As the conversation went on, it reached mealtime. Seeing that Zhao Wenhua and Hu Zongxian had no intention of leaving, Zhu Ping’an had no choice but to arrange for a meal to be prepared.
“Oh, Zihou, you shouldn’t have… But please, no extravagance. Three dishes and a soup will do for the three of us.”
Zhao Wenhua made a polite gesture.
Zhao Wenhua took the seat of honour, facing south, while Zhu Ping’an and Hu Zongxian sat opposite each other. The table was set with six dishes, a soup, and a pot of tea.
“Look at you, Zihou. Didn’t I say just three dishes and a soup would suffice? And yet you’ve gone and prepared six dishes and a soup. Let’s not make this a habit, alright?” Zhao Wenhua complained at the table, though his face showed clear satisfaction.
“Thank you for your generous hospitality, Lord Zhu. I’ll shamelessly indulge,” Hu Zongxian said with a chuckle, clasping his hands in gratitude to Zhu Ping’an.
Zhao Wenhua was the first to pick up his chopsticks, taking a bite. As he chewed, his eyes suddenly widened.
“What’s wrong? Is the food poisoned?” Hu Zongxian, seeing Zhao Wenhua’s expression, was so startled that he froze with his chopsticks hovering over a dish, not daring to take a bite.
“Meilin, try it quick! This food is delicious—better than imperial cuisine, not inferior to the chefs at Lord Yan’s residence!”
Zhao Wenhua urged Hu Zongxian to taste the food.
Hu Zongxian took a bite and found it truly delicious. As for whether it surpassed imperial cuisine, he couldn’t say, having never tasted it. And as for Lord Yan’s residence, he’d never even set foot there, let alone dined there.
“Master Zhao flatters me. I’ve had the honour of tasting imperial cuisine and dining at Lord Yan’s banquet, and their flavours far surpass my household’s,” Zhu Ping’an said, shaking his head. He was telling the truth—while his family’s food was indeed tasty, claiming it outdid imperial cuisine or Lord Yan’s was an exaggeration. He’d not only seen the pig run but eaten the pork itself.
“Oh, the flavours are different. Imperial cuisine is grand to the extreme, not suited for the stomachs of common folk like us. Lord Yan’s banquets are known for their extravagance, rarity, exquisiteness, and finesse—impressive at first, but after a while, they’re just so-so and don’t go well with rice. Otherwise, why does Lord Yan visit Liubiju every so often? Why does Donglou frequently hold banquets elsewhere? It’s to change up the taste. Your household, Zihou, is different. It’s both refined and down-to-earth, and it goes perfectly with rice. That’s the true taste of human delight!”
Zhao Wenhua commented with the air of an expert.
“Indeed, Lord Zhu, though I’ve never tasted imperial cuisine or Lord Yan’s banquets, this is undeniably the best meal I’ve had since arriving in Jiangnan. Especially the pickled vegetables served with the meal—so crisp and refreshing, they really whet the appetite!” Hu Zongxian chimed in, his chopsticks moving swiftly as he spoke.
“Well said, Meilin. Since arriving in Jiangnan, I’ve attended grand banquets almost daily, but this meal is the best, bar none,” Zhao Wenhua said, giving a thumbs-up in agreement.
“Heh, if it’s good, then eat heartily,” Zhu Ping’an said with a smile.
Zhao Wenhua indeed ate heartily, polishing off two bowls of rice, as did Hu Zongxian.
“Tell me, Zihou, would you part with your chef? I’ll trade you ten fine steeds capable of travelling a thousand li,” Zhao Wenhua said, half-joking, half-serious, as he sat back, sated.
“I’m afraid I must disappoint you, Master Zhao. My wife adores the chef’s cooking and can’t do without it for a single meal. If I gave the chef to you, my household would be in turmoil,” Zhu Ping’an replied with a smile, also half-joking, half-serious.
“Hahaha, truly, even heroes can’t resist a beauty’s charm! Since your dear wife loves the chef, I’ll be a gentleman and not take what’s cherished,” Zhao Wenhua laughed, waving his hand and abandoning the idea of acquiring the chef.
“Speaking of meals, it reminds me that a person’s life is fleeting. Seventy years is rare, and how many live as long as my adoptive father, Lord Yan? In these short seventy years, ten are spent in ignorant youth, and ten in frail old age, leaving just fifty. Half of those are spent in daylight, half in night, leaving a mere twenty-five years. Add in wind and rain, calamities and illnesses, and running about here and there—how many good, proper days are left to enjoy? It’s short, so short it makes one anxious. So, Zihou, Meilin, life is brief—seize the day. Whether it’s the pleasures of the palate or chasing fame and glory, it’s all enjoyment. Serving the world doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves, does it?”
During tea after the meal, Zhao Wenhua held his teacup, gently skimming the tea with the lid, speaking like a life mentor to Zhu Ping’an and Hu Zongxian.
Zhu Ping’an tugged at the corner of his mouth, offering a polite smile while keeping his retorts to himself.
“Lord Zhao speaks wisely. Aspiring to serve the world doesn’t preclude bettering oneself. I act for the people, pleading their cause, but just because the common folk eat chaff and weeds doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy meat and wine,” Hu Zongxian said, strongly agreeing with Zhao Wenhua.
“To serve the world and enjoy ourselves, we need one word: harmony. As the saying goes, harmony brings wealth,” Zhao Wenhua continued with a smile.
“So, Zihou, I truly, truly admire you. I won’t hide it—when I came here, Donglou instructed me to deal with you. But as you’ve seen, during the great sea sacrifice victory, with so many people involved, including Meilin, I reported you as the primary contributor. And with your subsequent achievements, I’ve consistently petitioned His Majesty to recognise your merits. Just now, when you mentioned your difficulties, I did everything in my power to resolve them. Why? Why didn’t I follow Donglou’s orders, not only refraining from making things difficult for you but supporting you instead? For the sake of one word: harmony.”
Zhao Wenhua grew more animated as he spoke, even revealing the confidential instructions Yan Shifan had given him before leaving the capital.
Hu Zongxian was surprised to hear Zhao Wenhua mention Yan Shifan’s secret orders, but knowing Zhao Wenhua well, he understood there must be a deeper purpose. He refrained from interrupting or cautioning him, lest he overstep and ruin Zhao Wenhua’s plan.
Zhu Ping’an wasn’t surprised to hear Zhao Wenhua reveal that Yan Shifan had instructed him to deal with him before leaving the capital. Even if Zhao Wenhua hadn’t said it, Zhu Ping’an knew that Yan Shifan and Yan Song would have ordered Zhao Wenhua to come to Jiangnan for the sea sacrifice and oversee the campaign while also targeting him.
The reason he’d been sent away from the capital was because he had supported Yang Jisheng’s impeachment of Yan Song, offending the Yan Party. It would be strange if the Yan Party didn’t target him.
As a high-ranking member of the Yan Party, Zhao Wenhua, coming from the capital to Jiangnan, would surely have been tasked by Yan Song and Yan Shifan to deal with him.
As for the sea sacrifice victory, Zhao Wenhua reporting him as the primary contributor wasn’t as he claimed. Zhu Ping’an had turned the tide in that victory, witnessed by numerous officials, generals, and common folk. With his right to submit confidential memorials, Zhao Wenhua had little choice but to report him as the primary contributor.
What’s more, Zhao Wenhua’s report of the sea sacrifice victory claimed he had used himself as bait to lure the pirates deep—what nonsense. Zhu Ping’an had detected the threat in advance, prepared accordingly, and turned the tide. Zhao Wenhua hadn’t known a thing until the pirates were at the gates. His claim of using himself as bait was pure self-aggrandisement, and Zhu Ping’an had to play along. Could Zhao Wenhua have avoided reporting him as the primary contributor?
As for resolving difficulties today, wasn’t that just a transactional exchange for claiming the oversight credit for the northern Zhejiang victory?
