Chapter Fifty-One: Imperial Capital Roast Duck

Mingtian watched Yunizi depart, then glanced at Anlu standing there like a wooden statue, feeling helpless inside. Truly, this was a fated entanglement.

Anlu’s face darkened, as if he still felt apologetic toward Yunizi.

“Anlu,” Mingtian stepped forward and patted his shoulder.

“Huh? Brother Mingtian? And… Miss Yinchan? You’re here too?” Anlu had clearly not noticed Mingtian and Yinchan, and was startled. Yet his gaze never left Yinchan, as if wanting to express his feelings to her.

Yinchan, unusually, faced Anlu’s fiery gaze without aversion, instead smiling and nodding before turning and leaving.

Mingtian witnessed it all, feeling a bit concerned for Yunizi, but after considering, refrained from interfering. He had already guessed the reason behind what had just happened.

According to the plan, tomorrow Yunizi would enter the palace with Wang Jingze to meet the emperor, and Wang Jingze would present him to Xiao Baojuan.

It was said that after eating Mingtian’s dishes, Emperor Qiming Xiao Luan was overjoyed that morning, but his excessive excitement worsened his illness, and he fainted. Before losing consciousness, he managed only to say: “Reward the chef handsomely.”

He likely had little time left. Now, the entire court was under the regency of Xiao Yaoguang. Once Emperor Qiming passed away, the crown prince would automatically ascend the throne.

Thus, the selection of the crown princess was beyond Xiao Yaoguang’s control; it had to be decided by the crown prince Xiao Baojuan himself.

Perhaps that was why Yunizi could no longer restrain her feelings and chose to spend one last night with Anlu.

The best evidence was the bamboo tube of pigeon blood Yunizi left among her clothes in the room, spilling everywhere—likely prepared for tomorrow.

Sadly, Anlu’s feelings for Yinchan were too deep, and Yunizi’s hopes were dashed.

After much thought, Mingtian realized this was not his affair to meddle in.

It was between Anlu and Yunizi; Anlu loved Yinchan, not Yunizi, and that couldn’t be changed.

From Mingtian’s perspective, Yunizi was likely so fixated on assassinating the emperor and crown prince because history had been altered by a traveler; the earlier scene probably wouldn’t affect tomorrow’s plan.

So Mingtian could not, and would not, interfere.

Yunizi was certainly a loser in love, and Mingtian sympathized with her, but no matter how upright his views, he was still only human—a small, ordinary human.

Mingtian was no omnipotent protagonist; there were things he couldn’t do, or didn’t have time to do.

His own feelings for Xiao Xinzhu and the ongoing plan kept him busy enough—how could he spare time for matters trivial to a modern man?

“Brother Mingtian, did I do something wrong?” Anlu, lost and powerless like a child, sought guidance from Mingtian.

Mingtian looked at him, then merely patted his shoulder: “There’s no right or wrong in feelings. If you don’t like Yunizi, you can’t help her. Just follow your heart. Besides…”

Mingtian, with a bit of calculation, pointed with his chin behind Anlu: “Since you like Yinchan, do you think standing here is the best thing?”

Anlu turned around to see Yinchan, alone, exerting all her strength to move a roasting oven nearly half the size of a person.

Seeing this, Anlu’s expression grew serious, and he hurried over in three quick strides.

“Miss Yinchan, let me help you.” Anlu, silly as ever, returned to his usual self.

Watching the pair, Mingtian, for reasons unknown and at an uncertain moment, felt that Anlu and Yinchan did seem somewhat well-matched.

Of course, Yinchan had been a man in her previous life…

Clang…

Metal screeched across the ground. At that moment, the roasting oven that had taken both Mingtian and Yinchan all their strength to move, Anlu hoisted onto his shoulder with one hand, not even breaking a sweat.

Good heavens, Anlu, did you grow up eating pure cholesterol? That thing must weigh at least a hundred and fifty pounds!

Then, Mingtian watched as Anlu, carrying the oven and guided by Yinchan’s instructions, jogged forward with ease and delight.

Ah! I can’t take it—why is the gap between men so wide? My self-esteem! Please, even for the sake of my poor dignity, could you at least pretend to be a little tired? I feel so embarrassed!

Looking at Yinchan, she was gazing at him with mocking eyes.

Though she said nothing, the look was clear to Mingtian: “See? That’s what a real man is.”

Well then, I truly seem effeminate…

Mingtian’s face flushed with embarrassment, and he retreated indoors.

That night passed quietly.

The next day…

Before dawn, Mingtian rose.

Just as his susceptibility to motion sickness had traveled across worlds with him, so too had his habit of sleeping only five or six hours a night due to work pressure.

This time, Mingtian was wiser: he went to the stables, rented a carriage, and easily transported the heavy roasting oven—over a hundred and fifty pounds—to the kitchen.

Unlike yesterday, when lack of experience made him late, today, at the first quarter of the hour of the tiger—about 3:30 AM—Mingtian had already arrived at the kitchen.

The hour of the tiger was when the kitchen began work; yesterday, Mingtian had arrived at the first quarter of the hour of the hare, simply because he hadn’t known.

The emperor dined at the hour of the snake, so all dishes had to be ready by the third quarter of the hour of the dragon.

Mingtian calculated that he had two and a half hours, that is, five hours.

Though the time was tight, making Capital Roast Duck was doable as long as he worked quickly.

“Young man, you’re awfully punctual for work today.” Qian Shanduo, as yesterday, stood at the door doing nothing, acting as if he were not the kitchen steward but a royal attendant.

That fat, sly face, even aside from personal grudges, was so unpleasant that Mingtian could barely resist the urge to punch him.

Such demeanor—ugly, wicked, and rotten inside.

“Yes, I made a mistake yesterday, I can’t repeat it today.” Mingtian feigned a flattering manner, bowing and nodding.

Qian Shanduo’s fat, swollen eyes glanced at the roasting oven on the carriage behind Mingtian.

“This is the tool you said you’d use for today’s dish?” Qian Shanduo stepped forward, scrutinized it for a while, but couldn’t make sense of it: “Forget it, as long as you can make good food for me, just drag it in.”

He didn’t make things too difficult for Mingtian.

Though the contraption looked crude, Qian Shanduo remembered Mingtian’s performance yesterday and didn’t care to interfere.

So long as the boy made good dishes for me to claim credit, that’s all that mattered.

That was Qian Shanduo’s thinking.

He didn’t know that this roasting oven was the first step toward his downfall!

Once inside, Mingtian placed the oven on the rooftop. Today, Qian Shanduo required Mingtian, as a kitchen worker, to prepare a main dish on the rooftop, and Mingtian would make the famous dish known to modern people: Capital Roast Duck!

If Buddha Jumps Over the Wall embodied the essence of soups, then Capital Roast Duck could be called the essence of roasting!

Though not ancient, this dish distilled the essence of roasting in China.

Marinating, cooling, roasting—a proper Capital Roast Duck needed six hours of careful preparation.

With modern tools, it was difficult but feasible for most, but in the Northern and Southern Dynasties, even the Imperial Kitchen’s tools were rudimentary. For Mingtian, it was a great challenge.

Of course, not one-tenth as difficult as Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.

Mingtian had no airs, disliked ordering others around, and most importantly, did not trust the recruited kitchen workers, so he handled all ingredient selection himself.

Capital Roast Duck required both white sugar and maltose. Maltose was easy enough, but white sugar did not exist in this era, so Mingtian chose another ancient sugar as a substitute.

Cane sugar.

This sugar, which appeared as early as 300 BC, had a long history, first recorded in “Chu Ci,” but was not widely used. If Yinchan hadn’t told him last night, Mingtian wouldn’t have known about it.

“Young brother, how did the soaking go last night?” While selecting ingredients, Mingtian ran into Zhao Ke.

“Dried scallops, sea cucumbers, turtle skirt, shark fin, and abalone are all soaking—progress is good, should be ready by the morning after tomorrow.” Mingtian replied cautiously.

Buddha Jumps Over the Wall was the lynchpin of the plan; no leaks until the last moment.

“Speaking of which, I must thank you. Without you, I couldn’t have made Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.” Mingtian was never stingy with gratitude.

Zhao Ke turned his face, and his eyes, unlike yesterday, now shone with resolve.

“Young brother, as long as Qian Shanduo pays the price, my life is yours. Whatever you need, just ask—if I can do it, I’ll do it or die trying!”

His hatred for Qian Shanduo was real.

“If you’re offering help, there’s something I do need.” Mingtian said, blushing a little with embarrassment.

Zhao Ke patted his chest: “Our cooperation must be hidden from Qian Shanduo, so I can’t help with the cooking lest he suspect, but I can teach you. Go ahead—there’s no ingredient under heaven I can’t handle.”

“Um…” Mingtian still felt awkward, but he forced himself to ask.

“I’ve never killed a duck—can you teach me?”

Mingtian humbly sought guidance.

Before crossing worlds, unless buying fish or shrimp, who bought live ducks to slaughter themselves? Everyone just had them killed at the market and brought home to cook!

“Uh… huh?!”

Zhao Ke was stunned, both eyes filled with incredulity.

“You… such a skilled chef… never killed a duck?”

…………………………

This was written in a hurry, no time for typo checking—sorry, I’ll check this afternoon after work. Going to my job now, everyone.