Standing atop the corner watchtower, Li Shuang watched their receding figures, a heavy weight pressing on his chest.
To stay or to leave? For anyone, it was a life-and-death gamble, but he had already resolved to stay.
What surprised him was that Li Zhi had chosen to stay behind as well, rather than seizing the chaos as a chance to flee Dunyu.
Eldest Master Li was currently out on bail awaiting trial. If he departed Dunyu, the hundred and fifty thousand taels of silver put up as bail would be confiscated, and not a single copper would ever make its way back to the Li clan.
Yet the Li clan did not care about that amount of money, and he doubted Li Zhi cared either.
Li Shuang had always deemed his eldest uncle mediocre and impetuous, yet this time the man's resolve was startlingly firm.
He felt deeply annoyed. If Li Zhi had fled, the Li clan would have been left leaderless once more, and taking power would have been effortless.
Now he would have to wait another month or so.
The situation in Dunyu shifted several times a day; he was growing truly impatient.
***
Night fell, and Ding Zuodong arrived at Hesu Restaurant.
Shan Youjun accompanied him. Turmoil reigned throughout Dunyu today, and Ding Zuodong was carrying valuable contracts on his person, terrified of being robbed.
Hardly any restaurants in the city had opened for business today, but Hesu Restaurant was an exception.
From the chefs to the waiters, Ding Zuodong had promised lavish bonuses. More importantly, of course, the restaurant now belonged to Eldest Young Master He. With their proprietor—the weather vane of the city—remaining so composed, the servants managed to steady their nerves.
Even so, only two tables of guests sat in the venerable establishment tonight. They were both regulars and drunkards, men who would show up unless the sky fell.
The moment Ding Zuodong stepped inside, his nose twitched. The air was thick with an indescribably wondrous aroma.
As a devoted lover of fried peanuts, he could easily detect the rich fragrance of deep oil, but what were the other scents aggressively clawing their way into his lungs?
He waved a waiter over and asked, "Where is the grand proprietor? And what on earth is the kitchen cooking that smells so good?"
The waiter answered both questions in a single sentence:
"The proprietor has been in the kitchen for four hours and said he won't see anyone except you."
Both Ding Zuodong and Shan Youjun were astounded. At a critical juncture like this, the proprietor had holed up in the kitchen for an entire afternoon?
He truly had nerves of steel. The world outside was about to flip upside down!
The two hurried to the back kitchen and were surprised to spot Maotao outside the door. Ding Zuodong recognized him as He Lingchuan's lackey, but he had never expected the man would pull up a chair and play gatekeeper.
Fortunately, Maotao recognized Ding Zuodong as well and yelled into the kitchen at the top of his lungs, "Boss, Manager Ding is here!"
He Lingchuan's voice came from within. "Manager Ding, please come in."
Only then did Maotao rise and step aside.
Their curiosity thoroughly piqued, they stepped inside and found no one else in the kitchen besides He Lingchuan.
"Proprietor, what are you doing?"
Basins were lined up across the tables—twenty or thirty by a rough count. Fortunately, this was a large restaurant with an astonishing amount of dishware. Inside the basins was a shimmering expanse of bright red...
Ding Zuodong pointed at the basins. "Wait, is this oil?"
He was certain the strange fragrance was drifting from these basins. Yet the liquid inside was a brilliant crimson laced with blazing gold, radiating an almost murderous intensity.
He Lingchuan walked over. "Indeed. How did you fare today?"
He could smell the heavy scent of oil clinging all over himself, his hair feeling especially greasy.
At the mention of their harvest, the wrinkles on Ding Zuodong's face smoothed away into a grin. "We got it! Proprietor, we successfully secured Oil Tiger!" With that, he pulled a stack of contracts from his breast pocket and handed them over. "I also took the opportunity today to snap up two storefronts and thirty mu of irrigated fields. They were simply too cheap to pass up."
Shan Youjun craned his neck beside him. "Oil Tiger, the venerable brand specializing in sesame oil?"
"Is there a second one, unless it's counterfeit?" Ding Zuodong beamed with rare elation. "Oil Tiger was originally preparing to sell to the Shu clan, but I cut in and poached it! My bid was just ten taels higher than theirs! Heh, ten taels higher no matter what they offered. You should have seen that dog from the Shu clan—his face turned the color of pig liver from pure rage."
Back then, the Shu clan had fabricated a bogus charge to kick him out, and the stifling resentment he had swallowed all this time was finally partially vented.
"He got into a bidding war with you?" He Lingchuan held a large ladle, scooping food out of a boiling pot.
"Only once. I jabbed him with a couple of sharp words, and he flicked his sleeves and fled."
The last time the steward of the Shu clan's eldest master had seen Ding Zuodong, he had looked down his nose at him, tossing a string of cash to brush him off. What a stroke of luck that it was the very same steward today, so furious his seven apertures practically spouted smoke, yet he hadn't dared utter a word in reply before slinking away in humiliation.
The feeling of throwing one's weight around couldn't merely be called refreshing—it was downright exhilarating.
Once again, Ding Zuodong felt that clinging to this particular thigh had been the right choice.
"Congratulations, Proprietor! The entire Oil Tiger enterprise—including over a dozen qing of land, five oil-pressing workshops, and seven oil retail stores—now belongs to you!"
One of the prime pillar industries of Dunyu and its surrounding areas was oil.
Peanut oil, rapeseed oil, and sesame oil were exported far beyond the prefecture's borders and even presented as tribute to the imperial capital.
Oil Tiger was a thirty-year-old local brand with its own source fields and strictly controlled quality, deeply beloved by the people.
It had always been one of the key assets Ding Zuodong advised He Lingchuan to acquire. Prior to today, however, the owners had been reluctant and indecisive, and not even the Shu clan had managed to pin them down.
"Had it not been for today's exceptional circumstances, I might not have been able to secure it."
"You've worked hard." He Lingchuan poured the contents of the pot into a bowl, then ladled a scoop of the fiery red oil from the basin and poured it over the top. "Come, have a taste."
The two blankly took the bamboo chopsticks handed to them, hesitating for a moment. "Uh, this?"
Young Master He did not look like someone who could cook. Could this be a hidden talent?
Shan Youjun was more straightforward. Reaching out with his chopsticks, he picked up a meat morsel.
With another reach, he picked up a mouthful of bean sprouts.
He stuffed them into his mouth and chewed. Slowly, his jaws ground to a halt, and his eyes went rounder and rounder.
He Lingchuan couldn't tell what he meant to convey. "Well?"
Before Shan Youjun could answer, he let out two massive sneezes.
Fortunately, he remembered to turn his head aside first.
"Cough! Hack, hack, hack..." Shan Youjun couldn't string together a single coherent sentence, his face flushing crimson.
Prepared in advance, He Lingchuan poured a cup of water, shaved two clumps of snow from an outside branch into it, and handed it over. "Drink this down, and you'll be fine."
Shan Youjun took it and gulped it down in a single breath, letting out a long, shuddering "Ahhh."
Ah, relief.
His reaction seemed overly dramatic, so He Lingchuan found a pair of chopsticks and tasted a bite himself.
Well, it wasn't the peak flavor from his memories, but it would do. After all, he was merely a foodie, not a master chef.
"Old Ding, have a taste."
Seeing Shan Youjun's reaction, Ding Zuodong felt apprehensive, but with his employer's request, he had no choice but to raise his chopsticks.
He didn't even know what he had eaten, yet the flavors exploded in his mouth.
Numbing, spicy, and fragrant surged in succession, finally culminating in a burst of sheer savory freshness.
Huh?
Wait?
He Lingchuan asked with a smile, "How is it?"
"I... I can't find the words." For the first time, Ding Zuodong felt at a loss for speech. "What did I just eat?"
"Pork blood curd."
"Let me try another bite." Ding Zuodong extended his chopsticks and picked up a piece of meat.
Watching from the side, Shan Youjun couldn't help asking, "Don't you find it spicy?"
"It needs to be spicy to have flavor!" Red oil dripped from the corner of Ding Zuodong's mouth, completely unnoticed by him. "You aren't a local, so you don't understand!"
People in southern Xiazhou favored spicy food, something He Lingchuan had known for a while. The region was even rich in small chili peppers.
Seeing how enthusiastically Ding Zuodong was eating, Shan Youjun couldn't resist reaching in with his chopsticks again.
Though he kept hissing and gasping from the heat, the flavor possessed a bizarre allure—the more fiercely it burned, the more impossible it was to stop eating.
One bite after another, the pair quickly emptied the bowl until only the shimmering red oil remained. Even after the last bean sprout vanished, Ding Zuodong swiped his chopsticks through the bottom several times, yearning for more.
With his throat burning like a furnace, Shan Youjun ran straight outside to crunch on snow.
He Lingchuan tossed two sheets of paper over. "Wipe your mouths."
"Pardon my poor manners, pardon me!" Ding Zuodong wiped his mouth, leaving the paper smeared with red oil. "I've made a fool of myself before the proprietor, but this broth is truly magnificent."
He went to the water vat to scoop up a ladle of clear water to drink, then fetched another sheet of paper.
With heat like this, his nasal passages were entirely cleared.
He Lingchuan pointed at the red oil and asked, "Do you think the people of Dunyu will like this?"
"They will!" Ding Zuodong gave a thumbs-up. "Without a doubt, absolutely."
The people of Dunyu loved spicy food, but they had never fused oil, spice, salt, and numbing peppercorn into a single dish. Ding Zuodong felt this flavor would make their souls tremble to the core.
"Then I'll leave this to you. Have Hesu Restaurant's head chef study recipes as soon as possible; I'll write down the ingredients for you."
Ever since Ding Zuodong acquired this venerable grand restaurant, He Lingchuan had been pondering the Collection of a Hundred Fragrances obtained from the Panlong dreamscape. The spices recorded within indeed contained recipes tailored specifically to the 'numbing and spicy' profile. Furthermore, having eaten so many bowls of malatang, maocai, skewered hotpot, and red-oil broth in his previous life, that flavor had long been branded into his memory. The moment it was touched upon, the craving became irresistible.
So this afternoon, he had fetched spices from the apothecary and begun tinkering away here.
It could be counted a passable success.
As the proprietor, this was where his involvement ended; he could not afford to pour more energy into it. What came next would depend on Ding Zuodong and Hesu Restaurant.
Ding Zuodong was overjoyed. "We have medicine shops and oil workshops, so making this will pose no problem at all. The recipe must be handled by dedicated personnel to keep it secret, giving Hesu Restaurant another signature dish!"
He Lingchuan chuckled. "No matter how closely it's guarded, it will leak eventually. Even if others don't know the recipe, they'll attempt to replicate it."
There was no profound mystery to red oil. Its mere existence would point the way for others.
Ding Zuodong understood the reasoning as well. "Every moment we can keep it to ourselves counts."
As He Lingchuan scooped water to wash his hands, Ding Zuodong added, "The Zhan clan has left. I heard they sold all their remaining grain and land to the prefectural government, including the military colony land they had previously swallowed up."
"Even before we arrived in Dunyu, the Zhan clan was already liquidating their assets, and half their members had moved away. Now they have even less reason to stay." He Lingchuan was not surprised in the least. "Quite a few people left with the Zhan clan, didn't they?"
Whenever a prominent clan migrated, other minor gentry and commoners wishing to depart would follow along—partly out of herd mentality, and partly for safety in numbers.
Chapter 236