HDRDTH -Chapter 47 Which House Is Refining an Elixir?

Although Captain Zhang had sworn to keep it confidential, in Beijing’s tightly interconnected inner circles, there was no such thing as a truly airtight secret.

On the morning of the Lunar New Year’s Day, news spread like wildfire through the city’s elite circles:

“Master Yu fished a national treasure out of a lake sealed for thirty years in the outskirts of Beijing—and casually solved a decades-old cold case.”

If his previous feats—hooking a submarine in the Maldives, catching a koi on live CCTV, or remotely bringing down Xingmang Entertainment—could still be brushed off as “coincidence” or “probability,” then this New Year’s Day miracle completely shattered that explanation.

For the first time, the powerful elites who only believed in capital and authority were plunged into an almost fanatical belief in metaphysics.

“This isn’t fishing… this is divine intervention! A living immortal is enlightening the world!”

It was said that a senior official from the Cultural Relics Bureau was so emotional he took two doses of heart medication and insisted on personally visiting Yu Xian to bow in respect.

Even officials from the Ministry of Public Security suggested recruiting Yu Xian into a classified department dedicated to solving cold cases.

Meanwhile, in a luxury suite of a five-star hotel in Beijing…

Yu Xian was stuffing a few changes of clothes into a suitcase with visible irritation.

“Dad, are we really not meeting them?” Wang Dafu asked in disbelief, holding a thick stack of business cards.

“There are over a dozen billionaires and several ministerial secretaries waiting outside the corridor. They said as long as you agree to have a meal—even just a cup of tea—you can name any condition. This is the kind of network people dream of in Beijing!”

“Get lost!” Yu Xian kicked the suitcase shut.

“Network? That’s trouble! I came back to life to lie on a reservoir bank in Jiangcheng and fish big fish—not to be some fortune-telling charlatan for old men!”

He zipped the suitcase, then turned to Su Wanyi and Su Xi, who were sitting on the sofa trying not to laugh.

“Wife, packed yet? I’m not staying another minute in this cursed place. We’re going back to Jiangcheng!”

Su Wanyi stood up holding Su Xi’s hand and gently adjusted Yu Xian’s slightly messy collar.

“Alright, I’ll follow your decision. But you really caused a huge commotion this time. Can we behave a little more low-key when we go back?”

“Low-key? When was I not low-key? I’m more wronged than Dou E herself!”

He slung the suitcase over his shoulder and stormed out.

To avoid the crowd of desperate big shots in the hallway, Yu Xian had Wang Dafu and Qin Yue lead the way. He wore sunglasses and a mask, and escaped through the emergency stairwell with his family, directly into a bulletproof business car arranged by the Qin family.

Destination: the airport.

Four hours later.

Jiangcheng, Jinshui Bay Villa.

When his feet once again touched familiar ground, Yu Xian finally let out a long sigh of relief.

Without Beijing’s suffocating vortex of power, the humid air of Jiangcheng felt almost comforting.

“Finally back.”

He kicked off his leather shoes, slipped back into his long-missed flip-flops, and collapsed onto the sofa like a deflated balloon.

Qin Yue and Wang Dafu followed inside.

Qin Yue still carried herself like a refined young lady of a prestigious family, but fatigue was clearly written in her eyes.

The past few days in Beijing—handling Xingmang Entertainment’s aftermath and dealing with all kinds of powerful figures—had drained her significantly.

After lying on the sofa for a while, Yu Xian suddenly sat up.

He had eaten nothing but boxed meals and banquet food for days in Beijing. His taste buds were practically dead.

And the psychological trauma from failing to catch a single fish on New Year’s Day was severe.

He needed extreme sensory stimulation.

“Xiao Qin, Dafu,” he said lazily.

“Here! Dad, just say the word!” Wang Dafu immediately stood straight.

“Yes, Mr. Yu,” Qin Yue replied respectfully.

“It’s New Year. You’ve all worked hard following me around.”

Yu Xian stood up and walked into the kitchen, casually tying on a SpongeBob apron.

“Tonight, I’ll make you a real dish. As promised before—Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.”

At those words, Wang Dafu nearly drooled on the spot.

He had already experienced Yu Xian’s cooking. Even a simple plate of braised pork could make a top-tier director like Feng Dagang refuse to leave.

If this was Buddha Jumps Over the Wall… he might actually swallow his tongue.

Qin Yue’s eyes also lit up.

As the young lady of the Qin family, she had eaten state-banquet-level versions of this dish before. But somehow, hearing Yu Xian say it made her feel an unprecedented sense of anticipation.

“Dafu, go to the market,” Yu Xian ordered while standing at the kitchen counter. “I want the best ingredients. Japanese abalone, Hokkaido sea cucumber, premium shark fin, deep-sea fish maw, dried scallops, shiitake mushrooms, pigeon eggs, three-year-old old hen, and Jinhua ham.”

“Remember—no dried goods. I want them pre-soaked and premium quality. You’ve got two hours. Fail, and don’t call me Dad anymore.”

“Got it! Leave it to me!” Wang Dafu shot out like a cannonball.

Two hours later.

The kitchen was filled with dazzling top-tier ingredients.

Yu Xian held a familiar boning knife, his gaze instantly sharpening.

At fifty-five in his previous life, his culinary skills had long reached a state of returning to simplicity.

The essence of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall wasn’t luxury ingredients—it was fusion.

“Start the pot. Boil water.”

His movements were swift.

Chicken, pork ribs, and Jinhua ham were blanched, then placed into a large stainless steel pot to simmer—forming the soul of the dish: the stock.

Next came delicate seafood processing.

Sea cucumber cut into sections, abalone scored, shark fin pre-simmered with ginger and scallions to remove odor.

Every ingredient required a different technique—but in his hands, everything flowed seamlessly.

He brought out a traditional Shaoxing wine jar and lined it with lotus leaves.

Then, layer by layer, he arranged the ingredients inside.

Vegetables at the bottom. Meat in the middle. Precious seafood on top.

Splash—

Rich, golden broth was poured in, followed by an entire bottle of aged huadiao wine.

He sealed the jar with fresh lotus leaves and tightly covered it with clay.

“Low heat. Slow simmer,” Yu Xian said, placing the jar on the stove. The flame was reduced to a faint blue glow.

“Six hours. Not a minute less. Too little and it won’t cook through; too long and it collapses.”

As time passed, evening fell.

An indescribable aroma began seeping through the kitchen.

It carried the freshness of seafood, the richness of meat, and the mellow fragrance of aged wine—blended under long heat into something almost spiritual.

It quickly filled the entire villa.

And then spilled outside.

At Jinshui Bay, a group of security guards were patrolling with police dogs.

Suddenly—

All the trained German shepherds froze at once.

Then turned in unison toward Yu Xian’s villa and began drooling uncontrollably, refusing to move no matter how hard they were pulled.

“…What the hell,” the security captain muttered, swallowing hard.

“Which house is refining an elixir here?”