Chapter 65: Jiang Xue (Part Two)

Having just caught another plump fish, Old Master He was thrilled, declaring that ever since the young lady arrived, the fish practically leaped onto the hook. Truly, she was a person of great fortune. Wu Yue-Ling accepted the compliment with a proud smile, then turned, puzzled, to ask about Yang Guozhong, An Lushan, and Shi Siming. Old Master He replied that he only knew An Lushan, the Governor of Fanyang; the other two left no impression.

That fellow, he said, was fat, his belly as large as a watermelon and his waist round as a barrel. From Old Master He’s tone, it was clear he disliked An Lushan immensely, even resented him. He lamented the departure of Doctor Yan, noting that few officials pleaded for him. When Left Chancellor Li Shizhi petitioned on Yan’s behalf, he was scolded by the Emperor. As for the Right Chancellor, Old Master He scoffed; when Yan Qingchen was exiled, he not only failed to plead but even recommended the indecisive and weak Chen Liexi for the post of Chief Censor, which was a grave mistake for the Emperor.

Old Master He confessed that though he was a veteran courtier, his words carried little weight and failed to draw the Emperor’s attention. He also knew the Princess had pleaded for Yan, and for this, he was grateful to the Protector Princess, acknowledging her sense of justice.

Wu Yue-Ling waved off the topic, saying little more. She felt both helpless and regretful at Yan Zhenqing’s departure, and cared little for Li Linfu; as long as her plans were unhindered, she saw no need to deal with such a fox-like character, especially given his status as Prime Minister.

After finishing their fishing, Wu Yue-Ling invited Old Master He to take a seat. Perhaps belatedly, after several hints from Ah Xiang, Old Master He finally realized the name of the pavilion and praised Wu Yue-Ling for her thoughtfulness.

Inside the pavilion, they drew down the bamboo curtains to block the wind, making it much warmer. Ah Xiang displayed her superb knife skills, slicing the large fish into sashimi and placing platters of raw fish on the table.

Wu Yue-Ling set up a brazier, poured in charcoal, mounted the hot pot, added spices, and filled it with water to boil.

“What’s this, little friend? Aren’t we having boiled fish slices? Ah Xiang even brought a frying pan, didn’t you, Ah Xiang?” Old Master He asked, bewildered.

“Yes, the Princess’s method of pouring hot oil over the fish slices is truly ingenious; I’ve learned so much!” Ah Xiang replied, praising Wu Yue-Ling.

Wu Yue-Ling smiled, telling her not to be so formal. Today, she explained, they would not be making pickled fish slices. What she had prepared was called hot pot, and in the heart of winter, hot pot was most fitting. She took several dried chili peppers from a burlap bag, slit them open, and tossed them into her half of the pot.

Next, she took a sealed jar of ale, opened it, and a rush of white foam spilled over the rim, releasing a fragrant aroma of malt.

Old Master He straightened up and sniffed eagerly, almost drooling at the scent.

“Princess, what wine is this? Why is it so fragrant?”

Wu Yue-Ling waited for the foam to subside, then cradled the jar, inhaling the long-absent aroma with a smile. She poured the ale into a large bowl, warmed it in hot water, and personally served it to Old Master He.

They clinked bowls and drank. Wu Yue-Ling explained, “This wine is called ale, or beer. I had the brewers at my estate craft it, adding a touch of sugar so it isn’t too bitter. It’s refreshing, uplifting, and puts the spirit at ease!”

Old Master He finished his drink with a long burp, smacking his lips. It was indeed delicious; the coolness flowed from his mouth through his throat to his stomach, as if washing away all the grease in his gut. Just as the Princess said—refreshing!

While Wu Yue-Ling and Old Master He chatted, Chu’er seized her chance, snatching the bowl from the hot water basin and downing it in one gulp. Then she poured another bowl for Ah Xiang, urging her to try it. Ah Xiang refused, and Chu’er’s drunken hiccup gave away her mischief.

Finally, under Old Master He’s urging, Ah Xiang tried the ale. After drinking, she was thoroughly pleased, though she stifled her own hiccup to avoid embarrassment. It forced its way out through her nose, leaving her teary-eyed and transformed from a bold woman into a pitiful sight.

With the broth boiling, Wu Yue-Ling began teaching Old Master He how to eat hot pot, inviting Chu’er and Ah Xiang to join.

Ah Xiang was hesitant; as a servant, sharing a seat with such eminent figures as Old Master He and the Protector Princess was overstepping. Only with these two could such indulgence be allowed.

Wu Yue-Ling picked up a piece of fish thin as gauze, dipped it in the bubbling broth, then ate it with Old Master He’s secret sauce—tender and delicious.

“Old Master He, may I be so bold as to ask your age?” Wu Yue-Ling inquired, picking up a cooked leaf of greens with her chopsticks and placing it in his bowl.

“Hiss, well—Ah Xiang, how old am I?” Old Master He was at a loss, unable to recall his age, and looked to Ah Xiang while eating the greens.

Ah Xiang had just bitten into a fish slice and coughed at the spicy flavor, then replied that Old Master He was about to turn eighty-five.

Hearing this, Wu Yue-Ling felt a pang in her heart—at such an advanced age, time was in short supply. She raised her bowl in a toast, offering auspicious wishes for a long life, as enduring as the southern mountains.

Wu Yue-Ling then took up a small iron bucket, added black charcoal, and placed a little iron pot over it. Into the pot she poured ale along with ginger, star anise, cinnamon, chili, and garlic, all prepared in advance. She emptied a bag of river shrimp into it, covered it with a wooden lid, and began to braise the crayfish red.

Besides fish, there were also dried bamboo shoots. Wu Yue-Ling tossed a bagful into the hot pot for everyone to taste.

Flower Chu’er was delighted; she remembered digging up these shoots in a bamboo grove during her days wandering. She picked a cooked shoot from the pot and tasted it—very tender, but also very spicy, like biting into those red peppers.

“Whew, whew, whew, so hot!” Flower Chu’er gobbled several pieces, finding them addictive, but her mouth grew hotter and sweat popped out on her forehead.

“What is this, little friend?” Old Master He asked, drinking cold ale to numb the heat.

“Haha, the food that makes you sweat in winter is called chili. I searched for it for a long time with no luck, but found one on the road. I suspect some bird from the Americas got caught in a strong convective current and carried it to Asia!” Wu Yue-Ling picked up a chili and bit into it, the spicy heat exploding like the sun’s rays.

The others had no idea what Wu Yue-Ling meant—what Americas, what convective currents, what Asia?

Flower Chu’er, seeing their confusion, smiled smugly. My young lady is truly extraordinary, though I don’t understand either. She secretly picked up a chili and tossed it to the little lynx beside her.

The lynx polished it off without hesitation, then yelped and bolted into the snow, gnawing at the icy ground to cool its burning mouth.

Flower Chu’er stared dumbfounded at her young lady’s cold gaze. Right in front of her, she cheekily picked up another chili and tossed it to the little white tiger...