“Try it. How’s the taste? Careful, it’s hot,” Zhu Ping’an said warmly, smiling as he placed the mutton soup in front of little Wang Qiong.
“Slurp… so fragrant, it’s so good I could swallow my tongue!” Wang Qiong took a sip, squinted happily, shook his head, and replied with delight.
“Sprinkle some chopped green onion and coriander—it cuts the richness and makes it taste even better. Some people like a bit of vinegar in their mutton soup. Not sure if you’re used to that, but try adding a splash when it’s almost gone,” Zhu Ping’an said, adding some green onion and coriander to Wang Qiong’s bowl, encouraging him to taste the enhanced flavor.
Wang Qiong obediently took another sip, his eyes lighting up. “My Lord, you’re amazing! The soup tastes even better with green onion and coriander. Even the nectar of the gods can’t be better than this, right?”
“Haha, I’ve never tasted the gods’ nectar, but there’s plenty tastier than this mutton soup. In the capital, there’s a small eatery called ‘Zhu’s Kitchen’ with a dish called ‘Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.’ It’s made by slow-cooking chicken, duck, lamb elbow, pig’s trotters, ribs, pigeon eggs, and more in a clay pot for hours. When the pot’s opened, the aroma wafts for miles. People say, ‘The fragrance spills out, tempting even Buddha to abandon Zen and jump the wall to eat.’ If even Buddha can’t resist, how good do you think it is?” Zhu Ping’an said with a smile.
“Even Buddha wants to eat it? That’s too delicious—it must rival the gods’ nectar. I really want to try it,” Wang Qiong said, eyes sparkling with longing, practically drooling.
“I’ll treat you to it someday,” Zhu Ping’an promised.
“Huh? Isn’t ‘Zhu’s Kitchen’ in the capital?” Wang Qiong scratched his head, looking at Zhu Ping’an.
“Haha, ‘Zhu’s Kitchen’ is my shop. My name’s Zhu Ping’an, so isn’t it normal to call it ‘Zhu’s’? Your Big Knife and Big Spear brothers have worked in the kitchen there and can make ‘Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.’ When we return from southern Zhejiang, I’ll have them make a pot for you. It’ll make you want to swallow your tongue,” Zhu Ping’an said, patting Wang Qiong’s head with a laugh.
“Wow, ‘Zhu’s Kitchen’ is yours? My Lord, you’re incredible! It’s a deal, then!” Wang Qiong’s eyes shone with admiration.
“Deal,” Zhu Ping’an nodded.
“My Lord, I need to tell you something,” Wang Qiong said, putting down his chopsticks with a serious expression.
“Oh? What is it?” Zhu Ping’an asked curiously.
“The metal figurine my grandma mentioned—the token you’re giving to Wang Zhi—you need to be careful. Maybe don’t give it to him. Grandma said when he was young, he was tricked by someone using a metal figurine, and it reminds him not to be fooled again or count money for his deceivers. Seeing it will make him wary. Grandma suggested you use it not just to gain his trust but to remind him of being tricked as a kid, making him extra cautious,” Wang Qiong said earnestly, counting off points on his fingers.
In the corner of the tent, Wang Zhi’s wife, eating her meal, froze, her chopsticks pausing as her face paled.
Wang Zhi’s mother continued sipping her soup calmly.
“Haha, thank you for the heads-up, little Wang Qiong,” Zhu Ping’an said, smiling as he patted his head.
“My Lord, I’m serious!” Wang Qiong, seeing Zhu Ping’an didn’t order the figurine withdrawn, said anxiously.
“I know, I know. Thank you, Wang Qiong. This is perfect. I want to give Wang Zhi a reminder—it shows my sincerity. I have no schemes against him. My goal is to persuade him to surrender and end the pirate scourge,” Zhu Ping’an said openly.
Hearing this, Wang Zhi’s wife, tense in the corner, finally relaxed, her pale face regaining color. She picked up her chopsticks and resumed eating the delicious, fragrant mutton.
Wang Zhi’s mother’s lips curved into a relieved smile.
“My Lord, you’re truly a gentleman. Grandma always talked about gentlemen, but I didn’t quite get it. Now I do—you’re a true gentleman,” Wang Qiong said, looking at Zhu Ping’an with starry-eyed admiration, already his little fan.
“My lord, this kid’s better with words than me,” Liu Dadao, quietly sipping his soup, said, eyeing Wang Qiong with a shake of his head.
“Haha,” Zhu Ping’an laughed. Sincerity was his trump card.
“But, my Lord, be careful. You’re a gentleman, but Wang Zhi isn’t…” Wang Qiong warned seriously.
*Clatter…*
A pair of chopsticks fell to the ground. Wang Zhi’s wife, face flushed, bent to pick them up, embarrassed.
“Grown woman and you can’t hold your chopsticks?” Wang Zhi’s mother chided.
“The soup’s greasy—my hand slipped,” Wang Zhi’s wife explained, flustered and red-faced.
The sound of the chopsticks interrupted Wang Qiong briefly. Seeing it was just his mother’s accident, he continued his earnest warning. “My Lord, Wang Zhi’s no gentleman. He’s selfish, ignoring Grandma, Mama, and me. He’s irresponsible—not a good son, husband, or father. I heard the prisoner uncles and mean jailer uncles say pirates kill, burn, harm women, and steal, doing every evil. There’s no good among them. You’re a gentleman, but beware of villains. You won’t deceive him, but don’t let him deceive you…”
Wang Qiong rambled on, urging Zhu Ping’an to be cautious of Wang Zhi’s deceit.
“Whose son are you? Isn’t Wang Zhi your father? People might think you’re our lord’s son,” Liu Dadao teased, patting Wang Qiong’s head with a laugh.
“I don’t want to be Wang Zhi’s son! He got Grandma and Mama locked up, suffering for years. He’s my enemy,” Wang Qiong said, swatting Liu Dadao’s hand away, his eyes red like a rabbit’s.
“Little Wang Qiong, life is full of temptations, and one misstep can lead to eternal regret. But who hasn’t made mistakes? To err is human; to correct is divine. If Wang Zhi repents, he can achieve great good. His pirates are the biggest scourge in Jiangnan. If he turns from darkness to light, the pirate problem can be quelled soon, benefiting millions. He’d go from villain to hero, a true meritorious figure in ending the scourge,” Zhu Ping’an said gently.
Wang Qiong thought for a moment and nodded.
Wang Zhi’s mother and wife were deeply moved, their eyes filled with gratitude toward Zhu Ping’an.
