Chapter 74

Chapter 74: Brown Sugar Mochi

The next day, Chen Shi came bursting into Xiao Man’s courtyard like a lit firecracker.

“Miss Xiao Man! Eldest Young Master heard you’re making brown sugar mochi, so he sent me to ask what you need. Tell me the ingredients, and I’ll go get everything!”

His voice was loud enough to rattle the rafters. The old maidservants sweeping the yard all stretched their necks to look.

Xiao Man had been staring into space under the corridor. His shout yanked her back to herself.

So the Buddhist scion really was a hidden sweet tooth?

She’d only mentioned it offhand that day, and he’d remembered every word.

Fine. This was a good chance to edge closer to Old Madam.

She rose, smoothed her skirt, and kept her expression calm.

“Then I’ll trouble Brother Stone.”

“I want the best glutinous rice you can find—the stickier, the better. Also brown sugar, black sesame, peanuts, a jar of lard, and a jar of honey.”

She paused, then added as if it were nothing, “If there’s milk, even better.”

Chen Shi scratched his head and grinned.

“Easy! All common stuff. I’ll handle it!”

The ingredients arrived quickly and filled half the kitchen.

Xiao Man’s small kitchen had everything she needed, even a tiny stone mill that would do nicely.

She rolled up her sleeves, rinsed the snow-white glutinous rice until the water ran clear, and soaked it overnight.

At first light the next morning, she got up, scooped out the swollen grains, drained them well, poured them into the manor’s large wooden steamer, and set it over a fierce fire.

Steam thickened, clouding the air. Soon, the whole kitchen was steeped in a clean, sweet rice fragrance.

When the rice was done, it looked pearly and translucent.

While it was still scalding hot, she tipped it into a huge stone mortar.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

She swung the heavy wooden mallet down again and again, putting her weight into every strike.

It was brute work, but it took finesse too.

Each blow had to crush the grains completely—yet not beat the chew out of them.

Before long, sweat beaded on her forehead, and the steam painted her cheeks a soft red.

Under the relentless pounding, the sticky mass grew finer and more elastic, turning glossy and smooth, the kind of sheen that made the mouth water.

On the side, she crushed the brown sugar and mixed it with toasted soybean flour, ground sesame, and a handful of crushed peanuts. That way, when the cakes were fried, the filling wouldn’t run everywhere.

Once everything was ready, she washed her hands, pinched off a warm lump of dough, and rolled it between her palms. She pressed a hollow into it like a tiny bowl, spooned in the filling, sealed it carefully, and flattened it into a plump little cake.

Without modern, finely milled rice flour, the hand-pounded mochi had a natural, slightly rustic bite—but that pure rice fragrance was something no trick could imitate.

She spread a thin layer of golden lard over a clay griddle.

Sizzle.

As the lard melted, she lined the mochi up one by one.

Low heat. Slow fry.

Charcoal warmth rose evenly through the clay, kissing the surface until it turned lightly golden, while inside, the brown sugar softened into thick, sweet syrup.

For two full days, Xiao Man practically lived in the kitchen.

She made two kinds.

One was snowy and plump, rolled in soybean flour the moment it came off the heat—soft, sticky, and sweet.

The other was pan-fried—crisp and fragrant outside, tender and stretchy inside, sweet enough to make you close your eyes without thinking.

Staring at the neat rows on the plate, she felt a flicker in her chest and thought of Old Madam, who also favored sweets.

She called Chen Shi in and picked out the biggest, prettiest plate.

“Brother Chen Shi, please deliver this to Old Madam. Just say it’s a small token of respect from me, her servant.”

Chen Shi’s eyes locked onto the golden cakes. He nearly swallowed his tongue with his saliva and nodded fast.

“Got it! I’ll deliver it myself!”

When Chen Shi reached Old Madam’s courtyard, Third Miss happened to be there too.

“Grandmother, what is that? It smells so good!”

Third Miss was still a child—once she saw something tasty, her feet refused to move. Her eyes shone as she stared at the plate.

Dong Chun, who served at Old Madam’s side, accepted it with a smile.

“Third Miss, this is from Miss Xiao Man of the Auspicious Cloud Residence, offered to Old Madam. It’s called brown sugar mochi.”

Third Miss immediately pinched one up. She didn’t even wait for it to cool and stuffed it into her mouth.

“Mmm! So good! Crispy and soft—and so sweet!”

Her cheeks puffed like a little hamster. Two bites, and it was gone. Then she reached for a second. A third.

“Oh, my little ancestor, you can’t eat any more!”

Dong Chun waved her hands in a panic.

“It’s made from glutinous rice. Eat too much and it sits heavy—your stomach will make trouble tonight!”

She said it, but her face looked pained for another reason.

Xiao Man’s sweets were truly something else. Golden, tempting, fragrant enough to haunt you. With Third Miss eating like this, Dong Chun feared she wouldn’t taste even a crumb.

Old Madam laughed at her granddaughter’s greedy devotion. She took one herself, sipped her tea, and bit slowly.

The outside cracked with a gentle crisp, while the inside was impossibly soft. The moment she broke through, hot brown sugar syrup flowed out—sweet but not cloying, thick with rice aroma.

Old Madam nodded, satisfied.

“Mm. That maid is thoughtful.”

That night, Lin Qing Xuan returned from the scripture hall. Chen Shi trailed after him, carrying a plate of snacks and talking so fast his mouth barely paused for breath.

“Young Master, you should’ve seen it! Miss Xiao Man’s mochi was unbelievable—nothing like it under heaven! I ate three in one go! My father ate two! My mother ate two!”

He opened the food box like he was presenting treasure and pushed it toward Lin Qing Xuan.

“But don’t worry, I saved some for you! Miss Xiao Man told me you keep vegetarian, so these two were made just for you—no milk, no lard.”

“She even said they’d still taste great, just… maybe not as fragrant as the fried ones.”

Chen Shi rambled on, “Miss Xiao Man this, Miss Xiao Man that,” never noticing the way his master’s expression sank, darker by the heartbeat.

At last, Lin Qing Xuan lifted his eyes, his gaze cool and still.

“Put it down. Leave.”

His voice was calm, yet it carried weight that left no room to argue.

Chen Shi’s words stuck in his throat. He shrank his neck, set the plate down, bowed, and slipped out.

The study fell quiet.

Lin Qing Xuan stared at the two simple-looking cakes for a long moment. Then, at last, he reached out, took one between his fingers, and brought it to his mouth.

Without the lard’s toasted fragrance, the sweetness was cleaner—almost restrained.

He bit through the skin. Warm black sesame filling flooded his mouth, laced with honey’s distinct sweetness, sweet enough to make his chest tighten.

That sweetness drew a thought he didn’t want—and couldn’t stop.

Xiao Man’s lips.

“Meow…”

A pitch-black cat had appeared on his desk without a sound, watching him with jade-green eyes.

Its voice rang directly inside his mind.

“Thinking about her again?”

“She’s right next door. If you don’t act soon, she’ll run for real.”

“That otherworldly soul of hers and the Buddha Bone Relic in you are a perfect match. You can sense each other. Without her, you can’t touch another woman at all.”

“If you let her go, who will keep your devil nature in check? Think carefully.”

Lin Qing Xuan didn’t answer. He only chewed in silence, sweetness and bitterness tangled together.

The black cat flicked its tail once and vanished into the night like a shadow dissolving.