Chapter Twenty-Six: Betrayed Once Again
“Hao, what are you doing with taro?” Hou Junji pressed himself against the crack in the door, his eyes filled with hope as he looked at Yun Hao. Ever since Yun Hao had invented Beggar’s Chicken, Hou Junji’s faith in Yun Hao’s culinary skills had been restored. Whenever he saw Yun Hao preparing food, he would crowd close to watch, occasionally sampling a bite or two, and then, like a greedy groundhog, would devour the entire bowl, not stopping until it was all gone.
In fact, Hou Junji was not the only one; all the heroes residing at Erxian Manor did the same. Each visitor never came empty-handed, bringing silk or various items, all under the pretense of paying their respects to Madam Zhao. Upon meeting her, they would politely address her as “Sister-in-law.” It was unclear how many sworn brothers Yun Hao’s father had made over the years! After their courtesy calls, they would sit down, waiting for food and drink, claiming it was only right to enjoy what their “nephew” provided. Yun Hao found this deeply aggravating.
Life couldn’t go on like this; at this rate, he’d become nothing more than a cook. He considered training Qi Biao, Lai Shun, and Hou Junji, but these fellows were utterly hopeless. Had anyone ever seen someone burn water while making tea? Or fry eggs without cracking the shells? Most infuriating of all, their taste in food was ridiculously salty—they would dump salt into dishes until Yun Hao’s face twisted in discomfort, yet those rascals insisted it was “just right.” He knew they couldn’t afford salt, but surely they didn’t need to ruin the budding talent of a new era like himself. Excessive salt causes high blood pressure—did they even understand that? Worse yet, they served this to Madam Zhao; if she ended up paralyzed, would they take care of her?
Today, Yun Hao planned to make a grand dish, so these mountain bandits could truly appreciate his skills. Taiji Taro—a secret recipe he’d exchanged for two packs of cigarettes with a Fujian chef. He decided to unveil it today, letting these bandits experience what it meant to be “in agony.”
Taiji Taro was a traditional specialty dish from Fujian, a renowned Fuzhou delicacy. It had a simple, elegant appearance; the taro paste was delicate and smooth, fragrant and sweet, resembling a cold dish but served piping hot, with a unique flavor. The method involved cooking taro and mashing it to a paste, peeling and pitting red dates, then chopping them and dividing them in half. Candied winter melon was cut into tiny grains. One por