The official document sent to the capital sank like a stone into the sea.
Yang Ge waited on the left without news, and on the right without a stir, and the latest editions of the gazette that arrived still depicted an idyllic scene of peace and harmony, of "flowers in the breeze and the moon in the snow," indicating a tranquil world.
He grew more anxious and irritable as he waited.
Every day, after the peak business hours at the inn, he would throw off his apron and run to the upper-right government office.
Every day, he returned disappointed.
"Shopkeeper, I’m stepping out..."
On the nineteenth of the first month, with most of the guests at the inn who had stopped for a meal gone, Yang Ge untied his apron and called out to the old shopkeeper sunbathing at the door with his teapot, ready to head to the upper-right government office.
But the old shopkeeper, who had never inquired about his personal matters, called out to him that day, "Young man."
Yang Ge stopped in his tracks, "Shopkeeper, is there something you need?"
The old shopkeeper smiled benevolently, "Nothing too serious, I’ve just been feeling a craving, always thinking of the stir-fried kidney flowers you made for the New Year a couple of years ago. Could you make them for me again today?"
Hearing this, Yang Ge felt a jolt in his heart and quickly stepped forward, holding the old shopkeeper’s wrist to check his pulse, "Are you feeling unwell somewhere?"
In their tradition, medicine and martial arts were intertwined—having trained to his current level, his understanding of the human body and meridians was not much less than that of an experienced traditional doctor.
The old shopkeeper let him proceed, chuckling, "I truly don’t feel discomfort anywhere, just a bit peckish."
Yang Ge checked the pulse on his left wrist, then switched to the right, also observing his complexion, and only after a while did he let go, reassuring the old man, "Your spleen and stomach are a bit weak and cold. In the coming days, you should eat less greasy and spicy foods, and more of the mild and sweet-tasting kind. It will be better after some care."
The old man didn’t care, stubbornly insisting, "I don’t want any bland food; I want stir-fried kidney flowers!"
"Fine, it just so happens that Deng delivered a couple of pig kidneys this morning and they haven’t been used."
Yang Ge laughed, stepped back toward the big counter, and picked up the apron he had just untied, "I’ll make them for you now, but we must agree upfront... After this meal, you’ll have to avoid greasy and spicy food for a while."
The matter of Jiangzhe was very important.
But the old shopkeeper’s craving for stir-fried kidney flowers was also important.
"Agreed, I’ll listen to you!"
The old shopkeeper, clutching his teapot, followed closely behind Yang Ge and together they went to the back kitchen.
Lu, the cook in charge of the kitchen, had gone to rest in the front hall, leaving only Zhang Erniu washing dishes in the backyard; the kitchen was empty.
Yang Ge, while signaling Zhang Erniu to come in and help him start the fire, took out the pig kidneys delivered by Deng the butcher that morning, and skillfully began to process them.
He sliced each pair of pig kidneys in half, first tearing off the outer fat layer, then slicing off the renal pelvis, making cross-hatch cuts, and after washing them twice, marinated them with taro starch, salt, and yellow wine.
The seasonings were Sichuan peppercorns, green onions, ginger, and garlic.
The secondary ingredients were wood ear mushrooms and winter bamboo shoots.
It was supposed to be a fiery dish, but lacking the essential pickled peppers, it came closer to "scallion explosion" than stir-fry...
Yang Ge, preoccupied with news from the court, couldn’t help but employ his knife skills subconsciously; while slicing vegetables, the blade of the knife even created an afterimage. The sight left Zhang Erniu, who was craning his neck from behind the stove trying to steal some skills, utterly dumbstruck.
Shopkeeper Liu, holding his little teapot at the doorway of the kitchen, watched Yang Ge with a grin, making no sound.
"Sizzle!"
As the kidneys hit the wok, Yang Ge lifted the iron wok with one hand, causing flames to leap half a person high. The blood-red kidney pieces tumbled in the flames, quickly losing their raw color and turning into a tantalizing cooked shade.
After stir-frying for just about a minute, he poured in the pre-fried side dishes, mixing them together...
He ended the preparation with a beautiful flourish of the spatula.
Yang Ge pushed a dish of sizzling hot stir-fried kidney flowers to the center of the chopping board, removed his apron, and smiled, "Shopkeeper, give it a try... It’s been a while since I cooked this dish, I’m not sure if my skills have deteriorated."
"Gulp."
Zhang Er Niu, who had been stretching his neck from behind the stove, eagerly watching the dish, swallowed hard.
But Shopkeeper Liu just glanced at it and slowly replied, shaking his head, "Your stir-fried kidney flowers aren’t quite right, far from the batch you made two years ago."
"What?"
Yang Ge, perplexed, stared at the steaming plate of stir-fried kidney flowers on the chopping board for a moment, then realized the kidneys were overcooked, the side dishes were unevenly cut, and the juice at the bottom of the plate was too distinct from the kidneys, indicating the flavor wasn’t sufficiently absorbed.
In another world, this might have barely passed as street vendor quality...
Without further thought, he grabbed the apron he had set aside and retied it, "Then I’ll make it again for you."
"Go ahead, there’s no rush," replied Shopkeeper Liu, and then to Zhang Er Niu, who looked eagerly on from behind the stove, he added, "This plate is yours. After tasting young master’s family’s culinary art, remember to keep a tight lip, don’t go around talking."
"I couldn’t possibly!"
Zhang Er Niu replied playfully, standing up to grab a pair of chopsticks with one hand and the plate of stir-fried kidney flowers with the other, and soon the kitchen was filled with the sound of voracious eating.
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Yang Ge, unaffected by his antics, took out another pair of pig kidneys and began the process anew.
This time, he didn’t think about the news from the upper-right office anymore and seriously focused on each step of preparing the dish.
The pig kidneys were crosshatched.
The Sichuan peppercorns were ground into powder.
After smashing the ginger and garlic, he chopped them into a fine mince...
His knife still moved fast, chopping on the board with a tempo that blended into a single continuous sound, with no individual chops distinguishable.
Visually, it seemed as if the knife in his hand had moved rapidly across the board, turning the ginger and garlic into a pile of mince...