Chapter Twenty-Two: The Contest

The sky was brightening earlier and earlier. Even in the dim morning light, the wind against one’s face no longer felt cold. Without realizing it, the world around was already covered in green. It was the season when all things flourished.

Two donkey carts, accompanied by a figure riding a donkey, gradually appeared from the misty dawn. Half a month had passed in the blink of an eye. As the sun rose, the day grew brighter, and beneath the gates of Fuchang City, the streets once more bustled with traffic.

Wang the Elder’s flatbread shop had been busy for some time already. Regular customers began to arrive as usual, as if it were any ordinary day. Yet, there was a difference. On this day, the regulars, having bought their flatbreads, did not hurry away. Instead, more and more people began to gather.

Fuchang was not a large city, and even the smallest event could quickly become the talk of the town. In fact, within a few days, everyone had heard that Wang the Elder, who had been selling flatbreads for decades, was about to compete with a young man to see whose flatbread was tastier.

Spectators gathered in growing numbers. Wang Xiaohui, Wang the Elder’s daughter, was uneasy and anxious. But Wang the Elder himself felt not a trace of nervousness; he was even a bit excited. He was absolutely confident in his craft, certain that a mere boy could never surpass him. He doubted whether the youth would even show up.

“Hey, isn’t that the young man from the other day?” someone in the crowd called out suddenly.

Wang the Elder immediately heard the voice that filled him with instant dislike: “Excuse me, please make way, let us pass.”

The young man wore the same calm and composed smile, walking unhurriedly to stand opposite Wang the Elder. He said, “A gentleman keeps his word. I am here.” With that, he said no more and turned toward the opposite side of the street.

Behind him, two men unloaded several cauldrons from the donkey carts, then brought down bundles of firewood and quickly got a fire going. A woman began expertly kneading dough; she was Tian Dali’s wife.

Tian Dali and Zheng the Village Head each sliced meat—one lamb, one pork—and dropped it into their cauldrons to boil. After the water came to a boil several times, Wei Renshi began his work. He skimmed off the foam, then reached into a cloth bag and swiftly tossed several ingredients into the pot. Next, he picked up a gourd, opened its mouth, and poured some of its contents into the cauldron.

Meanwhile, Wang the Elder’s lips curled into a confident smile as he continued to sell his flatbreads with composure. He was certain, just from watching the woman’s technique across the street, that her flatbreads would never be as authentic as his.

“Father…” whispered Wang Xiaohui, tugging lightly at her father’s sleeve, feeling uneasy.

Wang the Elder glanced back at her reassuringly, then turned his gaze across the street again.

Wei Renshi had set up his own large black pot. Those gathered wore expressions of curiosity. Though iron pots were not new, none had seen one fashioned quite like this before, so their curiosity about what Wei Renshi would do deepened.

Wei Renshi’s iron ladle moved swiftly. A splash of oil hit the pot and white smoke rose immediately. Again dipping into the cloth bag, Wei Renshi’s hands moved quickly, dropping handfuls of ingredients into the iron pot.

A sizzling explosion sounded, and suddenly a strange, enticing aroma filled the air.

Beside him, Zheng the Village Head finished slicing the boiled lamb. Wei Renshi gathered the meat onto his knife and pushed it into the pot. Another burst of sizzling echoed, and the scent of lamb enveloped the street.

“What a wonderful smell!” exclaimed several voices in the crowd. Those who didn’t speak could not stop sniffing the air.

Wang the Elder’s expression soured; he halted his work and stared fixedly at Wei Renshi.

Meanwhile, Tian Dali’s wife finished making a variety of flatbreads, stacking them neatly aside.

On the other side, another young man took a sheet of paper from his old brocade pouch, walked to a covered cauldron, and pasted the paper onto the side of the donkey cart.

Some curious onlookers, perhaps literate, noticed the writing and drew closer to read aloud: "Clean the pot, add little water, cover the fire so the smoke does not rise. Let it cook on its own, do not rush it; when the heat is right, it will be delicious. The best pork in the world, cheap as dirt. The wealthy won’t eat it, the poor don’t know how to cook it. Rise in the morning and have two bowls, filling yourself—never mind what others think—uh, is there pork in here?!"

The man hurriedly stepped back.

Another laughed, “That’s quite amusingly written. Could it be that this pork will actually taste good?”

“That writing piques my curiosity. I’d like to try it,” said someone else.

In these times, the literate were few, but their status was higher, making them objects of admiration for common folk. So, hearing the three read and discuss, the crowd’s curiosity only grew.

“Pork has a strong odor, but our young master has a secret ingredient that removes the smell. Anyone who wishes to try it, please step forward. This pork, with our young master’s secret recipe, will taste no worse than lamb, perhaps even better!” Li Rong, caught up in the excitement, called out loudly. Though he’d been reluctant to shout earlier, now surrounded by spectators his voice was clear and strong, instantly reaching everyone’s ears.

The pork in the cauldron had been stewing for quite some time, its texture now tender and rich, with the flavor deepened, making it truly more delicious.

“Father, I fear you may have miscalculated this time,” Wang Xiaohui whispered in her father’s ear.

“Quiet!” Wang the Elder glared at her, then turned back to stare intently at Wei Renshi.

Wei Renshi took several flatbreads, scooped out lamb from the soup, chopped it finely, mixed it, then sprinkled a layer of minced fresh garlic on top, before returning the flatbreads to the fire for another bake.

The method was similar to Wang the Elder’s, but the ingredients sprinkled on top were clearly more carefully chosen.

Soon, the flatbreads were ready.

Wei Renshi took them out and smiled at the crowd, asking, “Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve watched long enough; now is the time to taste. Shopkeeper Wang, whom do you suggest should try?”

The aroma wafting through the street had already made everyone’s mouths water. Hearing Wei Renshi’s invitation, the crowd surged forward.

Wang the Elder was frustrated; Wei Renshi was clearly provoking him by suggesting he pick someone himself. But Wang the Elder was not to be outdone. Pretending not to understand, he glanced around and picked one of his regular customers, saying, “Old Zhang, why don’t you try it for me and give an honest opinion?”

From the crowd, a man about Wang the Elder’s age stepped forward. He approached Wei Renshi, raised a hand in greeting, and said, “Young man, I am Old Zhang.”

Wei Renshi handed him a flatbread and smiled, “Please, sir, have a taste.”

Old Zhang took the flatbread, sniffed it, and took a bite.