Ji Hong was truly angry.
A few foreign merchants were released from the prison and then were arranged to stay in an empty residence on Shijin Lane. Each was served a bowl of mixed sauce noodles, accompanied by a pot of aged cellar-stored Chunlai Fragrance, which was quite precious at that time.
That Shijin Lane sounded auspicious just by its name, as though every family along the lane had opened its doors for people to pick up gold. In reality, there truly had been someone who picked up gold there. That person’s surname was Lu; later on, relying on an ownerless gold ingot, he became wealthy enough to rival nations and built a courtyard on the next street over.
Now, after the vicissitudes of life, things had changed, and gold was no longer to be found. However, Shijin Lane and Lu Family Lane remained, right next to each other.
Ever since leaving Xin’an County, Yu Jinnian had not made mixed sauce noodles for a long time. Today, on a whim, he casually gathered some mixed vegetables and a palm-sized piece of meat to make a batch of hand-pulled noodles for those four or five foreign merchants. Although he did not personally roll out the dough, nor did he personally chop the vegetables, he merely stood with his hands folded, offering directions and watching the cook whip up a pot of sauce that was perfect in color, aroma, and taste.
He acted this lazy purely because Ji Hong stood by his side, refusing to let him touch cold water or overexert himself. Even when he picked up a long-unused kitchen knife to swing it around a couple of times, Lord Ji acted as though facing a formidable enemy, as if he wanted to tear that knife to pieces.
Amid the scorching summer, Yu Jinnian wore a plain gauze shirt and carried a canister of red date tea for stomach nourishment at his waist. Holding a bowl of steaming rice porridge sent over from Lu Family Lane, he calmly listened to the few foreign merchants across from him slurp their noodles with loud sucking sounds, as though he had already started enjoying an old man’s life in advance.
But foreigners were foreigners; they were not used to Da Xia’s aged cellar brew. One sip made them choke so badly that bubbles came out of their noses, and they shouted a string of bird-like words, meaning “Spicy, spicy, spicy!” Yu Jinnian saw this and felt pained at heart. He muttered repeatedly in the official language, “Such a pity, such a pity, such a pity!” He reached out sneakily, but Ji Hong snatched the wine pot away at once and handed it to Duan Ming to set aside.
“Ah!” Yu Jinnian sighed. “So miserable I was!”
Those few foreign merchants had not interacted with anyone from Da Xia for some time since their own interpreter died. After Duan Ming captured them indiscriminately and threw them into the government office jail, they lived wretchedly for a few days. Now that they encountered someone who could understand their words, who not only got them out of prison but also returned all the goods they had on their carts, they felt grateful. Hearing Yu Jinnian say he wanted the alkali salt from their carts, they immediately offered it all to him without a second thought. That block of salt was originally meant for making alkali, but since Yu Jinnian wanted it, they simply gave it to him.
One of the foreign merchants and Yu Jinnian got along very well. Midway through their conversation, he ran to the courtyard, rummaged through a cargo box, and brought out a small, sturdily sealed wooden barrel.
Ji Hong merely heard a flurry of foreign words from them. Then that brownish-red-haired foreigner shoved the barrel into Yu Jinnian’s arms, and Yu Jinnian responded in foreign words as well—likely words of gratitude—before happily accepting the barrel.
He had previously thought that beyond Da Xia were only a few border states, and foreigners were crude in behavior, poorly dressed, and not worthy of stepping onto the grand stage. At this moment, though, he stared blankly at Yu Jinnian, listening to the young man speak that string of foreign words in a clear, pleasing voice. Then, when the foreign merchant spoke, a faint displeasure flickered between his brows—his internal scales had obviously tipped in some unknown direction.
Meanwhile, the reason Yu Jinnian felt overjoyed was that the foreign merchant had given him nothing other than a small barrel of grape wine.
Yu Jinnian had brewed all sorts of wine over these past two years, each with its own flavor. Only the grape variety always seemed to lack something. Later, he guessed it might have been missing that bit of oak barrel aroma. Having received a small barrel of grape wine for free, Yu Jinnian could not have been happier. He was afraid Ji Hong might confiscate it again, so all the way from Shijin Lane back to his own courtyard, he clutched it tightly. After passing through the courtyard gate, he could not even be bothered to greet and chat with Little Master Jiang. He bolted straight for the backyard, and anyone could see from his cautious posture—even a fool—that he intended to hide something.
Ji Hong stretched out his long arm and blocked his way like a door god. Yu Jinnian, along with the barrel, bumped right into his chest, cried out in pain, then took two steps back. He lifted his head and blinked innocently at the beautiful roadblock before him.
“What is it?” Ji Hong asked. “Let me take a look.”
“N-nothing, just a small trinket. There’s no point in looking at an old wooden barrel.” Yu Jinnian shifted his gaze uneasily. Seeing the path was blocked, he changed direction and attempted to run toward Jiang Bingren’s room. Sure enough, before he made it a few steps, Duan Ming and the others blocked his way again.
“Just let me see.” Ji Hong walked over, and his face remained as gentle as ever, reserved only for Yu Jinnian.
Yu Jinnian hugged the barrel, unwilling to hand it over, but since the man was right there, he hesitantly asked, “Just look at it?”
Ji Hong nodded.
Yu Jinnian reluctantly gave the small wooden barrel to him, then watched in dismay as Ji Hong tried to pry open the seal, exclaiming in alarm, “No, no, no! Don’t open it, ah! Once it’s opened and fully exposed to air, it’ll turn sour! It’s better to open it right before drinking!”
“….” Ji Hong immediately realized what was inside. His face went cold with anger. “It seems you wanted wine more than life. You were in such pain that you couldn’t even eat a few days ago, barely recovering a little, and now you’re making trouble again.”
“I didn’t plan on drinking it. I just wanted to look at it. Besides, this is grape wine—it wasn’t strong—good for the stomach…” Yu Jinnian trailed off, apparently feeling even he could not believe such a flimsy excuse. For him, Yu Jinnian, the famed tippler of Xin’an, any wine that landed in his hands lasting three days was already a stroke of Buddha’s blessing and Heaven’s compassion. Duan Ming repeatedly shot him glances, signaling that honesty was the best policy. Resistance would only worsen his predicament, so he should come clean.
Yu Jinnian and Duan Ming exchanged a series of covert winks. After hemming and hawing for a while, Yu Jinnian grew quiet. He peered sideways at Ji Hong, sneaking a few glances. Seeing his downcast, frosty gaze, Yu Jinnian immediately stood up straight, placed his hands in front of him, and admitted with a pitiful face, “All right, I knew I was wrong.”
In the courtyard stood an old locust tree with lush green leaves that bore a tiny tip. Swaying in the breeze, clusters of whitish blossoms scattered and drifted onto the man’s shoulder. One blossom seemed to freeze there, like it had been touched by frost, not moving an inch. Ji Hong glanced at Yu Jinnian, lifted his hand to brush off the locust flower from his shoulder, and handed the wine back to him, saying simply, “Do as you please.”
Yu Jinnian watched him leave like that, not even uttering any reproachful words, and stood dumbfounded under the tree for a moment. Duan Ming did not dare follow Ji Hong away, nor did he dare to leave Yu Jinnian behind, so he timidly stepped aside, caught between two difficulties.
Only when a sleeveful of locust blossoms had fallen did Yu Jinnian regain his senses. He shoved the wine into Duan Ming’s arms and ran after Ji Hong.
He called “Ah Hong” several times, but Ji Hong remained unmoved, as though he had entered a state of selfless concentration. When Yu Jinnian pushed the door open and walked in, Ji Hong gave no response, silently reviewing the official documents on the desk, as if he no longer even noticed Yu Jinnian’s presence. Yu Jinnian craned his neck like a mouse, eagerly helping him grind the ink and straighten the paper. He almost went so far as to offer shoulder massages and gentle care, but to no avail—his lovely Ji remained unshakable, like still water that refused to stir up any ripples.
Ji Hong was truly angry.
Yu Jinnian pondered for a bit, then got up to leave. Suddenly, he felt a faint ache in his stomach, so he squatted down beside the desk. Ji Hong’s brush paused for a moment, and his hand half-reached out. However, the very next moment, Yu Jinnian sprang up again as though nothing had happened and dashed out, so the slight hesitation disappeared. Ji Hong’s fingers clenched, and he lowered his eyes in silence, choosing not to see or hear.
Yu Jinnian strolled out, hollered at Duan Ming—who was still standing around in the courtyard like a wooden post—to climb the tree and pluck a bunch of fully bloomed locust flowers. This locust tree could be eaten in various stages: its tender tips when it sprouted leaves, its buds before they blossomed, and its flowers at full bloom. Once summer and autumn arrived, both leaves and flowers could be used in cooking. Even when they withered, one could still dry them for medicinal purposes. Duan Ming climbed up and down, picking a basketful of fresh flowers, then dutifully helped him wash them clean.
He set a pot of water to boil on the stove, placed the cleaned locust flowers into a tea boiler, and let them steep until fragrant. Then he pinched a bit of white sandalwood powder into the tea. Sandalwood’s fresh aroma helped soothe one’s spirits, while white locust flowers cooled the liver’s heat. Steeped like this, the tea was elegantly fragrant. Yu Jinnian lowered his head to sniff it and faintly smelled the aroma of meat broth. He had been eating rice porridge for several days, lacking oil and fats, and simply could not resist the temptation of such savory scents. Following his nose, he edged closer and spotted the cook standing by a clay pot on the stove, holding a few wontons.
“What are you simmering?” he asked.
The cook waved a palm fan, her cheeks red as she smiled. “Lotus root and pork rib soup. The master instructed it, saying you loved it! But lotus roots and ribs aren’t easy to cook until tender, so the master also had us wrap some easy-to-digest wontons. At mealtime, we’ll soak them in the pork rib soup. That way, you’ll taste the soup’s richness and enjoy the wontons’ savory flavor!”
Yu Jinnian recalled how he had clamored for pork rib soup that day. He responded with a soft “Oh,” then returned to his tea boiler, pinching a locust leaf in his hand. Duan Ming stored that troublesome barrel of grape wine in the cupboard and shuffled over to speak quietly. “Little Master, don’t blame His Highness for getting angry. It was truly terrifying when you fell ill. His Highness watched over you all night, and we couldn’t even pry him away. With the plague spreading everywhere now, you fell sick again. It scared him…”
“……” Yu Jinnian pursed his lips, set down the tea he had just picked up, and pulled out the half bowl of flour left over. He used the tea to knead the dough, then pressed out shapes of flowers and hearts, tossed them into the pot, and brought it all to a boil. He had the cook ladle a spoonful of the pork rib soup over the locust-flower dough slices. He had originally meant to brew a pot of locust flower tea, but after fiddling around, it turned into a dish of locust flower soup cakes.
He carried it over to bother Ji Hong again, waiting patiently for Ji Hong to finish reviewing the last three official documents. Only then did he lean against the desk and cautiously fiddle with Ji Hong’s fingers. Duan Ming trailed after him like a shadow, speaking with a straight face, “Little Master made this soup for you, nearly burning his fingers. Your Highness, please taste it.”
“Too much talk,” Ji Hong said. “Leave us.”
Duan Ming withdrew awkwardly and stood beneath the corridor, tilting his head to look at the sky, deeply feeling that he had gone from Duan the bodyguard who protected lives to Duan the fretful eunuch.
Only after a long moment did Ji Hong set down his brush. Seeing this, Yu Jinnian quickly handed him the bowl. The way he fawned looked like he had grown a tail behind him, wagging eagerly at Ji Hong. Ji Hong did not look at him, simply raised the bowl and ate a few mouthfuls. Each petal-shaped noodle slid into his mouth with the locust’s delicate sweetness and the sandalwood’s mellow fragrance, pleasantly light and just to his taste.
Scooping up the bottom of the bowl, he lifted a piece of bone, on which three characters had been faintly carved: “I was wrong.”
Ji Hong’s face darkened at the sight, and he placed the bowl on the table, got up, and walked out.
Yu Jinnian’s heart skipped a beat. He thought, Why was this man so hard to appease this time? He himself had done nothing more than try to hide a jug of wine, yet Ji Hong was this angry. He could not think of a better solution and feared Ji Hong might throw him out in a fit of rage, so he lunged forward in panic, landing on Ji Hong’s knee with his rear end, clinging on tightly.
Ji Hong’s voice was cold: “Get off.”
Yu Jinnian said, “I won’t. If I get off, you’ll lock me out!”
Ji Hong asked, “Are you getting off or not?”
Yu Jinnian wore the expression of a pig unafraid of boiling water, shaking his head like a rattle. “Not getting off!”
“Fine.” Ji Hong nodded, reached up, and grabbed the hand locked around his shoulder. Narrowing his eyes, he said fiercely, “You brought this on yourself. If your stomach starts to hurt later, don’t blame me.”
Yu Jinnian had not grasped his meaning yet before Ji Hong threw him onto the bed. The bed curtains were like two broad falling leaves, swaying as they closed around a scene of passion. After only a short while, Yu Jinnian whimpered and tried to escape. Naturally, he got pulled back, pinned between a warm body and the sturdy bed boards, drenched in sweat. Because he twisted around so violently, his stomach truly began to ache, but in the midst of enormous pleasure, the pain gradually became less noticeable.
But just as someone had warned beforehand, even to the end, he did not stop when Yu Jinnian wanted him to.
“Not everything can go your way,” Ji Hong said. “I spoiled you.”
The delicate little Yu Flower had been tormented until he was close to passing out, tossed onto the messy bed like scattered petals ground into dust, countless times after spring’s end. Yu Jinnian felt as though he was a bud whose pistil had been hollowed out, a trunk whose core had been gouged. He was empty inside, with loose bones and limp limbs, manipulated into all sorts of debauched, bewildering positions—soft meat on the butcher’s block, or pork ribs in Ji Hong’s bowl.
Chewed to bits, he dared not say “I was wrong” ever again. He realized that the more he repeated those three words, the worse trouble he got into. Ji Hong was furious precisely because of them. Even criminal law acknowledged the concept of attempted crime. Besides, he only wanted to stash away some wine, but ended up failing in that attempt and was punished so harshly for no real reason, flipped back and forth like a pancake.
While he was being flipped, he reflected on his own mistakes. It was true he could not blame Ji Hong for being so harsh; his own track record was too long. He often swore one day never to do something again, only to waltz right back into mischief the next. “I was wrong” came out of his mouth too easily, sounding almost childlike every time, so no wonder Ji Hong had flared up like this.
Yu Jinnian deeply reflected on himself over this figurative griddle, begging Lord Ji for a chance to mend his ways.
In truth, he understood full well that Ji Hong was sincerely worried about him. It was because his love was so deep that his admonitions ran so sharp. Recently, he had been drinking rice porridge for his stomach ailment, and Ji Hong had the same porridge too. When he did not want to take bitter medicine, Ji Hong prepared red dates and honey, tasting them first before feeding him.
It was all to ease his discomfort, with someone sharing every hardship.
Ultimately, Ji Hong said nothing more. That night, lying beside him, Ji Hong stroked his hair and sighed twice, massaging his waist and soothing the dull pain in his stomach… By the second day, Yu Jinnian was once again a lively young man. Rumors of them having a spat had only circulated for a single night. Jiang Bingren did not even get a chance to tease him, for at dawn, he saw those two walking out one after the other, perfectly attentive to each other.
Little Master Jiang punched the old locust tree in frustration and gritted his teeth. “Them quarrel? Impossible!”
As for the Imperial Medical Office staff, who had long been swamped with work, they nearly welcomed Yu Jinnian with tears of gratitude when he finally recovered enough to return. Yu Jinnian had a chest carried over, containing several blocks of rock salt he had obtained from the foreign merchants. Taking a bit to test, it indeed matched the alchemical writings of predecessors—“burn it, and purple-green smoke rises,” indicating a relatively pure form.
He had people boil the salt, mixed it with the sugar-salt solution from before, and began testing it starting with lower concentrations. He offered it experimentally to some patients who suffered severe vomiting and diarrhea. Because it was impossible to replenish electrolytes accurately and impossible to remove other impurities in the rock salt, he could not predict whether this rough homemade rehydration solution would be helpful or harmful. He could only do his best and attempt to save more lives.
At least for Yan Sining, who lay bedridden with serious illness, that slightly bitter saltwater truly became his life-saving charm.