Chapter 65: The Rice Is Cooked

Rice cooked in a large round iron cauldron set on a clay stove, fueled by burning firewood, naturally forms a layer of crispy rice crust at the very bottom that matches the shape of the pot.

As long as the heat is controlled to absolute perfection, this rice crust turns a golden-yellow hue, offering a fragrant and crunchy texture when eaten. Whether chewed plain or soaked in soup, it is considered an ultimate delicacy.

The "rice root" that Madam Ding mentioned moments ago refers precisely to this rice crust.

According to long-standing custom when an elder of a household passes away, while the rice itself may be eaten freely, not even a fraction of the "rice root" may be disturbed. Even when serving the rice, one must proceed with extreme caution so as not to puncture it by a single shred.

It must be left entirely intact, meticulously scraped out, and placed on a bamboo sieve to dry until crispy and brittle, saved by the host family to be boiled into congee in the days to come.

Preserving this "rice root" is believed to safeguard the foundational luck and prosperity of the household's lineage. Only by securing the roots can one hope to grow more and better fruits in the future.

In truth, this custom is rooted in the wish that the departed soul will bless the family with boundless wealth and smooth fortunes in all endeavors.

Yunjiao, however, held a rather skeptical view. If one sits idly and does nothing, could one honestly expect the ancestors to drop a pie from the sky?

Yet the customs of the Dayuan Dynasty remained steadfast. From nobles and generals down to commoners, everyone followed the same practice. Eating the "farewell rice" and preserving the "rice root" had become an unwritten law. Anyone who ruined another family's "rice root" was regarded almost as if they had committed parricide.

Even the most impoverished households strictly observed this rule when preparing the "farewell rice." Even if they had to borrow, they would scrape together some rice, mix it with corn grits and wild greens, and boil it into a meager pot of hardship rice, all for the sake of preserving a "rice root" to secure a favorable omen.

"Great-aunt, the rice is still raw! It needs to cook longer."

A childish, milky voice drifted into her ears.

Among the common folk of the Dayuan Dynasty, banquets did not strictly segregate men and women; husbands and wives were permitted to sit together.

At present, a mere curtain was loosely hung between the inner and outer banquet sections, making the scene outside clearly visible at a glance.

In the imperial capital, of course, such a setup would be utterly unthinkable.

Yunjiao, however, paid it no mind. After all, she was still young, and with her aunts and great-aunts present, she did not need to be overly constrained by such conventions.

Her cousin Jiaru, for instance, had been sequestered in the back courtyard by her fourth aunt to eat quietly, barred from showing her face in public.

Yunjiao glanced toward the source of the voice and saw Madam Yu holding a toddler of about two or three years old, presumably her grandson.

The child wore a peach-shaped topknot and, despite having single eyelids, possessed remarkably bright and clear eyes that looked quite charming. Unfortunately, two trails of clear snot hanging beneath his nose ruined the picture somewhat.

Yunjiao withdrew her gaze after a quick look. This was not the child's untidiness to blame, but rather the negligence of the adult tending to him.

Upon hearing the toddler's remark, Madam Ding's expression did not turn sour in the slightest; instead, she beamed with immense delight. Her aged face broke into a wide smile instantly, looking as though she had stumbled upon a fortune of gold.

This rice had been specially arranged by her.

Years ago, a folk legend circulated that when an elder of a certain family passed away, the household prepared the "farewell rice," only to encounter a bizarre phenomenon: no matter what, the rice in the cauldron refused to cook through.

Everyone was utterly baffled.

Yet within half a year, that ordinary family began experiencing a surge of supreme fortune. Those who wished to become officials did so, those who wanted wealth acquired it, and everything they undertook went as smooth as silk without a single setback.

Later, a clever person slapped their thigh in sudden realization: "No wonder the old master's 'farewell rice' wouldn't cook when he passed! It means the rice is raw, which sounds like turning over a new leaf! It was the old master blessing us from heaven!"

As this tale passed from ten people to a hundred, it gradually spread far and wide.

By now, it had evolved into a belief that if any family's "farewell rice" turned out undercooked, it heralded an exceptionally auspicious sign. Though not universally known across the realm, it invariably sparked lively chatter in streets, alleys, and over post-meal tea.

Madam Ding was aiming precisely for this auspicious omen. She had instructed the cooks to use an abundance of rice with very little water, applying fierce heat at first and lifting the lid the moment the pot boiled.

After that, the stove was switched to a gentle simmer to slowly bake the rice crust, ensuring the rice itself could never possibly cook through.

In this manner, the "rice root" was secured, and the family's fortunes were "turned over"—killing two birds with one stone. How wonderful was that!

"Qinji, taste this rice! Your family is destined to keep rising up in the world from now on!"

"What an auspicious sign! We haven't heard of such a thing in years!"

Flatteries echoed from all around, and Madam Ding listened with an ear-to-ear grin, overflowing with joy.

Taking advantage of the moment everyone was heaping praise on Madam Ding, Yunjiao seized her chance, ducked low, and slipped like a wisp of smoke into the small side room behind her.

She had originally intended for Jianjia to do the deed while she stood watch outside, but Jianjia had wandered off to chat with Gu Youzi.

Opportunities wait for no one. If the servants returned shortly, the deed would become impossible!

Earlier, fearing that too many people would spoil the plan, she had dismissed Mugai and Huang, who were probably off hunting for some food to enjoy in hiding.

With no other choice left, she had to do it herself.

The prepared cloth sack was also with Jianjia. Desperate, Yunjiao gritted her teeth, untied her small cloak, and spread it out flat on the stove counter.

Abandoning all hesitation, she grabbed the spatula and furiously scraped the rice crust directly onto the cloak.

Since Shen Changdong had been thoroughly dealt with, her unfilial second aunt deserved no better fate either.

So unfilial, yet she still expected to keep the "rice root" to govern her future good fortune? Whether it was truly magical or a hoax, she would ensure not a single grain of rice was left behind to infuriate her to death!

Imagining her second aunt stamping her feet in rage, Yunjiao could not help but chuckle. Her movements grew even faster, and with a swift, practiced motion, she scraped up the crusts from both pots entirely.

She tossed the spatula aside, watching it clatter twice against the stove before dropping to the floor, too hurried to pick it up.

There was no time to care about such details; this place was perilous. If caught now, she would be completely finished—game over!

Bending down, she gathered the four corners of the cloak, bundled the contents into her arms, and hurried toward the exit.

She originally intended to slip along the left wall toward the back courtyard, but the moment she peeked out, she spotted a few slackard servants crouching or standing near the foundation wall, seemingly sneaking a bite to eat.

That path was blocked!

She turned her head to look toward the right.

The path to the right was completely sealed off by a temporary shed. At present, only a single route remained: heading straight out the back way toward the main gate.

She hesitated.

Venturing out alone in the dead of night was surely unwise. Putting aside her reputation, for a young maiden to wander out entirely by herself felt fraught with danger.

While her second aunt was indeed hateful, she could not afford to ruin herself just to spite her. That would be a terribly bad bargain.

Yet, standing idly here was tantamount to awaiting execution.

Imagining her second aunt's volcanic rage, she shivered slightly and looked down at the bundle clutched in her arms.

After turning the matter over in her mind, should she simply dump the rice crust here, put her cloak back on, and stroll casually back to her seat as if nothing had happened?

She glanced around; it seemed to be her only option.

Muttering inwardly, "Grandpa Thunder, please don't strike me down. I am not trying to waste good food; I am merely punishing an unfilial soul."

Just as she raised her hand to act, she caught sight of four figures approaching from afar near the main gate.

Startled, she darted into the shadowed recesses beneath the eaves, holding her breath so tightly that she dared not make the slightest movement.