Shen Shaoguang was peeling cattail shoots in the kitchen.
In her previous life, she only knew that Huai’an and Ji’nan had the best cattail shoots.
Huai’an, being in the south, harvested cattail shoots in late spring. The most common home cooking was pork and cattail shoot dumplings, with optional shrimp for extra flavor. Or they could be added to old hen soup—putting in the cattail shoots when the soup was nearly done, seasoning with salt before serving, making a rich soup with tender vegetables. They could also be stir-fried with eel strips, with dried seafood, steamed with lion’s head meatballs, or simply stir-fried with plain oil—all delicious and tender.
Ji’nan, being in the north, enjoyed cattail shoots in summer. They could be stir-fried plain, with shredded meat, pan-fried, or battered and deep-fried, but the most classic and famous dish was milk soup cattail shoots.
However, due to bad luck or misunderstanding, several times Shen Shaoguang had “milk soup cattail shoots,” the milk soup was made with a flour roux, mixed with shrimp, ham, and sea cucumber. While beautiful in color and tasty enough, Shen Shaoguang always felt disappointed—in her understanding, “milk soup cattail shoots” should use bone-simmered milk soup.
Shen Shaoguang never imagined that in the Tang Dynasty, in Chang’an, she would find such tender cattail shoots. Was this heaven giving her a chance to try making bone milk soup cattail shoots?
The vegetable vendor said these cattail shoots came from the banks of the Wei River. After harvesting, they were wrapped in wet mud and rushed to Chang’an. The vendors would clean them again before displaying them at their stalls or delivering them to noble households, taverns, and restaurants.
“How else could they be so tender, just like bamboo shoots?” the vendor smiled.
Despite the elaborate process making them expensive, Shen Shaoguang still bought plenty and arranged for future deliveries.
These need to be peeled right before cooking to maintain freshness. Yu San and Achang had risen early and mainly worked in the kitchen at noon, so Shen Shaoguang let them rest in the afternoon while she prepared ingredients for the evening meal, picking vegetables, marinating meat, and watching over the pots on the stove.
Ayuan came to help peel cattail shoots, but Shen Shaoguang shooed her away, “It’s too hot, and you’re not feeling well. Go rest.”
Ayuan walked around once and came back, “I’d rather help Young Miss peel vegetables. I can’t rest comfortably on an empty stomach anyway, might as well do something to distract myself.”
Shen Shaoguang smiled helplessly.
Ayuan had eaten plenty of grilled lamb last night, along with jade-tip noodles, and two large peaches before bed—if Shen Shaoguang hadn’t stopped her, she might have eaten a third. Then she’d slept with her belly exposed to the cool air, and since the fifth watch had made several trips to the latrine. By morning, her stomach was still upset.
Shen Shaoguang took her to see the ward’s doctor, who checked her pulse, looked at her tongue, wrote a prescription, and advised, “Keep your diet plan and light these days, and it’s good to go hungry for a few meals.” This reminded Shen Shaoguang of Doctor Wang treating Qiaojie in Dream of the Red Chamber.
Hearing this medical advice, Ayuan’s face immediately fell.
She didn’t like dieting, and while Shen Shaoguang usually didn’t interfere, now that she was truly sick, supervision was necessary.
At noon, she specially made millet porridge for Ayuan, and considering her appetite, mercifully added a small bowl of steamed egg custard. For Ayuan’s bottomless pit stomach, this was barely a drop in the bucket.
Ayuan watched Yu San eating cumin lamb resentfully, and she seemed to chew with even more relish; she watched Achang stuffing meat in steamed bread with thick gravy, and he quietly turned to show her half his back.
Ayuan: “…” At least Young Miss was kind!
Shen Shaoguang ate shredded meat with cattail shoots and cucumber with eggs, accompanied by the same millet porridge as Ayuan.
Even those few strips of meat in the stir-fried cattail shoots made Ayuan’s eyes light up. She looked hopefully at Shen Shaoguang and tentatively reached with her chopsticks.
Yu San coughed once.
Ayuan put down her bamboo chopsticks with hatred.
Shen Shaoguang could only comfort her, “If you don’t recover properly now, you’ll get sick every time you eat, completely ruining your stomach. Then you won’t be able to eat meat even when you want to. Just hold on for a couple more days. When you’re fully recovered, I’ll make you grilled lamb leg.”
Ayuan pouted and agreed.
Having not eaten enough at mealtime, she was naturally hungrier now in mid-afternoon. While helping Young Miss prepare the cattail shoots for dinner, Ayuan sniffed the milk soup’s fragrance from the stove. “At lunch, the customers all praised Young Miss’s milk soup cattail shoots, saying they looked light but were surprisingly flavorful.”
Shen Shaoguang was quite proud. The lunch’s milk soup cattail shoots had indeed been successful—milky white soup with tender green shoots, dotted with cured meat, beautiful appearance, delicious broth, and crisp and tender vegetables. Though a bit hot at noon, she would enjoy two bowls in the evening.
Ayuan was proud too, “They don’t know that milk soup is made from pork bones, old hen, and old duck! These ingredients would make even straw sandals taste good. If it were just boiled water with starch at the end, they’d surely throw their bowls!”
Just entering, Lin Yan heard the little maid’s words and smiled—truly, servants take after their masters.
Shen Shaoguang said, “Some people like plain boiled vegetables—usually those who regularly eat rich food. Noble people want a change of taste, like Junior Administrator Lin who comes often. This shows that great flavor must be plain… that’s true refinement.”
Thinking of rich people changing tastes, Shen Shaoguang suddenly remembered the movie “Party A Party B,” where a wealthy man was sent to a village and ate all their chickens. She wondered if Junior Administrator Lin were sent there, could he maintain his current elegant demeanor?
While imagining Lin Yan with disheveled hair, wrapped in a black cotton jacket, sprawled at the village entrance waiting for rescue, she heard a light cough outside.
Shen Shaoguang widened her eyes—it couldn’t be such a coincidence! This shows one shouldn’t speak ill of others behind their backs!
Lifting the kitchen curtain to come out, Shen Shaoguang gave Lin Yan an ingratiating smile, “Good day, Young Lord Lin. Please sit inside. Would Young Lord Lin like a cup of well-chilled plum drink to beat the heat first?”
Lin Yan kept a straight face, though his eyes revealed amusement, “Yes, thank you for the trouble, Young Miss.”
Shen Shaoguang smiled with narrowed eyes, “No trouble at all.”
Ayuan had already gone to the back courtyard for a plum drink, so Shen Shaoguang didn’t need to run the errand. She asked Lin Yan as usual what he’d like to eat.
“Just those plain vegetables Young Miss was talking about—where great flavor must be plain.”
Shen Shaoguang: “Alright…”
Knowing she was in the wrong, Shen Shaoguang accepted being teased, but as she was about to turn away, she heard him say, “Young Miss’s words in the kitchen seemed unfinished—what about ‘great flavor must be plain’?”
Shen Shaoguang turned to look at him. Junior Administrator Lin’s eyes were slightly curved, half-smiling, unlike his usual solemn reserve, somewhat resembling his friend Young Lord Pei. Such an expression, asking such a question, was teasing.
Shen Shaoguang’s heart fluttered, her cheeks warming slightly. So Lin Yan could also display such charm—truly, a scholar’s ways were unfathomable!
Shen Shaoguang steadied herself, slowly exhaled, and thought this level of ambiguity couldn’t be allowed to develop further.
Instead of going to the kitchen, Shen Shaoguang sat across from Lin Yan and smiled, “What I said in the kitchen was just to tease the little maid. Rich flavors have their merits, plain tastes have their charm—no need to take it too seriously. Please don’t take it to heart, Young Lord.”
Lin Yan’s face grew serious as he quietly watched her.
“There’s nothing more to say about ‘great flavor must be plain,’ but I have something else to ask. In the Palace, I once read the poem ‘All things have their beginning, few reach their end.’ Later I read Master Hong’s writing: ‘Better than making people happy at first meeting is not making them tired of long association.’ I found this quite reasonable. What does Young Lord Lin think?”
Lin Yan looked at Shen Shaoguang for a long while as she maintained her calm smile.
Lin Yan pressed his lips together, “Young Miss’s words carry some Taoist meaning, but judging by your father’s actions, he was a Confucian.”
Shen Shaoguang raised an eyebrow.
“I too am a Confucian disciple. We, Confucian disciples, speak of aspiring to the Way, standing firm in virtue, abiding by benevolence, and pursuing these with all our heart and strength—that is all.” Lin Yan’s expression was firm and serious, his gaze steady and direct on Shen Shaoguang.
Shen Shaoguang was momentarily speechless. So this was how Confucians actively engaged with the world, manifesting in every aspect!
“The Book of Rites says: ‘The scholar has precious things to offer those who would employ him; he studies day and night to answer those who would question him; he maintains loyalty and trustworthiness to await being recommended; he practices what he preaches to await being chosen.'” Lin Yan licked his lips, lowered his eyes, and said softly, “These words might seem presumptuous coming from me, but I still ask Young Miss to think about them seriously.”
Shen Shaoguang: “…”
A scholar is like a precious thing on a seat, waiting to be employed; studying hard, waiting to be questioned; maintaining loyalty and trust, waiting to be recommended; practicing what he preaches, waiting to be selected. Was he comparing himself to the “precious thing on a seat,” waiting for her to “employ” him?
Wait, was this a confession?
Is this how Tang Dynasty people confess—through discussing principles?
Shen Shaoguang forced a smile, “You Confucians, why pursue what you know cannot be?”
“Without trying, how do you know it cannot be? Perhaps it’s very possible…” The final tone was gentle, the “perhaps” seeming to carry endless possibilities. Though speaking such proper words, it carried a hint of intimacy and tenderness. Lin Yan somewhat awkwardly lifted his drink for a sip, his sleeve revealing some five-colored threads.
Looking at his chin and the movement of his Adam’s apple as he drank, Shen Shaoguang’s thoughts were led astray by that “perhaps it’s very possible”—how “possible”? Gambling over books and tea, intimate moments behind curtains, bearing and raising children, growing old together?
Shen Shaoguang swallowed and gave a dry laugh, “Well, this shows how different Confucianism and Taoism truly are, very different indeed… I’ll go make your soup now.”
Lin Yan watched her somewhat flee in disarray and couldn’t help but smile.
In the kitchen, Shen Shaoguang cut the cattail shoots into sections, sliced some cured meat and ginger, poured some oil into the wok, and started frying the ginger and meat. While cooking, her thoughts were a mess—who knew Junior Administrator Lin had such a domineering CEO style, refusing to accept rejection and instead clarifying their relationship? This Confucian disciple was quite persistent.
Ayuan came to add to the chaos, “Young Miss knows so much, even discussing scholarship with the Top Scholar.”
Shen Shaoguang laughed dryly, “It’s better not to know, better not to know.”
Ayuan was surprised, “Why is that? Doesn’t Young Miss often urge me to learn more characters?”
Shen Shaoguang spoke earnestly, “Knowing characters is enough; it’s fine not to understand some Confucian books.”
Ayuan was even more confused, but seeing Young Miss lost in thought and unwilling to say more, she didn’t ask further.
Shen Shaoguang put the finished milk soup cattail shoots in a bowl, casually added some ready-made steamed bread and side dishes, and had Ayuan take it out.
Lin Yan looked at Ayuan, who explained on Shen Shaoguang’s behalf, “Our Young Miss is pondering Confucian matters.”
In the kitchen, Shen Shaoguang: “…”
Lin Yan burst into laughter.