BDSMST -Chapter 166 Jiang Suisui’s “Medicinal Cuisine” Support

In Jingxin Court, Gu Xuan had just finished his morning stance and boxing exercises. Now, the Old Marquis pressed him onto a stone bench, using a special technique to knead the sore, aching muscles. The little boy gritted his teeth and grimaced but didn’t make a sound, only letting out little whimpers through his nose.

“The path of martial arts is like rowing upstream; if you do not advance, you will fall behind. Today’s hardships lay the foundation for tomorrow,” Gu Changming said calmly as he eased his grandson’s muscles. It had been years since he had carefully guided a younger generation in this way, and a long-lost satisfaction showed on his face.

“I understand, Grandfather,” Gu Xuan panted, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

At that moment, Jiang Suisui entered, carrying a food box, her smile radiant. “Father, Xuan’er, look what I brought for you both.”

A peculiar, rich aroma, a mix of medicinal herbs and savory meat, wafted from the box, making Gu Xuan’s stomach rumble loudly.

Jiang Suisui opened the box and revealed a white porcelain stew pot. Lifting the lid, steaming heat and an even stronger, intoxicating fragrance instantly filled the room. Inside, the broth was golden and rich. Tender pieces of black-bone chicken floated among bright red goji berries, yellow astragalus slices, and several strange-looking roots with a faint sweet fragrance.

“Mother, what is this? It smells amazing!” Gu Xuan’s eyes widened in delight.

“This is called ‘Tonifying Essence Soup,’” Jiang Suisui said as she served two bowls—one to Gu Changming, one to Gu Xuan. “Father and Xuan’er have been expending both mind and body lately; they need proper nourishment. I used black-bone chicken raised here in the estate, combined with astragalus and angelica to replenish qi and blood, and added wild ginseng from Changbai Mountain to boost vitality. Most importantly, I included these main medicinal ingredients.”

She picked up one of the roots from the soup with chopsticks; it was pale yellow and firm. “This is ‘Polygonatum’ I cultivated in our herb garden. Ordinary Polygonatum is neutral in nature and slow in effect. But I treated it with the Nine-Steamed, Nine-Sunned method from the Medicine King Valley, removing its dryness and enhancing its potency. It works wonders for replenishing essence and strengthening muscles and bones.”

Gu Changming, a man who could recognize quality, lifted the bowl and inhaled the aroma. A warm current seemed to flow from his nose into his heart. He sipped the soup; the broth was rich but not greasy, the warmth gliding down his throat into his abdomen, spreading gently through his limbs. The stagnation in his meridians, caused by restarting training, seemed to be washed away by this gentle warmth.

“Excellent soup!” he couldn’t help but exclaim. “Suisui, you’ve put so much thought into this. The combination of herbs here is masterful—more sophisticated than the prescriptions of palace physicians.”

Gu Xuan devoured his bowl greedily. The warmth filled his whole body, washing away all fatigue from training, making him feel as if he had endless energy.

Seeing the satisfaction on their faces, Jiang Suisui took out a few small dishes and a container of rice. This rice was different from ordinary rice: plump, slightly brown, chewier than white rice, and fragrant with a hint of nuts.

“This is ‘Four Gods Rice,’ made from the estate’s newly harvested brown rice, steamed with gorgon seeds, lotus seeds, and black beans. It strengthens the spleen and nourishes the stomach, helping the body absorb the nutrients from the soup,” she explained. “Martial artists train their muscles and bones externally and their qi internally. Where does the qi come from? Partly from breathing exercises, partly from the essence of grains. Eating properly makes practice far more effective.”

She didn’t mention the profound theories behind it. Instead, she translated the intricate principles from the Medicine King Valley—how the body’s qi and blood circulate, how herbs act on different meridians—into this meal: one bowl of soup, one bowl of rice.

From that day forward, Jiang Suisui took charge of the diets of both the Old Marquis and Gu Xuan.

Mornings began with millet and yam porridge to nourish the spleen and stomach, paired with meatballs made with powdered deer antler.

Lunches were medicinal meals tailored to the intensity of training: sometimes a liver- and kidney-nourishing Eucommia and pork kidney soup, sometimes a bone-strengthening beef tendon stew with herbal tiger-bone substitutes.

Dinners were calming lily and lotus seed soups, aiding restful meditation and consolidating the day’s training results.

In just half a month, the changes were obvious.

Gu Xuan, who had once been an ordinary, healthy child, was now agile and strong. His stance training time had more than doubled, and the faint sense of qi within his body had become clear. Under his grandfather’s guidance, he was already able to complete a small circuit of internal energy.

Gu Changming’s transformation was even more remarkable. Already near sixty and weakened by old injuries, his blood and qi depleted, his martial skills long abandoned, he now thrived under the nourishment of Jiang Suisui’s medicinal cuisine. His withered meridians were like dried-up rivers suddenly filled with life. Some black hairs had even begun to regrow amidst his gray, the wrinkles on his face seemed to soften, and a flash of sharp vitality occasionally appeared in his eyes.

That evening, after finishing a set of boxing exercises, he stood still, feeling his breath smooth and his body harmonized, as if twenty years had been peeled away. The regained internal energy, though far from his peak, was full and substantial, brimming with life.

He watched his daughter-in-law preparing dinner in the kitchen and felt a deep gratitude.

He had thought her only exceptionally intelligent and skilled in management and farming. Now he realized she possessed an immeasurable treasure trove. With her, the household finally had a strong, central backbone.

At that moment, Steward Wang came running hurriedly from the main gate of the estate, his expression strange.

“Old Marquis, Madam, outside… outside the estate, there’s a large group of people!”

“Those Jianghu people have arrived?” Gu Yan asked, coming out from the hall.

“Yes…and no,” Steward Wang gasped. “They are Jianghu people, but… they were brought here in carts. Each of them has bruises and swollen faces… as if… as if they’d been robbed or beaten?”

The words left everyone in the courtyard stunned.

Jianghu people… beaten and robbed? Something about this sounded completely wrong.

Gu Yan and Jiang Suisui exchanged a glance and quickly walked toward the estate gate. From a distance, they saw more than a dozen large flatbed carts parked at the entrance. On the carts lay dozens of men and women in martial-style clothing, sprawled haphazardly. Each groaned, their bodies either bruised or their clothes torn to shreds.

Beside the convoy stood a young man in coarse cloth, dark-skinned with a long scar on his face. He had his hands on his hips, spitting as he scolded them loudly.

“Listen carefully! Once you enter Woniu Village, you follow our rules! You still want to rob travelers? Do you even know your own weight? Today, it’s only because our Madam is kind that you’re just beaten and sent here. If this were back in the capital, we’d have broken your legs long ago!”

This young man was none other than one of Li Er’s “playboy assistants.”

The so-called “Jianghu people” who had been beaten stared at the farmers behind Li Er—dressed similarly but holding hoes and iron shovels, their expressions harsh—and were instantly terrified. There was nothing heroic or martial about them now.

Jiang Suisui pinched her forehead, watching this absurd scene unfold.

She had known from the start that this Jianghu gathering could never go smoothly.