Chang’an Small Restaurant

Chapter 75.2 Offering Sacrifices Together

After the joss sticks had burned down, Lin Yan approached Shen Shaoguang softly. "It's getting late. Should we have some food at Shing Wong Temple, or find an inn in the nearby village?"

Shen Shaoguang, mindful of the few Taoist priests at the temple, preferred not to trouble them. "Let's find an inn outside."

"There’s a village by the river we visited last time. Let's go there and take a look," Lin Yan suggested.

Shen Shaoguang felt that the use of "we" wasn’t incorrect, though it sounded slightly misleading.

The lane was narrow and uneven, prompting Shen Shaoguang to walk instead of sitting in the carriage. Lin Yan, naturally, accompanied her on foot.

The fields stretched out in a verdant expanse, while a shepherd herded his sheep atop a distant slope. Occasionally, they spotted farmers returning home, hoes resting on their shoulders, completing the tranquil and picturesque countryside scene.

The wind caught the sleeves of Shen Shaoguang's muslin outer garment, causing them to brush against Lin Yan's arm. Instinctively, Lin Yan pinched the fabric gently, letting the gauze flow through his fingers.

Shen Shaoguang suddenly felt her face flush and shyly moved aside to avoid him.

"If you move any further, you'll fall into the ditch," Lin Yan said softly.

Shen Shaoguang pursed her lips, thinking, ‘then shouldn't you be the one to step aside a little more?’

Lin Yan smiled but showed no intention of ‘moving away’.

Shen Shaoguang had no choice but to press down on her sleeves, regretting not wearing narrow-sleeved Hu-style clothing today.

Lin Yan stopped teasing her, stepped to the side to give her more space, and then put his hands behind his back like a nobleman, lightly touching his thumb and index finger, as if he missed the texture of the muslin.

…

They were rather fortunate. After bypassing the river, they reached a village. At the entrance stood a small tavern nestled between two thatched houses, its flag sign faded from long exposure to the elements.

The wife of the shopkeeper was an efficient and warm-hearted woman, and greeted them warmly. She mentioned they had 'excellent roasted pork meat'—as it was the Ghost Festival, many people were offering sacrifices to their ancestors, so the village had slaughtered two pigs. The tavern obtained a pig leg weighing about four kilograms, which they cut into large slices and steamed.

Initially, they planned to sell the meat to the Taoist priests in the Shing Wong Temple, but unexpectedly, distinguished guests had arrived instead.

Shen Shaoguang inquired about the available vegetable side dishes and staple foods. The proprietress replied that they had homegrown onions, eggplants, and cabbage, as well as freshly cooked green soybeans.

Shen Shaoguang smiled and ordered two plates of green soybeans, some stewed cabbage, and steamed eggplant. Upon learning that buckwheat noodles were available as a main dish, she added, "Please prepare some cold buckwheat noodles mixed with sesame paste, soy essence, vinegar, and garlic paste."

The proprietress quickly perceived that the young lady had the final authority in the relationship, and the charming gentleman was simply an adornment. As the Miss made her requests, she naturally complied. Yet, she privately marveled at the eccentric tastes of the city nobles who preferred buckwheat noodles over the more common wheat noodles.

She first presented the green soybeans, then brought out the roasted pork, elegantly arranged in a basin.

The beans were seasoned simply with salt, which muted their flavor somewhat, but their tenderness made up for it, resulting in a satisfying dish.

As for the meat, it was more accurately described as 'steamed' rather than 'roasted'. It lacked marination with soy essence, maintaining its natural pale color. Accompanying it in a rustic porcelain bowl was a dipping sauce of vinegar, garlic, and ginger. Shen Shaoguang and Lin Yan left only a small portion on the table, offering the remainder to Yu San, Liu Chang, and the others.

Shen Shaoguang delicately lifted a piece of meat with her chopsticks and placed it in her bowl, then drizzled it with some of the dipping sauce. The meat, steamed to perfection, proved tender and unexpectedly delightful.

The proprietress arrived with an earthen jar of wine and poured it for everyone present. "Esteemed guests, please enjoy our homemade wine. We don't mean to boast, but our wine is renowned throughout the village and its surroundings."

Shen Shaoguang lifted the oversized shallow bowl to her lips, gently dispersing the frothy green foam with a light blow before taking a sip. The flavor was delightful, confirming the proprietress's earlier claim was indeed not an exaggeration.

Observing her for the first time drinking in such a crude manner, Lin Yan couldn't suppress a smile. Here she was, drinking from a vessel as large as her face.

Shen Shaoguang lifted her brows.

Seeing this, Lin Yan smiled but remained silent.

Shen Shaoguang knew he was chuckling at her for devouring hefty portions of meat and downing wine from large bowls. His amusement stemmed from his own inexperience. In her past life, she had seen girls who could finish half a bottle of wine in one go. In this life, there were palace maids who could drain whole jars of wine to numb their sorrows—she was still a novice compared to them.

Accompanied by boiled green soybeans, Shen Shaoguang polished off the entire bowl of wine.

Observing the blush on her face, Lin Yan cautioned, "Don't drink any more. You might feel nauseous on the way back."

Shen Shaoguang nodded in understanding. While the alcohol hadn't intoxicated her, she realized it would be awkward to overindulge and then need to find a restroom during the journey back.

Lin Yan couldn't quite fathom her thoughts, but he found her compliant manner particularly cute.

"Shopkeeper!" A middle-aged Confucian scholar in a worn white robe entered, his attire tinged gray with age. He carried a wine gourd in hand. "Please fill this up."

Noticing that both tables in the shop were occupied, the Confucian scholar chose not to sit down. The shopkeeper stepped outside to pluck small lotus leaves from a nearby river, using them to wrap a handful of cooked soybeans and a flat cake for him. The scholar tucked the flat cake into his cloth bag, held the beans and the calabash gourd, mounted the donkey parked by the door, and slowly trotted away.

Shen Shaoguang watched the scholar's leisurely departure and couldn't help but smile. She found herself pondering how adept he might be at poetry; he truly embodied the image of a poet.

Lin Yan glanced at her.

Shen Shaoguang remarked, "With a slow donkey, a weathered hat, a bottle of village wine, and half a bag of soybeans, that scholar seems genuinely carefree." She glanced at Deputy Magistrate Lin, who meticulously attended to his meals, always opting to abstain from alcohol at lunch. Both were followers of the Confucian School of Thought, so why was there such a stark contrast?

Lin Yan smiled lightly and said, "You can indulge in poetry and leisure while I handle the mundane affairs."

Shen Shaoguang couldn’t help but marvel at the village wine's potent aftermath, leaving her slightly intoxicated.