23 Pork Offal Noodle Soup

"Are you the one who sells braised dishes?"

The woman, with small but narrow eyes, darted a look around the food stall while clutching an oil-paper parcel in her right hand.

Wen Zhongxia was confused. "If you are looking for someone surnamed Wen, then that would be me."

"It's you I'm looking for."

"My good lady, how may I assist you?" Wen Zhongxia was not naive enough to believe that a woman with such a posture had come simply to purchase braised food.

The woman snorted and held the oil-paper parcel high. "I’ve come to demand justice. Your braised offal is so foul-smelling, how dare you sell it to the public?"

Wen Zhongxia frowned, but Xu Xiu spoke up first, "My good lady, you must be mistaken. Our braised offal could never be foul."

"Are you implying I am trying to swindle you? I have physical evidence right here." The woman immediately unwrapped the parcel and spread it out in front of Wen Zhongxia.

The contents were indeed braised offal—intestines, pig lungs, and pig heart—with a dull, grayish-blue color. As she brought it closer, a pungent, sour, and rotten odor wafted out.

"This is not from my stall," Wen Zhongxia said at a single glance.

"You still won't admit it?" The woman put her hands on her hips. "My son bought this. He is a student at the Imperial Academy, and he told me himself that he bought it from you."

"He said your braised dishes tasted excellent and all the students were buying them. He intended to buy some to show his filial piety to me, but who would have thought he’d end up with this rotten, stinking mess? Isn't this fraud?"

She became increasingly agitated, causing the customers at the tables to turn around and look.

Wen Zhongxia restrained herself. "If there was a problem with food from my stall, I would compensate you a hundredfold, but this is simply not mine."

She opened the lid of the ceramic jar on the counter containing her own wares. "Our braised dishes look like this; they are nothing like what you have in your hand."

The woman leaned over to look. Inside one jar was braised offal with a deep, glossy, reddish-brown hue; the other contained braised vegetables—there wasn't much left, but the aroma was fragrant and enticing.

She looked at the parcel she had brought, her expression suspicious, before she sniffed dismissively. "This is just what you braised today. It doesn't mean your previous batches were fine. Perhaps you just sold my son the leftovers from yesterday to fill the quota."

"That’s not true," Wen Mengdong’s soft voice piped up. "Our braised dishes are never enough to meet demand every day; there are never any leftovers."

"You would naturally say that, but my son would never lie to me."

The woman tilted her chin, looking triumphant. "My son is an Imperial Academy student; all the professors speak highly of him. He is a pillar of this nation’s future. Fortunately, he didn't eat it this time, but if he had ruined his health, could you bear the responsibility? You must give me an explanation today."

Wen Zhongxia was so angry she almost laughed. "My good lady, this is truly not my braised offal. I will not be a scapegoat. Why don't you call your son out for a confrontation and ask him exactly where he bought it?"

"Exactly! Call him out. The braised pork we are eating tastes wonderful. I’m curious myself how he managed to buy this stinking junk."

Feng Yuan, who had been enjoying his meal, could no longer watch as the woman acted so aggressively. He jumped up, holding his meat-stuffed bun.

The woman asked, "Are you from the Imperial Academy, too?"

"No," Feng Yuan shook his head.

"If you aren't from the Imperial Academy, what business is it of yours?"

"I am from the Imperial Clan School."

The woman’s arrogance deflated by a third, though she still spoke stubbornly. "Just because you’re a royal scion, you think you can bully the common people? Even if we go to the magistrate, I am in the right."

"My good aunt, when have I bullied you? Call your son out, and we’ll get to the bottom of this once we confront him." Feng Yuan took a large, frustrated bite of his meat-stuffed bun. It was delicious.

The woman said, "My son is busy studying; I cannot disturb him."

Wen Zhongxia was truly helpless. With a blank expression, she said, "Then let us go to the magistrate's office."

At these words, Xu Xiu’s expression grew even more nervous.

Wen Zhongxia continued, "But if it is proven that this is not my braised offal, you will be charged with filing a false accusation. I wonder if the Imperial Academy would then make a note of that on your son's record?"

The woman hesitated. She saw the royal scion from the Imperial Clan School and several other students standing on the side of the braised food stall, looking like a formidable force.

Suddenly, she slapped her thigh and began to wail, "There is no justice! So many people bullying a lone woman, and they won't even admit to selling rotten food. Is there no rule of law left?"

The surrounding crowd was collectively stunned. It was truly a case of a scholar meeting a soldier—reason could not prevail.

While the commotion continued, Shopkeeper Wang hid among the onlookers, watching secretly. At first, he had been secretly pleased; if his competitor had food safety issues, it would be to his advantage. However, as he listened, things started feeling wrong. That braised offal... could it be from his own shop?

The woman wailed louder, insisting that her family had eaten a few pieces of the foul-smelling offal and felt unwell, demanding medical compensation.

The crowd grew larger. Even Qin Qian and Zeng Nian hurried over from the dormitories upon hearing the news; they, naturally, trusted Mistress Wen.

Seeing the situation escalating, Xu Xiu whispered, "Why don't we just give her some money to send her away?"

"No," Wen Zhongxia shook her head firmly. "If we give her money, it’s as good as admitting we sold rotten food. We cannot bear such a stigma."

Qin Qian said, "She wants to take you to the magistrate to reason, but you won't go. What exactly do you want to do?"

The woman paused her wailing to answer, "Don't think I don't know—you have royal scions backing you. I wouldn't get a fair hearing at the magistrate's office either."

Feng Yuan was speechless. My good aunt, are you overestimating my influence?

Wen Zhongxia, unable to think of a better solution, asked the students nearby if anyone knew who the woman's son was. A student volunteered to go into the academy to help ask.

When the woman heard this, she put her hands on her hips and waved her arms, clearly overcome by emotion. "It doesn't matter who you find! Today, I must have an explanation!"

Just as the standoff hit an impasse, a cold, clear voice rang out: "What is happening here?"

The crowd parted automatically, and a figure in tea-white robes appeared before them.

"Professor Hang."

"Greetings, Professor."

"Professor Hang, someone is making trouble here."

Qin Qian, Zeng Nian, and the other students began to speak all at once.

Wen Zhongxia saw the newcomer clearly, and her almond-shaped eyes widened into perfect circles. Her most prestigious regular customer was actually the Professor Hang the students often talked about?

Hang Yao cast a quick glance at her before asking Qin Qian what had happened. Upon learning the cause, he turned toward the woman.

The woman stopped wailing and said, "Professor, you have arrived just in time. Please judge this for yourself. This place sells rotten food and refuses to admit it. How can the Imperial Academy allow such people to set up a stall at the entrance?"

Hang Yao frowned slightly. "May I ask for your son's name?"

"What? You don't believe me either?"

"Reason and logic dictate that he must come forward to clarify things," Hang Yao said, hands behind his back. "Even if you don't say it, I can find out."

The woman pondered for a moment, thinking that a professor of the Imperial Academy would surely handle things impartially, so she provided her son's name and the dormitory he resided in.

Zeng Nian ran off immediately to fetch him. Before long, he returned with a thin student.

The student bowed to Hang Yao before hurrying to his mother's side.

"Mother, what are you doing?"

"Son, I am seeking justice! Don't be afraid; your professor will surely stand on our side."

The student’s face turned an embarrassed shade of red.

Seeing that the person involved had finally arrived, Wen Zhongxia breathed a secret sigh of relief and asked loudly, "Since you are here, let us make it clear in front of all these people: was this portion of braised offal bought from my stall?"

The student stammered, his eyes shifting nervously.

"Speak the truth. How have I taught you to behave?" Hang Yao’s tone grew sterner.

The student trembled and finally spoke, "No."

"Oh, it's not!" Feng Yuan repeated loudly in an exaggerated manner, ensuring everyone could hear.

Others chimed in:

"If it wasn't from here, why are you making such a scene?"

"I knew Mistress Wen’s braised pork couldn't be rotten. I’ve bought it several times, and it is incredibly delicious."

"Son, you clearly said you bought it at the Wen family stall at the entrance. How is it not?" The woman was incredulous.

"Mother, it really isn't."

It turned out that his mother had heard somewhere that there was a delicious braised food stall at the entrance of the Imperial Academy and had asked him to buy some to bring home. As it happened, he had arrived late that day, and everything was sold out.

Hearing that the Wang family shop also sold it, he bought a portion there and lied, telling her he had bought it at the Wen family stall. He hadn't thought about it again afterward; he never imagined it would lead to this.

The truth was out—it was from the Wang family shop.

Shopkeeper Wang had long since slipped away.

The woman was so angry she slapped her son twice. Thinking of the embarrassment she had caused in front of the professor and the students, she wished she could crawl into a hole.

Hang Yao said, "Since you are the ones who made the mistake, you should apologize."

The mother and son stood in front of Wen Zhongxia, looking deeply ashamed.

"Mistress Wen," the student bowed, "it was all because I lied that you were misunderstood. Please forgive me."

The woman was too embarrassed to even lift her head, staring at her toes. "I was mistaken. I am sorry."

She dared not refuse to apologize; the professor was right there, and she worried it would affect her son's reputation.

Wen Zhongxia looked at them and sighed softly. "Very well. It was a misunderstanding. In the future, it is best to rely on facts and reason."

The mother and son acknowledged this, and with heads bowed, they squeezed through the crowd.

As the crowd watched, the woman didn't head home but instead grabbed her son and dashed toward the Wang family shop. She certainly had plenty of energy.

Hang Yao looked around and said in a clear voice, "Alright, class is about to begin. Everyone, disperse."

The crowd gradually scattered.

Feng Yuan, having eaten his fill and watched enough excitement, headed back to the Imperial Clan School with his followers, not forgetting to take two extra portions of braised food with him.

The small food stall suddenly became quiet.

Hang Yao lingered in place for a long while before finally gathering the courage to walk over.

"Mistress Wen, I..."

Wen Zhongxia looked up and smiled, her eyes curving. "Thank you for just now. Have you eaten?"

Hang Yao subconsciously shook his head. "Not yet."

Wen Zhongxia checked her counter. "There are only a few wontons left, the white-flour buns are sold out, and the side dishes for the hand-grabbed pancake are gone. What should I do? Everything is sold out."

Hang Yao’s expression fell. He assumed she must be annoyed that he had hidden his identity as a professor and didn't want to sell him food.

"It’s alright, then."

"I can make you a bowl of pork offal soup noodles."

They spoke at the same time.

Hang Yao froze.

"There is still a bit of braised meat left, and I have dough. I can boil a bowl of soup noodles for you. Would you like that?" Wen Zhongxia asked, smiling at him.

"Yes," Hang Yao nodded emphatically.

There were two or three students still eating at the tables, and they were astonished to see Professor Hang sit down.

Professor Hang was not eating at the canteen but at a roadside stall? This would definitely be big news back at the academy.

Hang Yao paid no attention to them. He watched her back as she pulled the dough, slamming it against the cutting board and tossing it into the air. A moment later, a steaming bowl of pork offal soup noodles was served to his table.

A thick layer of reddish-brown braised pork offal covered the entire bowl, hiding the noodles completely. Tender green cilantro was sprinkled on top, looking fresh and lovely.