Xiaoyao Tower was fully prepared inside and out, but Du Heng knew clearly that no matter how delicious the food was, if it stayed hidden in an alley, nobody would know it existed. Chang’an’s West Market had more taverns than hairs on an ox: Drunken Immortal Pavilion had carved beams and painted rafters and looked grand at a glance; Juxian Pavilion had poets and scholars composing verse couplets every day and was famous as could be; and Chunxiang Courtyard went without saying, with both food and song-and-dance, all of them old establishments that had been open for over 100 years with foundations as steady as rock. If they did not make some noise, the new tower would not be able to gain a foothold at all, and if they did not build up a good reputation, his set of gewu principles would not be convincing to anyone.
“We have to stir up some commotion, but we can’t brag blindly,” he told Changle, his gaze especially calm. “The name gewu has to stand on real substance, not on empty, flashy promotion, because ordinary people don’t listen to empty talk and only believe the taste they’ve tried themselves.”
Changle nodded, her slender hands lightly touching the “Xiaoyao Tower Regulations” on the table as she smiled and offered an idea. “My Father Emperor doesn’t like extravagance and waste, but ordinary people love a lively scene, so we can borrow their mouths to spread the name, not spend the state’s money, and use real, solid things to drive fame, starting small and slowly growing bigger.”
The 2 of them deliberated all night and settled on 3 strategies, proceeding step by step, steadily and surely.
The first strategy was “building momentum with couplets.” Du Heng personally wrote a pair of door couplets in charcoal on red silk, and although the handwriting was not particularly pretty, it carried a stubborn, down-to-earth sincerity, with force that seemed about to pierce through to the back of the silk. The upper line read, “One dish, one standard; the heat reveals the truth,” the lower line read, “100 dishes, 100 flavors; the human heart is the Mandate of Heaven,” and the horizontal inscription read, “gewu zhizhi.” These couplets made gewu’s idea clear… every dish had its own logic… while also being especially grounded, since “heat” and “human heart” were words ordinary people said every day and anyone could understand. Craftsmen from the Ministry of Works carved the couplets overnight in nanmu wood, brushed them with gold lacquer and outlined the edges, and hung them early on both sides of Xiaoyao Tower’s main gate.
When ordinary people passed by and saw them, they all crowded over to watch something new and chattered at once. “‘gewu’… what does that mean?” “I heard His Majesty personally bestowed that name! Isn’t that young fellow surnamed Du the one who drew a chicken that could move before? It was incredible!” “A few days ago, my grandson even ate the mint candy he gave out, and he didn’t cough at night at all… it worked better than the medicine the doctor prescribed!” The news spread lightning-fast, one to 10 and 10 to 100, and the 2 characters “gewu” unexpectedly became the freshest new phrase in Chang’an City, to the point that even children copied it, saying, “I want to go to the gewu tower to eat.”
The second strategy was “3 days at half price.” Du Heng calculated again and again and set the opening discounts for the first 3 days, ensuring they would draw guests in and also make them come back next time: on the first day, everything was 50% off, whether main dishes or snacks, all half price, purely to let everyone come taste something new; on the second day, they ran a stored-value promotion, where depositing 100 wen got 20 wen extra, equivalent to a 20% discount, encouraging everyone to come more often; and the third day was even more interesting… order the “princess set meal”… which included Xiaoyao Pork, Kung Pao Chicken, and Apricot-Fragrant Soft-Scrambled Eggs, plus a jar of Changle chili sauce, and they would give you 1 glass cup, with “gewu zhizhi” engraved on the bottom, both beautiful and meaningful.
“Use low prices to lure people in, and use stored value to keep customers,” Du Heng explained to Old Zhou, and he could not help sharing a bit of modern thinking with him. “We can write names on the stored-value cards, and later we’ll do a membership system where saving points can be exchanged for sauces, dishes, and even glassware, so customers will keep coming and it will form a loop.”
Old Zhou stroked his beard and sighed. “This isn’t opening a restaurant at all; you’re practically creating a brand-new way of doing business!”
The third strategy was “warming up word-of-mouth.” Du Heng had A Ruan carry “tasting packs” through the streets and alleys of the West Market, choosing suitable people to give them to: to the West Market’s Hu merchants, A Ruan gave slices of cured meat and also attached a menu written in the Hu language… translated with the help of an interpreter… and after tasting it, the Hu merchants gave a thumbs-up and praised, “This flavor is a bit like our Persian dishes, but it’s even fresher than ours!” To old grannies living in the wards, A Ruan gave Apricot-Fragrant Soft-Scrambled Eggs and also included a small wellness note that read, “Green apricots stimulate the appetite, eggs nourish the body, and it’s good for people with a qi ailment,” and the next day the granny brought 5 neighbors along to Xiaoyao Tower, saying she wanted to try other dishes; A Ruan even gave mint candy to beggars by the roadside and smiled as A Ruan told them, “Now that your mouths are sweet, don’t curse me, all right?” After eating the candy, the beggars shouted in the streets the next day, “Xiaoyao Tower’s candy is really sweet, so the food must be even more fragrant!”
In only 3 days, the name “Xiaoyao Tower” spread throughout all of Chang’an… from the West Market’s Hu merchants to beggars by the roadside, from commoners in the wards to minor clerks in the yamen, nobody did not know that “Du gewu” was going to open a restaurant.
But some people grew jealous, and some people watched for a joke. Drunken Immortal Pavilion’s shopkeeper sneered in his own back courtyard and told his staff, “A country bumpkin dares to come open a restaurant? Does he really think that painting a few strokes on the walls and stir-frying a few dishes will make him an immortal? I want to see just how many days his tower can last!”
Even worse, some people spread rumors, saying, “Du Heng uses demonic arts to season food, and there are gu hidden in the dishes… eat it and you’ll become stupid! The ‘gewu’ he talks about is actually ‘gu things,’ made specifically to harm people!” As soon as the rumor came out, ordinary people panicked, and some women hurriedly pulled their children home and would not let them go near the West Market.
When Du Heng heard the rumors, not only did he not get angry, he instead smiled. “Perfect… I was still worried nobody would pay attention, because rumors are like the wind and pass in a burst, but the truth is like a mountain and can stand for thousands of years.”
He acted immediately and took 3 routes at once: he rolled up all the bamboo curtains in the back kitchen so that no matter who it was, they could see the entire cooking process… dishes flipped back and forth in the iron woks, the oil clear and bright, with no demonic arts at all, only precise control of the heat; he hung placards beside every ingredient, clearly writing the source, date, and price, such as “Pork: Lantian Butcher Zhang, slaughtered this morning at the Mao hour, 30 wen per jin,” so everyone could eat with peace of mind; and he also invited an Investigating Censor to inspect every day, having the censor write a notice saying “ingredients are non-toxic, operations comply with regulations,” and post it on Xiaoyao Tower’s main gate for everyone to see.
Changle also helped by having 2 old master chefs from the Imperial Food Office publicly come to Xiaoyao Tower to taste the food, and after eating for 3 straight days, not only did nothing happen, they actually gained 3 jin. The old master chefs smiled and told everyone, “If there’s gu in this food, I’d rather be gu-poisoned every day!”
The rumor was shattered in an instant, and ordinary people all laughed and said, “It must be Drunken Immortal Pavilion being jealous and making up lies!”
On the night before opening, Princess Gaoyang suddenly came. She rode a horse and wore red, looking especially dashing, with a riding whip still in her hand, and she stood in front of Xiaoyao Tower reading the couplets, curling her lip in a snort of laughter. “‘100 dishes, 100 flavors’? Then I want to see whether your Xiaoyao Tower can stay xiaoyao for more than 3 days!”
Du Heng cupped his hands in salute and said neither servile nor overbearing, “Welcome, princess, to give guidance.”
Gaoyang narrowed her eyes and sized up the coarse linen shirt he wore, carrying a bit of disdain. “My elder sister has such high standards, and she actually took a fancy to you? If your signboard doesn’t fall, I’ll acknowledge you as my brother-in-law, but if it falls…” She raised her whip, and the horse’s hooves kicked up a cloud of dust. “I’ll tear down your tower with my own hands!”
After saying that, she rode off, her red figure like a ball of fire that even startled the wind chimes at the eaves into ringing.
Du Heng was not afraid at all, and he only said to Changle, who had quietly come out, “Princess Gaoyang has a fiery temper, but she values real substance the most, and if our food is truly good, she’ll definitely become the number 1 regular… because a fierce horse recognizes good grass best.”
Changle sighed softly. “If she acknowledges you, that’s the real approval, because even my Father Emperor says that what Gaoyang says is more effective than memorials from 100 officials.”
That night, Du Heng took a walk around Xiaoyao Tower, feeling especially reassured. The lanterns were all hung, and the glass shades let light through without being harsh; the menus were also printed, in colored ink, with both words and pictures, clear as day; the waiters had the dish names memorized perfectly, and they could even recite the words on the “gewu note”; and the kitchen women’s knife work was especially good, with radish flowers sliced so thin they were like cicada wings.
A Ruan counted mint candy beside the medicine chest, Old Zhou checked the final entry of the stored-value accounts, and the waiters were still practicing smiles and walking posture in the courtyard, afraid of making mistakes tomorrow.
Du Heng walked up to the rooftop and looked at the myriad household lights in Chang’an City, as the street noises gradually quieted until only the faint sound of Qujiang’s water carried over. Tomorrow morning at the Chen hour, Xiaoyao Tower would open its doors to welcome guests, and his gewu path would also begin from this one table, one chair, one dish, and one bowl of rice, step by step, slowly heading toward places farther away.
The wind passed the eaves, and the wind chimes rang softly, like someone striking a chime stone and like someone speaking, as if whispering: the fireworks of a flourishing age began right here.
Du Heng lightly touched the dried peach blossoms against his chest… Changle had given them to him, and they had been pressed inside Qimin Yaoshu for over a month, still carrying a faint fragrance. He whispered, “Changle, tomorrow, with the warmth and bustle of this human world, I will promise you a flourishing Chang’an.”
Downstairs, the stove fire had not yet gone out, quietly waiting for dawn.