Chapter 28

Chapter 28: Why Won’t You Talk to Me?

On the way back from West Street to Peach Blossom Lane, Huo Zheng did not say another word.

Chun Zhi kept thinking about how Prince Chang’an had come to inspect Nanzhou, and no one knew when he would leave. [If this lord stays in Nanzhou for a long time, people like us who live by setting up stalls cannot open our stalls. If we cannot open, we cannot earn money. Without money, life will not work.] She worried more and more and finally let out a sigh.

Seeing that she still had not noticed he was angry and was even off in her own worries, Huo Zheng grew more displeased. He fell even more silent.

Back at the tofu workshop, Chun Zhi pushed open the gate and pulled the handcart inside. Then she turned to help Huo Qi with the wheelchair, saying: “Watch the threshold.”

But Huo Qi did not need her help. He stood up, stepped over the threshold, lifted the wheelchair in with one hand, sat down again, and rolled himself through the doorway.

Only then did it hit Chun Zhi that he seemed angry. She called his name: “Huo Qi.”

He gave no answer and pushed the wheelchair forward without looking back.

She followed and asked: “Huo Qi, why won’t you talk to me?”

He turned and shot her a look that clearly meant: “You tell me.”

She truly did not know why. Thinking it over, she guessed and asked: “Is it because I said I could ignore you but I could not ignore the money pouch?”

He snorted.

Knowing she had guessed right, she spoke at once: “I was teasing you. The money pouch matters, and you matter too. I will look after both.”

His voice was cool as he said: “Smooth talk.”

“I’m being honest.”

“Then what if you could only pick one, the money pouch or me?”

She smiled and asked: “Do you want the truth, or—”

“Truth.”

“Then I pick you.”

[If I pick the money pouch, I only get a money pouch. If I pick Huo Qi, I get Huo Qi holding the money pouch.]

Huo Zheng knew she was coaxing him, yet sometimes, even when you know it is coaxing, it still feels good to hear. He said nothing more and tossed the money pouch to her.

She caught it. Wonderful. The money pouch was back.

He had not even had time to buy buns at Li’s Bun Shop, so the coins inside had not been touched.

Looking at the tofu basket, she saw more than half the tofu was left. Tofu does not keep, and she hated to waste food. So she said to Huo Qi: “We did not sell out today. I’ll make you a Tofu Banquet.”

“What is a Tofu Banquet?” he asked.

“You don’t know this,” she said. “Don’t look down on a small block of tofu. You can make one hundred and eight dishes for a Tofu Banquet. You may not believe it, but out of those one hundred and eight, seventy are ‘red-flavor’ dishes and thirty-eight are ‘white-flavor’ dishes.”

“So are you planning to turn this half basket into one hundred and eight dishes today?”

“One hundred and eight is impossible, but eight dishes will do.”

“Do as you like.”

“Great. Start the fire for me first. I’ll take some tofu to Auntie Li and the neighbors.”

She cut the tofu into pieces, wrapped them in lotus leaves, and handed bundles to the neighbors next door. There was so much that she and Huo Qi could never finish it alone, and it was better to share with the people who always helped one another.

Huo Zheng now handled the stove with ease. In just a few moves he had the fire going. When Chun Zhi still did not return, he poured a little water into the wok so the iron would not burn red.

After a while, she came back and started working fast: mixing, frying, stir-frying, simmering, and making soup. She made Scallion Tofu Salad, Mapo Tofu, Braised Tofu, Fried Tofu Balls, Snowflake Tofu, Tofu Dumplings, Stir-fried Greens with Tofu, and a big pot of Fish Head Tofu Soup.

When the whole Tofu Banquet was set out, Huo Zheng’s expression grew a little complicated.

“You don’t eat scallions, so skip the Scallion Tofu Salad and try the other dishes,” said Chun Zhi as she served him rice and handed him chopsticks. Proud of her skill, she added: “Go on, taste them.”

He had never seen this much tofu on one table. He first picked up a cube of Mapo Tofu. One bite stunned him. This Mapo Tofu had it all: numbing, spicy, fresh, fragrant, hot, tidy, tender, and crisp. It was even better than the palace chefs made.

When he went quiet after that bite, she could not help asking: “Well?”

Though amazed, he kept his face calm and said only: “Not bad.”

“Then try the Braised Tofu,” she said, placing a piece in his bowl.

He took a bite, and his eyes lit up.

Waiting for his judgment, she asked again: “How is the Braised Tofu?”

He gave a short “Mm,” and then his appetite roared to life. He swept through the plates as if a windstorm had passed, eating more than half of every dish.

Eight dishes for two people, and in the end they nearly finished them all.

She stared in shock. She had planned to save the leftovers for dinner. She did not expect this man who avoided scallions to finish even the Scallion Tofu Salad.

Only the big pot of Fish Head Tofu Soup was not finished, because the pot was simply too large.

Afraid he would overeat and get a stomachache, she reminded him: “Even if it is good, do not eat too much. I will make it for you next time.”

“I did not eat too much,” he said. “This is my normal amount.”

In the Capital, he never took more than three bites from any one dish. Since he was young he had been taught to keep joy and anger off his face and never show his likes in front of others. If people learned your preferences, then poison and plots would soon follow. In more than twenty years, these days spent healing in this shabby house were the most relaxed he had ever been.

After the meal, Chun Zhi began clearing the bowls, and Huo Zheng, very naturally, went to wash the dishes. She did not even need to ask him now.

While he washed, she said: “I wonder how long this Prince Chang’an will stay in Nanzhou.”

He looked back at her and asked: “Why? You don’t want him to come to Nanzhou?”

“It’s not that,” she said. “But every time a high official comes to inspect Nanzhou, the soldiers do not let us set up our stalls and do not let common folk walk the streets. They act like they are terrified someone will jump out and complain in public.”

He stacked the clean bowls and asked, sounding casual: “Has something like that happened before?”

“Last time, the one who came was Lord Zhang. People called him Zhang the Upright. Someone blocked his road to file a complaint, and he took the case. But a few days later, the Courier Lodge where Lord Zhang stayed caught fire. Lord Zhang, the witnesses, and the evidence were all burned to ash.”

Hearing this, he of course knew which Lord Zhang she meant. It was because Imperial Censor Zhang had died unexpectedly while inspecting Nanzhou that Prince Chang’an had taken over the case. Nanzhou was no ordinary place. Even a royal like Prince Chang’an had faced an assassination attempt here and had almost lost his life.

He asked her: “Where did you learn all this?”