Chapter Thirty-Two: Beggar’s Chicken Wrapped in Yellow Clay

Seeing that his sister Xue'e was no longer sitting across the table, Xiang Yinglong wiped the imaginary drool from the corner of his mouth and regained his composure.

“Fellow Daoist, if you ask me, you’re still too merciful. That foul-mouthed scoundrel deserved a good beating. Letting him off so easily is already a favor.”

Xiang Tong glanced at his young master and said, “He claimed the elder wasn’t worthy to sit in this tea shed, but he couldn’t even get a sip of hot tea himself—only his own stinking phlegm. And he fell flat on his face; that’s lesson enough. He’s nothing but a petty villain, not worth wasting effort on.”

Xiang Yinglong scratched his head, pondered foolishly for a moment, then agreed, “That makes sense.”

The wooden shelter regained its peace; the rain showed no signs of stopping.

Luo Changning stood up, walked to the proprietress, and asked for some items.

Half a pound of white rice, fine hemp rope, assorted spices, a large piece of cloth, and two bamboo bowls, all wrapped in a cloth bag.

Ma Xue'e tilted her head and leaned close, curious, “Brother Changning, what do you need all this for?”

Luo Changning blinked mysteriously, “The secrets of heaven must not be divulged.”

He addressed everyone, “I have some matters to attend to and must leave for a while. If the rain stops and I haven’t returned, you don’t need to wait for me. Most likely, I’ll rejoin you later.”

“But before the martial arts ranking competition, I’ll definitely be back.”

The disciples attending the tournament always had assigned inns, staying each year at Evergreen Inn, the most luxurious in Blackwater County. There was no need to worry about finding anyone.

Luo Changning had long since studied the map, familiarizing himself with every corner of Blackwater County.

“Ah, Brother Changning, you’re not traveling with us? Then Xue’e wants to go with you!” Ma Xue’e pouted, clearly unhappy.

Luo Changning was helpless and tried to comfort her, “No, it wouldn’t be proper for me to travel with a young lady. You should go with Brother Ma and the others, or you’ll be stranded without a carriage and forced to camp outdoors.”

“Yes, Sister Xue’e, Changning has important matters to handle—it wouldn’t be right for you to follow him,” Xiang Yinglong interjected hurriedly.

A girl shouldn’t casually insist on following a young man!

“Alright then…” Xue’e drooped her head, reluctantly agreeing.

Luo Changning ordered a few more side dishes and hot tea for He Guanzhong, then paid for the tea.

“Fellow Daoist, I have matters to attend to and must leave for a while. Do you have a place to stay?”

He Guanzhong smiled unconcernedly, “I roam the four seas; anywhere is home. I’ve been living up in the mountain behind here lately. Find a cave, spread some straw—that’s a dwelling. Came down today for some wine, but the heavens didn’t cooperate and brought rain. I had a few coins left, so I came to this tea stall for a bowl of old shade tea. But meeting you, fellow Daoist, is a fine thing indeed, haha.”

Luo Changning’s eyes flashed as he clasped his hands, “Fellow Daoist, I have matters to attend to—farewell for now.”

“Very well, until we meet again.” He Guanzhong clasped his hands, his eyes shining.

Leaving the wooden shed, Luo Changning mounted the carriage, found some needle and thread inside, and took out a waterproof oil cloth raincoat. Donning it, he departed.

Luo Changning didn’t know, nor did anyone else in the shed notice, that Ma Qingyun and the short, silent, and sturdy tea stall owner had exchanged glances several times, as if they had known each other for years.

Using lightness skill, Luo Changning followed the directions from his memory of the map and reached a small village behind the mountain in less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea.

The rain pattered, the air thick with earthy scent; there were no farmers working in the fields, everyone enjoying rare leisure indoors. Even the chickens and ducks were in their coops, and not a soul was on the road.

He knocked on the wooden gate of a house with a large courtyard.

He knocked for quite a while, but no one came out. Luo Changning had no choice but to call loudly, “Is anyone home?”

After waiting a bit, a middle-aged man came out into the courtyard, holding an oil-paper umbrella, and called out through the wooden gate, “Who’s out there standing in the rain? What brings you here?”

“Hello, uncle, I’m here to buy chickens.”

“Buy chickens?” the man asked, puzzled.

Though he found it odd, he opened the gate. He was a true farmer, descended from generations of tillers, honest and kind, with no crooked thoughts.

Worried that the young stranger might get soaked, he hurried to open the gate and ushered Luo Changning into the courtyard.

“Young man, it’s raining—are you cold? Come inside, have some hot tea. I’ll ask my wife to boil water so you can have a warm bath. Wait till the rain stops before you leave,” the man said warmly.

Hearing such sincere words warmed Luo Changning’s heart. In his previous life, he was a “007,” and apart from her, no one cared for him.

Now, reborn in another world, he felt the beauty of humanity from a stranger.

Seeing the man share half of his umbrella with him, even though he was already wearing a raincoat…

Luo Changning smiled, “I’m not wet—no need to trouble auntie. I’ll leave once I’ve bought the chickens.”

Though reluctant to refuse the honest man, he didn’t want to impose. It was a rare day off from farm work, and they should enjoy their rest.

“Well, at least come in for a cup of tea to warm up.”

“Alright.”

After drinking a big bowl of tea, Luo Changning followed the man to the chicken coop.

He didn’t select; the farmer caught two fat hens for him.

By then, the rain had stopped.

Luo Changning bid farewell to the friendly couple, carrying the cloth bag from the tea stall in his left hand and gripping the two hens in his right.

The hens clucked mournfully, as if they sensed their fate.

Luo Changning paid twenty extra silver taels—he had plenty of money, but for the couple, it might cover their expenses for a year or more.

The honest farmer refused to take advantage, not wanting Luo Changning to suffer a loss.

After he left, he quietly tucked the silver under their window ledge while the couple was inside.

As he approached the village entrance, he saw an old man carrying a yoke with empty wooden buckets.

“Flower maiden, flowery dress, bridal chamber candles, when she sees her beloved, her cheeks turn rosy…”

The old man spotted Luo Changning ahead and greeted him warmly, “Young fellow, whose son are you? Pale face and red lips—so handsome! I think you’d be a perfect match for our village’s belle, haha.”

Hearing the old man tease him, Luo Changning blushed.

“Uncle, I’m just passing through.”

Not interested in your village’s belle!

“A pity—a handsome young man like you isn’t here to propose to Flower Girl! I’m just a dung carrier, just delivered manure to the landlord, got caught in the rain, had a few sips at Old Li’s before heading home. Can’t chat with you, my wife’s waiting!”

Humming a little tune, the old man was about to leave.

Luo Changning realized he’d forgotten to buy wine and quickly asked, “Uncle, is there anywhere to buy wine in your village?”

“There is, there is! Good lad, drinking at your age—fine fellow, a real man!” the old man laughed.

“Just follow this road, turn left at the old locust tree. Walk another hundred paces or so, on your left is a courtyard—Old Li’s place. Li’s family has been brewing wine for generations. It won’t disappoint!”

“Thank you, uncle.”

Walking along the dirt road, he soon spotted the century-old locust tree by the roadside, its roots deep, leaves lush.

Turning left, after a dozen steps he caught the aroma of wine. Unlike Su Meng’s brew, which was light and fragrant, this was rich and robust—a man’s drink.

He bought two catties of old yellow wine and got two coarse clay bowls, then made his way up the mountain.

The mountain behind the tea stall, where He Guanzhong was currently staying, was nothing like the towering Mo Hui Mountain—these were low, small hills, so insignificant that no one bothered to name them.

It was an unnamed mountain.

Yet who could have guessed that in the future, the peerless master who would shake the entire Yaohua Continent, the great general who would conquer all, would gain his first great opportunity from this humble hill!

Even less would anyone know that the mighty gang controlling the economic lifeblood of Yaohua Continent would sprout its first shoots right here!

Luo Changning climbed the mountain and found a small pond. Drawing his dagger from his boot, he killed the two hens.

He didn’t pluck them, but instead gutted and cleaned them with spring water. From the cloth bag, he took out the spices he’d gotten from the proprietress—pepper salt, five-spice, soy sauce, white vinegar.

He rubbed the spices into the chickens’ cavities, then stitched them up. He mixed the yellow clay at the pond’s edge, coated the whole chickens—feathers and all—in clay.

He took the cloth strips, poured the rice inside, rinsed it with spring water, tied it up with hemp rope, and coated it in wet clay just like the chickens.

Leaving everything by the pond, Luo Changning went into the woods to collect dry branches and leaves.

Returning, he found a soft patch of earth, dug a hole about a foot wide and deep with his dagger.

He placed the clay-coated hens in the hole, filled it with the dry branches and leaves, and struck flint to light the fire.

He kept the fire burning for a full hour, adding fuel constantly. When he judged it done, he cleared away the branches and embers and pulled the two hens out barehanded. His hands were just as they’d been before—not a mark.

Seeing the clay around the hens glowing red, Luo Changning nodded: perfect, just right.

He was very satisfied!

In his previous life, out of boredom, he’d read all sorts of books and had once come across the method for making Beggar’s Chicken. His photographic memory ensured he never forgot, even after being reborn in another world.

He’d never cooked before; his knowledge was purely theoretical. He’d worried he might mess it up, but it turned out well.

At least, it wasn’t burnt, and it was cooked!

No wonder beggars in ancient times could make Beggar’s Chicken—it’s so simple, even a kitchen idiot could do it.

And no need for a kitchen or cookware—just a piece of broken tile and a sharp stone would suffice, not even a knife. Of course, Luo Changning had a dagger, which made things easier.

While the fire was still hot in the pit, Luo Changning placed the clay-wrapped rice inside, added a few branches on top, and let the raw rice cook itself.

He washed his hands at the pond, cleaned the bamboo bowls, clay bowls, and dagger, then sat on a large stone and closed his eyes to meditate—waiting for prey by the tree!