For Zao Ying and her hundred-twenty riders, the Xi'an Eight Great Bowls spread out before them was nothing short of a miracle from Heaven itself.
Their chopsticks trembled as they reached for food.
"How many years has it been since we ate anything this good?"
"Three… maybe four."
"The taste of pork knuckle—by Heaven, I could cry."
"And this eight-treasure rice… it's sweet! I'd forgotten what sweetness even is."
One hundred twenty hardened men, eating and weeping at the same time.
Across the tables, the militia ate calmly. They weren't in a rush—after all, this wasn't their first divine meal. They'd already celebrated Dao Xuan Tianzun's Hotpot Festival and Tianzun's Sudden Inspiration Feast.
Eight Great Bowls? Nothing new.
With dignified poise, they went back to their quarters, removed their armor, and returned to eat with an elegance that screamed: We do this every week.
At one table, Cheng Xu picked up a piece of steamed pork, smiling at Zao Ying.
"So, Mistress Zao, how's our food?"
Zao Ying could only sigh.
"Food like this… I haven't seen it in years. Even in peaceful times, only nobles could afford such dishes—and yet your soldiers eat them."
Cheng Xu decided it was time to dial down the bragging before he over-sold Dao Xuan Tianzun's kitchen.
"Ah, we don't eat like this all the time. Maybe once a month or two. Usually we're quite modest."
Zao Ying blinked.
"Once every month or two? That's already extravagant. Common folk can't dream of such a meal once in a lifetime."
"Well," Cheng Xu chuckled, "our training is hard. Can't fight well on an empty stomach, you know. Dao Xuan Tianzun said so Himself."
"Dao Xuan Tianzun is…?"
Cheng Xu pointed upward.
"Our commander above the clouds."
She nodded slowly. So there's a "master" even higher than these soldiers… impressive.
Then Xing Honglang dropped onto the bench beside her with a thump, slamming down a jug of wine.
"Come on, drink!"
Cheng Xu raised a hand.
"No can do. The camp forbids alcohol. Dao Xuan Tianzun's rule."
"Ha! I'm not a soldier," Xing Honglang laughed. "I'm a merchant. Mistress Zao's a guest. We can drink."
"Then drink. I'll toast you with tea."
Zao Ying gawked.
"Rice costs a fortune these days, and you still have grain to brew wine?"
"Who cares what it costs outside?" Honglang laughed again. "We've got Dao Xuan Tianzun's special gift—real Luzhou Laojiao! I'll pour you some… not full though. First-timers can't handle it."
He poured her half a tiny cup.
Zao Ying stared at the thimble-sized vessel and bristled.
"What's this? You think I'm weak? Bring a bowl! Fill it!"
"Just taste it first," Honglang smirked. "Trust me."
Zao Ying sniffed the liquor suspiciously, took the tiniest sip—
and her eyes went wide.
"Heavens! That burns!"
Laughter erupted around the table.
Gao Chuwu and Zheng Dan-niu stomped over next—two mountains of muscle. They sat so hard the benches creaked, nearly toppling Cheng Xu off his seat.
He sighed inwardly. Why do I even try with these oafs…
Chuwu grinned at Honglang.
"Miss Xing, when are we sparring again?"
"Hmph! You just lost to me days ago. Train more before challenging me."
"Aye!"
Zao Ying blinked.
"You two fought? And you lost to her?"
"Of course," Gao sighed. "She's tough."
Zao Ying studied his massive frame. Impossible. That man could plow through ten soldiers in armor. How could he lose?
Honglang leaned close to whisper,
"He only used Red Fist—no other moves. If he fought seriously, I'd lose."
Zao Ying's eyes widened. "You two…"
"Shh," Honglang hushed.
And Zao Ying understood instantly. Years on the road taught her how to read hearts faster than words. A little smile touched her lips. So even fierce Xing Honglang has someone she cares for.
Her chest warmed unexpectedly. Maybe… maybe I could have that someday?
She shook her head violently. No! I'm a bandit. A storm on horseback. No time for mushy nonsense.
Meanwhile, Gao Chuwu and Zheng Dan-niu had started drinking.
Zao Ying finally recognized Dan-niu's booming voice. He was the "Iron Giant" who had yanked her off her horse earlier and saved her from that stray arrow.
"So it was you," she said, raising her cup. "Thanks for saving me, Strong Ox."
"Ah, nothing, nothing," Zheng Dan-niu chuckled, already halfway through a bowl of eight-treasure rice. "So sweet! I'll beg Dao Xuan Tianzun to reward me with this dish every time I earn merit!"
"You said that about the 'Fat-House Happiness Water' before," Gao Chuwu teased. "Tianzun said it's bad for your health and cut you off!"
"But this is rice!" protested Dan-niu. "Rice is healthy!"
Cheng Xu laughed.
"It's glutinous rice, fool. Too much and you'll bloat like a pufferfish. Dao Xuan Tianzun won't let you eat yourself sick."
"Eh? Really? Ehh?"
Zao Ying chuckled. This big ox really has no guile. Kind of cute, actually.
Dan-niu clutched Gao Chuwu's arm.
"Get your wife to buy glutinous rice from Xi'an! We can make our own!"
"I'm not helping," Honglang snapped. "Rice is hard to buy, harder to haul—and you'll just end up with a stomachache."
Cheng Xu smirked.
"Funny, Dan-niu never said you'd do it. He said Chuwu's wife. Why'd you jump up so fast?"
"!!!"
The room froze.
A heartbeat later, Honglang shot to her feet and kicked Gao Chuwu clear off his stool, then bolted from the hall, face red as fire.
Chuwu sat up dazed, rubbing his shin.
"Why… why did she kick me?"
Laughter exploded through the camp. Zao Ying was laughing hardest, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She snatched up her tiny wine cup and downed it in one gulp—
then remembered, too late, that this was no mild rice wine.
Within moments, the world spun.
And with a soft thud, the fierce bandit queen collapsed onto the floor, fast asleep.
Ming Context
During the late Ming famine years, even a spoonful of rice wine or a scrap of pork was an unthinkable luxury. Luzhou Laojiao, a distilled spirit, could drop anyone unaccustomed to strong drink. The scene illustrates how absurdly "divine" Dao Xuan Tianzun's supplies must appear to those living in scarcity.
Trivia
Red Fist (紅拳) was a genuine Shaanxi martial art famous for raw, explosive power—perfect for Gao Chuwu's brawler style.
The kick became a fan-favorite gag known as "The Honglang Reflex."
In later folk retellings, this feast was remembered as "The Drunken Bandit Banquet," the night Zao Ying truly joined Dao Xuan Tianzun's legend.