Chapter 14: Huh? Why Did You Eat the Food Meant for Me First!

The lid of the food box was open, and the inside was completely empty.

Only a solitary dish remained, holding a single pale white bun.

The dough looked a bit slumped. Having sat for a while, its skin had slightly hardened and lost its translucence, yet the eighteen delicate pleats on top were still clearly visible.

“What is this?” Li Shimin pointed at the lone survivor.

Empress Zhangsun felt a little awkward and smoothed the hair at her temples. “Erlang, they were just a few buns…”

“Buns?”

Li Shimin gave an exasperated laugh. “I have eaten buns all my life, yet I have never seen one shaped like a chrysanthemum. And this aroma… why does it smell faintly of vinegar?”

He said no more, merely staring fixedly at the dish with the resentful gaze of a master of the house who had been left out.

Xiao Sizi felt her skin prickle under his stare.

She looked at the empty plate in her arms, then at the solitary bun, and then at her father’s face, which was written all over with “I am hungry and I feel so wronged.”

The little toddler let out a conflicted sigh, set down the plate in her arms, and reluctantly stretched out her chubby little hands to push the dish toward Li Shimin.

“This is the only one weft…”

Xiao Sizi pouted, tears welling in her eyes as she spoke with deep grievance, “It was ‘posed to be saved for Big Sister to eat tonight, but Father can have it.”

Beside them, Li Lizhi winced in heartache. That was the one she had specially saved for a late-night snack!

Li Shimin did not stand on ceremony.

He picked up his chopsticks and lifted the bun, which had already gone completely cold.

It felt heavy in his grip.

Though cold, the bun had not fallen apart. The bottom cradled a heavy weight that wobbled gently with the movement of his chopsticks.

“Looks ordinary enough,” Li Shimin mumbled, opening his mouth and taking a large bite.

There was none of the stiff, dense texture expected of cold dough.

Though the wrapper had cooled, it had become pleasantly chewy and springy between his teeth. The moment his teeth sliced through the wrapper, no soup spilled out.

In its place was a solid, slippery jelly.

The moment the jelly entered his mouth and met the warmth within, it melted instantly. Half remained as rich, smooth gelatin, while the other half dissolved into savory, flavorful broth.

Li Shimin chewed twice, his eyes widening abruptly.

What sort of divine texture was this?

The meat filling was firm, savory, and fragrant, and the layer of jelly was pure perfection!

It locked in all the savory richness of the meat. Eaten cold, it offered a unique appeal, like enjoying an exquisitely simmered meat aspic: smooth, tender, bouncy, and fresh!

The subtle tang of vinegar had long since soaked into the wrapper, cutting through the richness and sharpening the flavor.

Gulp!

Li Shimin’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the entire bun down.

The emptiness in his stomach was soothed in an instant, only to be replaced by a restless craving for more.

“That’s it? There’s no more?”

Li Shimin stared at the empty dish, feeling that the bite he had just taken was sheer torture. It had hooked his appetite completely, only to leave him hanging.

“All gone.”

Li Lizhi threw up her hands, a hint of schadenfreude in her voice. “There was a whole box full of them. Who told Father to arrive so late?”

Li Shimin put down his chopsticks, the savory aftertaste lingering on his palate.

This was definitely not mutton.

Once mutton went cold, its gamey odor was overwhelming, but this meat… was it pork?

How could that be?

Pork was such lowly meat. How could it produce a translucent, jelly-like texture comparable to fish aspic? How many intricate steps and repeated deodorizing must it have undergone to boil the skin and meat into such crystal-clear gelatin?

“Those fools in the Bureau of Culinary Service!”

Li Shimin slammed his palm against the low table, making the teacups rattle. “They draw from my private treasury every single day, yet what they make cannot even compare to a single cold bun! I will exile them all to Lingnan^[1] to plant lychees!”

Empress Zhangsun quickly rubbed his back to soothe him. “Calm down, Erlang. It is not the Bureau of Culinary Service’s fault; this method of preparation is simply too extraordinary.”

“Extraordinary? It is more than extraordinary; it turns the crude into the miraculous!”

Li Shimin rose to his feet and paced back and forth across the hall with his hands behind his back, his brow furrowed as his thoughts raced.

To take the lowliest pork and make it more delicious than dragon liver or phoenix marrow.

To boil goat milk until it was sweeter than morning dew.

Moreover, the person’s movements were elusive, indifferent to fame and fortune, hiding in the shadows just to prepare delicacies.

“I understand now.”

Li Shimin stopped in his tracks, his gaze turning deep and enigmatic.

“What has Erlang realized?” Empress Zhangsun asked, puzzled.

“This is no ordinary cook,” Li Shimin lowered his voice, his tone certain. “This is a Daoist master! A master cultivating the Dao of dietary nourishment^[2]!”

Empress Zhangsun and Li Lizhi exchanged glances.

The more Li Shimin thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. “Think about it. Daoists emphasize pill refinement in pursuit of longevity. This master removes the gamey odor from pork to preserve its freshness, and turns the rankness of goat milk into sweetness. Is that not a form of refinement? Extracting the essence, discarding the dregs, entering the Dao through food, and harmonizing Yin and Yang!”

He glanced at Empress Zhangsun’s noticeably ruddier complexion, growing even more certain of his deduction.

“This explains everything! Why is he unwilling to show his face? True masters always have their eccentricities. They do not wish to be tainted by mundane affairs; they only want to temper their hearts in the mortal world^[3].”

Li Shimin stroked the beard on his chin, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

“Since he is a master, ordinary methods will not do.”

He turned toward Wang Dequan at the doorway and said in a cold voice, “Pass down my decree: withdraw all personnel searching the Bureau of Culinary Service. Do not cause a huge commotion and disturb the master’s quiet cultivation. If he gets angry and flees, I will hold you solely responsible!”

Wang Dequan was just about to drop to his knees to admit fault, but upon hearing this, he froze. “No… no more searching?”

“No more searching openly.”

Li Shimin gave a cold chuckle, the corner of his lips curling into a confident, determined smirk. “I shall go in disguise! Since this master is hiding in the Bureau of Culinary Service, I will go meet him in person. I would like to see just who this divine figure is, someone who can turn humble pork into a work of art.”

…

In the back courtyard of the Bureau of Culinary Service.

As the sun dipped toward the west, Su Mu lay on his homemade reclining chair with a cattail leaf fan over his face, yet sleep eluded him.

“This won’t do. This broken door gives me zero sense of security.”

Su Mu hopped off the chair, picked up the notched wood-chopping knife from the ground, and circled the dilapidated wooden door twice.

The door panel was cracked. Even a slightly strong gust of wind could blow it open, let alone keep out people with ulterior motives.

He turned and walked over to the woodpile, picking out several of the hardest pieces of mulberry wood.

“Chop! Chop!”

His blade flashed through the air.

With a sullen look on his face, Su Mu worked swiftly.

Before long, he had carved out several thick door bolts. He then found a few pieces of iron and hammered them noisily into the doorframe, fashioning a simple yet sturdy latch mechanism.

After installing the bolts, Su Mu gave the door a test push.

It did not budge in the slightest.

“Now that’s solid.”

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, breathing a slight sigh of relief.

As long as I don’t open the door, no one is getting in.

Whether you’re an emperor or an immortal, if you want to eat my food, or even just catch a whiff through the crack in the door, it all depends on my mood.

Su Mu lay back down on his chair, tucked the wood-chopping knife under his pillow, and finally felt a little more at ease.