“If it’s got nothing to do with you, go ahead and take the wager!” The call came from the top of the stairs on the second floor. Hua Zhi looked up. It was no surprise to find quite a few people leaning over the railing to watch the spectacle below — and the one who’d spoken was Liu Ruyi, the young gentleman she had briefly met at the docks.
She inclined her head toward him. Liu Ruyi grinned and returned the bow with a clasped-hand salute. “First Young Miss, I’m afraid you’ve chosen the wrong name for this establishment.”
Hua Zhi replied in good humor. “What name would you suggest, then?”
“How about ‘The Finest Flavor Under Heaven’?”
“That’s rather too presumptuous, don’t you think?”
“Not at all — if anything, I find myself short of a better word to describe it.” Liu Ruyi descended two steps and propped himself against the banister. Even in that casual posture, not a trace of his family’s pedigree was lost. “First Young Miss, this establishment absolutely must remain open for years without end, long as the heavens and the earth endure. My family’s eldest grandmistress adores nothing more than a good bowl of broth — now, at last, I have another way to show her my filial devotion.”
To do good unto others is to do good unto yourself — those words filled Hua Zhi’s heart completely in that moment. She inclined deeply in return, quietly taking note of this act of kindness.
Liu Ruyi’s open and unambiguous support made the situation plain enough to everyone else. Calls of amusement and goading grew louder, pressing in from all sides. The scholar found himself in an impossible position — unable to advance, unwilling to retreat. Hua Zhi had no intention of offering him a way out and waited in silence for his response.
“Insufferable — utterly insufferable. What kind of place of business is this? It’s nothing but a place to bully people.” With those words, he shoved his way through the crowd toward the door. He happened to push against Yu Xiasheng, who was, as it turned out, far from the sort of bookish scholar who only knew how to study — he understood perfectly well that the man could not be allowed to simply walk out, and stood his ground as though his feet had taken root in the earth.
That brief pause was all Hua Zhi needed to give the order: “Xu Steward, please escort this honored guest to the clinic. And please remind him — the Food Studio will have mushrooms and taro prepared and waiting at any time, at the honored guest’s pleasure.”
Xu Biao stepped forward without delay, guards who had been standing by moving smoothly with him, and in a manner that was outwardly courteous and entirely firm, they escorted the pale-faced scholar across to the medical clinic a few storefronts away. Hua Zhi had paid a visit there before the opening — both to introduce herself and to gather a little information.
With the spectacle over, people drifted back to their seats. But one voice spoke up with a question: “First Young Miss — how did you know he wouldn’t dare to eat the taro or mushrooms?”
“May I ask, honored guest — if you found yourself in his condition, would your first instinct be to cause a scene, or to go straight to a physician?”
“Straight to a physician, of course.”
“And him?”
The scholar who had asked the question caught her meaning at once. “Right — now that you mention it, he looked more startled than genuinely alarmed. Almost as if he already knew nothing truly serious would happen.”
“Hai Wei is the first restaurant in the capital to serve fresh seafood. Apart from this notice, I made no prior announcement that eating seafood could cause an allergic reaction — which means very few people should have known what such a reaction even looked like. Yet look at how that honored guest conducted himself: rattled, perhaps, but not afraid. The performance wasn’t convincing enough.”
Liu Ruyi, still draped across the banister, called down: “First Young Miss — so some people truly cannot eat seafood?”
“Yes. I had consulted Physician Chu beforehand, and he told me that a small number of people are simply constituted differently from others — certain foods are simply beyond their reach, whether taro, mushrooms, seafood, or others. This honored guest would appear to be one such person.”
“But then how could you be so certain it was him?”
“I was bluffing.”
The crowd stared.
Hua Zhi raised her handkerchief and brought it lightly to the corner of her lips to cover her smile. “He was far too unafraid. That told me he had some certainty about his own situation. I made a guess — and it happened to be right.”
Liu Ruyi extended a great thumb, shook his head, and headed back upstairs — the laughter in his eyes quite impossible to contain.
The crowd gradually dispersed. The Emperor and Dark One, who had remained standing right at the top of the second-floor staircase, became rather conspicuous — the two of them had been peering through the gaps in the crowd, watching everything that had unfolded below.
Hua Zhi was not unaware of the eyes watching her. But at this moment, eyes — openly or covertly trained on her — numbered in no small count, and she paid no particular mind to one pair more. She turned to Yu Xiasheng, who had not yet moved away. “Your justice today was a kindness, sir. I am grateful.”
Yu Xiasheng waved both hands in protest. “First Young Miss, now you’ve left me with nowhere to put my face.”
Hua Zhi smiled and shifted the subject. “Does the food meet with your approval, sir?”
“The flavors are excellent.” Yu Xiasheng did not presume to look directly at the First Young Miss — though he held his head up, his gaze remained angled slightly downward. “And what a coincidence — I happen to be from Chuyang in Jingzhou, a region close to the sea. I grew up eating these things. I had worried that it might not quite match what I remembered — yet I find myself feeling almost as though I have been carried home. The First Young Miss understands food. What makes seafood unlike any other dish is the word ‘fresh’ — the truest, most natural flavor is always the best. I ate very well indeed.”
Hua Zhi smiled. Those were exactly the words she loved to hear. “Sir, please come whenever you have time. I can’t promise everything, but the quality of the food — that I will not let change.”
“That goes without saying. During my time in the capital, I suspect I’ll be making my way here for a meal every single day.” Yu Xiasheng bowed and returned to his table. Hua Zhi noticed he had not come alone — there were six people at his table in total.
“Send a few dishes to Scholar Yu’s table — ones they haven’t ordered — and don’t add them to the bill.”
Bao Xia answered brightly, skirts swaying as she went toward the kitchen.
There was a brief lull at the counter, and Hua Zhi was about to step behind it when she was stopped. Nian Qiu slipped inside ahead of her and exchanged a glance with Liu Xiang. “Miss — we can manage here. You go and rest inside.”
Hua Zhi didn’t insist. Among her own people, the notion of a woman appearing in public had long since ceased to be an issue — after all, was she not out in public herself, right at this very moment?
The Emperor watched until the figure disappeared from view, then smiled — a smile carrying unmistakable depth of meaning.
“Sir, you—”
“Let us go.” The Emperor descended the stairs at an unhurried pace and came to stand at the counter, signaling for Dark One to pass forward the bill marker. “We’ll settle the account.”
Nian Qiu had been inside working on her own tally book. At the sound of the voice, she set it aside and looked up to greet the customer — only to accidentally knock the tally book against the edge of the counter, where it fell open again.
She took the marker and began calculating the corresponding bill. The Emperor was tall, and from where he stood, he caught sight of her tally book — and with an almost imperceptible shift sideways, he had a clearer view still. It was indeed different from the ledger formats he was familiar with.
“To inform you, sir — with the small amounts dropped, the total comes to twenty-four taels.”
“Not particularly expensive.”
“And not unreasonable either.”
When the Emperor smiled, there was something almost grandfatherly in his expression. Nian Qiu smiled back. “The regular price would be forty-eight taels — half of that brings us here.”
Dark One passed over the silver. The Emperor asked once more: “Even at forty-eight taels, it isn’t excessive. Bringing all of this from the south — that must not be easy.”
“It isn’t. To keep the seafood as fresh as possible, the ships carried a great deal of seawater — ocean creatures can only survive in ocean water.”
More seawater meant less room for cargo. The Emperor nodded in understanding. “That shows real dedication.”
“To receive such words from a guest is reward enough.” Nian Qiu passed back the change.
“Keep it.” The Emperor waved a hand and turned toward the door. Once outside, the smile remained on his face, though his voice had gone quiet and even. “Go.”
“Yes.” Dark One helped the Emperor into the carriage and watched it roll slowly away. He turned back to look at the two characters that spelled Hai Wei, and across his habitually cool features there passed a faint expression that was difficult quite to name.