Recently, the most eye-catching thing at the Dali Temple was the youtiao made by Shen Fenghuo, which had become the top craving for the clerks’ morning meals.
The golden, fluffy youtiao made a crisp crunch when bitten into, yet inside it was soft and porous, neither greasy nor tough.
Whether soaked in warm doujiang, becoming soft and flavorful after absorbing the broth, or tucked two sticks into one’s robe to eat when hungry while out investigating cases—filling and convenient—it had won everyone’s hearts.
Even the usually picky scribes were willing to queue up for freshly fried, hot youtiao.
Seeing this scene, Chen Yang felt quite envious. He hid in the kitchen experimenting, ruining several batches of dough before finally frying something resembling youtiao. Though not as crispy on the outside and tender on the inside as Shen Fenghuo’s, it was still edible.
From then on, Chen Yang monopolized the frying wok, busying himself before dawn every day, filling the kitchen with rolling oil smoke.
Shen Fenghuo, for her part, was happy to take it easy, helping prepare side dishes nearby and cooking some hot congee.
But within a few days, the tide turned.
The clerks winced and hissed, complaining of mouth pain, while the scribes grumbled about eating fried food every day, their throats parched and dry.
If they kept eating like this, they feared their mouths would blister, making it impossible to handle official documents.
What troubled Chen Yang even more was that the clerk in charge of the storeroom came to him with the oil ledger: “Head Chef Chen, the sesame oil consumption these past few days has been too high! If we keep using it like this, we’ll exceed this month’s quota!”
Seeing the clerks hissing and complaining of mouth pain one after another, the youtiao frying finally stopped. Chen Yang grumbled angrily, “Eat it or not, I’m not making it anymore.” Thus, the responsibility for preparing the morning meal fell back on Shen Fenghuo’s shoulders.
Since everyone had internal heat, she opted for something light.
Shen Fenghuo soaked the rinsed millet in clear water, then added enough warm water and simmered it over a low flame.
Winter brought plenty of Chinese yam, which not only reduced internal heat but also required little preparation. She washed them one by one, laid them on a cloth steamer liner, and placed them in a steamer above the millet congee to steam together.
In the earthen jar was the malva stem she had recently pickled, pressed layer by layer with light salt and sealed for several days until ready.
Crisp and tender with a savory freshness, it cut through greasiness and stimulated the appetite.
Shen Fenghuo took out some, chopped it finely, and seasoned it with sesame oil and toasted sesame seeds.
For a heat-reducing soup, she also prepared pears.
She placed the chopped pear pieces into a small pot and simmered them slowly over low heat until the pears softened into a paste, the broth thickened, and a sweet fragrance filled the air.
The millet congee was thick and smooth, and the Chinese yam in the steamer was thoroughly cooked—a bamboo chopstick pierced through it easily, revealing its clear sweetness.
Shen Fenghuo first served the clerks congee, then scooped the Chinese yam onto plates, placing a small dish of pickled malva stem and a small bowl of pear soup alongside.
Clerk Xiao scooped up a piece of Chinese yam; it was dense and sweet upon entering his mouth. He then took a sip of the warm, smooth millet congee, paired with the crisp, tender pickled malva stem. The balance of salty and sweet was refreshing and not greasy, instantly reducing the heat in his throat by more than half.
It seemed millet congee and Chinese yam would be the morning meal for several more days.
The winter snow had just cleared, and the Longshou Canal was covered with a thick layer of ice.
“Assistant Minister Lu, it’s bitterly cold. Please take shelter from the wind and snow for now.”
Zhang Zhuo caught up with Lu Jin’s steps. “Coroner Sun and two physicians from the Imperial Medical Bureau re-examined the body. The wound on the neck has been confirmed as a leech bite mark.”
Lu Jin’s brow furrowed slightly. “A leech? Ordinary leeches are no larger than a thumb. How could it have sucked so much blood as to cause death…”
“This humble official is also utterly perplexed.”
Zhang Zhuo sighed, "Fortunately, Yongzhou Prefecture has recently added many patrol officers, inspecting the wards and markets day and night. There have been no further fatalities these past few days."
Lu Jin and Zhang Zhuo went to investigate the case personally, traveling east and west these past few days to revisit the families of the deceased, determined to find their commonalities.
Several hours had passed when Ming Yi hurried over.
With an anxious expression, he said, "Young Minister Lu, I have found out. You guessed correctly—the giant cat rumored in the wards earlier was indeed not a real cat."
Zhang Zhuo asked, "Then what was it? Some other fantastical beast?"
Ming Yi caught his breath and continued, "Replying to Judicial Army Commander, Young Minister Lu dispatched me to track near the Longshou Canal, where I found a clue. The giant cat was man-made—black hemp cloth sewn into an outer skin, supported inside by a bamboo frame, with beast-skin claws tied to its limbs, thus frightening people into thinking it was a fantastical beast. The two operators hid inside the cloth puppet, walking on stilts like a lion dance, which is why it appeared exceptionally tall."
Zhang Zhuo retorted, "Such trickery actually exists? Did you trace the operators?"
"I did."
Ming Yi nodded but hesitated before speaking, "I followed the person impersonating the giant cat and tracked them all the way to…"
"The Yichun Villa in the southeast corner of Yankang Ward."
Zhang Zhuo's expression changed abruptly.
Yichun Villa!
He lowered his voice beside Lu Jin, saying incredulously, "Assistant Minister Lu, this… this… is His Highness the Crown Prince's villa."
The Crown Prince had been frail since childhood, and his condition had worsened over the past two years, becoming especially unbearable in winter.
The Empress Dowager thus ordered the construction of a hot spring at Yichun Villa, along with hot spring baths, and bestowed it upon His Highness the Crown Prince.
Lu Jin stood still, silent for a long while. "To Yichun Villa."
Back in the Dali Temple kitchen, Chen Yang once again monopolized the iron wok, sweating profusely as he worked.
Having miscalculated the morning meal, he had to show his skills for the evening meal.
Chen Yang first stir-fried a dish of plain-fried pork with Chinese cabbage, then another plate of garlic-fried malva, again filling the air with billowing smoke.
The clerks held their bowls, taking a bite of the pork with Chinese cabbage—bitter and burnt—then tasting the malva—so salty it was overwhelming.
Truly unbearable!
Chief Clerk Shi put down his chopsticks and, seeing Shen Fenghuo sorting vegetables in the corner, pleaded with a pained expression, "Madam Shen, please show your skills. Quickly stop Old Chen from showing his—it might cost lives!"
Hearing this, Chen Yang snorted in response, "What does Chief Clerk Shi mean by that? Did I not cook well?"
"Not at all, not at all."
Di Sicheng, rinsing his mouth with a bowl of water, took a few sips, cleared his throat, and said, "It is my suggestion that Madam Shen cook. It is not that Head Chef Chen's cooking is poor—it is that everyone misses Madam Shen's evening meals."
With the order given, Chen Yang could no longer insist and reluctantly stepped away from the stove.
The iron wok once again fell into Shen Fenghuo's hands.
She first heated the wok to dry any moisture, then scooped a spoonful of white pork fat. Once the oil was hot, she added ginger slices, scallion segments, and a small amount of fermented black beans, frying until fragrant.
The pork was sliced evenly in thickness, with alternating lean and fatty parts, and quickly stir-fried in the wok.
The meat slices sizzled in the iron wok, gradually releasing oil, curling slightly, and frying to a golden brown.
Zanthoxylum fruit was spicy; Shen Fenghuo took a small amount, crushed it, added some pickled cucumber cubes and a pinch of salt, and finally sprinkled in chopped garlic leaf segments, quickly tossing evenly before removing from the wok.
This large plate of twice-cooked pork served on the table gleamed temptingly, dotted with emerald-green garlic leaves and pickled cucumber cubes, its aroma penetrating straight into the nostrils, and its appearance quite appealing.
"This looks mouthwatering."
Chief Clerk Shi was the first to pick up a piece, delightedly putting it into his mouth.
The pork slices had a perfect balance of lean and fatty meat, tender and not greasy on the palate, with the lean meat firm yet not dry, and most of the fat rendered out during cooking.
The savory aroma of the sauce and the slight spiciness of the dogwood made it perfect with rice. At this point, she didn’t care about getting overheated anymore, and simply ate one bite after another.
She couldn’t help but squint her eyes, quickly finishing half a bowl of millet rice, and mumbled, “Now this is what you call a proper meal!”
Di Sicheng ate with considerable elegance, picking up a piece to savor slowly.
The spicy fragrance of the dogwood was just right, balancing the greasiness of the pork, while the pickled cucumber cubes added a crisp tenderness.
After a moment, he too nodded in approval.
Seeing this, the clerks all raised their chopsticks and scrambled for the dish, the clinking of chopsticks never ceasing. The grimaces they had worn while eating Chen Yang’s stir-fry were now replaced with sighs of satisfaction.
The pear soup had been stewed until soft and tender.
A sip of the sweet pear soup, a bite of meat, and once it all went down, her whole body felt warm and cozy.
Chen Yang, seeing there was still a bit left in the pot in the kitchen, couldn’t resist picking up a piece. After chewing it, the look of defiance on his face gradually turned to surprise.
Huh.
He’d learn from this too.
When Shen Fenghuo finished her duty, the sky hadn’t yet darkened completely. The air after the snow was crisp and clear, occasionally carrying the fragrance of plum blossoms, which was quite pleasant.
She draped her cloak over her shoulders and took a detour to Shen Qingwan’s residence.
Pushing open the small courtyard gate, she found Shen Qingwan sitting under the corridor embroidering. Seeing her enter, Shen Qingwan immediately set down her work.
“A’He is here.”
Inside the room, a charcoal brazier had already been lit. Shen Qingwan brewed a pot of freshly roasted tea.
The two sat facing each other. Shen Fenghuo picked up her teacup and took a small sip. “Wanniang, I haven’t let you go to Pingkang Ward to dance lately. You haven’t sneaked off there, have you?”
Shen Qingwan shot her a reproachful look. “No, I haven’t. I’ve also heard about that cat demon blood-sucking case near Pingkang Ward. It’s spreading panic everywhere. Besides, my A’He keeps reminding me—what’s money compared to life? I’d be a fool to go near that troubled place.”
Shen Fenghuo felt relieved and poured herself another cup of tea.
But then Shen Qingwan suddenly changed the subject, tentatively asking, “A’He, you and Assistant Minister Lu… have you consummated the marriage?”
“Pfft—”
Shen Fenghuo spat out the tea she had just sipped, her cheeks flushing bright red. She coughed several times before catching her breath. “N-no, we haven’t! Wanniang, why are you asking this?”
“Good heavens!”
Shen Qingwan said anxiously, “Lately, I’ve seen you going to and from duty with your Lord, so I thought you two were growing closer. How is it that you still haven’t consummated the marriage?”
She sighed, stood up, and took a palm-sized jar from the cabinet, which looked quite exquisite.
“Well, never mind. I have something good here. Take it home and try it.”
Shen Fenghuo held the small jar in her palm, weighing it. “Wanniang, just this little jar?”
“Don’t underestimate it.”
Shen Qingwan’s eyes sparkled mysteriously as she smiled. “This is top-quality stuff, all the essence is inside. This little jar is more than enough.”
Shen Fenghuo asked curiously, “What exactly is it? It looks so precious.”
“This is deer penis wine that I had someone buy with great difficulty.”
Shen Qingwan said earnestly and solemnly, “It’s very nourishing. Your Lord works hard investigating cases every day, and at night he… You must have him try it. If it really doesn’t work, then he’ll have to see a doctor.”
Such a handsome Lord, but unfortunately not up to the task.
Shen Fenghuo felt that today’s tea was a bit too strong.
“Wanniang, that’s not necessary. The Lord is fine.”
The small jar felt like a hot potato in Shen Fenghuo’s hands, and she quickly shoved it back.
“What’s there to be embarrassed about?”
Shen Qingwan glared at her, stating matter-of-factly, "Between husband and wife, it's only right for you to nourish your lord's health. Listen to me, make sure he drinks this over the next few days. Mother spent quite a bit of silver on this."
She glanced out the window and noticed the sky had already darkened. The distant sound of the watchman's clapper echoed from the lanes. Pushing Shen Fenghuo toward the door, she said, "Oh dear, it's almost dark. Chang'an isn't safe at night. Hurry and take these things home."
As she spoke, she unceremoniously stuffed the small jar Shen Fenghuo had tried to return back into her satchel, carefully tucking it in. "Be careful on the way, and remember what Mother said."
Pushed off-balance, Shen Fenghuo could only mumble an acknowledgment. Escorted by Shen Qingwan to the door, she found herself stumbling onto the road back to the Lu Residence.
The satchel wasn't large, but the small jar of deer penis wine felt like a hot potato tucked inside, unsettling her all the way home. Her mind was filled with Wanniang's earnest instructions.
Better not let him drink it after all.
Lately, when Lord holds her or nibbles her, it's been quite nice too.
Winter darkness fell swiftly. The lanterns in Chang'an's wards were sparse, barely illuminating the snow underfoot.
With tales of the cat demon rampant, hardly anyone remained in the wards after dusk.
Clutching her satchel, Shen Fenghuo grew uneasy at the sight.
The silence after the snowfall was eerie. Along the way, only her hurried footsteps echoed, occasionally accompanied by strange, drawn-out whimpers from behind, chilling to the bone.
Shen Fenghuo tightened her cloak and quickened her pace, but faint rustling sounds seemed to follow her, making her glance back repeatedly.
Just returning a quarter-hour later than usual, the post-snow scenery felt entirely different.
Shen Fenghuo broke into a run, but a sharp cat's cry pierced the silence from a low wall nearby.
A massive black shadow leaped out.
It stood half a person tall, with glass-like eyes and a mouth full of fangs.
In an instant, it landed behind her, its gaze fixed intently on Shen Fenghuo's retreating figure.
Not daring to look back, Shen Fenghuo felt her blood rush to her head. Ignoring her trembling legs, she sprinted toward the Lu Residence.
Why would a giant cat come onto the road to Wuben Fang!
The night had grown thick.
Lu Jin, still in his official robe, hurried back home to find his mother standing at the entrance, peering anxiously.
"Shiji, you're finally back!"
Mother Lu rushed forward, her eyes scanning behind him. Her hopeful expression quickly turned to confusion. "Why isn't A'He with you? Don't you usually return home together?"
Lu Jin's pupils contracted.
"Mother, I just went to Dali Temple to fetch her. The kitchen servant there said she had already left duty."
"What?!"
Mother Lu was horrified. "Then where is A'He? She's always well-behaved and wouldn't wander to other wards. But there's been a blood-sucking murder case in Pingkang Ward… A'He…"
She couldn't bring herself to finish, staggering backward until Nanny Qian steadied her.
"Don't panic, Mother."
Lu Jin placed a hand on her shoulder, his tone steady yet unable to conceal his anxiety. "Though Chang'an's wards are unsafe lately, patrols have been strict. A'He is clever; she won't come to harm… I'll go look for her right now."
He turned and dashed into the ward behind them.
She couldn't be in danger.
Lu Jin felt his mind in disarray, as if swarmed by ants gnawing at his thoughts, the pain intense.
He rubbed his temples, took out paper and a brush from his robe, dipped it in the ink sac, wrote a few lines, clenched them in his hand, and set off to search along the path they often took.
Mother Lu gasped for breath, turning to shout at the servants under the corridor, "Quick! Take all the hands from the manor and search separately. Check every road from the Dali Temple to our manor, and also look at the residence of Lady Shen where A'He often visits. You must find the young mistress!"
Author's Note:
A'He: What wine?
(Note: Chinese yam is shanyao. The Qingming Canal is on the west side, and the Longshou Canal is on the east.)