ryethenovel Chapter 28 Ghostly Food
Chapter 28 Ghostly Food
The people from the Liu residence were indeed guarding the east entrance.
It wasn't completely dark yet; the light at the alley entrance was a grayish-yellow.
Two men in gray jackets stood under the archway at the east entrance, one watching the street and the other watching the alleyway.
Seven or eight steps away from them, the sugar-coated fruit stall was still frying.
The oil sizzled in the pan, releasing a sweet aroma.
Old Zhou didn't go down to the archway.
He paused for a moment in front of the candied fruit stall.
The vendor was scooping up a skewer of sugar-coated fritters, flicking the bamboo skewer to the side, and steam billowed out.
Old Zhou turned into the narrow gap behind the stall.
Wu Ling followed, his sleeve brushing against the wall plaster.
There's no need to turn on the lights in the narrow alley; the dampness on the walls reflects a slightly grayish-yellow hue.
The sound of oil frying in the pan was still going on outside, but after turning the second corner, all that remained was the smell of moss and the aroma of rapeseed oil being heated in the pan in the distance.
"Is this the way to Shaocheng Qiren Alley?"
"Take the main road, and the Liu family will know where you're going."
"They saw us?"
"All I saw was their backs."
"Will you look for it?"
"Yes," Old Zhou said without turning around, "but by the time they find us, we'll have finished our tea."
Old Zhou's steps were slow, but each step was precise.
He avoided the puddles by half a step earlier.
He didn't even look up at the bamboo pole that should be bowing; his head was already lowered.
A boy selling evening newspapers was squatting in the corner. The newspapers were rolled up into a tube. When he saw Old Zhou, he stopped shouting.
"Master Zhou."
"Is your mother feeling better?"
"I can get out of bed and cook porridge now."
Old Zhou took out two copper coins from his sleeve, didn't buy a newspaper, and put them in the child's palm.
"Don't shout at the east entrance tomorrow morning, there are people guarding the Liu residence there today."
The child's eyes darted around, and he immediately tucked the newspaper under his arm.
"know."
Old Zhou wasn't walking on a road, he was walking as a person.
He didn't need to look to know who was at which alley entrance or which doorman recognized whom; he already knew just by looking at his feet.
We've arrived at Shaocheng.
What appeared first was not a grand gate and courtyard, but a low wall.
The old blue bricks are covered with grass, and night water hangs on the grass blades.
Further ahead was a row of doors.
The doors are not tall, and some still retain the shadows of old plaques above the entrance, the characters worn away by time, leaving only outlines.
Old Zhou stopped in front of a black lacquered wooden door.
The door knocker was made of brass and had been worn dark.
The threshold is half a palm higher than Wu Ji's.
Wu Ling glanced down.
Old Zhou said, "See that?"
"I saw it."
"Even the patriarch of the Liu family has to step out here."
Footsteps came from inside the door.
Not in a hurry.
The sound was the soles of slippers scraping against the brick floor.
The door opened a crack.
A servant boy of about thirteen or fourteen years old peeked out, first looking at Old Zhou, then at Wu Ling.
"Master Zhou."
"Has your third master rested yet?"
"I'm not resting, I'm listening to the birds."
Wu Ling looked up.
The courtyard was very quiet; there wasn't a single bird in sight.
The servant opened the door.
"please."
The courtyard is not big.
An old locust tree looms over half the sky, and a birdcage hangs beneath it, its cover covering half of the tree.
The bird didn't chirp; it only occasionally scratched the bamboo strips with its claws.
An old man was sitting at the entrance of the main room.
He wore a white cloth short jacket, blue cloth trousers, and a pair of cloth shoes neatly arranged at his feet.
In his hand was a small teacup, quite different from the large covered bowls of Wu Ji.
The old man did not get up.
"Tuesday, do you even know which way my door faces?"
Old Zhou bowed with his hands clasped.
"Third Master."
Wu Ling then cupped his hands in greeting.
Master Kui looked at him.
His eyes weren't big, but they were as bright as the lingering firelight in tea soup.
"Wu Houde's grandson?"
Wu Ling's heart skipped a beat.
"Do you know my grandfather?"
"When he came to knock on my door, you weren't even a shadow yet."
Master Kui placed the teacup on the small table next to him.
"sit."
The servant brought over two bamboo chairs.
Wu Ling glanced at the chair surface as he sat down.
The bamboo strips are old and polished to a shine; they're not just for decoration, but the result of someone sitting on them every day.
Master Kui saw it.
"I knew to look at the chair first."
Wu Ling said, "I've gotten used to sitting in teahouses for so long."
"The Wu family hasn't finished throwing away their things yet."
Old Zhou was straightforward.
"When Liu came to inquire about medicine at the Liu residence, he went to Wu's shop. Inside the door, Wu's shop blocked his way. Outside, he needed to borrow a word from Third Master."
Master Kui raised his hand.
The servant went to the tree and lifted the birdcage cover.
The thrush kept its eyes open but didn't chirp.
Which room in the Liu residence?
"South of the city, at the residence of Master Liu the Second. The steward's surname is Cheng, and he carries a black umbrella."
"His eldest son once tripped and fell on my doorstep."
"You didn't lift your legs enough."
Master Kui chuckled.
"It's because you haven't raised your heart high enough."
The main room fell silent.
The bell of a rickshaw rang outside, and it soon disappeared into the distance.
"Once a transaction takes place in a teahouse, it must be conducted according to the teahouse's rules."
Master Kui turned to the servant.
"Go to the Liu residence."
The servant responded.
"Tell Steward Cheng that when he goes to Wu's shop tomorrow, he should put away the umbrella, prepare the money, and buy the flowers. If he still wants to ask about the flower roots, tell him to think twice about how much face the Liu family has."
The main room became even quieter.
The servant's throat moved slightly.
Wu Ling asked, "What if Manager Cheng denies it?"
Master Kui put the lid back on the teacup.
despair.
"Then let him stand in front of Wu's shop all day, holding a black umbrella."
He looked up.
"The people drinking tea in Shaocheng Park, the shoe repairmen on Changshun Street, the sedan chair carriers in Kuan Alley, and the paper sellers in Jing Alley all recognize the umbrellas from the Liu family."
The thrush in the birdcage hopped.
The bamboo strips rustled softly.
The servant bowed.
"Understood."
"go."
The courtyard gate opened and closed.
The door knocker clicked.
The blue metal plaque at the entrance of the modern teahouse stood out in Wu Ling's mind.
Wu Ling looked at Master Kui's teacup without saying a word.
Master Kui noticed that he was distracted.
"What are you thinking about?"
"The road to my side is blocked."
"To what extent did it break down?"
"The door is still there, but the person is nowhere to be found."
Master Kui served tea and blew away the foam.
"If a person can't find the door, let their nose find it first."
Wu Ling was taken aback.
Master Kui didn't explain further.
Old Zhou stood up.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Third Master."
Master Kui waved his hand.
"Don't thank me too soon. The Liu family won't become philanthropists from now on. But if he wants to buy that flower tomorrow, he'll have to do it like a decent person."
Wu Ling got up with Old Zhou.
"Thank you, Third Master."
Master Kui looked at him.
"Wu Houde was a man of few words back then, but you were more talkative than him."
Wu Ling didn't know whether this was a compliment or an insult.
Master Kui added a sentence.
"But shopkeeper, when it's time to speak, you can't remain silent."
"I've got it."
When leaving the house, Wu Ling deliberately raised his foot to step over the threshold.
A thrush called out from behind the threshold.
Short.
Only after leaving Master Kui's courtyard did Shaocheng Alley truly darken.
The streetlights on the main street hung far away, their yellow light fading into the distance.
The alleyways are filled with lanterns, their lights flickering in the night water, making the bluestone slabs gleam with an oily sheen.
The restaurant started dumping swill at the back door, with hot steam, oil fumes, and coal ash fumes mixed together.
Old Zhou wasn't in a hurry to take Wu Ling back.
He turned into another alley from next to Changshun Street.
Wu Ling smelled the first fragrance at the third bend.
It's not the smell of tea.
It's not the sweet and oily aroma of candied fruit.
The salty aroma of the braising liquid wafted over the wall, followed by the smoky fragrance of roasted wheat flour, and finally, the numbing sensation of Sichuan peppercorns emerged, like fine needles gently pricking the tip of the nose.
Wu Ling slowed his pace.
Old Zhou said, "You can smell it?"
"Um."
"That's right."
At the end of the alley, before the person carrying the load appeared, their voice drifted over.
"Guokui (a type of flatbread) with braised chicken wings inside—"
The sound was not loud.
At this point, there's no need to shout too loudly.
It's too big and disturbing; it doesn't look like food at all.
The person carrying the load turned out.
A bamboo bag at one end, a small charcoal stove at the other.
The charcoal stove was not very big, and the red dot was hidden in the ash.
As soon as the bamboo lid is lifted, steam carrying the aroma of braised meat wafts out.
The man carrying the load was thin, around thirty years old, and his shoulders were worn unevenly from the weight of the load.
Looks like they just came from another restaurant.
When he saw Old Zhou, he smiled first.
"Master Zhou, you've already made a show of things? I thought you only appreciated the aroma of tea and not the smell of meat."
"Take the shopkeeper to show him the way."
"If you know the way, just look for me." The skinny man put down his load, the bamboo carrying pole landing with a thud. "Some roads in Chengdu are written on street signs, some are written on your nose. People can get lost, but fragrances won't."
Upon hearing this, Wu Ling's heart stirred.
The skinny man picked up the flatbread.
The flatbread is small, round, baked until golden brown on both sides, with a few sesame seeds stuck firmly to the edge.
The skinny man used a knife to cut along the edge, but didn't cut all the way through, leaving one side connected, thus creating a pocket for the aroma.
With his other hand, he picked up a chicken wing from the broth.
The chicken wing wasn't stuffed in whole.
He first loosened the meat by prying it along the bone, then folded the wing tip inside, and finally scooped half a spoonful of braising oil and wiped it through the opening of the flatbread.
No oil dripped out.
Only a thin line of light shone from the edge of the flatbread.
The skinny man pressed the back of the knife against the flatbread.
Click.
The aroma wafted out of the opening, pressed against my hand, and then hit my nose.
Wu Ling watched intently.
The skinny guy was delighted.
"Does the shopkeeper value the food or the cooking skills?"
Wu Ling said, "I'll watch them all."
"Then look carefully. Too much braising oil will make the customer's hands dirty. Too little will make it dry. If the opening of the guokui is cut off, it will leak. If it's not cut open, the flavor won't penetrate. Making food is like being a person; if it's too full, it will leak, and if it's too empty, it will be tasteless."
He handed the first one to Old Zhou.
Old Zhou didn't answer.
"Give it to the shopkeeper first."
Only then did the skinny man take a serious look at Wu Ling.
"I heard from the people at the back gate of Zhao's shop that the Liu residence is looking for you today?"
Wu Ling asked, "Do you know Boss Zhao?"
"I recognize him. The ditch behind his shop is always blocked at night. When it gets blocked, he'll ask me to borrow fire tongs. He'll call me 'brother' when he borrows them, and 'vendor' when he returns them."
The skinny man handed the guokui (a type of flatbread) to Wu Ling.
"He's not a bad person, it's just that sometimes his eyes are glued to the medicine drawer, so much so that he forgets about everyone else."
Wu Ling took it.
The oiled paper gets hot.
He took a bite.
The crust of the guokui (a type of flatbread) broke first.
The wheat aroma cracked open with a snap when pressed by the tip of the teeth.
The outer shell is crispy, but the inside is soft. The braised sauce is coated by the hot noodles and doesn't spill out; it's all contained in that one bite.
The chicken wing meat is separated from the bone, the salty and fragrant aroma arrives first, followed by the Sichuan peppercorn flavor, which numbs the tip of the tongue first and then warms the back of the throat.
Wu Ling swallowed, his fingers unconsciously clenching the oil paper.
hot.
But we can't bear to relax.
The skinny man stared at him.
"How about that? Just saying it's delicious isn't a skill. If you can't explain why it's delicious, I'll just consider you a freeloader."
Wu Ling said, "The aroma is too strong."
The skinny man was taken aback.
"I asked if it was delicious, and you're nitpicking at me?"
Old Zhou laughed.
"The shopkeeper has become picky."
Wu Ling quickly added a sentence.
"It's not that it tastes bad. It's just that if you're pairing it with tea, the braising flavor should be toned down. If it's too strong, it will overpower the tea's aroma."
The skinny man touched his chin.
"Your Wu's shop sells this?"
Wu Ling did not answer.
The image of the blue construction barriers from the modern side came to mind.
The wooden plaque was cut in half, the directional sign was blown askew by the wind, a young girl stood at the alley entrance, the navigation arrow stopped in place, and she turned and walked away.
What if you smell the fragrance first at the entrance of the alley?
It's not the kind of aroma that's overly oily and spicy.
It has the aroma of roasted wheat from a flatbread, with a hint of braised flavor, just enough to make you walk a few more steps.
He then remembered what Master Kui had said.
If a person can't find the door, let their nose find it first.
Wu Ling looked down at the guokui (a type of flatbread) in his hand.
"The road in front of our building is blocked."
The skinny man couldn't understand, but Old Zhou did.
"You want to bring the smell in?"
"Give it a try."
"How do I try it?"
Wu Ling finished the remaining half bite.
"You can't just copy it exactly. Make it a small portion, don't get your hands dirty, make the braised flavor a little mild, cut the guokui (a type of flatbread) into small pieces, and add three kinds of fritters. The aroma should be so enticing that you can come in, sit down, and even have some tea."
The skinny man's eyes lit up.
"Then your diet isn't ghost food."
"What's that?"
"It's about inviting ghost food into the teahouse and having it guard the door."
He laughed as soon as he finished speaking.
"Well, I've been selling late-night snacks for half my life, and this is the first time I've ever worked as a doorman."
Wu Ling looked at the remaining half of the flatbread in the oiled paper.
"This alone is not enough."
The skinny man raised an eyebrow.
"The shopkeeper has quite an appetite."
"It's not that we don't have enough to eat," Wu Ling said. "The alley is so long, just the aroma of braised food isn't enough to lure people in."
"Then let's change the incense."
"How do I change it?"
The skinny man covered the bamboo bag with his hands and smiled.
"Guokui has its own path, wontons have their own path, pig's trotters have their own path, and fermented rice soup with eggs has its own path."
Old Zhou knew what he was thinking.
Don't look at me.
Wu Ling looked up.
Old Zhou, chewing on a flatbread, said slowly, "I only know how to drink tea. If you want to ask about food, ask the people in this city who are still awake at night."
The skinny man covered the bamboo bag with the cloth.
"The more ghostly food there is, the more there is as the night goes on. What you are seeing now is the first load."
"What comes next?"
"Wait until you hear the sound of wontons coming, then follow them for a while and you'll see. You're the new manager of Wu's, so I won't charge you this time."
The skinny man then took out an unfilled flatbread from his bamboo bag and handed it to Wu Ling.
"Take a look. If you want to learn tomorrow, I'll pass by Zhao's back ditch in the middle of the night. There are people guarding the street at Liu's house, and I know which alley to take."
When I returned to Wu Ji's place, it was already quite dark, but the lights in the teahouse were still on.
Xiao Cui didn't sleep.
She sat behind the counter, holding the pot of sunflowers in her hands.
The last flower had closed halfway, its petals shutting in the night, hiding the daylight within itself.
Master Liu leaned back in his bamboo chair, pretending to doze off, with his copper shovel still tucked behind his ear.
He didn't open his eyes when he heard footsteps.
"You're back?"
Wu Ling placed the guokui (a type of flatbread) on the counter.
"I'm back."
Xiao Cui stood up.
"What did Master Kui say?"
Wu Ling said, "The flowers will still be sold tomorrow."
Xiao Cui loosened her grip on the earthenware pot a little.
"Are they coming again?"
"Come on," Wu Ling said, "but you have to close your umbrella, queue up, and buy it like a normal person."
Xiao Cui looked down at the flowers.
"Then I'll put it out tomorrow. Shopkeeper, are you going back tonight?"
Wu Ling stared at the dark crack in the door.
"It seems like we can't go back."
Xiao Cui didn't ask any further questions.
She placed the earthenware pot in the corner of the counter, turned around and went to the back to bring out a thin quilt, and then moved two bamboo chairs together next to the storytelling stage.
"It gets cool in the teahouse at night. You should sleep here, not on the floor."
Wu Ling took the blanket.
"Where's Old Zhou?"
"Master Zhou went back at the alley entrance." Xiao Cui straightened the chair. "He said he'd come back for morning tea tomorrow and see if you're still there."
A vendor's cry drifted from the alleyway outside.
"Wontons—Hot Wontons—"
Xiao Cui draped the thin blanket over his lap.
"Shopkeeper, you should go to bed early."
Wu Ling did not respond.
As the aroma of the braised meat fades, the scent of fresh, hot soup wafts out from the depths of the alley.
"Wontons—Hot Wontons—"
The second tone is closer than the first tone.
Xiao Cui looked towards the doorway.
"Are you going out again?"
Wu Ling draped the thin blanket over the back of the chair and stood up.
"Xiao Cui, keep an eye on the guokui for me."
Xiao Cui was stunned.
Outside the door, a third cry of a vendor came from around the alleyway.
"Hot Wontons—"