Chapter Forty-Eight: Origins

In later generations, there was an actor—a black fellow—who once delivered these lines:
A fundamental principle—any place, any time, any occasion, any man can make any woman fall in love.
Of course, the key is to find the right method, even if you are blind.
But that man also warned:
“Never confess your feelings to a woman right away. That’s tantamount to courting disaster.”
If Wu Ning were to utter these words in the future, they might mean nothing; but in the prosperous Tang dynasty, thirteen or fourteen centuries ago...
They carried a hint of ambiguity, a touch of danger.
They left Qin Miaoniang at a loss, unsure whether to stay or leave.
Wu Ning regretted it as well, but there was no helping it; to cover one lie, he must weave many others.
It was proof that living openly and honestly is far less exhausting.
Thinking quickly, he said, “Please, young lady, have a seat. You must be tired from your journey—would you like something to quench your thirst?”
Qin Miaoniang, eager to ease the awkwardness, lowered her head and softly replied, “Alright...”
She sat down in a fluster.
“A bowl of sour milk will do.”
“Very well.”
Wu Ning answered, reached for the jar beside him, and poured a bowl of yogurt.
“Ah...”
He was unprepared for the sudden cry from Xianglan as the yogurt filled the bowl.
Wu Ning frowned, wondering what was wrong. He thought he had played his part convincingly enough.
He heard Xianglan say, “Young master, I fear this sour milk has gone bad.”
“Gone bad?” Wu Ning shook his head. “How could that be? It was freshly made just recently.”
“See for yourself!” Xianglan pouted. “It’s so thick, it’s like paste.”
...
How could a “blind man” see for himself?
“Do you mean the yogurt is too thick?”
“Yes!”
Wu Ning smiled, “That’s exactly right. My yogurt is different from the others.”
He reached into a nearby basket and took out an orange and a pear.
Turning to Qin Miaoniang, he asked, “Do you prefer oranges or pears, young lady?”
Qin Miaoniang was puzzled by his question, but pointed to the orange. “Oranges.”
“Very well.” Wu Ning nodded.
He quickly peeled the orange, carefully removing the membrane around each segment with a small knife, leaving only the pulp. He placed the segments in a mortar and gently crushed them.

Finally, he poured the golden orange juice and pulp into the thick yogurt, creating a bowl of orange-flavored yogurt.
He pushed it in front of Qin Miaoniang and handed her a small spoon. “Try it. See if you like the taste.”
Qin Miaoniang eyed the thick bowl before her, hesitant to try it.
“This... It really is quite different.”
Of course it was different, Wu Ning thought.
Tang dynasty yogurt, though called yogurt, was made with sheep’s milk and fermented differently, resulting in a tart but thin drink, much like the calcium-rich milk drinks of later times.
Wu Ning found it pleasant enough, though thin like water, without much variety.
Because it was so watery, adding fruit would only sink to the bottom, making it impossible to change its flavor.
But this time, Wu Ning used cow’s milk, and added a step of high-temperature sterilization, prolonging fermentation and making the yogurt thick. The orange pulp floated in the creamy liquid, speckled throughout, giving it a unique taste and an appealing appearance.
In truth, Wu Ning had prepared this innovation to counter Aunt Seven. The reason he hadn’t done so earlier was simple—
He had no competition!
Without rivalry, there’s no need for innovation.
Back when he was the only vendor on Changluo Mountain, it didn’t matter what he sold—there was no need for variety.
But now, things had changed. Aunt Seven, that shrew, had set up her own stall and launched a price war. Wu Ning could only innovate to win back customers.
He hadn’t expected, though, that his new creation would first be tasted by Qin Miaoniang.
With eager eyes, he said, “Try it, I think you’ll like it.”
After Wu Ning urged her twice, Qin Miaoniang could not refuse. She nodded, picked up the spoon, scooped a little, and slowly tasted it.
The moment it touched her tongue, her eyes lit up.
The sweetness of the orange blended perfectly with the tang of the yogurt. The thick, creamy texture melted in her mouth, spreading its sour aroma—delicious indeed.
Silently, she took another spoonful.
“How is it?” Wu Ning asked, slicing the pear, his face full of anticipation.
He wasn’t sure if the locals would accept such thick yogurt.
Qin Miaoniang answered with a faint smile, “Delicious.”
Having said those two words, she fell silent, enjoying her orange yogurt.
Wu Ning felt greatly relieved. He added chopped pear to another bowl of yogurt and handed it to Xianglan, “You try some, too.”
Xianglan, seeing her mistress enjoy the treat, had already swallowed her saliva several times. She wasted no time, taking the bowl and eating.
Though the yogurt looked thick and unlike usual, it still made one’s mouth water.
“Mm! It’s really good!” Xianglan was less shy than Qin Miaoniang, and announced it loudly.
Wu Ning heard her clearly, as did Aunt Seven across the mountain path, who turned to look.
She wondered, What could be so tasty that these two city folk are so delighted?

Seizing a moment when Wu Ning wasn’t watching, Aunt Seven leaned over for a look, curling her lip in disdain.
“Hmph, it’s just an orange! City folk really are sheltered!”
She resolved to prepare fresh oranges tomorrow, to copy the new trick for herself.
...

On the other side, after a few mouthfuls, Qin Miaoniang felt satisfied. She looked up at Wu Ning and asked, “Did you invent this way of making yogurt?”
Wu Ning dared not take credit. “Thick yogurt isn’t uncommon near the capital; it’s just unknown here in Fangzhou.”
“Oh.” Qin Miaoniang recalled that Wu Ning’s accent was slightly different from the local dialect.
“So you’re from the capital, not a native of Fangzhou?”
Wu Ning nodded, “Five years ago, my family suffered a great calamity, and I came here with my uncle to seek refuge.”
...
A look of sympathy crossed Qin Miaoniang’s face; it was easy to guess that his parents were likely gone, and with his eye ailment, she had probably touched upon his sad memories.
Thinking that they were about the same age, yet Wu Ning not only ran an inn but also set up a stall by the roadside, while she herself...
She wanted to comfort him, “Young master, your perseverance despite hardship is truly admirable.”
Wu Ning shrugged, “What else could I do?”
“Heaven rewards the diligent, not the pitiful.”
“Yes.”
Qin Miaoniang nodded. Though it was the first time she’d heard such words, she found them reasonable.
“From your manner of speaking, I sense you come from a learned family. How did you end up in the wilds?”
Wu Ning: ...
Wu Ning fell silent—not because he didn’t want to answer, but because he himself didn’t know how he’d ended up here.
Truth be told, Wu Ning was no fool; in fact, he was smarter than most.
He’d watched his uncle’s dejected demeanor for five years; he’d been present when Meng Cangsheng dismissed Qiu Shenji with a few words.
Moreover, with his uncle’s knowledge and depth, how could he really be just a farmer from the suburbs of the capital, as they said?
There must be secrets untold, mysteries he longed to uncover.
But since his uncle would not speak, this puzzle must remain buried in his heart.
...