Chapter Eighty-Four: A Bowl of Noodles

Compared to the ten-mile-long main street of Yangzhou, the night market of Bozhou was far less impressive, though it had its own distinctive charm. The city lacked the abundance of entertainment venues found in Yangzhou, but its array of snacks and gambling houses had formed a climate all their own.

Tonight was the Lantern Festival. Standing atop the bridge, they could see the city ablaze with colorful lanterns, dazzling and enchanting.

"Look, look! That family courtyard is lit with such a huge fire!" Xue Wenyang pointed out. Lighting lanterns and setting fires were customary on this festival night, but to see such a grand blaze in one's own garden was novel.

Xie Zhiqian shook his head and recited,

“How is the night? The night is not yet ended, the court lamp shines. The gentleman arrives, the sound of the phoenix rings.
How is the night? The night is not yet spent, the court lamp is bright. The gentleman arrives, the phoenix’s song is loud.
How is the night? The night moves toward morning, the court lamp glows. The gentleman arrives, and observes the banner.”

“Stop reciting—it's really burning! Don’t you see all the servants rushing around with buckets, desperately trying to extinguish it?” Yet, since the house lay beside the river and the efforts were timely, nothing serious should happen.

Yu Lang recalled how, in his previous life, he’d been chased and spanked for playing with fire during the Lantern Festival as a child. It felt like a lifetime ago—indeed, it was a lifetime ago.

Red Silk murmured, “On Lantern Festival nights, Shuisheng always insisted on eating a bowl of the steamed flour cocoons I made myself. Otherwise, he wouldn’t sleep peacefully. I wonder if he’ll sleep well tonight.”

Yang Yuhuan was about to offer comfort when the stomachs of the four men all rumbled in unison.

The somber mood was instantly shattered. Yang Yuhuan couldn’t help but cover her mouth and laugh, “You’re all hungry after hearing about flour cocoons, aren’t you? Didn’t you eat your fill earlier at Zhang Heng’s house?”

For Obaba, whether he ate his fill was always a profoundly serious matter. He declared, “That Lady Liu was too much. Every time I picked up a dish, she glared at me. By the end, I didn’t dare to lift my head.”

Xue Wenyang was equally indignant, “If she looked good, it might be forgivable, but with her looks, a single glance from her killed my appetite.”

Yang Yuhuan asked curiously, “Is Lady Liu really that unattractive?”

“You… can’t distinguish beauty from ugliness?” Yu Lang was incredulous. Yang Yuhuan’s aesthetic standards should be exceedingly high.

“It’s not that. I simply don’t care if others are good-looking or not, because none of them are as lovely as I am.”

Yang Yuhuan’s face was so beautiful, no one could muster the desire to refute her.

As they spoke, Yang Yuhuan’s stomach rumbled as well. She looked up at the sky in embarrassment. “It seems we do need to eat something.”

...

Under Lion Bridge stood a humble noodle stall, unremarkable in appearance, yet with a long queue snaking before it.

The middle-aged noodle maker was poorly dressed and moved slowly, his hands not particularly deft. He prepared the noodles at a leisurely pace. Yet the waiting patrons were patient, watching him mix and knead dough. Some grumbled softly in impatience, but no one was willing to leave. Many in the queue wore fine clothes, but for reasons unknown, they were obsessed with the old man’s craft, enduring the wait for a single bowl.

Yang Yuhuan closed her eyes, savoring the aroma drifting from the diners’ bowls, her expression blissful. “It smells wonderful.”

“Shall we eat here?” Opening her eyes, Yang Yuhuan found only Red Silk beside her; the four men had already joined the queue, so she hurriedly dragged Red Silk to secure their place.

The stall owner’s method of charging was peculiar—he didn’t treat everyone equally. Some paid only a copper coin for a bowl, others were charged five taels of silver.

One young noble, charged five taels, couldn’t restrain himself. “Old man, do you know who I am? I’ve given you enough face by waiting in line all this time, yet you dare to ask such an outrageous price!”

“I know you, Young Master He Yingtang, otherwise I wouldn’t charge you five taels. If you want noodles, pay up. If not, move along. I never force anyone.”

He Yingtang’s face flushed red and pale by turns. “Fine! I thought tonight, being the Lantern Festival, was not the time for violence, but you’re too much!”

“Lang, should we go help the stall owner?” Xie Zhiqian whispered.

Yu Lang shook his head. “If the stall owner dares act so arrogantly, he must have something to rely on. Let’s watch for now. If Young Master He does anything truly excessive, I’ll intervene.”

As Yu Lang predicted, though He Yingtang’s words were harsh, he hesitated to act.

The queue buzzed with murmurs. “Young Master He was born to a noble family—when has he ever suffered such humiliation? The stall owner must have met his match this time.”

“You’re mistaken. Even the Magistrate loves these noodles. When he comes, he waits in line himself. No matter how powerful Young Master He is, he can’t surpass the Magistrate.”

The servant whispered something in He Yingtang’s ear, and he relented, producing five taels of silver and placing them in the stall owner’s basket, ready to take his noodles and leave.

“Wait. I won’t sell you this bowl.” The stall owner retrieved the silver and tossed it to the ground, then smashed the bowl and noodles, showing not the slightest concern for face.

Yu Lang frowned slightly. The stall owner was perhaps too extreme.

He Yingtang clenched his teeth and forced out a few words: “You make noodles, I pay silver. How have I slighted you? Why won’t you serve me?”

The stall owner didn’t look up, focused on kneading dough. “Your silver is filthy.”

He Yingtang immediately drew the sword at his waist. “Old fool, you’ve insulted me repeatedly. A true man’s wrath spills blood within five paces. Even if Bozhou no longer has a place for me after tonight, I’ll teach you a lesson.”

As the conflict escalated, the queue scattered, fearful that He Yingtang’s sword might harm bystanders.

Yu Lang, meanwhile, beamed and led his hungry little squad to the front of the line. He Yingtang’s prowess was beneath Yu Lang’s notice.

He Yingtang’s sword thrust was swift, but the stall owner dodged with calm ease, making it seem perilous.

Though it appeared dangerous, the stall owner was perfectly in control, deliberately waiting until the last moment to evade. Seeing this, Yu Lang grew ever more relaxed, already turning to Yang Yuhuan to discuss what toppings to add to their noodles.

He Yingtang’s attacks repeatedly missed, his earlier bravado turning to despair. He realized the stall owner’s skill far surpassed his own, and he was merely being toyed with.

Another miss left He Yingtang in an awkward position, unable to proceed or retreat, as embarrassed as a mistake itself.

“Big brother, you can have my half bowl of noodles.” A little boy with bright eyes offered, “Uncle Liu didn’t charge me. I just want ten copper coins, so I can buy a pretty lantern for my sister.”

He Yingtang froze, suddenly understanding why the stall owner had called his money dirty. The He family monopolized the lantern supply for the festival, doubling prices from previous years, making it so poor children couldn’t even afford a lantern.

He remembered his own childhood joy at the Lantern Festival, and his heart grew heavy, his eyes damp. He picked up the five taels of silver from the ground, carefully wiped them clean, and placed them in the boy’s palm. “Thank you for your half bowl of noodles. I’m grateful. Take this silver and buy the most beautiful lantern for your sister.”

Turning to the crowd, He Yingtang clasped his hands in salute. “From now on, He family shops will lower their prices. No need for you all to travel far for your purchases.”

The crowd cheered, “With Young Master He’s word, we’re reassured!”

Seeing the smiles on their faces, He Yingtang felt happier than if he’d won the fight, realizing that prestige was not always earned through violence.

Uncle Liu, the stall owner, finally smiled. “Young Master He, I’ve offended you tonight. I’ll visit your mansion another day to thank you. Please don’t hold a grudge against a crude craftsman like me.”

He Yingtang quickly returned the salute. “Uncle Liu, please don’t say that. Without your guidance tonight, I wouldn’t have understood where I went wrong.”

Yu Lang felt a quiet joy as well. The stall owner’s rebuke was timely and gentle, and He Yingtang proved himself a courteous young man. This promise was perhaps the finest gift the people of Bozhou received on the Lantern Festival.