“It’s infuriating! All that effort picking vegetables for nothing! The urgent military report the night before last made the master skip four meals, and now another urgent report’s come—who knows how many more meals he’ll skip because of it! Don’t these officials and generals have any backbone? All they do is lose battles day after day!” A vegetable-picking auntie threw the greens she’d been holding onto the ground, grumbling about the officials’ constant failures.
Lately, every military report brought news of defeat—varying only in whether it was a major or minor loss.
“Shut your jinxing mouth and pick those up to wash! Whether the master eats isn’t your concern. Just do your job properly,” the head chef snapped, glaring at her irritably.
“Alright, alright…” the auntie muttered, picking up the vegetables and washing them in a basin.
The kitchen staff went about their tasks listlessly—chopping vegetables, boiling water, blanching… They had no choice. The latest urgent military report had hit them hard. The previous one had already caused Zhang Jing to skip four meals, and now another had arrived. They couldn’t bear to imagine how furious he’d be this time.
Zhang Jing, already in a temper, was unlikely to eat. So, the staff worked without enthusiasm, even the head chef, whose sighs echoed through the kitchen. Knowing their efforts were likely futile, how could they muster any spirit?
As the kitchen staff toiled in their gloomy, half-hearted state, a sudden burst of hurried footsteps sounded in the courtyard.
“Who’s that? Have they no manners?” The head chef looked out, annoyed. Didn’t they know the kitchen was a sacred space, not to be disturbed? A sudden commotion could ruin a delicate dish, throw off the timing, or disrupt knife work. Could they bear the responsibility?
Under the head chef’s displeased gaze, a panting messenger dashed into the courtyard, shouting toward the kitchen, “Master Wang, Master Wang! Quick, whip up a few quick dishes! The master wants to dine with the courier who just arrived from Shaoxing, eating while discussing details. Hurry, I need to take them right away—the master’s waiting!”
What?! Did I hear that right? The master’s dining with the courier bringing urgent military news, eating while discussing details?
The head chef, about to scold the intruder, was stunned by the words, his mouth agape, eyes lighting up.
Thank heavens! The master’s finally going to eat!
Jade Emperor, Guanyin Bodhisattva, Three Pure Ones, Buddha—did you hear my prayers and finally show your mercy?
“Wonderful, wonderful! The master’s going to eat!” The kitchen erupted in incredulous, joyous cheers. Some were nearly in tears from relief. It had been so tough—four missed meals, and now the master was finally eating.
“Hold on, Brother Stupe. You’re not just craving a drink, bold enough to fake the master’s orders to scam some dishes from the kitchen, are you?” The maid, amidst her excitement, couldn’t quite believe it. The urgent report two nights ago had made the master skip four meals—could today’s report really prompt him to eat willingly? The difference was staggering.
Could Stupe be lying?
Especially since Stupe was notorious for his love of liquor, even sipping a bit of vinegar-dipped chopsticks would make him down a couple of ounces of spirits.
Was he so desperate for a drink today that he’d dare fake the master’s orders to trick the kitchen into giving him food to pair with his liquor?
The maid eyed the messenger suspiciously.
“Yeah, Stupe, you’re not itching for trouble, trying to pull a fast one on your Master Wang, are you?” The head chef, prompted by the maid’s words, also looked at the panting messenger with suspicion, waving his ladle menacingly.
“Oh, come on, that’s unfair! Little Peach, Master Wang, what do you take me for? Am I that kind of person?” Stupe the messenger cried out, aggrieved.
“You are,” the maid nodded firmly.
“I… Even if I were, I wouldn’t be bold enough to fake the master’s orders! That’s asking for death! Everyone knows how strict the master is. How many heads do I have to risk that?” Stupe gestured wildly, veins popping on his neck in frustration.
The head chef, the maid, and the kitchen staff stared at him silently, still half-doubting his words.
Seeing their expressions, Stupe slapped his thigh in urgency. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I swear on my eighteen generations of ancestors, I’m telling the truth! Don’t doubt me—this came straight from the master’s mouth! We can’t afford to delay, or we’ll all be in trouble! Let me tell you, this urgent report is great news!”
“Massive, fantastic news! The courier came from Shaoxing, sent by Lord Zhu Ping’an, the Governor of Zhejiang. You don’t know, but this morning, Lord Zhu split his forces and fought three major battles against the pirates in northern Zhejiang. All three were victories! Especially the force led by Lord Zhu himself, which nearly annihilated five thousand invading pirates. The courier said these three battles yielded five or six thousand pirate heads—a tremendous victory!”
“The master was thrilled when he heard. Even General Li, who came to beg forgiveness with thorns, benefited. The master was about to throw him in prison and schedule his execution to enforce military discipline.”
“But because of this great news, the master’s mood improved. Instead of execution, he reduced it to a hundred military lashes.”
“Now the master’s pleased and wants to hear the battle details. He noticed the courier rode hard from Shaoxing since dawn without eating, so he sent me to the kitchen to get you to prepare some quick dishes. I’m to bring them back so the master can dine with the courier and discuss.”
Stupe swore passionately, spilling everything he knew to prove his words were true.
“Looks like he’s telling the truth,” the head chef nodded, convinced.
“Quick, pack the stewed soup in a clay pot, plate the stir-fried dishes, and get the cold dishes ready. Hurry, hurry!” The head chef issued orders, immensely grateful he’d insisted on preparing lunch earlier.
The kitchen staff sprang into action, packing the stewed soup, hot dishes, and cold dishes into baskets and food boxes.
“That’s a lot! I can’t carry it all—the clay pot alone is too much,” Stupe scratched his head.
“No one said you had to carry it alone. It’s rare for the master to request food, so we’ll send two people to help you carry it and go with you,” the head chef said, tossing more seasonings into a pan and finishing another dish as he spoke.
“Go quickly, don’t delay,” he urged, placing the new dish in the food box and assigning two staff to help Stupe carry the load and deliver the meal.
