As the Hotpot Festival began, it wasn't the Gao Villagers who first displayed undignified eating habits.
Gao Village had long passed the stage of being "starving ghosts fighting for scraps."
The ones with the pitiable manners were the civilian porters hauling the grain.
They were poor, wretched men, conscripted by the government. They had pushed heavy grain carts over a hundred li from Hancheng to Gao Village, utterly exhausted, and hadn't had a decent meal along the way.
Seeing such a lavish spread of ingredients and pots of boiling broth, their restraint snapped.
The porters hung back timidly, eyeing the Gao Villagers, unsure if they dared partake. But after seeing the Saintess give a subtle nod, the villagers understood. They smiled warmly, picked up chopsticks, and began dropping the prepared food into the bubbling pots.
Sliced meat, tripe, duck intestines, lotus root…
A cornucopia of ingredients immediately began dancing in the broth, the complex aroma of hotpot filling the air—a scent laced with a sharp, unfamiliar pungency the porters didn't yet recognize.
Starving, and now seeing their hosts' permission, the porters eagerly grabbed long chopsticks, fishing a piece of meat from the pot to shove into their mouths.
"Wait!" Gao Yiye quickly intervened. "Your constitutions are different from ours here. You must not eat from the red broth pots. It could upset your stomachs severely, even be fatal. You may only eat from the clear broth pots."
Only then did the porters notice there were two kinds of pots: one with a fiery red broth, and another with a milky white one…
Heeding the warning, they remembered the red broth did smell peculiar. They hurried to the clear broth pots, fished out the cooked food, and tossed it into their mouths…
Hiss! So hot! So hot!
But so incredibly good!
"The flavor is so rich! There's salt, oil, even pepper… so many seasonings! It's delicious!"
The porters had never tasted anything so exquisite. They began eating with tears streaming down their faces, like abandoned kittens being fed, crying even as they devoured the food.
Hong Chengchou's soldiers and retainers then stepped forward to join in, soon echoing the porters' exclamations of delight.
With the guests started, the Gao Villagers saw no reason to wait. Time to eat!
Over four thousand people swarmed around the hundreds of pots, dipping and cooking together.
"Wow, the red broth has a real kick!"
"Hiss!So spicy, so spicy! I can't handle it! I'm switching to clear broth."
"Eh?You don't like it? I find this spicy heat quite thrilling!"
Most couldn't handle the spice. Fortunately, Li Daoxuan had anticipated this. He hadn't prepared many red broth pots—only about a dozen. Clear broth was the main event. So most people gathered around the mild pots, while a brave few huddled around the spicy ones, eating noisily and unashamedly.
Quickly, Hong Chengchou's men and the Gao Villagers melted together, distinctions of status forgotten, all transformed into "wine-and-meat friends" sharing a pot.
"Here, brother, try this piece of meat. So good!"
"Blood curd has such a strange texture."
"But it's really delicious!Hahaha!"
"Here,dip this bamboo shoot."
"It's almost summer!How do you still have bamboo shoots? How were they preserved?"
"These are celestial bamboo shoots.Seasons don't matter."
"Hahaha,stop teasing me!"
Watching his men blend so seamlessly with the villagers, eating with such abandon, Hong Chengchou couldn't help but think: This food really does seem delicious. The key is the atmosphere—so convivial. After just one shared meal, they act like old friends. Strange. What a peculiar, infectious custom.
As this thought crossed his mind, San Shier approached. "Superintendent Hong, we have prepared a more private hotpot table. Would you care to dine?"
Though he appeared immaculate, Hong Chengchou was, in truth, weary and famished. The temptation was irresistible. He nodded. "This official would be grateful."
He dismounted and followed San Shier into the main fortress.
They entered a large courtyard where a table was set with not one, but two pots—one clear, one red.
The "elite" dining here included Gao Yiye, San Shier, Third Miss, Tan Liwen, Teacher Wang, Madam Bai, and Young Master Bai—the core of Gao Village's original leadership.
They offered polite greetings as Hong Chengchou entered.
Hong Chengchou was accustomed to such formalities. Official banquets often meant sharing a table with strangers—local gentry and their families. It was routine.
He offered a casual cupped-fist salute and took a seat with deliberate, imposing posture between the two pots.
The moment he sat down, he frowned.
The pungent, spicy aroma of chili and beef tallow rising from the red pot was intense. It would surely cling to his robes, disastrously compromising his dignified appearance.
He hadn't brought a spare official robe. If he arrived in Xi'an tomorrow smelling like a spicy cookpot, Governor Hu would be appalled.
He discreetly shifted his seat farther from the red broth.
Picking up his chopsticks, he sampled a slice of pork belly from the clear broth. His eyebrows rose slightly. Hm? This is… unexpectedly delicious. The seasoning was remarkably complex—a single bite delivered salt, pepper, ginger, garlic, and other rich flavors.
The cost of spices for this one pot alone must be significant, he calculated. Then his mind flashed to the hundreds of pots bubbling outside.
This…
What kind of resources does this village command?
The realization sent a small jolt through him.
Li Daoxuan, "focused" on him, noticed the subtle shift in expression and chuckled inwardly. Gotcha. Hehehe.
"Superintendent Hong," San Shier inquired, genuinely curious, "is this grain shipment to Xi'an a sign that Governor Hu has finally decided to address the bandit problem? No more waiting for them to 'loot until spring and settle on their own'?"
Hong Chengchou caught the sarcasm in San Shier's tone. So this man also disapproved of the governor's policy. How fortuitous. So do I.
Agreeing in praise could be dull, but finding common ground in criticism was always more engaging.
Hong Chengchou snorted disdainfully. "Hu Tingyan is old and muddled. He still fails to grasp the situation in Shaanxi. Last year's pronouncement of 'loot until spring and they'll settle' has proven absurd. Spring is nearly over, and have the bandits shown any sign of settling? Ha! On the contrary, they grow bolder by the day. 'Settle on their own'—ridiculous. To deal with such scum, only one word applies: extermination."
San Shier nodded. "I see. So this grain is for military pay, to fund the suppression of the rebel bands."
"Precisely," Hong Chengchou confirmed. "The governor has finally realized troops must be deployed. Especially against that Bai Shui Wang Er. His rebellion grows more serious by the day. If we don't act soon, he will become an unstoppable force."
The name Wang Er landed on the table like a thunderclap.
Every person present straightened, their attention sharpening.
Even Li Daoxuan leaned closer to the box, his own curiosity piqued. What of Wang Er?
(Fact: The porters' violent reaction to the rich, seasoned food is historically accurate. For peasants surviving on thin gruel and wild greens, a sudden influx of oily, heavily spiced food could cause severe digestive distress, even death, due to "re-feeding syndrome." Gao Yiye's warning wasn't just about spice—it was a literal life-saving intervention based on an intuitive understanding of their starved physiology.)