Fu Tinghan brought over the picked beans and handed them to the kitchen staff to wash. He turned back and said to Zhao Hanzhang, “I was just about to tell you—there’s a group of bandits on Children’s Ridge who frequently rob merchants passing through the mountain. Can you see about suppressing them?”

Zhao Hanzhang knew he was talking about Gao Hui’s merchant caravan.

Fu Tinghan’s gaze fell on Zhao Erlang. “Children’s Ridge is between Xin’an and Luoyang. Having Erlang suppress the bandits would be most appropriate.”

Zhao Hanzhang frowned slightly. “But the bandit stronghold is on Children’s Ridge. That place is easy to defend and hard to attack—it won’t be easy to take.”

“If you’re worried, you could have General Beigong help Erlang.”

Zhao Hanzhang raised her eyebrows at Fu Tinghan.

Fu Tinghan nodded slightly at her.

Zhao Hanzhang said readily, “Alright then. When General Beigong arrives, I’ll mention it to him.”

Zhao Hanzhang and Zhao Erlang, the siblings working in concert, together cut or chopped the mutton, completing the chef’s instructions.

Then she washed her hands and prepared to make a dish.

Zhao Kuan also curiously came over to watch.

He saw her toss the cleaned bones into a large basin, then pour in boiling hot water. Using chopsticks to stir them around, she placed them in a large cooking pot, then took the sheep spine bones she had just chopped and, after blanching them in hot water as well, piled them on top of the other bones.

After adding water, she had the pot placed on the stove, and immediately a servant came forward to tend the fire.

The cook prepared the seasonings according to Zhao Hanzhang’s instructions and brought them over. She was responsible for sprinkling them in.

After covering it with a lid, she told the servant tending the fire, “Use high heat. Once the water boils, turn it to low heat and simmer for half a shichen—that should be just about the right time for the meal.”

The servant respectfully acknowledged.

Zhao Hanzhang also instructed the cook to remember to add salt.

The cook said there was no problem—she had already made this dish three times and was quite confident.

Zhao Kuan couldn’t help but turn to look at Fu Tinghan. “This counts as knowing how to cook?”

Fu Tinghan: “…I suppose so.”

Zhao Hanzhang had sharp ears. She turned around and asked them, “What’s wrong?”

Zhao Kuan smiled until his eyes disappeared, shaking his head. “Nothing. These bones were chopped well. Later I must carefully taste this soup—after all, it’s a soup Third Sister made herself.”

Fu Tinghan couldn’t help but touch his nose. After hesitating, he still asked her quietly, “You’re only making this one soup?”

Zhao Hanzhang said, “This is already my best dish.”

Fu Tinghan hesitated before saying, “I remember in middle school you could cook.”

Hearing this, Zhao Hanzhang looked him up and down with a far-reaching gaze. After a moment she said slowly, “You heard that from my grandfather, didn’t you?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Is it possible that when he said I could cook, he just meant I could cook?”

Fu Tinghan: …

Zhao Hanzhang’s eyes curved with mirth. “I know how to use a rice cooker to steam rice. The rice I make is perfectly soft and firm, very much to my grandfather’s taste. So every time I came home from school, I would put the rice on to cook first, then do my homework.”

Fu Tinghan: …

Seeing his shocked expression, Zhao Hanzhang burst out laughing.

Zhao Kuan, who had been huddled together with Zhao Erlang, couldn’t help but turn back to look at the two of them. In the sunlight, Zhao Hanzhang was laughing freely while Fu Tinghan looked at her with a face full of tenderness (and helplessness).

Fu Tinghan put away his helplessness and smiled, shaking his head. He rolled up his sleeves. “Then I’ll make a dish.”

“After Mr. Ji heard you would personally cook, he made grand claims. Tonight if he finds out only one soup was made by you, he’ll lose face.”

Zhao Hanzhang protested for the soup. “Soup is also very difficult to make well—a delicious soup is no simple matter.”

It was just that all the ingredients for this soup had been prepared by the cook; she only had to throw them in.

Thinking of this made her feel a bit guilty. Zhao Hanzhang coughed lightly and asked, “What dish do you want to make?”

“How about braising beans with mutton?” He said, “I know how to braise beef with potatoes. Braising beans with mutton should be about the same method, right?”

Zhao Hanzhang nodded. “Should be about the same. Go ahead and make it then. I’ll be your assistant.”

Once it was made, this dish would have her contribution too.

Fu Tinghan smiled and agreed.

Zhao Kuan then saw Fu Tinghan actually go to the kitchen to cook.

This was also his first time cooking in this era. The fire was manageable—Zhao Hanzhang could barely control it, making it bigger by adding firewood and smaller by reducing it, which was just passable.

But Fu Tinghan was using all the other seasonings for the first time.

The sauces here came in several varieties. Besides meat sauce, the rest were mostly made from beans—all bean paste sauces, which were also quite precious.

Good bean paste required complex procedures, so ordinary common people couldn’t afford it. The cooks at the Zhao Residence loved adding bean paste to dishes.

Fu Tinghan was used to eating it and also thought adding bean paste was good, but this time with him adding it himself, he felt somewhat dramatic.

Because this was to save face for Zhao Hanzhang, he was very careful. First he tasted a piece himself to get a sense of the general flavor, then carefully considered before adding some to the mutton and beans that were nearly done braising.

Then came the salt.

He had thought salt should all taste about the same, but when he opened the salt container and saw the somewhat yellowish salt, Fu Tinghan became uncertain.

He pinched a few grains of salt to taste, and immediately frowned.

Seeing this, Zhao Hanzhang stood up and came over. Glancing at it, she also reached in to grab a handful of salt and put it in her mouth. She immediately widened her eyes with a pained expression. “Why is this salt so bitter?”

“It’s astringent,” Fu Tinghan said. “The impurities haven’t been properly filtered out.”

But this way, he didn’t know how much salt to add.

Originally for such a large pot of braised mutton and beans, he should add about twenty grams of salt, but…

Zhao Hanzhang was much simpler—she directly called the cook over to add salt.

The cook was also straightforward. Coming over and scanning the large pot of mutton and beans, plus the bean paste that had been added, she directly sprinkled in two spoonfuls of salt, then took the spatula and vigorously stir-fried.

In the end, this dish was completed by all three of them together. Since Fu Tinghan and Zhao Hanzhang had spent the most time on it, it could barely be considered their creation.

Seeing this, Zhao Kuan felt relieved. Everyone was the same—the Governor was still the Third Sister from his memories.

Guests began arriving at the front.

Zhao Hanzhang was hosting guests, and no one dared be late. The first to arrive was Chen Wu. He had set out from Gucheng at dawn, arriving in Luoyang around noon. He first slept at the newly opened courier station, then came over.

He brought Feng Long along. He had wanted to bring Li Tou, but Gucheng couldn’t be left unguarded, so he could only leave him in Gucheng.

He had specifically kept his stomach empty, not eating at noon, so upon arriving at the Zhao Residence, his gaze immediately fixed on the pastries in the dishes.

Though Chen Wu came from the Qihuo Army leadership, his background wasn’t bad. His family had formerly been minor landowners—well, just minor landowners, not quite reaching the scholar class, but he had never lacked food or clothing growing up.

The pastries in the dishes were ones he had never seen before, so after a servant served tea, he picked one up to taste. Finding it quite good, he asked, “What are these yellow-orange pastries called?”