Chapter Forty-Four: A Visit to Their Door

“Welcome, esteemed guests! Please, come inside!”
At the entrance of Pingyang Restaurant, four attendants stood on either side, two to the left and two to the right. Wearing bright smiles, they called out their greeting in unison, then bowed together with perfect synchronicity.

The passing patrons were all amused by this novel ceremony, finding it delightful—so much so that their own sense of importance seemed to be instantly elevated.

One could eat at any other restaurant, but if the food was the same, why not spend one’s money here? Here, the experience was joyful, refined, and elevated in every sense.

Upon entering, a host would guide you to a vacant table. Tea was complimentary, and in celebration of the grand opening, each guest was treated to a free appetizer.

In the center of the courtyard stood a raised platform, where a professional storyteller had been specially invited to entertain the guests. If you found his tales engaging, you could toss him a tip in appreciation.

To dine while listening to captivating stories was a pleasure beyond mere taste—here, one could savor both delicious fare and lively entertainment.

That day’s story was a newly penned tale by Li Pingyang himself, entitled “The Second Young Master’s Spear.”

Each table was private, designed to seat four, with exquisitely crafted wooden chairs and a round wooden table with a spinning top. Overhead, a large parasol offered shade to each group.

As the story drew to a close, the diners broke into applause, reluctant for it to end and lavish in their praise of the tale’s brilliance.

The story was left unfinished. If one wished to hear more about the second young master—who had journeyed through a world of martial heroes, upholding justice with his spear—one would have to return for the next installment.

Li Pingyang rose with the others, applauding the storyteller as he departed, agreeing to meet again at the same time the next day for the continuation.

At one table sat the Third Prince, Old Lin, and Li Pingyang himself. As they waited for their food, the Third Prince produced a book of poetry from his sleeve and recited a few lines aloud.

“Waves wash away all that is old, leaving behind only those of true greatness… Splendid! Splendid!”

Reciting the lines Li Pingyang had drunkenly composed that night, the prince gently fluttered his folding fan, closing his eyes to savor the scene in the poem. He had thought “Water Melody” was the poet’s peak, but now it seemed his true talent had only just awakened.

Old Lin, too, was much taken with the poem. Upon returning home, he’d had it transcribed and now used it to practice his calligraphy every evening, savoring both the words and the art.

The two were deep in poetic discussion when an unpleasant odor drifted from behind. Turning, they saw Liu Yan’er approaching with a plate of stinky tofu.

Setting it on the table, Liu Yan’er greeted them politely. The Third Prince was momentarily entranced; seeing her up close, she truly was a beauty.

After Li Pingyang made the introductions, they exchanged pleasantries. As Old Lin eyed the plate of stinky tofu, his brows furrowed in doubt—surely this dish had gone bad?

The Third Prince, too, merely looked on, hesitant to try it. But Li Pingyang, unbothered, picked up his chopsticks, seized a piece of stinky tofu, dipped it into a small bowl of sauce, and, under the astonished gaze of the others, popped the whole piece into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

Liu Yan’er took a seat as well, but Li Pingyang, without the slightest hesitation, served her the largest piece, prompting her to glare at him with mock annoyance, while Old Lin laughed heartily at the scene.

Setting the example, Li Pingyang then pushed the bowl toward Old Lin and the Third Prince. “Please, gentlemen.”

In the presence of a beauty, it seemed refusing would be a loss of face. The Third Prince folded his fan, lifted his sleeve, and picked the smallest piece. Seeing this, Old Lin followed suit.

The two imitated Li Pingyang, dipping their pieces in the sauce, and then, with expressions like those of children being made to take medicine, put the tofu into their mouths.

The moment the taste hit them, their faces brightened, and they exclaimed in surprise. Old Lin gave Li Pingyang a thumbs up. “This dish is truly wonderful!”

The Third Prince nodded his approval as well. He considered himself well-traveled in the realm of fine cuisine, but he had never before encountered something so unique.

Li Pingyang, well prepared, wouldn’t let their enjoyment go unrewarded; he produced a sheet of white paper and asked the two to inscribe something for the restaurant.

If Pingyang Restaurant could boast the calligraphy of these two esteemed figures, it would be as if a tiger had grown wings. Its reputation would soar; success would be all but guaranteed.

Old Lin chuckled and shook his head, pointing playfully at Pingyang. “Young friend, your strategy is impressive. No wonder my eyelid was twitching on the way here! Hahaha…”

The Third Prince went first, thinking for a moment before writing the first half of a couplet, then handed the brush to Old Lin.

His calligraphy was at once modest and bold, a style both simple and unrestrained, with a hint of pride beneath its plainness.

Old Lin took up the brush and wrote the second half. His script was less flamboyant but more reserved and mature—lacking the prince’s wildness, but robust and elegant nonetheless.

When they finished, Li Pingyang picked up the page and read the words written in bold, flowing script: “From a thousand miles away, the aroma lingers on.”

The Third Prince, seeing his opening line so perfectly matched by Old Lin’s closing, praised him with a smile. “A lingering fragrance indeed!”

All three burst into laughter. Just then, another guest arrived at the restaurant—a man of about forty, carrying an invitation and followed by several attendants.

These servants each bore a carrying pole laden with silks, grains, rice, and fine confections.

It was Master Su of the Su family, Su Baichuan. Having learned of the new restaurant opening on South Street—and seeing even Old Lin, the upright former Chancellor, coming to show his support and sitting so cordially with that rascal Li—he was astonished.

It was well known that Old Lin was incorruptible, never accepting bribes or gifts. Su Baichuan had tried every means to approach him, but each time had been turned away by his servants.

Beauties, paintings, even gold bars that no one could refuse—Old Lin never so much as glanced at them.

Yet here was Li, sitting at the same table with Old Lin, laughing and chatting like old friends.

Wishing to curry favor, Su Baichuan shamelessly came bearing gifts, hoping to use Li as a conduit to reach Old Lin. He’d also heard that his youngest son had some misunderstanding with Master Li, so he came to offer apologies.

He’d instructed his son to make peace with Master Li, saying they were all one family now, and that with his limited wit, he’d never win against the likes of Li—better to give up the fight.

The more his father insisted, the angrier Su Liuwu became, hating Li all the more. His father had always favored his elder brother, Su Liuyun, and now was even more disappointed in him.

“Hurry up and apologize, you unfilial child!”

Su Baichuan smiled at Li Pingyang, then turned and barked sharply at his son. From the crowd, Su Liuwu reluctantly stepped forward. At the sight of him, Little Dragonfly immediately wanted to chase him away.

Su Liuwu showed no sign of contrition, head held high, chest thrust out, trying to look imposing, which earned him a slap on the forehead from his father.

The Li family’s hardships had all come at the hands of the Su family, and Su Liuwu was a notorious scoundrel. Little Dragonfly had not a shred of goodwill for him.

To show sincerity, Su Baichuan also ordered Su Liuwu to transfer all the land near the Li residence, as well as the stall leases, into Li Pingyang’s name.

This was how Su Baichuan had become a successful man—he knew how to get things done. And as the saying goes, one does not slap a smiling face.

After Su Liuwu, with a sarcastic tone, offered his apology to Li Pingyang, the matter was settled. From the moment he entered, Su Liuwu’s eyes had been fixed on Liu Yan’er.

Noticing the greasy, piggish man leering at her, Liu Yan’er was deeply uncomfortable and shrank behind Li Pingyang.

Su Baichuan, too, noticed his son’s behavior and coughed awkwardly, signaling for him to mind his manners.

Li Pingyang had Little Dragonfly take stock of the gifts and instructed her on how to handle them. She smiled in response and went about her task.