Early morning. The Southeast Market.
The doors of the tofu shop opened, and a woman dressed in pink stood there calling out her wares. She wore a bamboo hat with a white veil. When the wind caught the veil, it revealed her slender willow-leaf eyebrows and misty, beautiful eyes. Beneath the fluttering white fabric, she exuded a pale, lingering melancholy, as if a sliver of moonlight had been torn away and transformed into her infinite sorrow.
Jiang Zuilan lifted her veil completely, picked up a knife, and pulled back the gauze covering the tofu. The trembling white blocks of tofu were so fresh they were still steaming.
Their tofu shop had been open for six or seven days now. Every night, they ground the beans, and every morning, they hawked their goods. The money to rent the storefront had come from Ling Yi. He had chosen a prime location, a slight act of favoritism toward the disciples.
Making tofu is bitter work; it is truly bitter.
During these past few days, the four disciples of the Qunxian Sect had woken up in the small hours of the morning to grind tofu in the small courtyard before dawn. There are three great hardships in this world: sailing, blacksmithing, and grinding tofu. Si Konglan had ordered that they were not allowed to use even a drop of spiritual power or magic; they had to rely entirely on physical strength.
Song Yin would soak the beans in water ahead of time. Once they were plump, she would put them into the stone mill, grinding out soy milk and dregs circle by circle.
Being a mermaid, Jiang Zuilan possessed immense strength even without spiritual power. When she first applied herself, she nearly shattered the stone mill. To avoid paying for new tools, she stood far back, unable to stand the repetitive motion of the circles.
Song Yin sat on a stone in the courtyard, her chin resting on her hands, her long fingernails dyed a rose-red. She suggested, “Renting or buying a mule costs money. Why don’t we just let Zhan Zhaozhao pull the mill?”
“Fine.”
Their junior brother was cheaper than a mule, and they didn’t feel any heartache when overworking him.
Song Yin’s contribution to the effort was holding a beef pancake in front of Zhan Zhaozhao as he pulled the mill, waving her hand to fan the aroma of the oil and flour toward him. She had also heard that when a mule works, its eyes should be covered, so she simply untied a red hair ribbon and blindfolded her junior brother.
“Keep going, Junior Brother! Another hundred rounds and I’ll give you a bite of the crust.”
The dregs from the mill were used to feed the pigs. The soy milk smelled mellow and fragrant as it was poured from large buckets into a giant cauldron to be heated. Song Yin’s silken sashes dragged on the ground, gathering dust as she crouched to feed wood into the fire, piece by piece. She didn’t actually know how to tend a fire; she didn’t realize the wood needed space to breathe. She piled the wood so high that thick black smoke billowed out, smudging her fair face until it was covered in soot.
“Is there not enough wood?” As a creature of the water, Jiang Zuilan didn’t like touching fire much. She carried an axe, chopping firewood with loud thuds.
Song Yin’s eyes darted around, and she pulled an ignition talisman from her rabbit-shaped pouch—one she had stolen from He Lan Tan’s coin purse.
“Master said we aren’t allowed to use spiritual power.” She confidently sought a loophole. “This is someone else’s talisman, so how can it count as my spiritual power?”
The fire blazed, and the rich aroma of pure white soy milk drifted through the air. Zhan Zhaozhao couldn’t resist his cravings and scooped a mouthful of raw soy milk, only to collapse on the spot from poisoning.
“I told you, you can’t sleep here. Don’t be lazy.” Jiang Zuilan stuffed a spirit-reviving pill into his mouth to bring him back and urged him to continue his labor.
Once the thick, fragrant soy milk was boiled, gauze was spread over the molds. The soy milk was ladled into the tofu bags, and brine was added. As the brine was slowly dripped in and stirred, the mixture gradually thickened. The prepared silken tofu was placed into the molds, more brine was added, and after being covered with gauze, the pressing began.
Jiang Zuilan brought over a fifty-pound stone. Suddenly, she heard a cat’s meow. A fat cat walked up to her, stretching its paws and curling its tail.
“Senior Brother wants to help too. Let’s use Senior Brother to press it.”
Jiang Zuilan picked up the cat and pressed the mountain-like fat cat onto the tofu for the duration of one incense stick. After the incense burned out, the Senior Brother cat jumped down, and Jiang Zuilan tightened the gauze to continue pressing. This time, more weight was needed: one cat plus two stones, pressed for another two incense sticks.
Finally, the tofu was flipped out of the molds onto plates. The snowy-white, tender tofu was ready, steaming as it was carried to the front of the shop to be sold.
They truly hadn’t used a single bit of spiritual power; it was all pure manual labor.
On the first day, a customer tried to make trouble: “What kind of shady shop is this? There’s cat hair everywhere in the tofu! Pah, pah!“
Song Yin acted cute, pressing her hands together in a plea: “I’m so sorry, so sorry! We encountered a Great Cat Immortal. They say it’s two hundred years old. We thought using its fur might extend one’s life and bring good luck.”
The customer replied, “Fine, I’ll be generous. Give me ten more pieces; I want to give some luck to my whole family.”
Si Konglan stood ten meters away with her arms crossed, watching. She casually added a new rule: From now on, Song Yin was not allowed at the counter and was forbidden from facing customers.
That night, while making tofu again, Song Yin took over the task: “Xiao Lan, you have to sell the tofu tomorrow. I’ll handle the soaking and adding of the beans.”
To make it look pretty, the little enchantress added red beans, yellow beans, and black beans to the stone mill according to color, but the resulting tofu didn’t change color at all. Undeterred, she added rose petals, jasmine petals, and Tianshan Snow Lily petals.
Though it looked beautiful, she was immediately told to stop. The cost was simply too high. Why on earth would you put Tianshan Snow Lilies in tofu that sells for a single copper coin?
By the third day, everything had finally gotten on track. By the fourth day, customers were already queuing up in advance.
On the sixth day, a customer came to cause trouble: “Why is there so much water in this tofu? Are you selling tofu or water?”
Jiang Zuilan had the face of a “Tofu Beauty,” appearing as fragile as a willow in the wind, but her tone was cold: “Next.”
The customer slammed the counter until it shook: “What kind of attitude is that?”
Jiang Zuilan didn’t say a word. Her hand fumbled under the counter, pulled out a wooden board, and tossed it forward. The customer frowned, looking at the black characters carved into the wood:
[This merchant has beaten seven customers in seven days. This is a warning. Other merchants, take note. — Issued by the Azure Dragon Prefecture Consumer Association]
The customer quietly left.
After the disciples finished selling the tofu, they didn’t get a moment’s rest before their Master called them to search for news of the Azure Dragon Vine. Everyone was waking up earlier than a rooster and sleeping later than a dog.
Today was another new day.
Jiang Zuilan had just opened a new tray of tofu when she suddenly saw a familiar person. She didn’t seem surprised; she just briskly wiped her knife and greeted him, “Young Master He Lan.”
He Lan Tan hadn’t seen Song Yin for several days. He couldn’t find her at all, and Song Yin certainly wouldn’t take the initiative to look for him. He had passed by the inn where she was staying several times, pretending it was accidental, but she was never there.
He got straight to the point: “Where is Song Yin?”
Jiang Zuilan replied, “No comment.”
He Lan Tan didn’t give up: “You are closest to her. Surely you know something?”
“My Senior Sister is an array master. She comes and goes like a shadow; who could possibly know her whereabouts?”
Knowing he wouldn’t get anything this way, He Lan Tan pulled out his money bag: “I’ll buy everything that’s left.”
Jiang Zuilan felt a flicker of temptation. If she finished early today, she could sneak off to find the gambling den. However, Zhan Zhaozhao, who stood beside her with clear eyes, said strictly, “You can’t. Master said that to prevent us from cheating, each person is only allowed to buy three pieces.”
Jiang Zuilan rolled her eyes, having long since grown used to her junior brother’s stubbornness. She didn’t actually cut any tofu; instead, she tapped her blade against the wooden board with a few thuds, clearly signaling for the customer to leave.
He Lan Tan glanced at the accessory hanging from Jiang Zuilan’s waist. A new gambling den had opened in the south of the city, and during the opening event, they gave out dice charms that could be used as a one-time chip.
His eyes remained on the charm, but he spoke to Zhan Zhaozhao: “I think that piece of tofu skin inside looks better than the ones out here. If you would be so kind.”
Zhan Zhaozhao, being an honest lad, truly thought the customer preferred the one inside. He turned around and stepped into the back room.
While Zhan Zhaozhao was away, He Lan Tan paid. He didn’t use copper coins as priced; instead, he handed Jiang Zuilan a stack of folded silver notes. The notes hovered over the tofu—thick and brand new—but he held them firmly in his hand.
Jiang Zuilan’s eyes lit up at the sight of the money. She immediately wanted to snatch it, but she was also cautious; she didn’t want the Medicine Sect to know they were going to the eastern cliffs to retrieve the Azure Dragon Vine. Her two fingers pinched the silver notes, staring at the gambling funds that were almost in her grasp, silently competing with He Lan Tan.
She deliberately gave the name of a place in the opposite direction: “The Pink Moon Grass at Yingxia Creek in the west is growing beautifully. Second Sister praised the beauty of the stream there and wanted to get some Pink Moon Grass for decoration.”
Jiang Zuilan gripped the silver notes and yanked them away. “Perhaps Second Sister went to the west; who knows?”
The news was technically true; Song Yin had indeed praised the beauty of the Pink Moon Grass. But she certainly wasn’t going to get flowers today.
Sure enough, He Lan Tan turned and left. “Thank you.”
To the East.
Si Konglan stood with her hands tucked in her sleeves, looking up at the vines. She finally saw this legendary wisp of Dragon Breath.
Once, there were five divine beast clans in the world: the Azure Dragon, the White Tiger, the Vermilion Bird, the Black Tortoise, and the Qilin. They possessed boundless divine power and protected their respective regions. Later, as the spiritual energy dissipated, the remaining essence on the continent was far from the abundance of the primordial era, and the divine beasts perished one by one.
The Azure Dragon Vine held the last breath of the world’s final dragon. Now, this wisp of Dragon Breath appeared translucent with a greenish-yellow tint. It was only about three feet long, flowing slowly along the vine, weaving up and down. It no longer looked like a dragon; its soul-body was tattered and broken, resembling a mangled crocodile.
“What three dishes do you want?” Si Konglan asked directly.
She didn’t know how to cook. The task of cooking would be handed to Ling Yi and the disciples.
Song Yin stood behind Si Konglan, holding an umbrella over her shoulder, looking up at the Dragon Breath with curiosity. The dragon’s progress along the vine slowed, as if it were stretching its neck toward them. It was blind and deaf; only after Si Konglan repeated herself loudly three times did it slowly open its mouth.
It began by telling a long story, reminiscing about its life.
“When I was young, the spiritual energy of heaven and earth still existed. My family was wealthy; our entire clan consisted of Azure Dragons living in the Celestial Pole. Our clansmen lived in harmony, and we were respected everywhere. I was the only child, pampered to the extreme by my family.
“I remember in my childhood, I casually mentioned that mortals have a vegetable dish called toon. It can be used as a vegetable or a spice. I had never seen it and didn’t know what it looked like. I only said that one sentence, but I didn’t expect my grandmother to specifically transplant a toon tree from the mortal realm.
“That day, I was taking a nap. In my dreams, there was the aroma of frying tofu. I slept until evening. When I woke up, the toon tree in the courtyard was swaying in the breeze, its leaves rustling as they fell. When I woke, my father was busy in the kitchen, my mother was sewing the pants I had torn while playing with friends, and my grandmother was pouring water for me by the bedside. They all turned toward me at once and smiled lovingly, saying, ‘Your little nose is quite sharp, you woke up just in time; dinner is ready.’
“That was a dish of toon mixed with tofu. The tofu was cut into squares, blanched in salt water, and carefully fried in oil until both sides were golden and slightly charred. The toon was harvested from that tree my grandmother had transplanted—the tenderest buds from our own courtyard. It was finely chopped, mixed into the tofu, and drizzled with sesame oil. It was the flavor that haunted my dreams.
“We had plenty of tofu here because my father said the Azure Dragon Prefecture was suitable for growing beans, and beans could bring wealth to mortals. We of the Dragon Clan were not so high and mighty; whatever the mortals offered, we had in abundance.
“My brother and I loved sweet tofu pudding, while our parents liked it salty. We would always argue over the sweet and salty flavors, but in the end, they would always give in and add a large spoonful of fine white sugar to our bowls.
“Tofu skin, soy milk… all the various imaginative ways mortals prepared beans greatly surprised us dragons. We looked forward to the mortals’ prosperity, and we piously protected them.
“But before the mortals could abandon us, the spiritual energy of heaven and earth abandoned us first. In a sudden upheaval, the spiritual energy vanished. The great divine beast clans—the Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, Black Tortoise, and Qilin—perished rapidly.
“The passage between the Celestial Pole and the mortal realm closed. The Celestial Pole was the residence of the divine beasts, but now all the spiritual energy was being rapidly drained and squeezed out, just as the oxygen would be sucked out of a mortal’s living space. Countless clansmen died instantly or were sealed away.
“Only a tiny hole remained in the passage between the Celestial Pole and the mortal realm. My brother and I were both near it. My mother used the last of her strength to desperately push me down into the mortal realm. From then on, I was the only one left of the Azure Dragon clan.”
It let out a sigh and fell silent, its gaze drifting into the distance as if lost in a long-forgotten memory. For a long time, there was no other sound. Song Yin lowered her umbrella and was about to speak—”You…”—but she was interrupted by Si Konglan, who blocked her arm.
“Food stories are always like this,” Si Konglan said calmly. “You have to listen to the whole story first.”
The Dragon Breath remained lost in thought for a moment before it indeed continued its narration.
“I fell into the mortal realm through that narrow crack. The fall was so hard that my vision became blurred and my limbs were bruised. I had to find a way to survive first. In mortal years, I was only sixteen or seventeen. I begged at the door of a restaurant for a few days. I didn’t actually mean to beg, but several of my bones were broken and I couldn’t even crawl. Some kind people gave me leftovers. Slowly, I got better and could walk. I had no other skills, so I could only do manual labor.
“At first, I worked as a waiter in a restaurant. There were many bean products there. Mortals had created countless variations of tofu: tofu stuffed with meat, Mapo tofu, tofu balls, ‘crab-style’ tofu…
“Later, war broke out. The restaurant owner went back to his hometown. I had to stay sharp and continue looking for the key to the world’s spiritual energy. I couldn’t be caught and conscripted into the army, so I stayed in the area and found some manual labor. I found a job helping to build stages. It was odd jobs; not only did I have to build walls, but I also had to help the masters plant flowers, grow trees, and dig ponds. The work wasn’t always available, but when it was, I had to do it immediately. I couldn’t eat at the master’s house at noon, so I had to find my own way to manage.
“In the winter, I would eat in the alleyways amidst the cold wind. In the summer, I would be under the sun; if I couldn’t find shade, I would scoop cold water from a well with a wooden bucket to cool off. They called it lunch, but it was just steamed buns. They were buns that had gone cold and dry, crumbling when you tore them apart. But when you break off a piece and put it in your mouth, you chew and chew, and the more you chew, the more fragrant and sweet it becomes.
“A mouthful of steamed bun, a mouthful of fermented bean curd, and a mouthful of cold water. That was enough for me to survive.”
It let out another long sigh.
“But I only ‘survived.’ Mother chose me, the foolish one. My childhood was filled with the love of my kin; in my youth came disaster and I was thousands of miles from home; and in my middle age, I achieved nothing. I never found a way to revive the spiritual energy until the day I died, having become an ordinary person myself.”
The spiritual energy had vanished, and the Azure Dragon clan had perished. The last Azure Dragon remained in the world, living for years as a mortal, ultimately powerless to glimpse the secrets of heaven before passing away on a winter night. The last wisp of Dragon Breath, unwilling to give up, had attached itself to the vine.
Si Konglan listened quietly until the story was finished. she stood there, seemingly moved by the tale, and said nothing.
The dragon presented three wishes, in the form of three dish names.
“The first dish: I want to eat toon mixed with tofu. The second dish: I want to eat fermented bean curd with steamed buns. As for the third dish… I don’t know what I want to eat.”
The mission became clear in Si Konglan’s mind. She quickly analyzed the problem. It seemed that previous seekers had failed to obtain the medicine for two likely reasons: either the food didn’t suit the dragon’s palate, or the choice of the third dish was unsatisfactory.
She nodded, turned, and left. She had always been a top student with a clear and logical mind. Now that she knew the requirements, the next step was to provide the answers. In any case, she would start by making the first two dishes.
Song Yin closed her umbrella and chased after her. “Master, you don’t know how to cook!” She seized the opportunity to curry favor and drop a hint: “Oh, then let Master’s Husband do it!”
She had already sent a message to the others in their small group, telling them to seize every opportunity to get Master and Master’s Husband back together!