Chapter Sixteen: Temptation

Gourmet food?

At once, Wang Heng’s large, round eyes sparkled with excitement.

As for the person outside the carriage, calling out “noble one,” Wang Heng had not the slightest doubt they meant her—

Scanning the entire official road, the only carriage that looked remotely noble was the one she, Wang Heng, was riding in.

If she was not the noble one, then who could be?

Swish!

Wang Heng poked her little head out and glanced around. Then, just a few meters from the carriage by the roadside, she spotted a young girl holding a bamboo basket.

That girl looked about her age, five or six years old.

But she was thinner, her hair sparse and yellowish. She wore a tattered brown hemp dress patched at the knees and elbows. On her feet were straw sandals that left her toes exposed.

This was the typical appearance of ordinary folk.

Still, the little girl looked clean—her face, hands, even her toes were spotless. No dirt, no grime under her nails.

Given her cleanliness, the “gourmet food” she spoke of seemed less questionable.

“Stop! Quickly, stop!”

Wang Heng glanced at the girl and found her credible enough. She stamped her foot hard on the carriage floor and shouted.

The driver, hearing the little miss’s order, did not dare hesitate. He pulled the reins with a sharp “whoa.”

Madam Fu’s eyes flickered with hesitation, her lips twitching. She felt she ought to intervene.

But… Jiu Niang was truly pitiable.

Sent away to the manor, who knew if she would ever be free to go out again? Perhaps this journey to the manor would be the freest days Jiu Niang would have for years to come.

She could not bear to stop her!

Fine—she would stay by Jiu Niang’s side. If anything went wrong, she would intervene at once.

...

Wang Mian held her bamboo basket, uncertain if she would succeed today.

For three days she had waited by the official road. Nobles’ carriages—horse-drawn, ox-drawn—had passed by. She had called out many times, but never succeeded.

Her siblings had become discouraged, thinking her foolish—

What rare delicacies had nobles not tasted? Why would they believe a poor peasant girl had food they had never tried?

Wang Mian sighed inwardly.

She truly was a failed transmigrator.

Other transmigrators, even if born into peasant families, could use a few recipes or make some marinated dishes to earn their first bucket of gold.

But after months here, she had not earned even a few copper coins.

It was not for lack of trying—she had simply underestimated the reality of ancient times.

First, the rigid hierarchy was no joke. Recipes were almost exclusively owned by noble families.

As a poor peasant girl, Wang Mian could not even set foot by the back door of a tavern or noble residence.

Even if, by chance, she managed to get in and shocked the cooks with her recipes, she’d likely be robbed outright.

There was no freedom, equality, or human rights in this era!

And she was at the very bottom.

Commoner—here, it was no humble boast, but a grim reality: as insignificant as dust.

Second, what ancient times lacked wasn’t skill, but resources.

Only after crossing over did Wang Mian realize that the seasonings and condiments she took for granted in the modern world either did not exist here or were prohibitively expensive.

Peppercorns, star anise, cinnamon—essential for braised meats—were either precious spices worth their weight in gold, or rare medicinal ingredients.

Frankly, even if she sold herself, she couldn’t scrape together enough for a small packet of marinade.

And even if she did—meat was another huge problem.

In Great Zhou, pig castration was unknown, so pork inevitably had a rank, gamey odor.

Thus, in this era, only the poor ate such “stinky meat”; nobles wouldn’t even look at it.

Stinky pork, lack of spices—and iron woks... Ha! Stir-frying or caramelizing sugar was impossible without a wok, which simply did not exist in Great Zhou.

And there was no sugar!

How could one caramelize anything?

…

Over the past months, Wang Mian had thought and experimented, but everything failed.

At first, her family believed her, thinking she might have been taught by an immortal in her dreams.

But after months of wasting ingredients and earning no money, the elders lost faith.

Only her siblings still clung to the beautiful dreams she painted for them and were willing to help.

But even those children, in recent days—

“…Sigh. This is probably my last chance!”

If she could not even win over children, Wang Mian felt she had truly failed as a transmigrator.

Just as Wang Mian gritted her teeth and prepared to call out again, the carriage that had just clip-clopped past suddenly stopped.

Wang Mian’s eyes lit up—there was hope!

Without thinking, she adjusted her basket and hurried over.

“Noble one! Noble one! I have here a delicacy no noble has ever tasted! Vivid in color, refreshing in texture, cooling and beautifying…”

Perhaps too excited, Wang Mian began to ramble.

Every advertising line she could think of tumbled out at once.

Madam Fu and Bai Zhi exchanged glances—what outrageous nonsense, it sounded utterly unreliable.

But Wang Heng, still dreaming of delicious food, gripped the window with her chubby hands and asked curiously, “What is it?”

“Immortal’s Tofu!”

Though surprised that the “noble” was just a child, Wang Mian recognized a potential customer when she saw one.

And children were easy to please!

It wasn’t deception—her Immortal’s Tofu really was tasty and had some health benefits.

“Immortal’s Tofu? Hmph, what an exaggeration!” Madam Fu, seeing Wang Mian’s darting eyes, worried she was tricking their Jiu Niang, and scolded her coldly.

“It’s not an exaggeration, but a name from an old legend about immortals,” Wang Mian replied, keeping her composure with a smile.

She tried to tell a story—anyone versed in modern marketing knew the product mattered less than the tale behind it.

Even a blade of grass, if the story was good enough, could be sold as a gift from heaven!

“Enough! No more of those silly stories meant to cheat incense money. We’ve no patience for them. If you’re selling food, show it now!” Madam Fu cut her off impatiently.

But Wang Mian was unfazed.

Picky customers were the real buyers.

There was no shame in making money.

She smiled and opened the lid of her basket.

Her family was poor, and she had little to work with, but she kept things scrupulously clean.

Inside was a coarse clay bowl, chipped at the rim, with a palm-sized block of something green.

It was a translucent emerald, glistening like the finest jade.

When the basket was gently shaken, the green block quivered, looking soft and springy.

“Pretty! Can you eat it?” Wang Heng asked.

Gastronomy in the Celestial Empire prized color, aroma, and taste—and this “Immortal’s Tofu” had, at least, color.

Wang Heng was captivated.

So pretty!

It must taste good too!

“It’s edible! Little Lady, this Immortal’s Tofu can be eaten with my special sauce. It’s flavorful and spicy, cools the body and detoxifies…” Wang Mian explained eagerly.

“I want it!” Wang Heng cared nothing for cooling or detoxifying—she just wanted to taste this food she’d never seen before.

Wang Mian, hearing this, reached out to serve her.

But Madam Fu quickly interjected, “Wait!”

Who knew if this strange food was safe? How could she let Jiu Niang eat it without caution?

She turned to Wang Heng, ready to reason with her.

Wang Heng pressed her lips together, her big eyes wet and pleading—just like a pitiful, innocent fawn.

Madam Fu’s heart melted at the sight of her beloved Jiu Niang’s expression.

Fine, if she wanted to eat, then—

“Little girl, prepare the dish and divide it into three portions!”

“…The first is for you—eat it in front of me!”

“The second is for me, so I can taste what it’s like!”

Madam Fu, decisive, pulled a string of copper coins from her sleeve and tossed it out the carriage window.

The coins landed at Wang Mian’s feet.

But Wang Mian felt no shame in this—if being pelted with money was humiliation, then let these nobles humiliate her all day long!

As for Madam Fu’s request, Wang Mian understood.

The noble family’s little lady was precious.

Anything new must be tasted for poison first!

Though Wang Mian had eaten Immortal’s Tofu for nearly every meal lately—so much she was sick of it—for the sake of reassuring these “distinguished guests,” she would eat it again.

Quickly picking up the coins, Wang Mian produced her prepared sauce: mashed garlic, vinegar, and cornelian cherry (she thought, with a sigh: no chili, so this must do).

With a sharpened bamboo stick, she gently sliced the block of tofu into three portions.

She scored each piece with a lattice pattern and drizzled the sauce evenly.

Throughout, she maintained the utmost cleanliness, carrying a bamboo canister of water for washing her hands and utensils.

Madam Fu watched with a critical eye, but was satisfied.

So, when Wang Mian ate one portion herself and handed another to Madam Fu, Madam Fu did not hesitate to taste it.

“…Crisp and refreshing, with a slight bitterness, but rather spicy. Jiu Niang, you may not be used to it!” Madam Fu remarked, worried.

Her Jiu Niang had a delicate stomach and rarely ate rich or spicy foods.

“But I want to try!” Wang Heng was only more intrigued.

Spicy—what kind of taste was that?

Mmm!

A little stimulating, and a bit pungent!

But unexpectedly, it was delightful!

Wang Heng took small bites, at first a little unaccustomed, but soon her round cheeks were aglow with enjoyment and immersion in this new delicacy.

Wang Mian watched her expression closely. Seeing her delight, she said, “It’s a pity I have no peppers, only cornelian cherry as a substitute. Little Lady, my family is poor and I lack many ingredients and seasonings. With better supplies, I could make even more delicious dishes.”

Wang Mian realized that this fair, chubby, doll-like little girl was her greatest patron.

If she could win her over, she might truly build a fortune through food.

To that end, Wang Mian spared no effort to tempt her: “Little Lady, would you like to try soufflé as soft as clouds? Or red-braised pork that melts in your mouth? Or—”