Their daily teaching and learning usually went like this: Lin Hong would first complete whatever dish he intended to make, with Zhenzhen observing and occasionally assisting and collaborating. Then Zhenzhen would choose ingredients from that day to make one or two dishes herself, with Lin Hong observing the entire process, pointing out any improper aspects in time or giving her suggestions for improvement.
These “improper aspects” were indeed quite numerous. Zhenzhen discovered that in Lin Hong’s discerning eyes, even the small donkey raised in the back courtyard could cook better than her. She began making mistakes almost from the moment she held the knife, with Lin Hong holding a red dogwood branch, frequently tapping it on the places where she erred: “Stand straight, don’t tilt your head, don’t arch your back, distance between your feet should be the same width as your shoulders, don’t hunch your shoulders, and don’t drop them either… your abdomen shouldn’t be less than one fist’s distance from the cutting board… but don’t exceed half a foot… where are your eyes looking? Don’t look at your abdomen, look at the vegetables you’re cutting.”
“Teacher,” Zhenzhen couldn’t help but ask timidly, “if I don’t look, how can I know how far my abdomen is from the cutting board?”
Lin Hong said: “When first learning, you can look before lifting the knife, but once you begin cutting, don’t keep thinking about it. You must first use the knife according to proper form, then in the process find a feeling that makes you relaxed and comfortable. Don’t treat cutting vegetables as labor. There’s rhythm in the rise and fall of the knife. The ingredients to be cut may be crisp, tough, soft, or hard, and the rhythm of using the knife also varies in speed and slowness, requiring timely adjustment. You follow different rhythms to extend your gestures, just like playing the qin. When played well, it naturally doesn’t lose proper form, and the posture will certainly be beautiful.”
Zhenzhen paid attention to observing Lin Hong’s knife grip and found it was indeed firm but not rigid, soft but not weak, hard but not stiff. His expression was relaxed and natural, surpassing leisurely strolling in a courtyard. The ingredients he cut were uniform and refined, as beautiful as his posture while working.
Very rarely, Zhenzhen would also notice some seemingly questionable things, such as: “Teacher, your abdomen is now more than half a foot from the cutting board, which doesn’t conform to proper form.”
Lin Hong didn’t lift his eyelids and leisurely finished cutting the vegetables at his own pace, letting Zhenzhen see the still perfect result before responding: “When you practice to my level, you can also disregard proper form… I am proper form.”
Lin Hong’s study was neat and elegant, with several stalks of green bamboo planted outside the window, and bamboo shadows could often be seen swaying through the gauze window. Under the window was a table with a chess board, while on the other side, the desk had brush, brush rack, inkstone, inkstone water dropper, ink, and paperweight. There was also a small celadon incense burner that burned his carefully selected agarwood and sandalwood or his own blended incense all day long. The room also hung a painting he had made himself: by the water on a windy sunny day, with peach trees full of azure blossoms and a winding path shaded by willows, a beautiful woman was gracefully turning back by the riverside. Her left hand extended backward, wearing a jade green bracelet on her wrist. Her cloud-like hair was piled high, her flowing garments seemed about to take flight, as if she would ride the wind away, while her beautiful eyes looked back with reluctant attachment.
Every day, Lin Hong arranged flowers in a bronze square vase and placed it before the painting. In his leisure time, he often stood here, gazing at that painting for long periods. Sometimes he would hold a piece of jade green translucent stone in his hand, and his gaze would wander between the wrist of the woman in the painting and that jade stone.
Zhenzhen occasionally glimpsed this and couldn’t help but be curious. She privately asked Xin Sanniang about who the woman in Lin Hong’s painting was. Xin Sanniang said: “Oh, that… that’s Lady Linshui, the goddess who blesses with children.”
Lady Linshui, named Chen Jinggu, was a Daoist deity worshipped in the Fujian and southern regions for rescuing women in difficult labor and blessing with children. But this answer greatly surprised Zhenzhen: “Teacher Lin has never married, so why would he worship a goddess who blesses with children?”
Xin Sanniang hesitated, then said: “Anyway, the young master will marry and have children sooner or later. Worshipping her first, being prepared.”
This reason was really far-fetched. Seeing she obviously didn’t want to speak plainly, Zhenzhen went to ask A’Che. A’Che also had obvious hesitation, finally giving a different answer: “The young master painted Luoshen.”
“Really?” Zhenzhen didn’t quite believe it.
This time A’Che nodded with great certainty: “Of course it’s true.” He pointed at the woman in the painting, “Look at this posture, walking lightly on the waves, silk socks gathering dust—if it’s not Luoshen, who else could it be?”
Zhenzhen studied it carefully and also felt this explanation was more reasonable than the goddess who blesses with children, so she asked A’Che again: “Why does Teacher worship Luoshen?”
A’Che said: “The young master is a talented scholar, just like Cao Zijian. Talented scholars surely all like Luoshen… Perhaps by worshipping daily, Luoshen will make his literary inspiration flow like a spring?”
Seeing Zhenzhen still staring at the portrait in a daze, he nudged her with his elbow: “You should also pray to her, asking Luoshen to bless you to be less stupid and learn good culinary skills quickly.”
Zhenzhen glared at him, but after A’Che left, she still quietly bowed to the portrait and prayed softly: “Please, Sister Luoshen, bless me to study smoothly at Wen Qiao Inn, enter the Royal Kitchen next year, and find my mother.”
From then on, bowing to Sister Luoshen daily and repeating the same wish also became Zhenzhen’s habit, and she became more proactive in helping Lin Hong clean the study. She saw that the bronze square vase Lin Hong used for flower arrangement was covered with red spots and green rust, with green rust almost completely filling the inside of the vase. Thinking that Teacher loved cleanliness and the flower vase being so rusty must be because A’Che was lazy and didn’t clean it properly, she took out the flower vase when Lin Hong was out and repeatedly scrubbed it with vinegar, washing the exterior quite bright. She also inserted a brush into the vase and removed the green rust from the vase walls, scrubbing it completely clean.
So when Lin Hong returned, he faced a nearly brand-new bronze flower vase. He turned to look at Zhenzhen, and as if the green rust had possessed him, his face looked a bit green.
Zhenzhen’s eyes sparkled, her gaze warmly searching his face, trying to find traces of his surprise: “Teacher, this flower vase… do you need me to wash it again?”
Lin Hong’s emotions rapidly transformed like an overwhelming tide in his heart. Finally, looking at Zhenzhen’s gaze that held expectation, he suppressed the scolding that was about to surge out and replied calmly: “No need to wash it anymore. This flower vase has never been this clean in over a thousand years.”
It was A’Che who glared angrily at Zhenzhen, about to scold her, but the word “you” had barely left his mouth when Lin Hong stopped him, then ordered A’Che to take the flower vase to the storage room and select a Ru kiln flower vase to bring over.
Zhenzhen was somewhat puzzled: “Doesn’t Teacher like me washing the flower vase?”
“No,” Lin Hong said gently, “it’s just that after using it for a long time, I want to change to a different one now.” Seeing Zhenzhen’s smile disappear as she continued to study his expression carefully, he smiled lightly and instructed: “Go cut some red plum branches from the garden for me to arrange.”
The flower branches Lin Hong used daily for arrangement were usually cut and delivered by the gardener, then he would trim and adjust them before inserting them into the vase. Having received the order, Zhenzhen excitedly went to cut his most beloved red plum blossoms, carefully selecting each branch to ensure they all had beautiful forms and brilliantly blooming flowers before presenting them to Lin Hong for inspection.
Lin Hong looked at the plum branches she had cut and said: “They’re all very beautiful. However, such beautiful flower branches should be left to grow on the tree. Don’t cut them anymore in the future.”
He had A’Che, who had placed the Ru kiln vase properly, take these plum branches to insert in the large flower vase in the main hall, then stood up and brought Zhenzhen to the garden, where he selected some broken branches, dead branches, and overgrown branches to cut.
Returning to the study, Zhenzhen stared at those branches she had never paid attention to before, still amazed at how these could be used to worship Sister Luoshen. But Lin Hong had already picked up a straight overgrown branch, gripping the flower branch with both hands close to his abdomen, with the tips of his left and right thumbs lightly touching. With slight pressure, the flower branch made a soft crisp sound. Zhenzhen was startled and hadn’t yet reacted when Lin Hong’s hands continued to move along different positions. The crisp “crack crack” sounds continued for several more times. When he released his hands, the flower branch could be seen to have been bent into a graceful curve, with the bark almost undamaged, and the branch’s posture appeared naturally formed.
“Although the internal wood has been bent, the vascular system isn’t broken. When inserted in the vase, it can still absorb water, just as if it were never bent,” Lin Hong explained.
Zhenzhen nodded: “I understand, it’s like breaking bones while keeping tendons connected.”
Lin Hong smiled and handed another overgrown branch to Zhenzhen. “Try it.”
Zhenzhen took it and tried bending the flower branch. At first, her force wasn’t enough, and as soon as she released her hand, the flower branch immediately bounced back to its original state. Then she increased the force, and this time with a sharp crisp sound, the flower branch broke completely.
She apologetically smiled at Lin Hong, who comfortingly smiled back at her and took another branch, bending it while explaining: “Hold with both hands, keep the branch one fist’s distance from your abdomen, first bend slowly to feel the branch’s flexibility, then choose the appropriate force. When bending, the movement must be clean and decisive. The sound the branch makes must be crisp, but it should be as weak as a baby’s cough. If it’s sharp and piercing, then it’s broken.”
Zhenzhen suddenly understood: “Cooking is the same. Before operating, you must first understand the texture of the ingredients you’re facing, then choose the corresponding force and knife technique.”
Lin Hong continued processing the remaining flower branches without speaking further. His eyes focused on the selected branches, first observing their original posture, then confidently bending them into the lines he wanted. His expression was concentrated, yet he completed it quite easily.
This expression was truly beautiful, just like when he concentrated on painting, writing, playing the qin, or raising cranes. At this moment, she suddenly realized that men were most beautiful when they were wholeheartedly doing what they excelled at.
She silently watched Lin Hong, feeling as if bathed in spring sunshine, warm in her heart, until Lin Hong noticed the unconscious smile she was showing and looked at her questioningly. Only then did she lower her head with a red face.
“Any more questions?” Lin Hong asked.
Zhenzhen looked down thoughtfully, then indicated the dead branches: “Why choose dead branches? When we look at flower arrangements, aren’t we looking at the flowers that are currently blooming? Dead branches look quite withered and declining.”
Lin Hong didn’t answer immediately. He inserted the previously arranged flower branches into the vase, then selected a withered, vigorous branch without any flowers or leaves and inserted it diagonally in the back before saying: “Why avoid dead branches? That’s our past that we can learn from.”
Zhenzhen raised her eyes to look at his completed flower arrangement. In the front of that vase, thin branches had unblossomed buds, the main branch in the middle was graceful and lovely, with blooming flowers about half a foot from the branch tip, while the dead branch in the back was bold and precipitous. The scene was well-arranged with varied density, life and death, withering and flourishing all as one body, like a miniature scroll of life.