“Master, we’re back! Look at these wild chickens from the mountain—they’re incredibly plump. We’re in for a real treat tonight!” Long Shiyi called out happily, lugging the poultry over to Long Zhenting.
Qiao Zilin looked over at the sound of his voice. They were indeed fleshy; the meat quality promised to be excellent.
“Alright, get them cleaned up quickly. Your Mistress is nearly fainting from hunger,” Long Zhenting urged.
“Yes, Master!” Shiyi replied, heading toward the river.
Watching them go, Qiao Zilin hurriedly called out, “Wait! Boil some water in the pot first. Take it with you to scald the feathers off!”
“Boil water? Scald them?” Long Shiyi froze in shock. They usually just plucked them dry by hand; he had never heard of using boiling water for a chicken.
Seeing their expressions, Qiao Zilin thought to herself, Do they really not know how to pluck a chicken properly? She pointed at Long Shiyi. “You, come here.”
She brought over a bowl filled with a little water and a pinch of salt. “Slit the neck, let the blood flow into this bowl. Once the chicken has passed, dunk it in the boiling water for a moment, then pull it out to pluck the feathers,” she instructed.
Long Shiyi glanced up at his master.
Long Zhenting spoke up immediately, “Don’t look at me. Whatever the Lady says, do it.”
After the chicken was bled, Qiao Zilin added a splash of water to the bowl, and the blood congealed instantly. Long Shiyi stared at the large bowl of chicken blood, asking curiously, “Madam, can this blood actually be eaten?”
“Of course! It’s smooth and tender. You’ll find out soon enough.”
As she spoke, Qiao Zilin swirled a chicken in the boiling water. There were four chickens in total, each weighing over five pounds. As she worked, she was already brainstorming the best way to turn them into a feast.
“Alright, take them to the river to finish plucking. And remember, don’t throw away the gizzards or organs!”
“The organs? Those are edible too?” Qiao Zilin’s words shocked Long Shiyi once again.
“They’re delicious. Save them, and I’ll make you a bowl of Sour Soup Giblet Noodles tomorrow morning.” She had several jars of pickled vegetables in her space; using them to make spicy-and-sour giblets was her favorite way to open the appetite.
Long Shiyi and a few others took over the plucking while Qing Mei stayed by their side to help clean the giblets. Meanwhile, Qiao Zilin prepared the aromatics for the Spicy Diced Chicken.
Chili peppers, Sichuan peppercorns, ginger, garlic, and peanuts—she had bought all of these, but they were tucked away in her space. She walked over to her crates, using them as a shield to pull the ingredients out.
Returning to the makeshift stove, she looked at Long Zhenting, who was busy pitching a tent. “Husband, come help me tend the fire.”
“Coming!” Long Zhenting dropped what he was doing and walked over to the stone-built hearth.
“By the way, Husband, do you all eat spicy food?” Since they weren’t from the same region, she wasn’t sure of their preferences.
“We do.” Long Zhenting was actually the type who couldn’t enjoy a meal without spice. Hearing his wife ask this, he realized they shared the same taste.
Qiao Zilin breathed a sigh of relief. She had been terrified she’d have to spend the rest of her life eating bland, flavorless food; that would be the death of her. “Then tonight we’ll have Spicy Diced Chicken! It’s numbing, spicy, and incredibly fragrant.”
Seeing the spark in her eyes, Long Zhenting’s mood brightened along with hers.
Qiao Zilin sliced the dried chilies into segments, filtered out the excess seeds, and soaked them in water for a moment. This prevented the peppers from burning too quickly when they hit the hot oil. After draining them, she dusted them with a bit of flour and tossed them into a pot of shimmering oil. Once they were crisp, she fried the peanuts as well.
“Madam, what is that? It smells amazing!” Long Shiyi arrived at the stove with the cleaned chickens, staring at the oil pot.
“Spicy Diced Chicken. Hurry up and chop the meat into small pieces, then bring it back to me.”
Once the garnishes were fried, Qiao Zilin reached for the heavy pot to pour the oil into a storage jar. Long Zhenting’s tall frame moved instantly, blocking her. “Wife, let your husband handle this kind of heavy labor.”
Qiao Zilin looked up at him and stepped aside. Ah, being cherished by someone really does feel different.
“Pour the oil into the jar, then fill the pot halfway with water. We’ll make some Plain Poached Chicken as well,” she directed. Long Zhenting followed her every instruction. He didn’t know the first thing about cooking; usually, they just boiled things until they were edible enough to stop the hunger, with no regard for flavor.
Long Zhenting was about to sit down to tend the fire when he saw Long Shiyi had already settled into his spot. The boy really lacked situational awareness.
“Are you planning to sleep under the stars with the ground as your bed tonight? Why are you sitting here? Go finish the tents!”
Long Shiyi looked at his master in shock. When had they ever pitched tents while traveling? He looked at his master again, noticing the man’s gaze was fixed entirely on the Madam. He realized instantly that he was an obstacle to his master’s romantic development. He scurried back to the unfinished tent to resume his work.
Meanwhile, Qiao Zilin was marinating the large basin of diced chicken with salt, soy sauce, and pepper. She added a splash of bean oil to lock in the moisture and let it sit for fifteen minutes.
Time drifted by, and the sky turned pitch black. They lit a bonfire nearby and used a wooden crate outside the tent as a dining table. The air was thick with the rich, savory scent of chicken.
Qiao Zilin pulled the two poached chickens from the pot and tossed fresh wild greens into the broth to make a light soup. Then, she fried the marinated diced chicken until golden brown. Leaving a bit of oil in the pan, she threw in minced ginger and garlic, followed by a handful of Sichuan peppercorns.
The moment the peppercorns hit the heat, a sharp, numbing aroma surged upward.
“Achoo! This smell makes me both love and hate life. Madam, when can we eat?” Long Shiyi stood nearby, watching her stir-fry.
“Almost there. Go dish out the rice. The Spicy Diced Chicken is coming out now.”
Qiao Zilin added a large spoonful of her secret seasoning, tossed it all together, then added the fried chilies, peanuts, and chicken back into the pot. A pinch of salt and a dash of sugar to enhance the umami, a final toss, and it was ready.
On the crate sat a massive bowl of Spicy Diced Chicken, a basin of wild green chicken soup, and a plate of clean, sliced poached chicken.
“Dinner is served! I’m absolutely famished,” Qiao Zilin said, taking a large gulp of the soup to soothe her throat before digging in.
“Wife, I’m sorry. It’s my fault—I forgot to buy you pastries to tide you over,” Long Zhenting said guiltily.
“Oh, that was my choice. I didn’t want those dry cakes anyway. Now eat, see if you like the taste.” She picked up a piece of the spicy chicken and placed it directly into Long Zhenting’s mouth.
She watched him expectantly. “How is it?”
Long Zhenting hadn’t expected his wife to feed him directly. He swallowed the meat before he had even fully tasted it. “Wife… I was too nervous and didn’t taste it properly. Let me try another piece.”
He picked up another morsel and chewed slowly. “The chicken is crisp on the outside and tender inside. The spice is bold and the fragrance is incredible. It’s delicious.” He immediately went back for more.
The others were the same; they couldn’t stop eating.
“Madam, not only is the chicken great, but these peppers are amazing too—crispy, fragrant, and not too overwhelming. If only we had a jar of wine, it would be perfect!” Long Shiyi said wistfully.
Long Zhenting shot him a glare. “You want wine now? You have rice and buns, be content with that, or you can go back to gnawing on dry rations.”
“No wine! I’ll just eat!” Long Shiyi didn’t dare say another word, knowing his master was a man of his word. The others remained quiet, eating like shadows.