Roast duck had to be plump, soy-glazed duck had to be lean, and salted duck had to strike a balance between the two.
Word had it that the ducks supplied exclusively to this establishment were raised entirely on river snails and duckweed. Furthermore, for three days before slaughter, they were fed osmanthus blossoms, so that once brought to the table, their flesh retained the subtle fragrance of osmanthus.
He Lingchuan had dined here several times and readily admitted the ducks were delicious, though he had never once tasted osmanthus. Not that it mattered. A clever gimmick created prestige, prestige established class, and class commanded a steep price.
Besides, the traditional meats of Blackwater City consisted primarily of beef, mutton, chicken, and dog. Ducks were water-dwelling birds, and in the past, locals rarely had the chance to eat them. Xiangsi Tower had pursued a differentiated niche by setting up shop here, winning over a massive following.
No sooner had He Lingchuan arrived at Xiangsi Tower than Liu Baobao ushered him into the innermost private dining room.
At this time of year, private rooms in the grand restaurants of Blackwater City were notoriously difficult to reserve, but that presented no obstacle to Liu Baobao.
Zeng Feixiong had not yet arrived. Liu Baobao peered outside. "The second young master didn't come?"
"He's only fourteen—he can't drink!"
Liu Baobao cleared his throat lightly. "Elder Young Master, truth be told, I'm also hosting two other tables here at Xiangsi Tower. My father gave me strict orders before leaving Blackwater City..."
He had no desire to be discourteous, but his other dinner parties had long been arranged for tonight; He Lingchuan was the unexpected guest.
"Don't worry about it." Today He Lingchuan was surprisingly accommodating. "I'll let you go in a moment."
Before the room's attendant could approach, He Lingchuan picked up the wine flagon, personally filled both cups, and toasted Liu Baobao.
Flattered and overwhelmed, Liu Baobao downed his cup in a hurry before asking, "Why the sudden courtesy, Elder Young Master?"
"Am I not usually courteous?"
Liu Baobao broke into an awkward chuckle.
If this young lord had ever possessed courtesy, then Liu Baobao wouldn't know the first thing about being thick-skinned.
He Lingchuan waved his hand, dismissing the young servant attending the private room. "There's something I want to ask you. Remember a few days ago when my old man met with yours?"
Liu Baobao nodded.
His father, Liu Yang, was the head of the Liu family merchant guild. A few days ago, he had received an audience with Commandery Governor He, and that very evening had dined with other prominent political and merchant figures at Hongyan Restaurant. He had returned home beaming, his face flushed with delight, proof that host and guests alike had thoroughly enjoyed themselves.
"What did they talk about?"
Liu Baobao thought it over. "Nothing particularly critical. Governor He said the lease for Bailu Forest Farm had expired. The original contractor, the Lin family, intends to relocate. They haven't managed it well these past few years either—too much logging, too little replanting. So Governor He asked if we had any interest in taking it over. Naturally, we jumped at the chance!"
Bailu Forest Farm was a state-run asset, not private property. There were many such official enterprises, including mines, lumber operations, and even vast tracts of government farmland. In the central provinces, these were invariably contracted out to the brothers-in-law of local officials, but He Chunhua had always leased them through open bidding.
He had seen clearly long ago that if left to the government bureaucracy, efficiency would be as dismal as could be, every crevice would be squeezed for illicit graft, and the ledgers produced would be a tangled mess of decayed debts.
Needless to say, these were lucrative contracts, and previously the Liu family merchant guild would never have stood a chance. "What else?"
Liu Baobao was young, but having learned the merchant trade from his father since childhood, he knew the ropes of dealing with officials inside and out. "Nothing to hide really," he said. "My father is going to the capital on business, and Governor He asked him to deliver a letter to Du Feng, Vice Minister of the Court of the Imperial Treasury—supposedly an old acquaintance of the He family. He also specifically instructed him to pay his respects to the matriarch of the Du estate—the vice minister's grandmother—and recount everything that happened in the Panlong Desert to her."
*The old lady of the Du estate?* He Lingchuan could not make sense of it. "That's all?"
"That's all. Nothing more." Liu Baobao had no desire to know why He Lingchuan was prying into his own father's affairs. "Simple and completely aboveboard."
The two drank a bit longer until Liu Baobao's personal maid slipped inside, shooting him pointed glances.
"All right, go tend to your other guests," He Lingchuan said, preoccupied with gnawing on a braised duck head. This too was a house specialty—first braised in spiced brine, then roasted, making it exceptionally good with wine. Supplies were limited, however, as not everyone cared to eat duck heads.
He Lingchuan had loved gnawing on them back in his original world; eating them now was thick with the flavor of nostalgia.
Liu Baobao smiled and took his leave.
He Lingchuan had the leftover dishes cleared away, the table wiped clean, and fresh dinnerware brought out. Only then did he pour himself a cup of fine wine, sipping it as he waited.
About half a quarter of an hour later, Zeng Feixiong arrived.
The moment he stepped through the door, he apologized profusely. A brawl had broken out in the camp, and handling it had taken some time, making him late.
He Lingchuan naturally paid it no mind. He summoned the waiter to recite the menu and briskly ordered ten dishes.
Zeng Feixiong protested repeatedly, "Enough, enough! How could we possibly finish all that?"
He Lingchuan waved it off. "Liu Baobao's paying for it. Are you hurting on his behalf?" He then ordered two more jars of fine wine.
Soon, a steady stream of delectable dishes was brought to the table.
Although Zeng Feixiong had received a handsome reward for the expedition to Panlong City, he was a creature of habit and thrifty to a fault. Before New Year's, he would hesitate for days over buying a tiny scrap of fatback to season his wok. Now that his purse had filled out, the most he indulged in was going to a tavern to order a few carafes of wine he once couldn't bear to buy, while his drinking snacks had merely upgraded from raw garlic and peanuts to soy-braised pig tails and fermented assorted fish.
Xiangsi Tower was a place he had always wanted to visit, but had never dared to enter.
Out in the desert, with their relatively small age gap and their shared allegiance, Zeng Feixiong and He Lingchuan had gotten along famously. Yet upon returning to Blackwater City, the invisible divide between their social stations had widened the distance once more, leaving Zeng Feixiong somewhat restrained.
This, however, was easily resolved. Down a dozen or so cups of wine, chat about amusing tales from the desert, and above all, join together in cursing that vicious little bastard Nian Songyu, and the atmosphere in the private room grew warm and lively.
By the time Zeng Feixiong had paired half a flagon of wine with an entire roast duck sliced thin, the two were already calling each other brothers, laughing and conversing freely. Had the private room not possessed good soundproofing, their laughter would have drifted all the way down to the ground floor.
"Here, try this." He Lingchuan used his serving chopsticks to place two drum prawns onto Zeng Feixiong's plate.
Xiangsi Tower's signature dishes always strove to forge some connection with duck. This particular plate featured the local area's sweetest, freshest drum prawns, deep-fried until crisp, then thoroughly coated in the crumbly yolks of salted duck eggs simmered until glistening red oil emerged. The result was an intensely fragrant delicacy, exploding with both flavor and richness.
Normally, Zeng Feixiong would have demurred with a polite "Much obliged, Elder Young Master," as the bare minimum of official courtesy. Now, however, with cheeks flushed crimson, he took them and crunched away with relish, not bothering to say another word.
By contrast, He Lingchuan's head remained crystal clear.
The original host's vast tolerance for alcohol certainly made it convenient for the questioning to come.
He steered the conversation from Nian Songyu toward Sun Fuping, and together they reviled Sun Fuping's venomous schemes—how he had actually plotted to slaughter over two hundred Blackwater City troops as living sacrifices.
Emboldened by the alcohol, Zeng Feixiong cursed until he was red in the face and thick around the neck. In the end, he grasped He Lingchuan's arm to pour out his heartfelt gratitude toward him and his father; had it not been for them, his bones would have been buried beneath the yellow sands, robbing him of any chance to care for his father in his old age.
Seizing the moment, He Lingchuan asked naturally about a certain matter:
Sun Fuping's final moments.
Chapter 83