Chapter 29: Sword Wall Wine

The West Market had a Slave Market, so Shen Shaoguang brought A Yuan along to take a look.

In this dynasty, owning slaves was common, while hiring laborers was relatively rare. Whenever work was needed, people usually purchased male or female servants outright rather than employing temporary help.

Shen Shaoguang had already thought carefully about the reasons.

First, such a relationship was considered secure and dependable—servants were regarded as private property and rarely dared to disobey their masters. There was even a legal expectation that “servants must conceal crimes for their masters.” Unless the offense involved something as grave as rebellion, servants were forbidden from reporting their masters; otherwise, they themselves would face punishment.

Second, slaves were inexpensive. A capable adult male servant could be purchased for only a few taels of silver.

Since arriving in this world, Shen Shaoguang had long set aside her former moral hesitations. When it came to survival and practicality, she chose to follow local customs.

The Slave Market stood not far from the horse market. After passing rows of mules and horses—some thin and rough-coated, others sleek and glossy—she soon arrived at her destination.

The market was large and bustling. Some vendors specialized in the legendary Kunlun slaves or Silla maids, while others displayed beautiful singers and dancers. Smaller sellers offered only one or two slaves at a time, whereas large traders kept dozens confined together behind wooden enclosures.

After asking around at several smaller stalls, Shen Shaoguang found none suitable. It was understandable—if a cook were truly skilled, their master would rarely sell them.

She approached a middle-aged slave trader in his forties. Behind him, twenty or thirty slaves stood enclosed within a pen, waiting to be purchased.

Two buyers nearby were examining the “merchandise” as though selecting livestock, turning faces from side to side to assess their features. Soon, three or four slightly attractive maids were chosen, and attendants escorted them toward the market office to finalize the contracts.

When the trader saw Shen Shaoguang approaching, he greeted her politely.

"What does the young lady require?"

"I need a male servant, preferably one with some culinary skills."

The trader maintained careful records detailing each servant’s background, age, former master, and skills. Many slave traders worked collaboratively, with different people responsible for sourcing and selling, so accurate ledgers were essential.

Even though Shen Shaoguang only intended to buy one servant, the trader remained attentive. Smiling, he said, "Please wait a moment, young lady. Let me check my ledger."

After scanning the entries, he brightened.

"What a coincidence—this Yu San used to be a cook," the slave trader said, pointing toward a man standing at the very edge of the group.

Shen Shaoguang studied him.

Yu San appeared around twenty-six or twenty-seven years old. He was tall, with a straight posture and well-proportioned features—handsome, even. Yet his brows were slightly furrowed, and his gaze carried a distant coldness, as if he had already given up on caring about anything.

There was an unmistakable air of resignation about him.

Hmm, quite the personality.

Shen Shaoguang stepped closer. Whether out of professional courtesy or simple respect toward a refined young lady, the slave trader accompanied her into the enclosure.

"Do you know how to cook?" Shen Shaoguang asked.

Yu San lifted his eyelids lazily and glanced at her.

"Yes."

"What dishes are you best at?"

Yu San answered without expression.

"Mallow soup and bean-leaf stew."

The slave trader’s face immediately darkened.

"Answer the young lady properly!"

Mallow was an ordinary vegetable, and bean-leaf stew was barely more than coarse peasant fare. What kind of cook claimed such dishes as his specialty?

Perhaps sensing the warning in the trader’s tone, Yu San reluctantly added,

"When my former master still had money, I also made dishes like roasted goose, grilled lamb, and fish sashimi."

Shen Shaoguang nodded thoughtfully.

"Why were you sold?"

"My master was poor. He sold me to afford a full-fish banquet at Jade Willow Pavilion."

Shen Shaoguang: "..."

Now she understood both his world-weary expression and why his former master had fallen into poverty. Selling one’s cook just to enjoy a single extravagant meal—what a disastrous bargain.

The slave trader, however, suspected that Yu San’s skills were mediocre or that he was exaggerating. Inwardly cursing the partner who had previously acquired this servant, he turned to Shen Shaoguang with an apologetic smile.

"If the young lady isn't in a hurry, another batch will arrive the day after tomorrow. Would you like to come back then to take a look?"

Shen Shaoguang smiled calmly.

"No need, I'll take this one. How much?"

The price for the male servant was three taels of silver. Considering Yu San’s uncertain cooking ability and his gloomy demeanor, the trader had no desire to keep him longer for training. He quickly lowered the price to 2,700 coins.

Shen Shaoguang found the amount reasonable. After thanking him, she paid and completed the official purchase contract.

Then she led the proud and upright A Yuan—and the drooping, spiritless Yu San—back home.

---

Since the West Market offered everything imaginable, Shen Shaoguang also bought bedding and daily necessities for Yu San along the way.

Seeing so much money spent on someone who remained utterly indifferent—wearing an expression that practically said Do whatever you want; just bury me when I die—A Yuan grew increasingly irritated. She cast several disdainful glances in his direction.

Shen Shaoguang couldn’t help laughing softly. She hadn’t realized before that A Yuan had a tendency to bully newcomers.

Because the rented house was not yet ready and the nunnery did not allow male guests, Shen Shaoguang temporarily arranged for Yu San to stay at the shop.

When they returned, the sun was still high, and it was not yet time to prepare dinner. Shen Shaoguang first took the sugar she had purchased earlier and went next door to thank Li Niangzi for helping watch the shop and stove.

Upon returning, she glanced at Yu San.

"Go wash your hands and face in the back."

Yu San responded without expression and went inside.

Meanwhile, Shen Shaoguang sent A Yuan to Qiu Da’s stall to buy sesame flatbreads. She placed a plate of braised spare ribs onto the dining table—the ribs had been simmering since before she left, and now the meat had become tender enough to fall off the bone.

In this era, those with a bit of wealth ate three meals daily, while the poor managed only two. Shen Shaoguang suspected Yu San had not eaten lunch.

When Yu San returned, she gestured toward the table.

"Eat."

Yu San glanced at her briefly, then sat down and began eating. He was clearly hungry, yet his movements remained orderly rather than greedy.

After he finished, Shen Shaoguang asked for his opinion.

"Too much sugar, not enough salt."

She raised an eyebrow slightly.

"—But better than what I can make."

"...!"

At least he had a discerning tongue. Shen Shaoguang had always been skilled at identifying people’s strengths.

She explained that the people of Chang’an preferred sweeter flavors, and since the dish was meant to be eaten alone or paired with wine, she had intentionally reduced the salt.

Yu San nodded.

"Can you cook fish? There’s a carp over a foot long in the back!"

Now that he had eaten, it was time to test the new cook.

Yu San nodded again.

"Should I make it now? It’s best eaten hot."

Shen Shaoguang smiled.

"If there are no customers, we’ll eat it ourselves."

Without hesitation, Yu San walked to the small water vat, caught the fish, and carried it to the back to clean.

Watching his technique, Shen Shaoguang felt immediate relief. At the very least, she would no longer need to worry about handling fish herself.

Every time A Yuan killed fish by striking them with a stick, Shen Shaoguang felt sympathy for the poor creatures. Worse still, sometimes the fish were only stunned and would suddenly twitch or flap during cleaning.

As the saying went, Seeing it alive, one cannot bear to see it die; hearing its cries, one cannot bear to eat its flesh.

Shen Shaoguang was no saint, nor could she remain far from the kitchen, but she still felt a faint guilt.

Yu San, however, worked efficiently. With a single precise motion, he ended the fish’s life cleanly—like a professional executioner.

His knife skills were equally decisive.

He removed the head and tail, keeping only the thick center section. After skinning the fish and slicing it into neat segments, he seasoned it lightly, coated the pieces with egg white and starch, and fried them.

Watching the discarded head and tail, Shen Shaoguang suddenly suspected that Yu San’s former master truly had eaten himself into poverty.

The fried fish pieces turned golden before being removed. Yu San heated fresh oil, stir-fried Sichuan peppercorns with scallions and ginger until fragrant, then added yellow wine, soy sauce, vinegar, and sugar before returning the fish to the pan and reducing the sauce over high heat.

When plated, the fish curled slightly at the edges, coated in a glossy sauce. It looked rich and appetizing, and the aroma was even better—neither quite braised nor sweet-and-sour, yet reminiscent of a refined tile-fish dish.

Just as Shen Shaoguang prepared to taste it, a regular customer walked in.

Seeing the fish, the customer’s eyes immediately brightened.

"Our Grand Madam Jiang didn’t eat much at noon and is now having porridge. She craves something flavorful, so she sent us here to check—is this fish for sale?"

Meeting that hopeful expression, Shen Shaoguang pressed her lips together.

"Fine, take it. Eat it while it’s hot."

The customer beamed.

"Thank you, thank you! I’ll return the plate later."

And just like that, the freshly cooked fish was sold before Shen Shaoguang could taste even a single bite.

She wiped a finger across the remaining sauce in the pan and sampled it.

Savory, slightly sweet, with a hint of acidity.

Not bad at all.

---

Lin Yan, at least, was luckier.

When he entered his grandmother’s quarters, the aroma of fish greeted him warmly. Grand Madam Jiang sat on the couch with a small dining table placed before her.

“A Xiong, you’re back?”

“Try this fish—it’s from the Huixianlou outside.”

There were only two pieces left, yet she generously offered one to him.

Lin Yan took a bite.

“Hm, not bad.”

“Isn’t it? But I think this isn’t made by the same chef as the sweet and sour fish last time.”

Lin Yan glanced toward the maid, who silently mouthed: Shen Ji.

He chuckled softly, helpless.

Grandmother still remembered Shen Ji’s sweet-and-sour fish—but her conclusion about different chefs was clearly mistaken.

---

Author’s Note:
Poor Lin Yan only got one piece of fish, and even poorer Shen Shaoguang only tasted the sauce.