13. Two Ways to Serve a Rabbit

“Madam Wen, are these qingtuan really only available during the Qingming Festival? Can you sell them all year round?”
“Madam Wen, I have a big appetite—four aren’t enough. Please sell me a few more.”

Wen Zhongxia swiftly packed the qingtuan while answering the students’ chattering questions. She truly wanted to sell them year-round, but mugwort grows quickly and tastes best when fresh; once it ages, it loses its appeal.

Hearing this, the students became even more eager. They wanted to buy as many as possible while they were available. Someone who had just bought four turned around and lined up again at the back of the queue.

“Hey, with such a large Imperial Academy, is there really no cook who can make food? Why are you all crowding around street vendors?”

As Wen Zhongxia was busy, a slightly mocking voice rang out.

A carriage stopped not far from her stall, drawn by two tall horses, with a pair of golden bells hanging from it. A young man poked his head out from a small side window—that voice belonged to him.

“Ah, the National Academy again, always showing off.”
“I know him. His name is Feng Yuan, his father is a high official in the Privy Council, and he’s usually quite arrogant.”

Wen Zhongxia thought to herself: Privy Council official—that’s a high-ranking position. But for a student to travel in such a lavish carriage, isn’t that a bit too ostentatious?

The students of the Imperial Academy, who had just been fighting over a few qingtuan, united instantly against the National Academy crowd.

One student shouted, “This is our Imperial Academy’s business; what does it have to do with you from the National Academy?”

“That’s not how it works. The Imperial Academy and National Academy are part of the same institution, so your affairs are naturally ours too.”

Feng Yuan spoke arrogantly, “If you can’t stand it, come eat at the National Academy’s canteen. Though I’ve never been there, it should be edible. It’s more respectable than fighting over street food.”

What nonsense! Isn’t this just disdain for the Imperial Academy? The National Academy only prides itself on having wealthier officials’ children and better funding. Yet, in exams, they still lose to the Imperial Academy.

“Don’t fret over trivial matters. We’re happy to queue for Madam Wen’s stall. Her cooking may well surpass your canteen’s,” Qin Qian retorted. He would never allow anyone to belittle Madam Wen’s food stall.

“Well said!”
“We have Madam Wen; that’s enough. I’d come here every day to eat.”

Wen Zhongxia smiled, her eyes curved with delight at such genuine praise from the students.

“Thank you all for your support. In a few days, I’ll launch new items—please come and try them.”

The students cheered with excitement.

Feng Yuan cast a pitying look, thinking these Imperial Academy students must be dull and naive to praise a street food stall like this. Clearly, they were inexperienced in the world.

Seeing no point in conversing with them, he prepared to order the coachman to leave. But his gaze suddenly caught a familiar face in the queue.

“He Ran, brother He,” he called out loudly, “Why are you in line too?”

He Ran cursed inwardly—he’d tried to hide but failed. He felt everyone’s eyes on him as if he were a spy sneaking in.

Feng Yuan jumped down from the carriage and strode over, “Brother He, why is someone from the National Academy queuing outside the Imperial Academy? I’m heading to Pan Hall for a meal—come with me.”

“Thanks for the offer, Brother Feng, but I’ll pass this time. I’ll treat you next time.” He Ran had been a regular customer since Madam Wen started selling roujiamo at her stall, often coming from the National Academy during lunch breaks.

He hadn’t gotten qingtuan yesterday, and if he missed them again today, he’d be craving them to death.

Feng Yuan found it strange—He Ran’s father was a fourth-rank official, surely accustomed to finer things. Why would he be obsessed with street food? He thought He Ran was just being polite.

“Don’t decline. Come on, it’s on me.”

Feng Yuan grabbed He Ran’s arm, inviting him warmly. He Ran waved him off repeatedly, “Brother Feng, I really won’t go. Today, I just want Madam Wen’s qingtuan.”

That was close—he almost got dragged out of the line, and his turn was coming up soon. That would have been a shame.

Someone nearby sneered, “Oh, so even the National Academy students are lining up? Thought they were so special.”

“They shouldn’t be sold to National Academy students. Hmph.”

He Ran looked embarrassed and awkward—he just wanted to buy some food honestly. Those nasty words weren’t his.

Feng Yuan’s anger flared. Qingtuan is just a snack—how could it be better than the preserved fruit at Pan Hall?

He strode to the front of the line with determination.

Wen Zhongxia glanced at Feng Yuan briefly, then smiled as she asked the customer before her, “You want two red bean paste and two bamboo shoot, right?”

The student nodded.

Feng Yuan felt slighted. He stared at the green dumplings in the steamer—how could these be considered precious? He wanted to taste them for himself.

Crossing his arms and tilting his chin, Feng Yuan said, “Fine, give me two qingtuan.”

“Please queue if you want to buy, sir,” Wen Zhongxia replied calmly.

The students burst out:
“That’s right, queue at the back.”
“Why cut in line? Even if you’re from the National Academy, no exceptions.”

Feng Yuan’s face fell under their laughter. He waved his hand fiercely, “Quiet, quiet!”

He pulled a purse from his sleeve and slammed it on the counter with a thud.

“Isn’t it just money? This should be enough. Qingtuan, I want them all.”

He intended to make sure no one else could buy any.

The scene fell silent instantly.

Xu Xiu leaned over to Wen Zhongxia, whispering nervously, “What should we do?”

She was intimidated by officials, even though he was just a student—his father was powerful.

Wen Zhongxia signaled for her not to worry, maintaining her composure as she packed the qingtuan.

“This is your first time here, sir. You might not know—each person can only buy four qingtuan at a time. Please queue if you want to buy more.”

Her firmness sparked cheers among the students.

Feng Yuan hadn’t expected this gentle woman to shame him so openly. Enraged, he said, “You don’t know better. I, Feng Yuan, have never queued for food.”

“This is the rule here. No queue, no sale.” Wen Zhongxia’s cool gaze met his.

“No queue, no sale.” Wen Mengdong stood in front of his sister, puffing up his cheeks like a little adult.

Feng Yuan was furious—how dare a little kid defy him?

Wen Zhongxia glanced at her little brother, raising the corner of her mouth, then said, “Sir, if you’re not buying, please don’t disturb my business.”

“Brother Feng.” He Ran couldn’t stand it any longer. Worried Feng Yuan might cause trouble, he hurried over to pull him aside.

“Why bother arguing with a woman?” He Ran whispered. “So many people are watching. If word gets out that you’re abusing your power, it won’t look good to the officials.”

Feng Yuan calmed slightly and gritted his teeth, “For your sake, I’ll let it go. But you should come with me to Pan Hall for a meal—don’t mingle with these people.”

“That won’t do. Today, I’m determined to get my qingtuan. You go ahead.”

He Ran hurried back to the line, shamelessly standing in his original spot.

Feng Yuan was fuming, his throat burning. Looking at the hostile gazes, he spat, “Qingtuan, shmintuan. Give them to me—I won’t even eat them.”

He stormed into the carriage and ordered the coachman to leave quickly.

For once, the arrogant scion of the National Academy had been put in his place, and the students were delighted.

Madam Wen was beautiful, skilled, and unafraid of power—truly a heroine among women.

Wen Zhongxia chuckled at such praise. She was only insisting on fair business practices; she was hardly a legend.

Meanwhile, Feng Yuan’s anger hadn’t subsided at Pan Hall. He asked the proprietor if they sold qingtuan. The owner had never heard of them and only offered salted green plums and mung bean cakes—both greenish in color.

Feng Yuan barely ate a bite.

Back at the National Academy, he saw a classmate happily eating a bag of qingtuan.

That was even more infuriating.

Why did that little food stall haunt him so persistently?

Wen Zhongxia didn’t know about Feng Yuan’s continued vexation. After selling out, she closed up for the day.

It had been another fruitful day.

Uncle Li helped move the counter and other items to the yard, then took down two things from the donkey cart.

“These are wild rabbits caught in the mountains and some glutinous rice from our own fields,” his simple face looked a little shy. “My wife insisted I bring them. It’s nothing fancy, Madam Wen, Miss Xu, please don’t mind.”

Whenever Madam Wen made food, she always thought to give him a share.

Yesterday, she wrapped ten qingtuan for him to take home to his family.

At first, he didn’t know they cost six wen each. After finding out, he barely slept all night.

Such expensive food—how could his family afford it?

Both he and his wife felt they couldn’t accept gifts without returning something, but they had little to offer.

Luckily, his brother from the countryside caught a rabbit, so he skinned and cleaned it, added some glutinous rice, and finally had a proper gift to bring.

“Uncle Li, you’re too kind. Keep that fat rabbit for your kids to eat,” Xu Xiu hurried to decline.

Uncle Li placed the items on the corridor and said gruffly, “If you don’t accept it, I’ll be embarrassed to bring you goods in the future.”

“All right, thank you, Uncle Li.” Wen Zhongxia didn’t have the patience for the polite back-and-forth gifts between elders.

“This rabbit is tender; it must be delicious.”

Uncle Li finally smiled shyly, “It was just killed this morning—fresh.”

“I’ll cook it right away. Uncle Li, wait a moment, and I’ll send a bowl of rabbit meat back with you.”

“No, no, I have to go. There’s work at the carriage station.”

Uncle Li quickly waved and left. Bringing something and taking a bowl back? That made no sense.

Xu Xiu sighed, “He’s such a good man.”

Wen Zhongxia laughed, “Indeed, compared to those official kids at noon, ordinary folks are simpler and more genuine.”

“Sis, how do we eat this rabbit?” Wen Mengdong had never seen a skinned rabbit before. He was both scared and curious.

“Let’s prepare it two ways.”

After all, the little guy couldn’t handle spicy food well.

This was a true wild mountain rabbit, and luckily Uncle Li had skinned it, saving her a lot of trouble.

The rabbit meat was chopped into small pieces and marinated with yellow wine, green onions, ginger, garlic, and a bit of starch to tenderize it.

Rabbit meat absorbs oil, so more oil meant better flavor.

The diced rabbit plunged into hot oil with a sizzling sound as surface moisture was quickly fried off.

She made a separate bowl of five-spice rabbit for Xiaodong, stir-frying star anise, cinnamon, and cloves briefly before quickly removing it from the heat.

Next came the main event: spicy diced rabbit.

Dried chili and Sichuan peppercorns were tossed into the pan like there was no tomorrow. Hot oil explosively released fierce heat and numbing sensations, swiftly filling every corner of the kitchen.

Even Xu Xiu, who could handle some spice, was choked and teary-eyed.

Wen Mengdong had been kicked out earlier, but his curiosity got the better of him. He peeked around the kitchen door and was caught off guard by the rampant spiciness.

“Achoo… achoo…”

The little guy was sniffling and crying pitifully.

“Sis, help! The chili is attacking my nose!”

Wen Zhongxia could only laugh and shake her head.

After a while, Wen Mengdong’s tears stopped. His little face flushed, looking utterly pitiful.

She had thought he’d avoid the spicy dish, but when the two rabbit dishes were served—especially the fiery red spicy rabbit—he was eager to try it again.

He was a picky eater with a big appetite.