Chapter 32: Big Plate Chicken

Wang Erya slowly regained consciousness, much to the joy of her parents, Wang Erlang and his wife. They desperately wanted to slaughter one of their chickens to help her recover, but Grandma Wang flatly refused, scolding them and questioning how a little girl could be entitled to eat chicken.

Wang Erlang, left with no other choice, scraped together what little money he had to buy one himself. However, upon returning from the county town after seeking medical care for his daughter, he discovered that the chicken had already been slaughtered and eaten.

His heart turned cold. When he confronted Grandma Wang, she retorted, "I ate it, so what? I raised you all these years—can’t I even eat one of your chickens?"

"How preposterous, how hateful. That old woman makes no distinction between right and wrong. If she wanted chicken, she could have slaughtered one herself. How could she have the nerve to snatch food from her injured granddaughter?"

"Why haven't they separated the household yet? I can't bear to watch this anymore."

"A clan is meant to be a source of strength, gathering together to face the storms of the outside world. But since the conflict starts within their own home, they really ought to split off. Why endure this humiliation? Who in this house cares about their family of three?"

They were all furious, and Wang Erlang was no exception.

Since childhood, he had known he was not highly regarded in the family. His eldest brother, as the firstborn, was expected to inherit the mantle of the household. His third brother was the youngest, skilled at acting spoiled and charming, and was the most doted upon. He alone was the "middle child," often invisible in his parents' eyes. Yet, he had always believed that because he was the most honest and filial, there was at least some affection between them.

Now, facing one blow after another, this long-suppressed man finally erupted, shouting that he wanted to divide the family.

This immediately drew out the first and third branches of the family, who had been watching the spectacle from behind their windows. Both households also wanted to split.

The eldest brother, of course, was the firstborn and would receive the majority of the family property and farmland. The third brother was the favorite, and his parents would surely not treat him poorly. Furthermore, the family of the third brother’s wife was wealthy; they all wanted to close their doors and live their own lives, free from their parents' interference.

Yet, bound by the tradition that children should not divide the family while their parents are still alive, none of them wanted to bear the reputation of being unfilial by bringing it up first.

Now that Wang Erlang had spoken, the other two branches chimed in with encouragement.

"This Wang Erlang has some backbone; if he kept enduring this, he wouldn't be a man."

"It’s a shame Grandma Wang treats the first and third branches so well, and yet they still don't want to live with her."

"If those two branches ever find out about the opportunities the second branch has in the future, they’ll regret their decision so much their guts will turn green."

Wang Erlang’s words were merely a fit of anger, but they acted like a spark to a fuse, spiraling out of control.

Seeing the commotion growing, the long-silent Patriarch Wang finally appeared and asked Wang Erlang, "Do you truly wish to divide the family?"

He nodded firmly. In truth, he hadn't wanted to split at all; he had only wanted his parents to offer a few soft words to persuade him otherwise.

Who would have thought that Patriarch Wang, seeing his usually obedient son speak such words, would decide to punish him by actually going through with the division?

"I thought Patriarch Wang was more sensible, but he is just as muddled. Then again, without his indulgence, Grandma Wang could never have been so arrogant."

"This Wang Erlang really lacks manliness. If it's split, it's split—what is there to fear? He will learn soon enough that his daughter has a deity backing her."

"That may be so, but Patriarch Wang and Grandma Wang are his parents after all; it is not strange for him to feel this way."

Dividing the household also meant dividing living quarters. The first and third branches naturally had fine places to go. Wang Erlang’s family was assigned a dilapidated, long-abandoned shack on the remote edge of the village.

Wang Erlang felt deeply dejected, as if he had been cast out by his parents. But Wang Qin and Wang Erya were overjoyed; they would no longer have to suffer such torment.

"They really are biased in every way. Patriarch Wang isn't even afraid of chilling Wang Erlang’s heart. No matter how filial a person is, their devotion cannot withstand such abuse."

"What is there to be dejected about? Your blessings are yet to come."

Although Wang Erya was often ignored, children naturally yearn for their parents' love. To cheer up Wang Erlang, she told him about her dream of the deity master. Following her master's instructions, she did not mention the ring.

Wang Erlang didn't believe her, but Wang Erya, who had never cooked before, skillfully slaughtered a newly purchased chicken, started a fire, and used the ingredients on hand to create a dish called "Big Plate Chicken."

Wang Erlang and his wife were stunned on the spot. Encouraged by Wang Erya’s enthusiasm, they hesitantly tasted the dish. Immediately, they couldn't spare a word to speak; their chopsticks flew, and they showered the dish with praise. Only Wang Erya muttered that it was a pity they lacked the full range of seasonings and green peppers.

"Is this Big Plate Chicken really that delicious? I’m getting hungry."

"I’ll try making it when I get home. Maybe it really is possible."

"How could that be? Who wouldn't hide their good recipes away? Why would they loudly shout it out for you to hear?"

"What are green peppers? I've never heard of such a thing."

"Presumably, the author made it up; it probably doesn't exist."

Wang Erlang and his wife finally believed what Wang Erya had said. Overjoyed, they set up a memorial tablet for the old deity and worshipped it daily.

Their share of the family property was meager—only a few acres of poor land—and their current food supply was nearly exhausted. Thus, they planned to sell this Big Plate Chicken to earn money to supplement their household.

Hearing their decision, Wang Erya specially made some noodles. After boiling them, she poured the sauce and chicken from the Big Plate Chicken over them. It tasted divine.

As soon as their small stall was set up, the aroma, which seemed to drift for ten miles, attracted many people.

Wang Erlang and his wife were cautious and had prepared only a small amount, so everything was sold out in less than half an hour.

With this, the first volume ended.

"No, I must eat this Big Plate Chicken today."

"I see it calls for Sichuan pepper (Zhu Yu) in there. Can you handle the taste of Sichuan pepper?"

"I’ve had it before; the spiciness is unbearable, especially when you use the latrine the next day—cough."

"Then I won't add the pepper; I imagine it won't affect the flavor."

"You must tell us how it goes after you make it."

"Certainly, certainly."

The crowd chatted for a while longer about the contents of the first volume of the book, and as it approached lunchtime, they all headed home.

.

Duke Zheng leaned against his armrest, focused, turning the pages one by one.

When he reached a certain point, a thoughtful look appeared in his eyes.

Is this method for Big Plate Chicken really feasible? And this name is so strange—why call it "Big Plate Chicken"? Is it because it's served on a big plate? The naming method is far too unrefined.

According to the description in the book, it ought to have an elegant name.

Perhaps—"Red Pepper Points to the Golden Phoenix." Look at that, how elegant.

Pleased with himself for coming up with such a fine name, Duke Zheng hummed a little tune in high spirits.

He copied down the recipe and instructed his servant, "Take this recipe to the kitchen; we shall have this dish tonight."

The servant bowed and accepted the recipe, "Yes!"

The cook at the Duke's mansion was preparing the evening meal. He had worked there for many years. Although the mansion had many people and many dishes to prepare, the master was easygoing and had no particular requirements for food, as long as the portions were large and meaty.

This suited the cook perfectly; his specialty was roast meat.

Today, however, he received a rare, specific request from Duke Zheng.

The cook read the recipe from top to bottom, his brows furrowed.

Nonsense! He had never heard of such a method. It had to be stir-fried first? He knew how to stir-fry eggs, but he had never heard of meat being stir-fried.

And that Sichuan pepper was so spicy—could it really be eaten?

But since the Duke wanted it, he could not refuse and had to follow the instructions.

He thought to himself that if it tasted bad, it wasn't his fault; it was the Duke who had requested it.

He was merely a servant following orders.

The method for this dish was quite complex, typical of the picky and fastidious style of aristocratic families.

Moreover, some parts were marked with "an appropriate amount" or "a little." How much was "an appropriate amount," and how much was "a little"?

The cook had no idea how to proceed, so he had to bite the bullet and give it a try.

*Sizzle!* As the pepper hit the pan, it released a pungent, spicy odor that drilled straight into his nose.

Unable to hold it back, the cook turned his back and let out several sneezes.

He cursed inwardly, wondering which little brat had come up with this recipe. Was it designed specifically to torture people?

He hurriedly ordered his assistant to open all the doors and windows to ventilate the kitchen.

After adding boiling water and stewing it for over an hour, the initial pungent, stinging smell faded, replaced by a rich, savory aroma of meat.

The cook wondered suspiciously if he had been wrong. Could this recipe actually be a peerless masterpiece?

As the cook, he naturally had the right to taste the food. He secretly ladled out a spoonful and tasted it. The flavor was indeed extraordinarily delicious—the chicken was tender and firm, numbingly spicy and fragrant, with the various ingredients and spices perfectly blended.

It was just that the spiciness surging up afterward nearly made him spit out his tongue in front of everyone.

It was truly too spicy. It would be perfect without the pepper.

Feeling the numbness and pain on his tongue, the cook groaned. Had he known, he wouldn't have tasted it; he should have secretly made a portion without the pepper for himself.

Fortunately, he had only tasted a little. He wondered how the Duke and his family would manage to eat it.

The cook thought with a sense of schadenfreude.

Ever since the Duke’s sons had married, they generally ate their evening meals separately in their own courtyards.

Duke Zheng, his wife, and their youngest daughter, Zheng Sanniang, usually ate together.

Yet today, he had unexpectedly called everyone to the main hall for dinner. Everyone was puzzled but dared not ask.

Upon arriving and sitting at the tables already set by the servants, everyone looked at each other and then at Duke Zheng, who sat at the head of the table.

Duke Zheng’s eyes were half-closed as he stroked his long beard, playing for effect. "I have called you all here to eat together today. Do you have any questions in your hearts?"

"Father, aren't you asking something you already know?"

"Indeed, Father, if you have something important to say, just say it. Don't keep us in suspense."

With so many people, everyone began talking at once.

Having built up their curiosity, Duke Zheng was delighted.

"It is nothing major, so don't be nervous. I specially ordered the cook to prepare a delicious delicacy, and I thought it wouldn't be right to eat it all by myself, so I called you all to taste it."

"Father, look at what you're saying—are Mother and I not people?" Zheng Sanniang protested. She and her mother were right there; how could he claim he was eating alone?

"Don't talk nonsense! Don't talk back to your father."

The child was becoming increasingly insolent. She should at least show her father some respect in front of so many people.

The Duchess of Zheng tapped her forehead helplessly.

"My lady, don't listen to Sanniang's nonsense. I just misspoke; I didn't mean that you didn't exist," Duke Zheng stammered in explanation.

"She was only joking; you take everything to heart. If you have something to say, say it quickly. It's almost time for dinner, and everyone is hungry."

Duke Zheng regained his solemn appearance and said, "This dish is called 'Red Pepper Points to the Golden Phoenix.'"

"I have indeed never heard of this name. Where did you get this recipe, Father?"

"The recipe, I saw in a book; the name, I came up with myself," Duke Zheng said triumphantly.

"Father is talented, to be able to come up with such an elegant name." The eldest son, Zheng Dalang, delivered a well-placed compliment.

As soon as he spoke, everyone else cast him a look of condemnation, but then followed suit, praising their father for his diligence in reading and saying that if he had taken the imperial examinations, he would surely have become a top scholar—truly a man of both literary and martial talent.

Duke Zheng was so puffed up with pride that the corners of his mouth stayed raised until his facial muscles began to ache.

Amidst the chorus of flattery, only Zheng Sanniang looked suspicious.

She knew her father well; he was skilled in martial arts but knew nothing of literature. He found the classics and histories tedious, and the only things he could manage to read were the books written by Lady Xu.

Zheng Sanniang remembered the plot she had read in the book that day.

Could the dish her father spoke of be the "Big Plate Chicken" from the book?

And what on earth was "Red Pepper Points to the Golden Phoenix"?

But she had to give her father some face, so she didn't say it directly, lest he fly into a rage from embarrassment.

On second thought, she became a bit expectant. When she read that part in the book, she had been incredibly tempted too.

Was that Big Plate Chicken as delicious as described? So delicious that Wang Erlang and his wife couldn't even spare the time to speak and almost licked the plate clean?

When the dish was finally served, the maids entered in a file and placed the food on everyone’s tables.

Zheng Sanniang looked closely—good heavens, it really was the Big Plate Chicken from the book.

"Hurry, have a taste."

Everyone was very curious about the dish their father had been teasing them about for so long. Hearing his command, they couldn't wait to pick up their chopsticks.

It was indeed different from any meal they had eaten before. The spiciness of the Sichuan pepper brought out the rich fragrance of the chicken, which in their minds had never been as delicious as beef or mutton and was usually quite bland. Who knew chicken could taste this good?

"It really is delicious! If I hadn't inherited Father’s lack of talent for poetry, I would certainly compose a poem for this dish," Zheng Dalang said, panting from the spice and ignoring his image.

He was immediately met with Duke Zheng’s "death stare."

"It’s a pity there are no noodles. Looking at the description in the book, it seems to be the same thing as hot-water dough cakes," Zheng Sanniang said regretfully.

Hearing her words, Duke Zheng slapped his thigh. "Oh, I forgot to have the cook prepare a plate of noodles."

"Forget it, don't go to that trouble. We'll have it next time."

"Quick, bring me a glass of water. It's truly too spicy." Zheng Sanniang gasped, disregarding her manners, and hurriedly called for a maid to bring her water.

"Bring me one too," everyone said in unison.

While the Duke's family enjoyed their meal, the cook in the back was no exception. After finishing the meal for his masters, he had made a portion for himself without the pepper.

As the cook congratulated himself on his wise decision, he felt as he ate that something was missing.

He felt the flavor was a bit blander than the previous portion.

It seemed that the pepper was actually quite addictive.

Should he add it back in?

Thus, the cook ate on, gasping for air, unable to stop his chopsticks.

.

Father Xue had been worrying lately. The dishes at the restaurant were always the same few, and everyone had grown tired of them. The number of customers had noticeably decreased, and some regulars had stopped coming, likely bored by the same old menu.

His employer had asked him, as the head chef, to research some new dishes to attract customers.

This left Father Xue in despair. He only knew the dishes he had learned from his master years ago.

Researching new dishes? He really couldn't do it! Wasn't this making things difficult for him?

If he had that kind of talent, he would have been rich long ago, making money just by selling recipes. Perhaps even the great noble families would have invited him to cater their banquets.

Father Xue sighed heavily, which startled Mother Xue.

"Why are you sighing so heavily for no reason?"

Father Xue explained his troubles.

"I want to research new dishes too, but this is asking the impossible! I’ve worked at the restaurant for so long, and watching the customers leave one by one breaks my heart. If I could come up with something, I would have already."

"Oh, if you can't come up with anything, won't they just let you go?" Mother Xue asked worriedly.

"That won't happen. I am a veteran master, after all. What I have in my hands is enough to keep me fed for decades. Other restaurants have offered high prices to poach me before, but I didn't go," Father Xue said proudly.

"Look at you, so capable."

Xue Zhenrui, sitting in the study her parents had set up for her after she started working, heard their conversation and became thoughtful.

She found a book and turned to a certain page.

Holding the book, she went to the courtyard where her parents were sitting in the corridor chatting.

"Father, do you think the method in this book is feasible?" She pointed out the recipe for Big Plate Chicken to Father Xue.

"What do I know about the affairs of scholars? You’d better ask Lady Xu." Father Xue pushed her hand away without even looking.

Lady Xu’s name had been mentioned a thousand times by Xue Zhenrui, and Father Xue had heard it often enough. He knew she was his daughter's great benefactor and was deeply grateful to her.

But Father Xue hated reading; he couldn't even get into Lady Xu’s books, so Xue Zhenrui usually read them to him.

He understood even less about the knowledge contained within them.

"No, Father, it's not some great academic knowledge, just a recipe for a dish." Xue Zhenrui held it out again, pointing it out to him.

"Read it, read it to me." Father Xue became interested.

Xue Zhenrui had no choice but to read the words in the book to him. Fearing he wouldn't understand, she read slowly, word by word.

After she finished, she was met with countless questions.

"Why wait for the oil to be hot? Can't you just put it in the pot? Why put in the scallions, ginger, and spices first? Can't you put the meat in first?"

"And what flavor does that Sichuan pepper have? It's only spicy—why put it in?"

Xue Zhenrui’s head was spinning. How could she answer these questions? She wasn't a cook.

Only Lady Xu, who wrote the book, could answer these questions.

"Father, if you want to know these things, you should ask Lady Xu. How would I know?" Xue Zhenrui scratched her head, feeling awkward.

Father Xue stiffened. He had always respected scholars, thinking they were high above and out of reach; he only felt comfortable when facing his daughter.

He felt intimidated when encountering a true intellectual.

Even more so with Lady Xu, who had written a book that so many people were reading. How could he dare to go and ask her such ignorant questions?

Even though he could understand Lady Xu’s stories, Father Xue still felt she was a person of great learning, far surpassing many scholars.

"Forget it, the book describes it clearly enough anyway. I'll just follow it directly. No need to bother Lady Xu."

Xue Zhenrui knew her father's timidity, so she suggested, "Why don't I write down your questions on paper, and when the time comes, I'll take them to Lady Xu and ask her?"

"…Will… will this work? Will Lady Xu mind?" Father Xue hesitated.

"Of course not! Lady Xu is very patient. No matter what strange questions we ask her, she is never impatient."

"And she is very knowledgeable; she understands many things. We didn't even expect her to be able to answer some of the questions we asked." Xue Zhenrui said with admiration.

Her dream was to become someone like Lady Xu. She had only taken a very small step so far.

"Alright, but be careful when you ask; be respectful and don't make Lady Xu angry," Father Xue cautioned.

"Don't worry, Father. I am already a young woman capable of managing the household; don't you trust me yet?" Xue Zhenrui protested.

"Oh, our Zhenniang has truly grown into a young woman." Mother Xue, who didn't understand what they were talking about and had been listening quietly, teased.

Xue Zhenrui lifted her chin and giggled to herself like a little cat that had stolen some fish.

.

Xu Chengyue did not know that "one hundred thousand whys" were about to come knocking on her door.

At this moment, she was haggling with an old woman.

As she was coming from the street corner, she saw an old woman carrying an earthenware jar, shouting, "Bean paste! Selling bean paste!"

Xu Chengyue paused for a moment. She hadn't immediately thought of what "bean paste" (Shu Gao) was. Could it be some new trend among the scholars? A new name for a pastry?

Curious, she called the old woman over.

"Grandma, what is bean paste?" Xu Chengyue asked in confusion.

"Bean paste, it’s just bean paste! Look." The old woman lifted the lid of the jar and showed her what was inside.

Xu Chengyue peeked inside. The jar contained a yellow liquid with some sediment floating in it; it didn't look very clear.

It looked a bit like oil? In a flash, Xu Chengyue thought of another term for oil in ancient times—"Gao" (fat/paste).

But this was liquid oil at room temperature, so it clearly couldn't be animal fat. That meant it was vegetable oil! And the smell didn't resemble the fragrance of sesame oil, so it shouldn't be sesame oil.

Xu Chengyue’s breathing quickened. This was vegetable oil! She had finally found it.

Wait, "Shu"—that means soybeans! So this oil is soybean oil!

She had to buy it today!

"Grandma, how much is this oil?" Xu Chengyue asked.

"Not much, just 100 wen," the old woman said.

100 wen was not "not much"—that was enough to buy two catties of pork! And this oil looked to be less than a kilogram.

"Young lady, don't think I'm selling it for a high price, but this paste cost me thirty catties of beans to press." Seeming to understand her expression, the old woman urged.

Xu Chengyue felt a toothache, but she was accustomed to her own free-spending habits.

Money is meant to be spent!

"Wealth once dispersed will return."

"Alright, I'll buy it."

The old woman hadn't held out much hope that she would buy it, and now she looked surprised, as if she had met a sucker.

She hurriedly handed the jar of bean paste to her and even threw in the jar for free.

This year was a bumper harvest; there was so much production of beans that the price kept falling, and they couldn't be sold at all.

Left with no choice, the old woman came up with a method: press the beans into paste, perhaps it would sell.

She hadn't held out much hope, thinking that at worst, her own family would use it.

The price was indeed high—it would be better to buy two catties of pork fat to make lard, or just buy sesame oil.

She hadn't expected to meet a young woman who knew nothing about the price of firewood, rice, oil, and salt, and who actually bought it. She hoped she wouldn't be scolded by her parents when she got home.

Unlike her, Xu Chengyue felt it was well worth it. Given the production level of the Tang Dynasty, being able to buy soybean oil was already a pleasant surprise.

Although the pressing level meant the oil wasn't particularly pure.

While soybean oil didn't have the rich aroma of animal fat, it had very distinct advantages. It was suitable for stir-frying and wouldn't mask the original taste and fragrance of vegetables, and one wouldn't get tired of it easily.

Xu Chengyue was glad she hadn't missed the old woman just now, allowing her to buy the soybean oil.

Hahaha, I’ve struck gold!

Sigh, it's just a pity that with such a small amount, I wonder how many times I can use it.