Chapter Twenty-One: Lamb Wraps and Pork Buns

The aroma of meat gradually filled the air, and soon there was a knock at the door.

Zheng the Village Head opened the door to find three people outside: Qiao Haiqing, Li He, and Li Rong.

“How did you all come together?” Wei Renshi asked.

“We met on the road,” Qiao Haiqing replied. “This gentleman Li turned out to be none other than Li Changji. I’ve heard my elder brother say there’s a prodigy in Fuchang, who could compose poetry at the age of seven, called Li Changji. I never expected to make his acquaintance here!”

“You flatter me,” Li He replied offhandedly, though his thoughts had already drifted to the courtyard.

As Qiao Haiqing wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief and sniffed the air, he asked, “It smells wonderful! Different from yesterday—what meat is it today? The aroma is incredible!”

“Pork,” Wei Renshi answered with a smile.

“Really?” Qiao Haiqing was taken aback, then laughed. “Brother Renshi, don’t tease me. I love eating meat, but pork always has such a rank smell when cooked that I can’t stomach it. It could never smell this good.”

“I have a secret recipe,” Wei Renshi said, smiling. “With my method, not only is the pork’s odor entirely removed, but the fragrance of the meat is fully brought out. It tastes every bit as good as any other meat.”

He led them inside. The flatbreads were ready, and the braised pork had been stewed to utter tenderness.

Taking a knife, Wei Renshi sliced the flatbread open, scooped out the braised pork, chopped it together with pickled garlic stems, and stuffed the mixture into the bread—thus creating a meat-filled bun.

Well-cooked pork becomes juicy, rich yet not greasy, lean but not dry. The meat juices seeped into the bread, blending the fragrance of meat and grain. One bite was pure delight.

“Try it,” Wei Renshi offered the meat-filled buns to Qiao Haiqing and Li He.

Both hesitated a moment before accepting. They brought the buns to their noses and sniffed closely—there was truly no trace of that unpleasant odor—so, mustering their courage, they took a bite.

“Hm?!” At the first chew, both were astonished. But with no time to speak, they began devouring the buns eagerly.

Zheng the Village Head, curious, tore off a piece of bread and tasted it. After a few bites, he exclaimed, “Master Wei, how is it that this bread has lost its sourness and is so sweet?”

Suddenly recalling something, he slapped his leg. “Wood ash! It must be because you added that handful of wood ash!”

Wei Renshi smiled and nodded.

“My goodness! This bread alone could dominate Fuchang!” Zheng the Village Head proclaimed. “In fact, not just Fuchang—even in Luoyang or Chang’an, you wouldn’t find bread without that sour flavor! Master Wei, you are truly remarkable!”

“Brother Renshi, how about this: you provide the skills, I provide the funds, and we open a restaurant together! With your craftsmanship, what’s Lan Chang House compared to us?” Although Qiao Haiqing didn’t understand what the wood ash did, he caught Zheng’s meaning and his eyes lit up. “We’ll sell yesterday’s lamb soup and these meat-filled buns—success is guaranteed.”

“My approach is hardly a match for Lan Chang House’s master chef,” Wei Renshi replied with a smile, “but your proposal isn’t bad. The pity is, these items are not suited to large-scale production. If you open a small shop, just one or two people, selling only these few things, you could make a comfortable living. But to expect to get rich running a big restaurant is unrealistic. These are low-profit, high-volume foods—simple to prepare, easy for others to copy after watching a few times.”

“But how could anyone replicate Brother Renshi’s flavor?” Qiao Haiqing pressed. “With food, taste is everything. If the flavor isn’t the same, it’s just a pale imitation.”

Wei Renshi smiled. “That’s why I intend to sell the very things that allow them to achieve this flavor.”

Qiao Haiqing’s eyes sparkled and he leaned in at once. “Brother Renshi! Let’s discuss this in detail!”

Wei Renshi looked at him, smiling but silent.

Qiao Haiqing continued, “Brother Renshi, you’re a scholar. Though your skills are superb, it’s not convenient for you to do business yourself. If you partner with me, all you need do is provide the know-how. Once we’ve made the products, I’ll sell them, and we’ll split the profits. That way, your studies won’t be hindered, nor your reputation compromised. Isn’t it the best of both worlds?”

“Do you truly want to pursue this business, Brother Qiao?” Wei Renshi asked.

If he could partner with Qiao Haiqing, Wei Renshi truly found the idea appealing.

He would provide the technique, Qiao Haiqing the sales channel.

Wei Renshi had many ambitions and would not devote himself wholly to the spice business. If the Qiao family’s terms were reasonable, he would not mind becoming a hands-off partner.

However, if they wanted to buy out his technique in one go, that was out of the question.

Qiao Haiqing nodded, his eyes fixed intently on Wei Renshi.

“This isn’t a one-off transaction,” Wei Renshi explained. “Spices are consumed bit by bit. When they’re gone, you have to buy more. It’s a long-term business. If you’re serious, Brother Qiao, you should go home and discuss it with your family, and work out the details.”

Qiao Haiqing was taken aback, his face reflecting deep thought.

Wei Renshi then turned to Zheng the Village Head and Li He. “Uncle Zheng, Changji, today I’ll show you the full power of my great iron pot!”

He added more firewood to the stove, poured some sesame oil into the pot, tossed in aromatic spices, then added sliced lamb and stir-fried it.

Once the lamb was done, he took out some thin pancakes he’d made, wrapped the lamb in them, and handed them out.

He asked, “Brother Qiao, would you like the lamb wrap or yesterday’s lamb soup?”

“This…” Tempted by the aroma, Qiao Haiqing hesitated only briefly before deciding, “The wrap!”

Wei Renshi grinned, rolling him the smallest portion—just enough for a taste.

Everyone else exclaimed over the flavor, showering it with praise.

“Uncle Zheng, yesterday’s lamb stew, today’s lamb wrap, and the meat-filled buns—if we brought these out, could we beat Old Man Wang?” Wei Renshi asked.

Zheng the Village Head nodded. “Though the bread isn’t quite as good as Old Wang’s, you two are competing to see whose food tastes better. In terms of flavor alone, your lamb and pork far surpass what the bread could make up for. If it were up to me, I’d certainly choose this side. It’s just…”

He hesitated. “It’s just the pork—there might be some trouble…”

“What’s to fear? The aroma speaks for itself,” Qiao Haiqing said. “Anyone who won’t eat it, just let them smell and see if there’s any trace of that odor.”

“Uncle Zheng makes a good point,” Wei Renshi said. This ingrained thinking was a real nuisance. The world believed pork was smelly, that pigs were lazy and foolish, and their meat was nothing good. Such prejudices were hard to shift.

After a moment’s thought, Wei Renshi turned to Li He. “Changji, where’s your brocade pouch? There must be paper and brush inside—may I borrow them?”