hong didn’t say much, simply picking up the soup bowl and taking a sip. As expected, the soup was fragrant, fresh, and silky, with a unique and subtle aroma. The fish and crab had lost their fishy taste, leaving only their pure freshness. The flavors of the four delicacies blended seamlessly, requiring almost no effort to chew. The tender soup slid down the throat, warming the stomach and leaving a delightful aftertaste.
After drinking a couple of sips of the soup, he tried some of the kelp salad. It was slightly sour and spicy, perfectly seasoned, and very appetizing.
As both a doctor and a chef, Yu Jinnian enjoyed seeing the smile on his customers’ faces. Seeing Ji Hong eat with such relish made him very happy, even causing him to eat two extra buns himself.
After finishing his portion, Yu Jinnian poured himself a cup of warm tea and, holding the teacup, secretly watched Ji Hong. He noticed that even when eating a bun, Ji Hong was unhurried and elegant, not at all flustered by being watched.
While others might hold flowers gracefully, he held a bun with the same elegance, creating a rare and charming sight.
Thinking of this, an image of “A Beauty Holding a Bun” appeared in Yu Jinnian’s mind, causing him to burst into laughter.
Ji Hong, seeing him laugh continuously, nearly spilling his tea, reached out to pull the boy closer, making him sit beside him. He tilted his head and asked, “What’s so funny? Tell me.”
Yu Jinnian, still in high spirits, leaned on the table and told him about the “Bun Holding Picture,” even using his finger to draw a rough sketch on the wooden table, laughing at the stick figures. “Just like this.”
“Your ‘Bun Holding Picture’ still can’t compare to the ‘Red-faced Black Chicken Picture’ I’ve seen,” Ji Hong said, joking with him. Seeing that the boy was getting drowsy, he gently brushed the boy’s eyelids with his thumb, half massaging and half rubbing, and asked with concern, “Haven’t slept well these past few days?”
“Mm…” Yu Jinnian mumbled, resting his head on his arm on the table.
Ji Hong said, “Go take a nap on the bed.”
Yu Jinnian hesitated, “But there are still customers outside.
“I’ll keep an eye on things and wake you if anything happens.” Ji Hong led him to the bed, removing his outer shoes and half reclining against the bedpost, one arm wrapped around the boy. He gently rubbed Yu Jinnian’s thin back. The boy nestled against his waist, half-closed his eyes, and, remembering the “Red-faced Black Chicken Picture” Ji Hong mentioned, asked, “What’s the ‘Red-faced Black Chicken Picture’?”
Ji Hong, with a gentle tone, explained, “Someone once brought a picture of a red-faced black chicken, insisting I write a poem praising his chicken. If I refused, he said he’d stay at my house and not leave. Later, he even treated garlic sprouts as narcissus flowers and, knowing he was wrong, still insisted I write a poem praising his garlic sprouts…”
Yu Jinnian, lifting his eyelids to look at him curiously, asked, “Such a person exists? Did you write the poem?”
“I thought he was just foolish and naturally refused. I even had him driven out. Later, that person pried open my window and climbed over my wall… I thought he must be a madman and became even more afraid of him, never letting him into my yard again.”
This person seemed like a stalker. Young Ji Hong must have been very timid, like a little princess. How did he grow up to be so cold and aloof? Yu Jinnian frowned in his sleepy state, then suddenly smiled and asked, “What did this person want?”
“Who knows, just a weirdo,” Ji Hong said, lowering the bed curtain to block some sunlight, half lying down and patting the boy’s back. He concluded the bizarre story with a vague ending, saying, “Just a bedtime story. Now sleep.”
This story was far more interesting than tales of loyal ministers and generals. Yu Jinnian, with the story of a stalker in his mind, dreamed of battling the “Red-faced Chicken” for an entire afternoon.
…
Meanwhile, in front of the Fulai Inn just half a street away.
Third Young Master Min, Min Mao, who was preparing to set off, was sitting in his exquisitely decorated carriage, playing with his new pine soot ink stick. Suddenly, the curtain of the carriage lifted, and a chilly wind seemed to sweep in, making him sneeze heavily.
“Why is it so cold? Hua Yi, bring me a cloak!”