“A burly man with a Hu girl? A Hu merchant with a Han girl? Tsk tsk tsk! You youngsters, of all the honest trades you could choose, why become slave traders? It’s against heaven’s will! And specifically, mixing and selling both Han and Hu men and women? What about the sheep? Ptui! How unlucky! Had we known your family was in this business, Young Master Li Yuangui, we wouldn’t have saved you two—might as well have let you both drown in the river…”

Upon hearing Li Yuangui inquire about the Han and Hu men traveling with young women, the boatwoman immediately erupted. Without letting anyone explain or interject, she continued her scolding while rowing and steering, heading straight for the nearest northern riverbank dock. As the bow touched the wooden pier, the woman waved her rough hand, and the two young men scrambled ashore.

This location was right beside the bridge. Looking eastward, the great river-crossing bridge with its stone foundation and wooden beams was within arm’s reach, its deck bustling with a steady stream of vehicles, horses, and pedestrians. Many buildings had been constructed near both bridgeheads. The northern bank fell under Xianyang County’s jurisdiction and was officially known as “Xianyang Ferry,” with the nickname “Little West Market”—a reference to the ferry town’s commercial prosperity and large Hu population.

Li Yuangui, accompanied by Achen, climbed a long flight of steps from the riverbank and turned onto the east-west street, immediately finding themselves dazzled by the colorful sights. Though he wasn’t sure if the authorities had officially sanctioned a market here, many streetside buildings had been converted into shops, with goods like cloth and pottery displayed on wooden platforms outside for sale. Some families were even constructing two-story buildings, and several completed small buildings had colored banners and wine flags hanging from their eaves, fluttering in the wind.

The street was filled with peddlers carrying shoulder poles and mules transporting goods. A camel train was passing through the intersection, several tall camels bearing cargo, tied together front and back with thick rope, bells hanging from their necks. The camel drivers were mostly Hu merchants with high noses, and deep-set eyes, wearing curled caps and lapeled robes. The jingling of bells echoed down the street, but few pedestrians paid them any attention, apparently used to the sight.

Without waiting for Li Yuangui’s instructions, Achen ran from shop to shop, asking if anyone had “seen a tall, strong man with a veiled Hu girl or Hu merchants with Han women.” After trying two or three shops without success, they continued forward until a whiff of a fragrant burning scent drifted over, and Li Yuangui immediately heard his stomach growling.

“Oh my… hehe, Young Master,” Achen turned around while rubbing his stomach, “Master… ah, you should have some food too. We haven’t eaten anything since early morning! Your servant’s heart aches thinking about it. If Director Chen finds out about this when we return, won’t he give your servant a beating? There’s a Hu bread shop ahead… hehe…”

“What’s with all this nonsense!” Li Yuangui said irritably. “Just say you’re hungry and want to eat, that’s all!”

They did indeed need rest and food—one must sharpen the knife before cutting wood. It wasn’t yet dinner time, and the small Hu bread shop ahead had just started adding firewood to the stove. The bread seller was kneading dough, with a few leftover flatbreads from lunch warming at the stove mouth, their sesame oil fragrance wafting into the street.

With no other ready food nearby, Achen asked a few questions and master and servant entered the shop to sit. An old woman first brought them two bowls of hot soup to drink.

The Hu bread shop had a narrow storefront. Inside, besides a tall stove and a wooden board for kneading and making bread, there was only room for one dining table and a few dirty, worn rush mats. At this point, they couldn’t be picky about cleanliness or propriety. Li Yuangui chose a relatively clean rush mat to sit cross-legged on and gestured for Achen to sit as well. He lifted the coarse pottery bowl to sip the hot soup, feeling it flow straight down his throat to his internal organs.

The soup was very light in taste but satisfyingly hot. Li Yuangui quickly finished one bowl, and the old woman refilled it. Achen swallowed even more urgently than Li Yuangui, wiping his mouth and repeatedly calling the old woman “Grandmother” to ingratiate himself. This made the white-haired woman in her fifties or sixties, dressed in plain cloth, break into a wrinkled smile, and the two chatted quite amicably.

Li Yuangui, however, was watching the old man make Hu bread. The old man pulled out balls of properly fermented dough from a wooden barrel on the ground, dipped his hands in what appeared to be white greasy paste from a ceramic bowl on the kneading board, and repeatedly worked the dough—stretching it flat, folding, pressing, kneading into a ball, then stretching flat and folding again… After repeating this three to five times, he would use a rolling pin to flatten the dough into round flatbread shapes, brush them with clear oil, sprinkle some sesame seeds, and set them aside on the board for baking.

The large stove beside the board near the entrance was also unusual. Though not very wide, it was built quite tall, with the opening almost reaching the old man’s waist. The entire stove was cylindrical with only one fire opening in the center, where charcoal now burned, its flickering red glow reflecting through the opening onto the earthen wall beside it.

The opening was covered with a large tile, which the old man would occasionally move aside to check the fire. When he judged it suitable, he would splash some cool water on his arm, reach for the prepared flatbread from the board, and slap it inside the stove.

With the soft “pat pat” sounds, Li Yuangui stood up and craned his neck to look curiously. The old man was slapping the bread pieces vertically against the stove’s inner wall. The dough was still soft and would stick to the sloping, scorching wall upon impact, directly receiving heat from the central charcoal pile without needing any metal cooking utensils. However, the stove interior was extremely hot, and though the old man’s movements were quick, darting in and out, his bare arms still quickly turned red. Soon, twenty or thirty sesame-sprinkled flatbreads were neatly arranged covering the stove walls. He replaced the tile cover and went back to preparing the next batch.

Though Hu bread was a staple food Li Yuangui ate regularly, this was his first time witnessing the baking process, and he found it quite interesting. While waiting for the bread to bake, he wondered: the bottom two rows of bread were extremely close to the charcoal fire, and while slapping them in place from above just required good aim and technique, how would the old man retrieve them when baked? Surely he couldn’t reach into the smoke and fire? Had he achieved some kind of indestructible golden body?

His concerns proved unnecessary. When the fragrant aroma wafting from the stove indicated the bread was done, the old man reached into a corner by the stove and pulled out… a long-handled large iron tong.

Removing the tile cover, with the same practiced, deft movements, the old man used the tongs to remove the baked flatbreads one by one and place them on the board. Li Yuangui noticed he removed the lower pieces near the fire first, letting the upper two rows that were further away bake a bit longer.

By now the aroma had spread far down the street, and besides the master and servant inside, many customers had gathered outside to buy flatbread. The old woman went to the door to help package bread and collect money, not forgetting to first bring a small basket of flatbread for the customers inside.

The freshly baked bread was extremely hot, but Li Yuangui and Achen were so hungry they endured the pain, using four fingertips to jointly hold a piece of flatbread. The fragrant oil burst forth, and caring even less for their lives, they took big bites.

Fragrant, crispy, crisp outside and tender inside, and… burning hot!

The two young men hissed and cried out in pain while continuing to chew large mouthfuls. Li Yuangui wolfed it down, several pieces of bread disappearing in an instant, feeling that “surely there could be no finer delicacy in the world.” The young servant beside him was praising between mouthfuls, “Delicious!” “Old master’s skilled hands!” “Better than the imperial kitchen’s cooking…”

“Ahem!” Li Yuangui coughed, reminding his overly excited servant not to speak too freely. At this moment, a conversation between the old woman and a bread-buying customer outside caught his attention:

“…Why so many today? There’s not enough left from this batch, you’ll have to wait for the next one. Is Er’lang in a hurry?”

“Yes, urgent! Customers are sitting in the shop waiting to eat! How about I take these few first and come back for more?”

“That works, thank you for making an extra trip, Aqi.” The old woman began placing the remaining flatbreads from the board into the customer’s basket. “Ai ai, usually ten or eight pieces is enough, why suddenly so many today?”

“Grandmother, you don’t know—three new customers just arrived at the shop, and one of them is tall and fat, strong as a bull. As soon as he sat down, he started pounding the table demanding food. With his size, they say one of him equals three others, how could Master He not prepare extra bread…”