Great Tang Idyll - Chapter 20

The small river flows gently, the sky is covered with dense clouds, and a few green leaves frame the floral scene. A gentle breeze brushes against their faces; today is overcast.

Seeing such weather, Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan also feel happy, finally free from the oppressive sun for their exercise. The two head to the courtyard to toss sandbags—real sandbags, with a layer of fine linen on the outside, filled with sand, slightly larger than quail eggs, just right for their little hands to grip.

Xiaohong stands by, her eyes fixed on the sandbags flying back and forth in the air, fearing that the two little ones might accidentally throw them in each other’s faces.

While they happily play, a servant approaches with a basket, gently placing it on the ground and saying to Wang Juan, “Miss, as per your instructions, I bought the items and made a round to collect everything.”

“Okay, good. You keep busy. Oh, go to Xiaobao’s storeroom and get two big bones; pick those with more meat, and take them back to make soup for your child.”

Wang Juan takes the sandbag into her hands and pauses to speak to the servant, knowing that the reward comes from Zhang Xiaobao’s own storeroom.

After the servant thanks her and leaves, Zhang Xiaobao runs over to the basket, standing on tiptoe to peek inside.

“What are these things? They look familiar,” Zhang Xiaobao asks.

“Of course they look familiar; it’s saltpeter, not very pure saltpeter. I had someone specially buy it,” Wang Juan explains.

“Saltpeter?” Upon hearing this name, Zhang Xiaobao starts looking around.

“What are you looking for? It’s just saltpeter.”

“I’m looking for charcoal and sulfur,” Zhang Xiaobao replies.

Wang Juan rolls her eyes at him and walks over to examine the saltpeter. “What nonsense are you thinking? I never said I was making gunpowder.”

“You can’t be buying so much just for medicinal purposes, can you?” Zhang Xiaobao continues searching for the other two items.

“Fool! Erniu’s family has already prepared the hot pot and delivered it to the courtyard. I want to drink some soup and eat a couple of slices of tender meat. We can use the saltpeter to make ice to freeze the lamb, and then shave it into thin slices. It’ll be thinner than cutting it, making it convenient to eat.”

While speaking, Wang Juan reaches into the basket and pulls out a small piece of saltpeter, examining it in her hand and nodding, feeling satisfied.

“Oh, we can have a hot pot now. It’s perfect for a cloudy day; eating until full and then sleeping—that’s really comfortable. I’m not expecting large slices of meat, but even some foam would be good.”

Upon hearing that there will be hot pot, Zhang Xiaobao naturally wants frozen lamb, so he instructs Xiaohong to fetch two basins, one large and one small, and fill them with water. He then places the saltpeter in the large basin and continues tossing the sandbags with Wang Juan.

When the water in the small basin also freezes into ice, he orders fresh mutton to be sent for freezing. Naturally, others are preparing other food as well. They find a new grater to prepare the charcoal and send someone to Erniu’s house to bring back a jar of soaked mountain chili seedlings. The rest is just waiting for the mutton to harden so they can start eating.

Wang Juan is also busy; she sends someone to hang a chicken and prepare a pig’s bone soup and gets some dried seafood as well. This is inexpensive, so they soak it in warm water to rehydrate it for use in the hot pot later.

They wait for quite some time, and by midday, the lamb is finally ready. As for the beef, that is more difficult to handle and could easily cause trouble, so it is temporarily off the menu.

After playing and sweating, Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan take a shower and join Zhang Xiaobao’s family at the table. While it is called sitting, they are actually cradled in the arms of others.

In the middle of the table is the hot pot, with red-hot charcoal in the cylinder and a pot lid with a hole covering it. A chimney is placed on top, waiting for the bubbling sound to signal that the water has boiled. Once it does, they will remove the chimney and lift the lid to start cooking.

Fermented tofu, stinky tofu, chive flowers, soy sauce, aged vinegar, and other condiments are neatly arranged in small dishes, ready for anyone to help themselves.

Zhang Xiaobao’s parents, grandfather, and grandmother sit in a circle according to custom, while Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan are held by Xiaohong, one in each arm.

The adults all understand that this hot pot is specially prepared for them by Xiaobao. They can smell the aroma of the soup and seafood from the pot and think it smells quite good, though they are curious about how it will taste.

“Mom, eat up! I’ll dip a slice of lamb for you,” Zhang Xiaobao says, seeing that everyone is just watching. He struggles a bit to pick up a slice of lamb with his chopsticks, shaking slightly as he moves it to the pot to cook.

Xiaohong worries that the boiling broth might splash onto the young master, trying to reach out to block it but can’t free her hands, so she can only pull back hard.

“Don’t pull; it could burn you! Alright now,” Zhang Xiaobao warns, and after moving the meat around a bit, he retrieves the cooked slice and places it on his mother’s dish.

Zhang Wang’s eyes instantly turn red as she opens her mouth and swallows the meat in one bite. Not even tasting it, she exclaims, “Delicious! The things my precious son makes are the best! Father, grandmother, and husband, you all should eat too!”

At this, everyone begins to dig in, preparing their own dips according to their eating habits, making two portions of sauce, one of which includes the water from the pickled mountain peppers.

Zhang Xiaobao, Wang Juan, and Xiaohong watch from the side, all swallowing their saliva. Xiaohong can’t eat along with them, while Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan can’t handle such large pieces of meat, so they wait until everyone has dipped their food, hoping to enjoy the leftovers in the pot with the broth.

“Xiaohong, you don’t need to hold us. We can stand and watch, and you can eat too.” Zhang Xiaobao wriggles free from Xiaohong’s embrace and instructs her.

Here’s the passage fixed and changed to present tense:

Since it is a low table, everyone sits on small stools, also called hu stools. Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan can stand beside the table, but seeing Xiaohong just watching makes them uncomfortable. It is one thing not to let her in; since they are sitting together, it wouldn’t do to just watch.

Xiaohong doesn’t dare move her chopsticks, shaking her head vigorously.

Wang Juan breaks free, saying, “If we’re inviting you to eat, then eat! It’s livelier with more people.”

“Xiaohong, let’s eat together. You’ve taken good care of Xiaobao and Juanjuan these past few days; consider this a reward for you,” Zhang Wangshi finally speaks up. Only then does Xiaohong thank her and cautiously start to eat.

With five people eating, Zhang Xiaobao glances at Xiaohong, who is trying to serve him soup, and he declines, using a spoon to scoop out a piece of tofu, blanching it in the pot before sending it to Wang Juan’s plate.

“Eat up; we can have duck blood later. There’s still plenty of food.”

Wang Juan is not shy about it, adjusting her own dipping sauce. She sticks her chopsticks into the tofu, dips it, and takes small bites. After finishing, she sticks out her tongue and says, “So spicy!”

Zhang Xiaobao blanches some tofu for himself too, but the back of his little hand is already dotted with several small red spots, which frightens Xiaohong when she sees. She hadn’t noticed before.

She hurriedly takes Zhang Xiaobao’s hand to look at it, and the others also notice the situation and become tense, except for Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan, who remain unfazed.

“Xiaohong, you eat your food and don’t worry about Xiaobao; it’s just a little hot, it’s nothing,” Wang Juan speaks up. She knows that she and Zhang Xiaobao are of the same kind of person; this pain is hardly worth mentioning. She believes that even if the skin on Zhang Xiaobao’s hand is burned off, he wouldn’t even flinch if he wants to kill someone.

“Yeah, it’s not hot at all, just warm. I can handle it; I’m a monster,” Zhang Xiaobao says with a smile, revealing two little dimples on his chubby face.

“What monster? It’s a deity! Don’t listen to your father’s nonsense. Xiaohong, since Xiaobao can handle it himself, let him eat by himself. My son is no ordinary person.” Zhang Wangshi feels a bit of heartache, but she still chooses to support her son.

“That’s all in the past; why bring it up? Mother, let me peel a shrimp for you.”

When Zhang Fu sees that his wife wants to bring up old matters again, fearing another scolding from his parents, he quickly cooks three shrimp, shelling the bright red meat and distributing it to his father, mother, and Zhang Wangshi.

“It’s noon; why hasn’t anyone sent news back from Sanshui County yet?”

Zhang Xiaobao scoops up some deliberately broken mutton, along with the soup and green onions, and places them in the small bowl that Wang Juan is holding. They both take a sip together, and suddenly remembering the matter from Sanshui County, he casually asks, “What’s taking so long?”

“It should be fine. What I’m most worried about isn’t that side, but which river will stop the boats. What if the boat hasn’t arrived?” Wang Juan replies, taking a sip of soup and habitually looking around the table.

“There’s no rush. I believe those two rivers will yield something. I know that con man Song pretty well; what are you looking for?” Zhang Xiaobao asks when he notices Wang Juan’s movements.

“Vermicelli. I forgot; we don’t have any here,” Wang Juan communicates this time with lip movements.

“I’ve never made that, but I know the basics. There is a starch factory at the orphanage when I am a kid, and the water in the river is all white. I should’ve gone in to see how they do it. Next time, let someone use wheat to make it; isn’t it just about extracting starch first? If you throw down ten taels of silver, you could definitely manage it, and it would be a nice little profit. Too bad we don’t have any spicy sauce today.”

Zhang Xiaobao thinks hard but ultimately can’t recall how vermicelli is made. He doesn’t particularly like it and is fine with tasting it occasionally but has never paid much attention to it.

“It’s fine; we can make noodle skins another day. I can do that; there was a family in the courtyard who made this when I am little, and I often help knead the dough,” Wang Juan says reassuringly when she sees Zhang Xiaobao’s lip movements.

While the two communicate with their lips, Xiaohong has already hurriedly finished her meal. She doesn’t dare eat her fill, just taking a couple of bites from each dish before putting down her chopsticks.

Zhang Xiaobao understands that it has taken a lot of determination for Xiaohong to eat even that much. Seeing her lingering nearby, he says, “Xiaohong, go check on Xiao Qi and see how things are. We must keep that con man Song here for a few more days.”

Xiaohong agrees and leaves while they continue eating and drinking.

Without discussing what isn’t available here, Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan relax and stop using lip movements. They enjoy their soup and bits of food while planning ahead.

The adults are mostly quiet, eating and watching the two little ones, listening to them say things that only grown-ups would usually say. The smiles on their faces never fade, as they no longer have to worry about whether the next generation will ruin the family.

The most frustrated is Zhang Fu, who always feels that the two kids are abnormal. However, seeing that the other three people he can’t provoke look perfectly fine with it, he can’t find the words to speak.

Thinking it over, he decides it is okay this way. When Xiaobao grows up, he might even become a top scholar. He then says to his son, “Xiaobao, would you like to learn to read and write with me?”

“I would! I’m already learning. You’ll have to put in more effort in the future, Dad,” Zhang Xiaobao says, swallowing his soup and nodding at his father.