There are those who can be saved, and there are those who cannot. This is the way of the world.
The Fourth Master’s order? Wasn’t their Fourth Master already “dead”? Could it be that he now intended to reveal his true identity?
Yu Jinnian rested his chin in thought for a while before deciding to go out and meet the people from the Yang residence. At the same time, he instructed Qing Huan, “You go in first, fetch a basin and get some hot water.”
Qing Huan responded from outside the door and then pushed it open.
Ji Hong opened his eyes, and a hint of impatience seeped into his gaze, which had been relaxed and content. He turned over, saw Yu Jinnian standing there with a silly look, and hooked his finger—half of the bed curtain dropped down with a swish, casting half the bed in shadow while the other half remained bright, a clear dividing line. He raised his hand again, hooked it around the boy’s neck, and pulled him closer, meeting him halfway.
It wasn’t overly clingy, since Ji Hong’s waist was still weak and couldn’t support a long embrace. It was more like a dragonfly touching water, so light that Yu Jinnian barely felt it. It took him quite some time to fully realize what had happened.
Qing Huan immediately turned her head, her face flushing red.
As the bed curtain fell, she saw a jade-white hand extend from behind it, pulling Young Master Nian down. All she could see were the tips of his toes curling slightly, and nothing more. Although she hadn’t seen anything clearly, and didn’t know what exactly was happening inside, she still felt as though she had witnessed everything. It made her incredibly embarrassed.
Qing Huan, still inexperienced as a young courtesan, had only glimpsed the rough scenes between clients and courtesans a few times. She should have been desensitized to such things by now, but for some reason, the image of Master Ji’s hand emerging from behind the curtain embarrassed her even more, making her blush even deeper.
Inside the bed curtain, the two of them were anything but embarrassed. Ji Hong slowly released Yu Jinnian, his palm leaving first, fingers trailing along the boy’s neck, rubbing his earlobe as he softly said, “Go on.”
Yu Jinnian pursed his lips, piled the pillows behind Ji Hong to make him more comfortable, and then lifted the curtain to put on his shoes.
From inside the curtain, Ji Hong said again, “Come back soon.”
“Mm,” Yu Jinnian responded cheerfully, then jumped off the bed and left.
Qing Huan, keeping her head down, hurried over to fetch the copper basin by the bed without daring to look inside the curtain.
Yu Jinnian headed to the front hall and heard the chattering of customers. The steward of the Yang residence, along with three or four young servants, was waiting outside the noodle shop, looking anxious as he paced back and forth. Behind him, one of the servants held a delicate wooden cage, much larger than a birdcage, in which a plump tabby cat was curled up asleep, pressing down the soft cushion around it, forming a deep indentation.
When the steward saw that it was only Yu Jinnian coming out and that the fearsome one from the Duke’s household hadn’t followed, he breathed a sigh of relief and hurried over, saying, “Boss Yu, Mr. Yu!”
Yu Jinnian pretended not to understand and asked, “The steward here to have noodles?”
“No, no, no,” the steward waved his hands quickly, awkwardly replying, “We’ve come to visit you, Mr. Yu. We should have presented our visiting card first, but as you know… well, given what happened at our residence the other day… uh, to be honest, we have a favor to ask today…”
Yu Jinnian, puzzled, asked, “I’m just a chef, how could I help your esteemed residence?”
The steward looked embarrassed, wringing his hands together as he replied, “Mr. Yu, you’re too modest, too modest.”
Yu Jinnian knew that exchanging pleasantries with people from the Yang residence would drag on forever, so he stopped talking and just waited for the steward to continue.
Clearing his throat, the steward looked around for support but found none. Frustrated, he turned and kicked one of the servants, who finally snapped out of his daze, stepped forward, and presented a large black lacquered box with inlaid mother-of-pearl and double handles. Oddly enough, although the box wasn’t locked, a yellow talisman was stuck on it, with a string of wild characters scrawled on it in red ink.
Upon seeing the box, the first thought that came to Yu Jinnian’s mind was “Yixin.”
Sure enough, the steward wiped the sweat from his brow and said, “This box belongs to the Fourth Master. Last night, the Fourth Master suddenly started speaking and called out ‘Yu’ all night long, circling around the box. It seems the Fourth Master wants to give this box to you… so here we are, delivering it to you today.”
As he spoke, the tabby cat in the cage stretched lazily and let out a meow. To Yu Jinnian, it sounded like an ordinary cat’s cry, but the steward, bending low and bowing to it, said, “Yes, yes, yes, it’s the one who made the vegetarian dishes, Boss Yu.”
Yu Jinnian: “…”
So it turns out, when people become superstitious, they truly become extraordinary. A tabby cat, plump to the point of having a round face, had been treated as their little Fourth Master.
Yixin’s ability to manipulate people was indeed impressive.
The steward ordered a servant to take out some fish jerky they had brought along and feed it to the cat. Only after pampering the feline to satisfaction did he finally stand up and call over another servant, who brought out a slightly smaller box. The steward, looking a bit embarrassed, said, “The other day, when the residence was in chaos, we didn’t properly entertain you two, and we feel very apologetic. Today, we’ve come not only to deliver this box but also to apologize to you both. And, thirdly…”
“Just say it, Steward,” Yu Jinnian said.
He paused for a moment, first bowing respectfully to the tabby cat, then continued with a stiff smile, “We’ve already promised the Fourth Master that for the next three years, everyone in the residence will worship Buddha and adopt a vegetarian diet to atone to Madam Lan. The master also said that your vegetarian dishes, Boss Yu, are the best for calming the mind and body. Therefore, we would like to request that you prepare a vegetarian meal each day—there’s no need for you to come to the residence yourself; we’ll send a servant to pick it up before noon each day.”
“And, one more thing—Madam Li has used two doses of your medicine, and her pain has truly subsided. We hope you can continue treating her. Here is the payment for the vegetarian meals and the fees for Madam Li’s treatment…”
Yu Jinnian casually asked, “Are the masters of the residence in good health?”
“…Sigh.” The steward sighed heavily, unable to continue due to the sadness overwhelming him. He didn’t want to mention the family’s troubles in public, so he sighed a few more times—after all, he had worked diligently for the Yang family for most of his life. He had no wife or children, but he had hoped that, after all his years of service, the family would treat him kindly in his old age. But now, seeing how the Yang family had fallen into such disarray, it was hard to bear.
Second Master’s scandal had spread throughout the residence, making it clear that he was no longer capable of handling things; Third Master, though eager for petty gains, couldn’t grasp the bigger picture in business. With Third Madam taking her own life in despair, Third Master drowned himself in drink every day to dull his sorrow. The Old Master had grown increasingly confused, only able to mutter about Madam Lan and the little Fourth Master. Even the servants who had not yet signed their indentures were submitting resignation requests one after another.
—This grand Yang family estate, could it really rely on an outsider like him to hold it together? Even if he could manage for a time, he couldn’t do so forever. Once he was gone, wouldn’t the Yang family crumble to dust in an instant?
Yu Jinnian saw the steward’s unspoken misery and understood, deciding not to press him further. Instead, he reached out to accept the small box they had brought. Opening it, he saw several gold and silver ingots lying on top of a pile of round, plump pearls. It was clear they had spared no expense.
Madam Li’s illness, while peculiar, didn’t have a definitive cure, but relieving the symptoms was relatively easy. As long as her daily habits were watched carefully, it was possible the illness wouldn’t return. Besides, with the Yang family’s generosity, this money could not only support his livelihood but even double the size of his shop, allowing him to buy thick winter robes for everyone working in the noodle shop.
Yu Jinnian had already entered a state of mind consumed by the sight of wealth, even thinking about what kind of cotton robe he should buy for Ji Hong.
The Yang family, after being manipulated and ridiculed by Yixin, had fallen into disarray, with some going mad, some remaining foolish, and others becoming chaotic. The steward of the Yang family, whether out of superstition or something else, had come humbly seeking vegetarian meals and medicine. It was clear they wouldn’t dare provoke them again.
After thinking for a moment, Yu Jinnian accepted the box and agreed to the task. After all, he could find time to make a few vegetarian meals amid his busy schedule.
The steward, seeing the matter settled, didn’t linger long to embarrass himself further and hurried back to the residence.
Yu Jinnian, holding both a large and small box, walked toward the backyard. Since he hadn’t bothered to avoid anyone during his conversation with the Yang family’s steward at the front, those inside the hall had heard the gist of it. Now, they were all casting him looks of surprise, curiosity, or deep thought. As he passed through the curtain, the customers immediately lowered their heads and whispered among themselves.
Just as Yu Jinnian stepped through the curtain, he saw that Ji Hong had gotten up at some point and was now leaning against the courtyard wall by the curtain. He was wearing a light blue outer robe, which looked quite thin. With no free hands, Yu Jinnian could only scold him, “Why are you out here with so little on?”
“I was worried since you were taking so long to return.” Ji Hong made to help him with one of the boxes, but Yu Jinnian quickly sidestepped, afraid of straining Ji Hong’s recently healed waist. Ji Hong, knowing his own limits, didn’t insist. Instead, he glanced toward the front hall, letting out a small chuckle. “That’s certainly a unique way to thank a doctor.”
“What do you mean?” Yu Jinnian asked, puzzled, glancing down at the box of jewels in his arms. “Isn’t this just their usual gold, silver, and jewels? Standard Yang family style.”
Ji Hong pinched the boy’s nose, shaking his head with a sigh. “You little fool.”
The Yang family, manipulated by Yixin, had come so openly seeking medical help in such a public place, where gossip spread like wildfire. It wouldn’t be long before the whole county heard the news. No matter how much the rumors varied, Yu Jinnian’s reputation as a skilled doctor who cured Madam Yang’s long-standing illness would surely spread.
A doctor’s reputation is built this way. Healing a hundred nameless commoners wouldn’t compare to curing a lady from a prestigious family. That’s why Zou Heng had fought tooth and nail to gain access to wealthy households, earning his unearned reputation as a miracle doctor.
Yu Jinnian stared at Ji Hong for a while, still not understanding. He trailed after Ji Hong like a little tail, stepping on his shadow and urging, “Tell me, tell me! Don’t keep me in suspense!”
The two of them chased each other into the room. Yu Jinnian set the two boxes down. Having already seen the smaller one, he lost interest in it and pushed it toward Ji Hong to inspect. Meanwhile, he tore off the talisman sealing the lacquered inlay box.
Ji Hong picked up the talisman paper and immediately remarked with disdain, “This was sent by Yixin?”
Yu Jinnian, surprised, asked, “Eh, I haven’t said anything yet. How did you know?”
Ji Hong lightly shook the yellow paper. “It’s written on here.”
“What does it say? The writing looks like gibberish; how could I understand that!” Yu Jinnian leaned in to see, but Ji Hong raised the paper high out of his reach. The two tussled for a while until, in frustration, Yu Jinnian flopped down and spread his legs wide, sitting directly on Ji Hong’s lap. Pinching Ji Hong’s face, he demanded, “Are you going to let me see it or not?”
Ji Hong’s face, pulled into a forced grin, looked rather comical, and Yu Jinnian couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Ji Hong pressed the yellow talisman paper to Yu Jinnian’s lips. Since Yu Jinnian’s lips were slightly moist, the paper immediately stuck. Holding the boy gently by the hips, Ji Hong, half-smiling and half-exasperated, said, “Go ahead, see for yourself.”
Yu Jinnian, paper stuck to his lips, glared at Ji Hong.
He looked like a mischievous little demon, Ji Hong thought.
Before the paper could fall off on its own, absorbing the moisture from Yu Jinnian’s lips, the boy caught it in his hand and flipped it over, examining it thoroughly.
He couldn’t make any sense of it, growing increasingly anxious, so he pleaded with Ji Hong, “Just tell me already.”
Ji Hong, worn down by his pestering, finally explained, “This isn’t a talisman. It’s just four archaic characters. They were commonly used in the previous dynasty, but after the founding of the Da Xia, this script was abolished. Nowadays, it’s only used in a single province near the northwestern borders. Moreover, the monk has altered these four characters using the style of a talisman, but it simply reads ‘With respect, from Yixin.’”
“That’s just like him, always pulling off these mystical tricks,” Yu Jinnian clicked his tongue. Jumping off Ji Hong’s lap, he eagerly placed the lacquered box on Ji Hong’s knees, saying excitedly, “Come on, open it! The gold and silver are mine, the jewels are yours!”
The box was heavy, clearly containing a lot. Ji Hong laughed, “Why are the jewels mine?”
“I spend all my time either in the kitchen or the medicine workshop. What use do I have for jewels? They wouldn’t suit me. But on you, they’ll look amazing! Everything in here is yours!” Yu Jinnian’s eyes lit up as he remembered, “Yixin always has good stuff. I saw a plum blossom glass hairpin once, sparkling like water, with tiny pearls like grains of rice… You’ll definitely look good with these. They’re all yours!”
He nudged the box again, urging Ji Hong to open it. Ji Hong smiled, shook his head, and unhooked the copper clasps on the lacquered box. The doors of the box swung open, revealing rows of drawers in various sizes, all inlaid with colorful mother-of-pearl. Each drawer had small brass handles shaped like bats holding rings in their mouths. The black lacquer of the box gleamed, the craftsmanship so exquisite that it wouldn’t look out of place even in the Duke of Li’s household—it certainly wouldn’t be considered shabby or poor.
Yu Jinnian gasped in awe, urging Ji Hong to open the small drawers.
Ji Hong took out the contents one by one and laid them on the table. They included: a white-glazed porcelain peony pillow, a bronze tiger-shaped paperweight, a set of jade medicine bowls and pestles, a white-bronze engraved medicine drum, two silver medicine knives with handles the size of thumb pads, a pair of gold-inlaid scissors, flat-tipped silver tweezers, a willow-shaped scalpel, a set of Seven Star acupuncture needles with silver tips and wooden handles, two tortoiseshell Gua Sha boards, several small black-glazed porcelain medicine jars, and five or six delicate white porcelain medicine bottles.
The table was soon filled with a dazzling array of items.
It seemed someone had carefully polished these tools before delivering them, or perhaps Yixin had never used them, as each item gleamed brightly, especially the gold and silver ones, which gave off a soft glow.
But the most important item was a red silk-wrapped package taken from the bottom drawer.
—Inside the package was none other than the set of gold needles the boy had been dreaming about.
Ji Hong, seeing these tools, was both happy for the boy and slightly bitter inside. He thought Yixin, the monk, was truly crafty. He might as well have sent jewels instead, since the boy didn’t care much for gold or silver, and would have soon forgotten them. But now, with such a fine set of medical instruments in his hands, the name “Yixin” would likely remain etched in his mind for the rest of his life.
Yu Jinnian, overwhelmed with excitement, exclaimed “Wow” three times. He leaned over the table, dazzled by the sight of the tools, unable to decide which one he loved more. He picked up the tiger-shaped paperweight and jingled it, the sound echoing through the room, making him laugh along with the noise.
After admiring them for a while, Yu Jinnian suddenly fell silent, gently caressing the medical tools. “Ah Hong, these are such precious items, they must be expensive… Should I not accept them? Maybe I should return them?”
Even as he said the words “return them,” his eyes were filled with so much affection that it was clear he was reluctant to part with them. He seemed like he would clutch them to his chest, refusing to let anyone else see.
Ji Hong, feeling stifled, fiddled with one of the drawers. Suddenly, he pressed something and a hidden compartment popped open, revealing two small paper-wrapped medicine jars and a letter.
Curious, Yu Jinnian squeezed over, squatting beside Ji Hong with his hands resting on Ji Hong’s legs, eagerly asking, “What is it? What is it?”
Ji Hong handed him one of the paper-wrapped packages, which smelled of bitter medicine, while he took out the letter. To Ji Hong’s surprise, the letter wasn’t addressed to Yu Jinnian, but to himself. The envelope bore the words “For Master Ji’s eyes only,” written in the same archaic script.
Yu Jinnian busied himself examining the contents of the medicine jars. One held small, black pills with a faint, bitter fragrance, likely a refined version of Yixin’s opium paste. The other jar was easier to identify: it contained opium seeds and crushed opium husks wrapped in paper.
Opium, though a miraculous medicine, was also a drug that could lead one to ruin. It had exceptional effects for treating dysentery, calming coughs, relieving pain, and even serving as a sedative or anesthetic. However, its toxic properties were also well-known, especially when refined into a paste, as it could easily lead to addiction or even death from overdose.
At this time in the Xia dynasty, opium had not yet been introduced, and it was not available in pharmacies. Yixin, who had studied abroad, had accidentally brought this medicine back, making him a pioneer in medical history. And now, by chance, this drug had ended up in Yu Jinnian’s hands.
Yu Jinnian looked at these two small jars of extraordinary substances, feeling a flood of emotions.
After sighing to himself, he noticed Ji Hong reading the letter. He sneaked a glance at it, but seeing only more strange symbols, he obediently pulled his clothes around him and sat down on a cushion, waiting for Ji Hong to finish and explain.
But if Ji Hong didn’t want to tell him… well, he didn’t really have any way to force him.
When Ji Hong set the letter down, he saw the boy sitting beside him with his knees hugged to his chest, looking up at him like a pitiful little puppy, as if silently begging, “Please be kind and tell me what it says.” Ji Hong smiled, gently tilted the boy’s chin, and pulled him up to sit on a nearby stool. “Yixin said these things weren’t acquired through deception. They were bought with clean money, so you shouldn’t have any misgivings. Feel free to use them, as it will also bring him some good karma.”
After a pause, he added, “He also mentioned that next year, during the Cold Clothes Festival, don’t forget to burn some colorful garments for Madam Lan.”
“Oh, I won’t forget!” Yu Jinnian nodded eagerly, then asked, “Should I write him a thank-you note? These items are so valuable, it feels wrong to accept them without saying anything. Or should I go thank him in person at Fengbo Temple…”
“No need. Yixin has gone off to wander and meditate. Perhaps if fate allows it, you can thank him in person the next time you meet. But in this vast world, it might be… hard to meet again in this lifetime.” Ji Hong’s voice grew somber. He leaned in and kissed the corner of the boy’s lips, saying, “Alright, go on now. I’m feeling a bit hungry.”
Hearing that Ji Hong was hungry, Yu Jinnian, despite his reluctance, set the medicine jars aside and asked, “Hmm… What do you feel like eating?”
Ji Hong replied, “Something warm and soupy. While you were talking with the people from the Yang family, Qing Huan mentioned that Aunt Xu hasn’t been feeling well lately and also wants some soup.”
“Okay.” Yu Jinnian thought for a moment, then stood up and headed toward the kitchen.
Once he was gone, Ji Hong got up and lit a candle, watching as Yixin’s letter slowly burned to ashes. He had only told the boy part of what the letter contained. Much of it seemed like Yixin’s personal confessions, which Ji Hong kept to himself—partly because Yixin had specifically requested in the letter not to tell Yu Jinnian, and partly because Ji Hong harbored his own selfish desires and didn’t want to share everything with the boy.
If anyone was truly born to be a healer, it would be someone with a tender heart like Yu Jinnian. He couldn’t bear to see people suffer and intentionally avoided acknowledging others’ malice. Whether he genuinely didn’t know or was just pretending not to see, Yu Jinnian’s nature meant that, to him, the word “doctor” held more weight than anything else.
If the boy ever found out that the quiet, brooding little monk had written a lengthy letter filled with complaints, detailing everything from his time abroad to his life in the Xia dynasty, even Yu Jinnian, slow as he was, would surely realize something was amiss.
Yixin had written that he was purifying his heart, emptying his body, and taking only his purest soul to wander the world.
He wrote about how precious human life was, how fleeting it could be, and how karmic retribution was inevitable. He also confessed all the wrongs he had done with his body, speech, and mind, seeking forgiveness for them all.
It seemed as if he had let go of everything.
In Buddhism, letting go means releasing attachments to greed, anger, and ignorance, and to worldly distractions. Yixin had only one obsession, and now that it was fulfilled and his attachment severed, what else was there for him to let go of?
If there was anything left to release, it could only be the body that had burdened him for so many years.
Some people could be saved, while others could not. This was a truth Ji Hong understood deeply. After burning the letter, he quietly organized the medical tools back into the box. He poured himself a cup of tea, though the tea had cooled and turned yellow. As he lifted it to his lips, he caught a faint scent of osmanthus. When he opened the teapot, he saw a small handful of dried osmanthus flowers floating inside. He didn’t know when the boy had added them.
Taking a sip, the bitterness turned sweet, reminding him of the day under the osmanthus tree, when the boy came running toward him with the scent of flowers clinging to his sleeves. Perhaps it was in that fleeting moment when the wind carried the osmanthus petals, or maybe it was when the boy had poured him a cup of osmanthus tea, insisting he stay a while longer, that he suddenly felt a fresh breeze blow into the heavy shell he had once thought of abandoning—a body that, in that moment, felt light again.
Ji Hong had once planned to visit the far south, the land his brother had praised so highly during their time in the snowy caves. He wanted to see if the edges of the world, where the sea meets the fields, were as vast and eternally spring-like as his brother had described. He wanted to see if it truly was a paradise where cold was never known. But deep down, he knew his brother had only said those things to give him hope, to give him something to look forward to—a promise of home. His brother had never expected Ji Hong would actually go so far away.
So Ji Hong left a note, just like Yixin, and set off without hesitation, with no attachments.
From the north to the south, from spring to autumn, Ji Hong traveled for months. He often fell asleep in the carriage, occasionally pulled off course by the driver, and often gave away his money to refugees along the way. He wandered without ties, unaware of how many miles he had covered.
By pure chance, he ended up lost in Xinan County, where he met Yu Jinnian, who was stealing osmanthus flowers. The fragrance of those flowers, which he hadn’t smelled since his brother left, was the furthest he had strayed from his southern path but also the closest he had ever been to finding his true heart.
If Yixin truly had any feelings for Yu Jinnian, writing to provoke or compete for him, that would have been one thing. But Yixin’s letter was filled with peaceful acceptance, even a few harmless jokes. The monk had clearly delved too deeply into Buddhist teachings. Apart from his one attachment, he seemed to have let go of everything else. To Yixin, Yu Jinnian might have been, as he said, an object of admiration, a fleeting rainbow appearing in a clear sky—beautiful, yes, something to appreciate, praise, and extol to others, but not something to chase after.
Yixin knew the rainbow would vanish sooner or later, so he chose to keep walking, as if nothing had happened, like a cold and devout disciple of Buddha.
Ji Hong spread out a small sheet of paper and quickly wrote a response. It mostly conveyed that Yu Jinnian was happy to have received the gift and expressed thanks. After folding the note, Ji Hong stepped outside, found a messenger, and asked him to deliver it to Yixin at Fengbo Temple.
Returning to the backyard, Ji Hong caught sight of the boy busy in the kitchen.
Watching Yu Jinnian, Ji Hong thought to himself that he wasn’t grasping at a fleeting rainbow. Instead, he was holding onto a fragile vine hanging from a deep, dark abyss. Letting go would mean falling into an endless void, shattering completely. No matter how thorny or fragile the vine was, he would cling to it—until the person at the other end let go first.
In the kitchen, Yu Jinnian was chopping goose meat, mixing it with ginger, garlic, a spoonful of rice wine, two eggs, cornstarch, five-spice powder, and two pinches of salt. He stirred it vigorously in one direction to make the filling. For the filling to be chewy, it had to be stirred until all the moisture was absorbed, and the chopsticks could hardly move through it.
After stirring for a while, his hands grew tired, so he set the mixture aside. The goose bones from yesterday’s dish had been boiled into a rich broth by Qing Huan. Yu Jinnian ladled some of it into a pot, heating it up, and tore apart a cabbage, adding slices of winter melon and black fungus to the soup. He also shredded an egg crepe to add to the pot.
Just as he picked up his chopsticks to continue stirring the meat mixture, Ji Hong silently came up behind him, suddenly wrapping his arms around him. Startled, Yu Jinnian nearly dropped the chopsticks into the pot. “What are you doing? Trying to scare me?” he said, confused.
Ji Hong didn’t answer but released his hold, still leaning gently against Yu Jinnian’s back. “What are you making?” he asked.
“Goose ball soup, and there’s some leftover goose meat. I’m making goose flake rolls and a goose blood tofu soup for Aunt Xu. What else would you like? There’s some goose liver too. I could bake some flatbreads and stuff them with minced goose liver and the leftover braised meat for sandwiches. Or the goose liver could be served cold; that’s good too. What do you think would taste best?”
Ji Hong lowered his head, brushing his nose against Yu Jinnian’s neck. “Everything’s good, but you’re the best.”
“…” Yu Jinnian waved his chopsticks at him, laughing as he shooed him away. “Go on, stop distracting me!”
After driving out the mischievous Ji Hong, Yu Jinnian quickly began shaping the meat mixture into balls. His thumb and forefinger gently squeezed the mixture, forming perfect little meatballs. He used a spoon in his right hand to scoop each one into the boiling pot. One by one, the white meatballs floated up to the surface of the soup.
He set aside Aunt Xu’s portion, then sprinkled some spicy floating pepper into the rest of the soup—after all, it was winter, and eating spicy food was comforting.
Once the meatball soup was ready, Yu Jinnian sliced the boiled goose meat, blanched bamboo shoots, wood ear mushrooms, carrots, and chives, and arranged them on a large white porcelain dish. In the center of the plate lay the goose meat, drizzled with a spoonful of bean paste. The other ingredients were artfully placed around the meat, creating a colorful display of red, yellow, black, and green. The dish was so vibrant that it practically invited one to eat more.
This dish wasn’t exactly a hot one. It was more of a semi-cold platter, best enjoyed wrapped in soft, thin pancakes. The translucent pancakes would reveal the bright colors inside, and a bite into the wrap would release the savory sauce, with the goose meat providing a perfect balance between lean and fatty textures. A crunch from the carrot and pickled ginger would follow, complemented by the refreshing chive threads.
As Yu Jinnian wiped a newly cut piece of ginger around the pan to prevent the pancakes from sticking, he poured a thin layer of batter into the pan and slowly cooked the pancakes over low heat.
Meanwhile, in another pot, a soup was simmering for Aunt Xu—goose blood tofu soup.
Even the most complicated dishes seemed to come together effortlessly in Yu Jinnian’s hands. What started as a bunch of ingredients transformed into delicate and delicious dishes, all organized and beautifully presented. When Qing Huan came to fetch the food, she couldn’t help but praise him. She even sneaked a goose meatball from the pot to taste. The meat was tender, bouncy, and the broth savory. She was about to sneak another when Yu Jinnian caught her, and the two had a playful scuffle before they each carried out the dishes for the meal.
Aunt Xu’s health had been deteriorating, and she felt fatigued even after a few steps, spending most of her time resting in bed. Today’s dishes had a special portion prepared for her, easy to digest, and Qing Huan brought them to her room.
As night fell, the shop closed, and they were halfway through dinner when a voice called out from the front hall. Yu Jinnian started to get up, but Ji Hong gently pushed him back down. “I’ll go take a look.”
Ji Hong found the messenger from Fengbo Temple at the door. The man, slightly out of breath from his quick return, took a moment to catch his breath before apologizing. “Sorry, young sir, but everyone at the temple said that Monk Yixin left last night. They don’t know where he went. As for your letter…”
“It’s fine. Thank you.” Ji Hong took the letter back and handed the man ten copper coins as payment for his trouble.
So Yixin had already left, without leaving them the slightest opportunity.
When Ji Hong returned to the backyard, Yu Jinnian asked who it was. Ji Hong simply said it was someone who had come to the wrong door.
The whirlwind of chaos Yixin had stirred up gradually settled back into calm. The Yang family continued to send someone every day to collect their vegetarian meals, and Yu Jinnian cheerfully went on cooking. After the storm, the sun came out again, life went on as usual, and the shop continued to open. The only remaining evidence of the once-bustling ghost story was the lacquered inlay box sitting like a treasure on Yu Jinnian’s bedside table.
The little sun in the noodle shop always shone brightly.
However, after the departure of Second Master Yang, another young master with a penchant for frivolous pastimes soon arrived.
It was just after the busiest time of the day, around Shen hour. Yu Jinnian had just returned from the pharmacy with a bag of Cuscuta seeds and a pig’s kidney, which he had split in half to make a pot of kidney-reinforcing soup. The taste wasn’t exactly refreshing, but he had tried to make it look good by garnishing it with a few bright red goji berries.
He was lazily leaning against the counter, trying to coax Ji Hong into drinking the pig kidney soup, when the young master entered, fanning himself with a gold-threaded fan.
Jiang Bingren, remembering his mission, restrained himself from staring at Ji Hong too much. He entered gracefully, intending to compliment the restaurant’s food, but as soon as he took a breath, he was hit with the pungent smell of pig offal. Glancing around the empty shop, he saw the pot of off-putting soup sitting on the counter.
His face turned red, and unsure of how to praise the soup, he hesitated for a moment before blurting out, “—This soup is quite unique, like a celestial pig descended from the heavens!”
If you can’t think of a compliment, don’t force it. Yu Jinnian thought. “…Young Master Jiang, are you here for noodles again?”
Jiang Bingren folded his fan and blinked. “Do you have that… that… spiced gingerbread? The ginger-flavored one? My servants bought some last time, and it was truly delicious!” He clapped his fan against his palm, clearly still savoring the memory. “The plain ones are good, but the ginger-flavored ones are divine…”
Yu Jinnian stifled a laugh as he looked at him, thinking, Good heavens, Gingerbread Man wants to eat gingerbread!