From the Jingyun Creek mouth toward Qianyang City, this section of the Yuan River was relatively wide. Combined with the upstream river water having its force diminished by the large zigzagging river course, the current was much gentler. With the mat sail hoisted, even with all oarsmen resting, the boat could be slowly carried along by the wind sail.
Under the blazing sun, Han Qian sat at the bow with bare feet extended into the cool river water, watching the green mountains on both banks like screens.
Only at this moment could Han Qian finally relax somewhat in Xuzhou, no longer needing to remain on edge and force himself to appear calm. He could even temporarily cast aside the trivial complexities of Jinling.
Han Qian deliberately had Yang Qin slow the boat’s pace, proceeding leisurely. The journey of over ten li took two hours to reach beneath Qianyang City.
Four months had passed since Wang Yu’s death from illness. The prefecture had accumulated a massive backlog of matters requiring attention, and the situation these past days had been extremely precarious.
Returning to Hibiscus Garden, his father was still at the yamen handling official business. Han Qian felt exhausted and went to his room to sleep soundly.
He dreamed of being bound and dragged into the marketplace, his limbs and head tied with ropes to five horses. The riders controlling the horses were Ji Kun, Zhang Xiaochuan, Liu Bin, and those who had died by his hand whose names he didn’t know—faces both strange and familiar. Then they spurred the horses to pull the ropes, tearing his body apart bit by bit as blood spurted like a fountain.
Han Qian jolted awake from the nightmare. Opening his eyes to see pitch darkness outside the window, an oil lamp burned on the desk in his room. Zhao Ting’er was sprawled by the bedside, staring at him curiously.
“Did Young Master have a nightmare?” Zhao Ting’er asked.
“I dreamed Ji Kun transformed into an evil ghost and came to catch me,” Han Qian said.
“Young Master is also afraid?” Zhao Ting’er asked.
“How could I not be afraid? I’m scared to death!” Han Qian sighed bitterly. Feeling his stomach growling with hunger, he asked Zhao Ting’er, “What time is it?”
“Almost midnight. The master just returned to the residence and came to see you. Seeing you sleeping soundly, he didn’t have you woken. If I’d known you’d have nightmares, I would have woken you,” Zhao Ting’er said. “Are you hungry? I’ll go to the rear kitchen to see what I can make for you.”
“Wait for me to wash up, then we’ll go look together,” Han Qian said.
He wouldn’t let Zhao Ting’er learn embroidery or needlework, nor would he let her learn cooking skills. Even though young ladies from great families in this era were supposed to learn to make a few small dishes to please elders and relatives during holidays, Han Qian felt learning such things was too much of a waste of time for Zhao Ting’er. With that spare time, she might as well work through a few more math problems.
So Han Qian held no expectations for Zhao Ting’er’s cooking skills. He also knew she wouldn’t disturb Qing Yun this late at night. He thought he might as well go to the rear kitchen himself to see what could be made for a satisfying meal.
The two sneaked to the rear kitchen. Aside from encountering Guo Nu’er and others on night patrol, everyone else in the residence had already fallen into deep sleep.
People in this era were all like starving ghosts being reincarnated—indeed, few could live lives without worry about having enough to eat. Usually, one couldn’t expect any food to remain overnight in the rear kitchen. However, there were still plenty of fresh vegetables prepared. Several live fish swam in the water vat—to prevent poisoning, a few live fish had to be placed in water vats and courtyard wells. In the cupboard remained half a bowl of minced meat presumably saved for making meat buns tomorrow morning, along with several blocks of tofu and freshly picked mushrooms.
Han Qian cut the tofu into blocks about an inch square and fried them in an oil pan. Then he made filling from the minced meat, diced mushrooms, and wild scallions, stuffing it into the tofu blocks. Adding oil, bean paste, a little cane syrup, and other seasonings, he cooked them thoroughly. The aroma quickly filled the entire kitchen.
“Which bastard son is sneaking into the rear kitchen to steal food again! Why don’t you choke to death, you little bastards!” Just as Han Qian was plating the stuffed tofu, the broken-gong voice of Han Laoshan’s wife came from the side room.
Han Qian jumped in fright and quietly asked Zhao Ting’er, “Does someone often steal food from the rear kitchen?”
Zhao Ting’er shrugged, indicating she didn’t know either.
Han Qian saw a small door on the inner side. He blew out the oil lamp, holding the plate and signaling Zhao Ting’er to hide inside with him.
Zhao Ting’er was puzzled—why did they need to hide from Auntie Zhou when coming to the rear kitchen for food?
Han Qian said, “Everything tastes best when eaten secretly—haven’t you heard this saying: a wife is inferior to a concubine, a concubine inferior to stealing, stealing inferior to being unable to steal?”
Zhao Ting’er widened her beautiful eyes and glared fiercely at Han Qian, but still let him pull her into hiding next door.
Next door was a woodshed. Stars and moon hung high, light streaming through window cracks. They saw Madam Xi with hands bound behind her back, tied to a room pillar, eyes wide and round as she looked over.
Han Qian jumped in surprise, not expecting Gao Shao and the others to have temporarily imprisoned this little hellcat here. He quickly pressed a finger to his lips, signaling her to stay quiet. Xi Ren had just heard Han Qian and Zhao Ting’er talking in bits and pieces in the adjacent kitchen, thinking she’d heard wrong. She hadn’t expected it truly was Han Qian bringing his personal maid to the rear kitchen at midnight to steal food. Her heart struggled to comprehend that this murderous demon who killed without blinking had such a strange quirk.
Han Laoshan’s wife pushed open the rear kitchen door. Feeling the stove still warm, thinking the food thief had just been scared away by her, she cursed and chased outside.
Han Qian smiled and picked up a piece of stuffed tofu with his hand. Zhao Ting’er’s small face leaned over and took a small bite. Tasting the flavor, she bit off the entire piece of stuffed tofu.
However, the stuffed tofu had just come from the pot—the edges had cooled, but the center was still scalding. It burned Zhao Ting’er so she could neither spit nor swallow, puffing her small mouth to blow air. Afraid to dirty her hand by spitting it out, Han Qian extended his palm to let her spit it out. “You’re really silly. Why swallow the whole thing when it’s so hot?”
“I stayed with you in the room and forgot to eat,” Zhao Ting’er said, pouting. Unwilling to waste that piece of stuffed tofu, she picked it up with her hand, blew it cool by her mouth, then ate it in small bites.
So delicious! Zhao Ting’er eagerly reached for another piece.
“Hey hey, slow down, I haven’t eaten yet!” Han Qian protested.
Zhao Ting’er sheepishly offered the stuffed tofu in her hand to Han Qian. Seeing Han Qian’s mouth approach, she giggled in disgust. “Young Master, your mouth is so dirty. Hold it yourself, don’t lick me!”
Han Qian grasped Zhao Ting’er’s bright white, snow-smooth wrist and ate the entire piece of stuffed tofu in small bites. When he actually tried to lick the oil from Zhao Ting’er’s fingers, she struggled desperately to pull her small hand back, raising her small fist as if to knock it on Han Qian’s head.
Hearing a gurgling sound, Han Qian turned to see Madam Xi avert her face, seemingly trying desperately to resist the temptation of deliciousness, suppressing surging hunger, and apparently unable to bear the intimacy between this master and servant pair.
Han Qian picked up a piece of stuffed tofu and held it to her mouth. “You try a piece too. This young master will personally feed you?”
Xi Ren glared fiercely at Han Qian, unwilling to endure his mockery.
“I poisoned this piece of tofu. If you eat it, you’ll be done with everything,” Han Qian said.
Xi Ren turned her head, thinking that having already fallen into this dog thief’s hands, why should she fear his mockery?
“I’m feeding you—don’t spit it in my face, or tomorrow I’ll strip you naked and tie you up in the courtyard,” Han Qian threatened.
Xi Ren wished she could spray a mouthful of saliva directly on Han Qian’s face. But seeing Han Qian offer the stuffed tofu, both truly unable to endure the hunger and fearing this demon would truly do such a filthy thing as strip her for public display, she bit the entire piece of stuffed tofu in one gulp and swallowed directly, not wanting to taste any flavor.
“What a waste of good food. I won’t feed you anymore!” Han Qian muttered dissatisfied twice, then sat with Zhao Ting’er on the firewood by the window, sharing the plate of stuffed tofu between them, one bite each.
Taking advantage of Han Qian returning the plate to the adjacent kitchen, Zhao Ting’er saved the last piece of stuffed tofu and fed it to Madam Xi to relieve her hunger.
“You’re kind to feed her—be careful she doesn’t turn and bite you later,” Han Qian said with a laugh as he walked in.
“You clearly can’t bear to kill her. Someone has to pretend to be good to her, lest someday she secretly hides a knife and stabs you to death without anyone noticing,” Zhao Ting’er said, pouting.
Seeing that the small maid beside Han Qian harbored such thoughts, Xi Ren wanted to vomit up the stuffed tofu she’d swallowed. She hadn’t expected the small maid beside this demon to have such sinister scheming.
“Who says I can’t bear to?”
Han Qian walked over with a smile and untied Madam Xi from the pillar, letting her sit in the corner so she wouldn’t be as uncomfortable. However, he didn’t dare casually loosen the ropes binding her hands and feet. He squatted before Madam Xi, lifting her chin to carefully examine her beautiful, smooth face, and asked Zhao Ting’er as if consulting.
“You say with such delicate, tender skin and flesh, if we put her in Wanhong Tower to receive clients, how much money could she earn us in a month? No, no, Wanhong Tower has too many pretty girls. Directly selling her there, she’d probably only command high prices for the novelty of one or two months. After that, when the lords of Jinling City tire of her, clients won’t pay high prices anymore. We need to package her, for instance, falsely claim she’s a barbarian princess we captured from the great mountains of Qianzhong. Then the young masters in Jinling City desperate to try something fresh will certainly line up to stuff gold into my hands.”
“What if she injures a noble guest in the capital? Wouldn’t that be terrible?” Zhao Ting’er seemed to innocently discuss this issue seriously with Han Qian.
“If we package her as a barbarian princess, she’d only need to receive clients once every three days—that’s enough for us to profit,” Han Qian said. “Do you remember I have a miraculous medicine called Ten Bones Soft Fragrance Powder? Each time we feed her just a little, her limbs become weak and powerless. She couldn’t even lift a cleaver, so how could she possibly hurt anyone?”
“Such medicine really exists?” Zhao Ting’er couldn’t help asking curiously, seeing Han Qian speak so earnestly.
Han Qian rolled his eyes at Zhao Ting’er, complaining, “Is this how you’re supposed to play along in a duet? If such medicine really existed, I’d have long since become a surgical saint…”
Starting with the Treatise on Epidemic Waters, Han Qian had paid close attention to ancient prescriptions proven effective or extremely famous in later generations—for instance, sweet wormwood, or boiling powder anesthetic. Sweet wormwood was proven highly effective in later generations, while boiling powder anesthetic was merely legend.
Han Qian thought that if he could truly produce anesthetic medicine in this era, who knew how much karmic merit he could accumulate.
Since witnessing Han Qian ruthlessly and publicly murder the court official Ji Kun without any scruples, Xi Ren feared this madman would do something terrible to her. All along the journey she’d stopped struggling or making moves that might provoke others, even thinking that if this wretch truly killed her, it would be over and done with.
Hearing Han Qian say these things, Xi Ren couldn’t discern truth from falsehood and became so anxious she nearly fainted. Now seeing this master-servant pair singing in harmony merely to toy with her, she was even more infuriated to the point of fainting.
Han Qian saw the hour was late. He stopped playing cat-and-mouse to torment Madam Xi further and tied her back to the pillar.
Returning to his room, Han Qian instructed Zhao Ting’er, “Tomorrow tell Gao Shao and the others to move Madam Xi to the east courtyard and confine her in a room there. From now on, also starve her for me—no one is permitted to give her food…”
“You really have the heart to starve her to death?” Zhao Ting’er muttered disapprovingly.
Han Qian reached out and lightly tapped Zhao Ting’er’s head. But as for the Stockholm effect and how to establish psychological dependence, he felt there was no need yet to explain this to the girl…