BDSMST -Chapter 23 One Meal Conquers Every Stomach

In the end, Wei Ziqian and the others stayed.

Half out of stubborn pride, and half because that irresistibly tempting aroma had completely hooked them.

Jiang Suisui did not invite them inside. Instead, she had Chunxing set up two makeshift tables beneath the crooked-neck tree in the courtyard.

The tables were made of rough wooden planks; the stools were uneven wooden blocks of varying heights.

Looking at the crude “dining setup,” disgust practically spilled from the young nobles’ faces.

“We’re eating here?” Qian Duoduo, third son of the Marquis of Anyuan, pinched his nose with a pained expression. “There are mosquitoes everywhere—and… and it smells like pig manure!”

“Eat or don’t.”

The reply came from Gu Xuan, who had just finished washing his hands and face and changed into clean clothes.

At some point, he had already moved a small stool to the head of the table. Sitting there calmly, he wiped his bowl and chopsticks with composed care.

That little-master posture made Wei Ziqian and the others grind their teeth again.

Soon, Chunxing brought out bowls, chopsticks, and several coarse earthenware dishes.

Some of the bowls even had tiny chips along the rim.

Wei Ziqian picked one up, weighed it in his hand, and curled his lip at Gu Xuan. “You eat out of this now? Tsk tsk, how pitiful. Back at the manor, you wouldn’t use anything less than official kiln porcelain.”

Gu Xuan lifted his eyelids and glanced at him coolly without saying a word.

He knew perfectly well that this bad woman was deliberately using this meal to humble them.

All he needed to do now was sit back quietly and enjoy the show.

Just as the group was growing increasingly impatient, Jiang Suisui finally emerged from the kitchen, carrying a massive clay basin herself.

When she set it steadily in the center of the table, everyone’s eyes were instantly drawn to it.

Inside was braised pork—glistening red-brown, rich with glossy sauce.

Each cube was cut evenly and precisely. The fatty portions were translucent and tender, promising to melt in the mouth; the lean meat had been stewed until soft and deeply infused with flavor, the sauce clinging to every fiber.

The thick aroma of meat, blended with star anise, cinnamon, and other spices, filled the air—an invisible yet devastating assault on the senses.

The previously noisy, complaining young dandies fell silent at once.

Their eyes locked onto the basin of braised pork, their throats bobbing involuntarily.

It smelled incredible.

Too incredible.

The fragrance was even richer and more commanding than the signature Dongpo pork at the capital’s most famous restaurant, Fumanlou.

Next, Chunxing brought out the second dish—a beggar’s chicken wrapped in lotus leaves, still steaming.

When Jiang Suisui gently parted the roasted, golden-brown lotus leaf with her chopsticks, a unique aroma burst forth—fresh lotus fragrance mingled with earthy warmth and the savory richness of chicken.

The meat was so tender that it fell off the bone at the slightest touch. Golden chicken fat glistened and trickled slowly down the succulent flesh, making mouths water instantly.

Finally, she served a simple plate of stir-fried seasonal vegetables.

Yet the greens were so vibrant they seemed almost to drip with freshness, beads of oil glistening on their surface, glowing invitingly in the evening light.

Three dishes: one boldly rich, one delicately fragrant, one refreshingly light.

Placed simply before this group of self-proclaimed top “connoisseurs” from the capital.

Wei Ziqian’s stomach growled audibly.

In the quiet courtyard, the sound was unmistakable.

His face flushed bright red.

As if she hadn’t heard a thing, Jiang Suisui picked up the serving chopsticks and placed a piece of braised pork into each person’s bowl.

“It’s the countryside—we have little to offer. Young masters, please enjoy,” she said lightly.

The young dandies glanced at one another, still clinging to their ridiculous pride.

None of them wanted to be the first to lift their chopsticks, as if doing so meant losing.

Only Gu Xuan had no such reservations.

He had been waiting impatiently all along.

He picked up the piece of braised pork in his bowl, blew on it lightly, and stuffed the entire piece into his mouth in one big bite.

Rich but not greasy—melting instantly in the mouth.

The sweet-savory sauce blended with the fragrance of pork fat, creating a flavor beyond words.

Gu Xuan narrowed his eyes in bliss, oil glistening at the corners of his mouth as he ate.

His unabashed enjoyment broke the last of the others’ restraint.

Wei Ziqian could no longer hold back.

Imitating Gu Xuan, he picked up the glossy cube of braised pork. With a mix of scrutiny and forced composure, he placed it into his mouth.

And then—

His world went silent.

His tongue was conquered instantly.

Every braised pork dish he had ever eaten before seemed, in comparison, like pig slop.

How could braised pork taste this good?!

He had no time for shock, nor for so-called “elegance.” He immediately grabbed a second piece. Then a third…

With him taking the lead, the others followed.

In no time, the courtyard was filled only with the clatter of chopsticks and bowls, along with barely suppressed exclamations of awe.

“Heavens! This chicken—how is it so tender? Even the bones are fragrant!”

“These greens… how are they sweet?! I never knew vegetables could taste this good!”

“Don’t grab that! The piece with the skin is mine!”

They completely forgot why they had come. They forgot class, forgot dignity.

At that moment, they returned to their most basic instinct—a hungry diner consumed by delicious food.

Gu Xuan watched them devour everything without a shred of composure, and the corners of his mouth curved upward uncontrollably.

He didn’t eat much himself—just leisurely sipped his plain rice porridge.

He watched Wei Ziqian and Qian Duoduo turn red in the face fighting over the last drumstick.

He watched the young masters—who usually prided themselves on refinement—mix the leftover sauce with rice and scrape their plates clean.

A huge, unprecedented sense of pride swelled inside him.

Look!

This is food from my home!

These delicious dishes—made from pigs I fed and vegetables I grew!

You ignorant bumpkins!

He straightened his small chest, feeling taller than ever before.

The whirlwind “battle” lasted less than the time it took to burn a stick of incense.

Every plate was empty.

Every bowl was clean.

The once-arrogant young nobles now leaned back in their chairs, clutching their round, full bellies, their faces wearing expressions of utter satisfaction—almost dazed.

It felt like a dream.

Silence returned to the courtyard.

Wei Ziqian let out a full-bellied burp. He looked at the empty dishes before him, then at Gu Xuan—who had maintained calm composure from start to finish.

His feelings were complicated.

He had lost.

Completely and utterly.

He had come to mock Gu Xuan—to use the prosperity of the capital to highlight the supposed poverty here.

Instead, he had been defeated by a simple countryside meal, without any room to fight back.

Looking at Gu Xuan seated at the head of the table, slowly wiping his lips with a handkerchief, Wei Ziqian suddenly felt that the boy before him had become unfathomable.

At last, he set aside his pride and prejudice. In a tone almost humble, he pointed to the plate of greens that had been gnawed down to nothing but traces of sauce and asked the question weighing heaviest on his heart.

“Gu Xuan… no, Brother Xuan,” he corrected himself sincerely, “what… what dish was that exactly? How could it taste so good? And… is there any more?”