Xiaoyao Tower’s explosive popularity stabbed like a sharp blade into the heart of Chang’an’s dining trade, silent in its edge yet chilling century-old establishments to the bone.
Zhao Dechang, the shopkeeper of Drunken Immortal Pavilion, lay awake at night.
Three days ago, he could still take in 5 guan a day with his hall packed with distinguished guests; now his place was deserted, and even longtime patrons of 20 years switched to Xiaoyao Tower for a single reason: “The food smells better over there, and the people are more sincere.”
What angered him even more was that Du Heng dared to open his back kitchen to the public, hang up traceability plaques, and invite a censor to inspect… like he was announcing to all of Chang’an: “You are all hiding filth and corruption, and only my Xiaoyao is clean!”
“A mere country brat, and he thinks he can tell Chang’an taverns how to do business?” Zhao Dechang gritted his teeth, his nails digging into his palm.
He gathered the owners of seven restaurants in West Market and held a secret meeting in Drunken Immortal Pavilion’s back courtyard, where candlelight wavered and shadows swayed.
“Everyone, if we let Xiaoyao Tower grow unchecked, we will all become beggars!” Zhao Dechang slammed the table and stood up, his eyes shot through with red veins. “We must join hands to crush it, or our century-old foundations will be ruined overnight!”
Someone suggested cutting prices to steal customers, while someone else argued for spending heavily to poach Du Heng’s waiters and kitchen maids, but Zhao Dechang sneered and said, “Cutting prices hurts ourselves, and poaching is useless. Du Heng’s strength is not in people, but in reputation, and only by… destroying his reputation!”
He had already spread rumors about “demonic arts seasoning,” but the censor exposed it, turning him into a laughingstock. Now, he switched to a poisonous scheme: “Xiaoyao Tower uses dead pork and rotten vegetable leaves just to save costs, and children have already suffered stomach pain after eating there and are near death!”
The rumor spread like toxic fog and filled Chang’an’s streets and alleys overnight. Tea shops and wine houses all whispered about it, and the women and children in the wards turned pale at the news.
Early the next morning, more than ten “angry commoners” actually gathered in front of Xiaoyao Tower, holding up rotten vegetable leaves and wailing, “Give me back my child’s life! My child ate Xiaoyao Tower’s food, had stomach pain for three days, and is hanging by a thread!”
Passersby crowded around like a wall, talking all at once.
“Could there really be a problem?”
“I even took my mother to eat there yesterday…could her dizziness today be because of this?”
“Look! Even the Persian Hu merchant canceled three tables!”
Du Heng came out after hearing the commotion, still in an unchanged linen shirt, his expression calm. His gaze swept across the crowd, and he saw that the child in a woman’s arms had a ruddy complexion and bright lips and was clearly not sick, yet the child pretended to be at death’s door, with sugar crumbs still stuck at the corner of the mouth.
Without revealing anything, he only called out loudly, “Please have the censor Lord, the Imperial Food Office old master chef, and the West Market guild witness this together!”
In half a shichen, the three parties all arrived. The commoners held their breath.
Du Heng ordered A Ruan to bring out today’s ingredients.
– The pork came from Lantian Butcher Zhang, stamped with a wooden “quarantine inspection” seal, with fresh-red color and springing back when pressed.
– The greens were picked from the East Garden of Dujiawa, still beaded with morning dew and not wilted, with clear leaf veins.
– The cured meat clay jar was tightly sealed, and the label clearly read, “Pickled on the 7th day of the 9th lunar month; opened on the 9th day of the 9th lunar month.”
He then asked for the child to be examined. After the accompanying imperial physician checked, there was nothing unusual in the child’s belly; instead, the child had indigestion from eating too much candy for days, and it had nothing to do with the food.
“This is deliberate slander!” censor Wang Gui shouted angrily. “Under the Tang Code with Commentary, fabricating rumors to ruin a business’s reputation earns 80 strokes and a fine of 20 guan!”
Seeing things going badly, Zhao Dechang tried to slip away through the back alley, but Liu Rengui… newly appointed West Market patrol officer… blocked him with his men.
It turned out Du Heng expected a trap long ago and, through Changle, secretly contacted Liu Rengui to set up a cordon, and even the “sick child’s” identity was already verified… the child was a distant Zhao-family relative who was still playing in the market yesterday.
The onlooking crowd erupted in an uproar. Someone recognized that the woman was a helper from Drunken Immortal Pavilion and immediately cursed in anger, “Shameless! Using a child to scam people… may heaven strike you down!”
Du Heng did not press his advantage, and he did not humiliate Zhao Dechang.
He climbed onto the high platform in front of the building and declared loudly, “Everyone! Xiaoyao Tower opened the back kitchen, hung traceability, and invited inspection not to prove ourselves clean, but to establish trust in the trade. If all restaurants in the world were transparent, why would the common people need to fear suspicion?”
He pointed at the deathly pale Zhao Dechang and said, “If shopkeeper Zhao refuses to accept this, you can also set up a Transparent Kitchen and hang traceability plaques together. If your ingredients are better and your service more sincere, I, Du Heng, am willing to acknowledge you as my master and close my doors!”
Applause thundered from the crowd, and even the Hu merchants shouted, “Du young master is righteous and benevolent!”
Zhao Dechang turned ashen and was escorted into Jingzhao Prefecture.
The storm subsided, and trust grew even stronger.
That very day, customer traffic instead increased by 30%. The first thing diners said upon entering was, “Are today’s ingredients fresh?”
The waiter pointed to the traceability plaques by the wall and answered in a clear voice, “The pork was slaughtered at the Mao hour, the greens were picked at the chen hour, and the cured meat is sealed for storage, so freshness is visible at a glance!”
A Persian Hu merchant even signed on the spot an agreement for “a monthly order of 50 portions of cured meat and 20 jars of Changle chili sauce,” calling it “Chang’an’s number one token of trust.”
Changle heard the news and personally came to Xiaoyao Tower. She did not wear ornate robes, only a plain dress, and she stood in the back kitchen watching Du Heng direct everything as usual.
“You win people over with virtue, and that beats armies of 10,000,” she said softly.
Du Heng smiled. “The great path of gewu lies in empirical proof. Rumors are like fog, and data is like the sun; once the fog sees the sun, it disperses.”
He presented a new proposal: “Please have the court establish an ‘ingredient traceability system,’ so that all taverns and eateries must hang plaques clearly stating the source, date, and supplier, and violators are severely punished. This is not for Xiaoyao Tower, but for the food safety of all people.”
Changle nodded and said, “I will have an audience with His Majesty tomorrow.”
Three days later, the court issued an edict:
> “From this day on, Chang’an taverns and eateries must set up an ‘Ingredient Traceability Board,’ marking place of origin, date, and supplier, with the censor office and the West Market guild jointly supervising. Violators will be shut down for three months, and repeat offenders will be struck from the registers.”
As soon as the edict came out, Chang’an’s dining trade shook. Century-old bad habits were swept away in a single morning.
Drunken Immortal Pavilion was fined and ordered to close, and Zhao Dechang sold everything to redeem his guilt, becoming the butt of street-corner jokes. The other restaurants followed Xiaoyao Tower one after another, setting up Transparent Kitchens, hanging suggestion books, and hiring literate waiters.
Du Heng did not stop them and instead helped them. He had Old Zhou compile the Xiaoyao Kitchen Standard Manual, richly illustrated and detailing heat control, knife work, storage, and service, and he gave it away for free to peers: “If everyone under heaven is good, why fear Xiaoyao will not flourish? The benefits of gewu should be shared by all under heaven.”
Princess Gaoyang came again. She brought her polo team to book the whole place, and after the meal she sneered, “You are quite generous, teaching your enemies how to eat. Aren’t you afraid they will surpass you?”
Du Heng replied, “What I teach is the common people’s meal. Enemies cannot learn the ‘Three No Principles’… do not cheat customers, do not adulterate, and do not neglect… so in the end it is the ugly woman imitating the beauty, and while the form can be copied, the spirit cannot be stolen.”
Gaoyang stared at him for a long time and then suddenly said, “This palace believes you. Next month’s polo match, this palace will have people deliver 100 ‘Jade Card’ for your honored guests.”
Late at night, Du Heng sat alone in the accounting office. Old Zhou presented the accounts and said, “Today’s revenue was 5 guan, stored-value cards increased by 40, and the Member repurchase rate rose to 70%.”
But Du Heng was drawing a new diagram… the Xiaoyao ingredient traceability system. He planned to build the “Xiaoyao supply chain.”
Dujiawa would be the vegetable base, with crop rotation and fallowing to preserve soil fertility.
Lantian would set up cooperative pig farms with unified quarantine inspection and pricing by quality.
Zhongnan Mountain would provide herbs to make mint balm, rose dew, and Changle chili sauce, producing and selling in-house.
“From the fields to the dining table, the whole process is controllable, the common people can rest easy, and costs instead drop,” he murmured.
Changle quietly entered and, seeing his focus, said softly, “You always take one more step where others stop.”
Du Heng raised his head and smiled. “Because I know true competition is not suppressing opponents, but making them unable to catch up… not by secret recipes, but by systems; not by power, but by people’s hearts.”
Outside the window, the moon shone on Chang’an, and Qujiang lay like a ribbon of white silk. Xiaoyao Tower’s glass lanterns were still bright, their light clear but not harsh, illuminating the newly hung wooden plaque:
> Ingredients can be traced, and hearts can be trusted.
And that “Ingredient Traceability Board” would eventually become Great Tang’s first cornerstone of commercial civilization…
Beginning with a single dish, fulfilled by the trust of 10,000 people; rising from one restaurant, benefiting all under heaven’s meals.