HCT – Chapter 15 Fragrant Braised Pork Offal

Zhu Xiang’s disappointment in the kings of the world wasn’t because of Prince Zhao.

He was a modern man. So even the most virtuous and heroic rulers in history couldn’t meet his expectations. That included his currently beloved little nephew, Zheng’er.

Of course, if possible, Zhu Xiang would still prefer to follow a wise and just ruler who rewarded and punished fairly. At least then, by following the rules, he wouldn’t need to worry about his life and livelihood.

Not long after Zhu Xiang began planting potatoes, farmers started coming to him, willing to plant potatoes with him — even offering their best land.

Zhu Xiang quickly stopped them and explained the downsides of potatoes in detail, persuading them to back off.

But as more and more people came asking, Zhu Xiang simply set up a platform, had Xiang He make a pretty much useless wooden megaphone, put up a blackboard, and began shouting and drawing diagrams to explain both the benefits and drawbacks of growing potatoes. He told everyone to be patient and wait for his experiments to succeed first, and then they could plant them next year.

After days of relentless effort, he finally convinced the overly trusting farmers on Lin Xiangru’s fief to wait.

In fact, more urgent to Zhu Xiang than promoting potatoes was distributing the two varieties of wheat seeds he had extracted.

Both were winter wheat. Although the seeds looked no different on the outside, modern wheat strains were all selectively bred for better lodging resistance. Any farmer would know the saying, “A downed wheat stalk is just grass.” Sometimes, a single gust of wind could wipe out an entire harvest. With just this one feature, the modern wheat varieties were already far superior to the local winter wheat.

Unfortunately, the farmlands were either fallow to restore fertility or already planted, so Zhu Xiang couldn’t promote the new wheat this year.

“If only I had more land,” Zhu Xiang thought, burying the wish in his heart. He only muttered it once while bathing Ying Zheng.

Having visited the dream realm again, Ying Zheng felt like his mind had become much sharper. Wanting to ease his uncle’s worries, he quietly sought out Lian Po, who had once again dropped by their home to freeload food, and took off the jade pendant hanging around his neck.

Lian Po paused, chicken leg in hand, and asked in confusion, “Why are you giving me this?”

Zheng’er held up the jade pendant solemnly. “Uncle Lin said General Lian has a lot of land. My uncle wants to plant new seeds but has no land left. I want to buy land from General Lian.”

Lian Po looked puzzled. “What?! Lin Xiangru is so poor he doesn’t even have land anymore?!”

Zheng’er explained seriously, “Uncle Lin has land, but it’s already planted. You have horse pasture — that land can be used.”

Lian Po fell silent, wiped his greasy hands on his clothes, then picked Zheng’er up and set him on his knee. “Did your uncle tell you to say this?”

Zheng’er shook his head. “No. He doesn’t know.”

He shoved the jade pendant into Lian Po’s hand. “Here, trade for land.”

Lian Po laughed. “I don’t want your jade. If your uncle wants land, he should come ask me himself. Zhu Xiang is a coward — he should toughen up a bit.”

Zheng’er: “…Don’t insult my uncle!”

Lian Po teased the little Qin hostage, “He is a coward. He doesn’t even dare to step on the battlefield.”

Zheng’er yanked the pendant back onto his neck, climbed down from Lian Po’s knee, and stormed off.

Lian Po grabbed him. “What, going to tell on me?”

Zheng’er turned back with a fierce glare but didn’t say a word.

He etched this man who insulted his uncle into the bamboo scroll of his heart, hoping the old bastard would live long enough to see him grow up and wipe out the Six Kingdoms.

Lian Po chuckled at Zheng’er’s puffed-up cheeks and pulled him back, giving his skinny little face a shameless pinch. “Even if you tell, what can he do to me? Your uncle’s still a coward!”

Zheng’er clenched his little fists in anger.

“General Lian, it’s fine if you bully me, but if you bully Zheng’er, I really will get mad,” Zhu Xiang said, stepping out with a basin of braised pork offal, only to find Lian Po bullying a child yet again.

Lian Po scoffed. “So what if you’re mad?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Then I’ll shut the door in your face.”

Lian Po sneered, “And you think I can’t break it down?”

Zhu Xiang: “…General Lian, you’re a high minister of Zhao, from a noble line. Please maintain some dignity.”

“If he dares to break your door, I’ll break his too,” Lin Xiangru said, just arriving to check on the potatoes — and catching sight of this eyesore of an old man.

“With your strength? What can you even break… Ow! This brat bit me!”

“Uncle!” Zheng’er ran and jumped into Zhu Xiang’s arms.

Zhu Xiang had just placed the basin on the table and quickly caught him. “Let Uncle see your teeth. Don’t bite dirty things! You’ll get a toothache.”

“Hmph, just like Lin Xiangru — sharp tongue and nothing else,” Lian Po rubbed his arm where he’d been bitten. “Did you know your nephew tried to buy land from me with that jade pendant you gave him?”

Zhu Xiang looked down at Zheng’er’s angry face and gently patted his head. “Zheng’er, I’m sorry. My complaining made you worry.”

Zheng’er shook his head vigorously. “So what if he won’t sell? Why insult you? Uncle, don’t let him into our house again!”

Zhu Xiang tried to defend Lian Po: “General Lian just has a sharp tongue. In truth, he’s helped me a lot. The irrigation channels, waterwheels, and millstones — his men did all that.”

Zheng’er frowned. “Really?”

Zhu Xiang nodded. “Why else would I get up early to cook him braised dishes? Your uncle doesn’t repay evil with kindness.”

Zheng’er frowned deeper. He couldn’t understand how someone could insult others with words but help them in secret. Wasn’t that thankless and pointless?

Lin Xiangru finally lost his temper. “Can’t you fix that filthy mouth of yours?! Even toward children! And in front of the child, you insult his guardian. Are you trying to make him grow up and seek vengeance with a sword?!”

Lian Po said shamelessly, “I’m just telling the truth. Even Zhu Xiang himself doesn’t mind.”

Zhu Xiang thought: If I cared about your mouth, I’d have died from anger long ago.

“So you need land. Why didn’t you just tell me, and had your nephew come instead?” Lian Po asked.

Zheng’er loudly corrected, “I didn’t beg you! I came to buy land!”

Lian Po teased, “That jade pendant’s so poor in quality, how could it buy good land? Sounds like begging to me.”

Zheng’er’s face turned red. “It’s not poor quality!” — How could jade from the royal Qin family be low-grade!

Lin Xiangru couldn’t stand it anymore and gave Lian Po a hard smack on the head, almost knocking his topknot loose. “I told you not to tease Zheng’er anymore!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop,” Lian Po sighed. “No fun — he didn’t even cry.”

Zheng’er: “…” Now he really wanted to cry. He even wanted to bite that old man again!

Zhu Xiang sat with Zheng’er on his lap across from Lian Po.

Lian Po: “What now? You really going to kick me out for your nephew’s sake?”

Zhu Xiang: “Zheng’er, kick him in the stomach!”

Zheng’er immediately raised his leg and kicked hard at Lian Po’s general’s belly.

Lian Po: “Oof!”

Zhu Xiang carried Zheng’er and fled behind Lin Xiangru. Lin Xiangru opened his arms like a mother hen guarding her chicks, glaring at Lian Po.

Lian Po rubbed his belly. “Fine, fine. You’re shielding him so hard, I won’t argue with him.”

Lin Xiangru scolded, “You teased a child, got lightly kicked, and you’re still trying to make a fuss?!”

Lightly? Lian Po felt that Lin Xiangru had only grown more unreasonable with age.

“Fine, I won’t argue anymore.” Lian Po grimaced, still rubbing his belly. “Zhu Xiang, I asked you — why didn’t you just come to me?”

Zhu Xiang sighed. “Your pasture land isn’t abundant either. If I ask for it, what happens to your horses? Testing new crops doesn’t need to be rushed.”

“You always overthink everything. It’s a small matter — I’ll handle it,” Lian Po said, finally easing his pain. “Just tell me how much land you need.”

Zhu Xiang had expected this and knew if he refused, the foul-mouthed general would rain down insults. He braced himself and requested two mu — one mu for each wheat type. Once harvested, he could get detailed data and promote them next year.

“Only two mu? Are you looking down on me?” Lian Po muttered. “Take ten mu. Grow them well. I want to see what you can actually produce this time.”

Zhu Xiang thanked him and carried the still-glaring Zheng’er to the kitchen to fetch bowls and chopsticks.

After Zhu Xiang left, Lin Xiangru asked, “You came here just for a free meal?”

Lian Po replied, “What else?”

“You know Zheng’er’s identity now? Did His Majesty send you?”

Sniffing the fragrant braised meat, Lian Po twisted his beard and said, “I knew I couldn’t hide it from you. I came to check on the Qin prince — but not on Zhao King’s orders. It was Lord Pingyang who sent me. He wants to know if you’re sheltering this child out of loyalty to Qin. As you know, the Qin king values you.”

Lin Xiangru coolly responded, “Qin is too far. At my age, I probably wouldn’t survive the journey. Thank Lord Pingyang for his concern.”

“I’ll tell him just that. But don’t be too angry. If he sent me instead of confronting you, it means he doesn’t want conflict.”

“I’m just a useless old man who’s lost the king’s trust. I’m not worth Lord Pingyang’s courtesy.” Lin Xiangru said this, but his expression softened. “But it’s strange that he sent you and not Lord Pingyuan.”

Lord Pingyuan (Zhao Sheng), uncle and chancellor of the Zhao king, was famous for keeping retainers and was one of the renowned Four Lords alongside Lords Mengchang, Chunshen, and Xinling. The king trusted him deeply.

Lord Pingyang (Zhao Bao), also the king’s uncle, was younger and less notable, with little reputation for keeping scholars.

Lian Po’s mention of Lord Pingyang surprised Lin Xiangru.

“How would I know?” Lian Po said. “Did you offend him?”

Lin Xiangru replied dryly, “Do you think I’m like you — always offending people for fun?”

Lian Po didn’t mind. After so many years, he was used to it. “As long as you didn’t offend him. He may not look capable, but he’s still the king’s uncle.”

Lin Xiangru said, “Sending you to test me is already proof of his capability.”

“All the better.” Lian Po shrugged. “More capable people to help the king. That way you won’t worry so much.”

Lin Xiangru frowned. “My king is your king too. You should worry.”

Lian Po grinned. “My job is to fight. That’s what I’m good at. I leave the rest to you.”

Lin Xiangru advised, “You’d better learn too. A general in the field is far from court — if you know nothing, someone will stab you in the back.”

Lian Po still didn’t care. “Aren’t you my back? Just speak for me to the king. You always say he doesn’t trust you — but aside from Zhu Xiang, he’s trusted you on everything else. As for Zhu Xiang, don’t blame the king. He’s just a commoner. The king needs more than this to entrust him with great responsibility.”

Lin Xiangru didn’t want to argue further. He changed the subject. “What does Lord Pingyang want to do about Zheng’er?”

“A Qin royal cast off by his family, raised by commoners — could there be a crueler fate?” Lian Po said slowly. “And nothing could reassure the king more. To them, the boy is already useless.”

Lin Xiangru said quietly, “That is what they’ll think.”

“I don’t,” Lian Po replied. “But he’s just a clever child. I’m not about to worry over a child. By the time he’s a real threat, I’ll probably be dead — and you too. So what’s the point of worrying after we’re gone?”

Lin Xiangru rolled his eyes — but somehow, Lian Po had convinced him.

While they chatted, Zhu Xiang took Zheng’er to the kitchen, snuck a bite of braised pork belly from the pot, then fetched bowls and chopsticks.

Spices weren’t that valuable, and the extracted ones were plentiful, so Zhu Xiang decided to indulge the family.

When it came to dishes made with many spices, braised food came to mind first, not barbecue.

Even without a fridge, he could seal the braising liquid in a thick, sterilized ceramic jar and boil it twice daily. That way, it would keep well. One spice pack could be reused many times — much more economical than barbecue.

The rich spices could suppress the strong odors of pork offal. Finally, Zhu Xiang could make delicious dishes from pig intestines and stomach.

Even though he was used to the smell of manure, he almost gagged while washing the intestines. They tasted amazing — but preparing them was brutal.

Along with the offal, the pot held flatbread and a big chunk of pork belly.

Since Lian Po had tried to make Zheng’er cry today, Zhu Xiang bore a grudge and didn’t fish out any pork belly — he only brought out a bowl of braised offal.

“Don’t tell General Lian. When your aunt gets back, we’ll sneak a bite ourselves,” Zhu Xiang whispered.

Zheng’er licked his lips and nodded fiercely.

The uncle and nephew shared a conspiratorial grin, then Zhu Xiang carried the bowl while Zheng’er held the chopsticks, and the two of them quietly…

“So slow!” Lian Po didn’t even wait for Zhu Xiang to put down the bowls and chopsticks before snatching a set and beginning to eat. “You said this is pig offal? How come there’s no stink at all? It’s fragrant—truly fragrant!”

“Offal usually stinks, yet it can be turned into a delicacy?” Lin Xiangru didn’t mind the lowly, dirty ingredients in the pot and slowly began to savor the food.

Zhu Xiang replied, “As long as it’s cleaned thoroughly and seasoned well, offal has a rich, intense flavor that can be even tastier than regular meat. This dish is called lu zhu huoshao. The soup contains chopped flatbread that soaks up the broth, and it tastes amazing too.”

Lian Po picked up a piece of tofu. “Is this flatbread?”

Zhu Xiang said, “That’s tofu. It’s made by grinding beans into a slurry and coagulating it with brine—it’s easier to digest than simply boiling the beans.”

Lian Po took a bite of the tofu and commented, “Tastes good. Copy down the recipe for me. I like eating beans, but my household doctor always tells me to eat less, says it causes indigestion. I won’t treat you unfairly—I’ll trade you a fine stallion that hasn’t been gelded.”

Zhu Xiang knew Lian Po liked beans but wasn’t allowed to eat much because of bloating. That was why he’d intended to give the tofu recipe to Lian Po anyway. Now that Lian Po offered a horse, Zhu Xiang didn’t refuse—refusing might have provoked a scolding from the ill-tempered old general.

“Alright. But I’ll also share the tofu-making method with the common people. General Lian can’t have it all to himself,” Zhu Xiang added. “If the people eat more beans and learn to make tofu, they can enjoy this delicacy too, even in years of good harvest.”

“Do as you please,” Lian Po replied. “So how do you cook tofu to make it tasty?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Any way works. If you want something light, boil it with salted water. If you want stronger flavor, tofu absorbs flavors from other ingredients—just cook it with whatever dish you like.”

Lian Po nodded. “Got it—like flatbread.”

Lin Xiangru tasted a piece of tofu and exclaimed, “It’s really made from beans?”

“Of course,” said Zhu Xiang. “Would I lie to you?”

Lin Xiangru laughed. “Then the commoners can replace their bean meals with this.”

Zhu Xiang smiled bitterly. “They can’t use tofu as a staple food. To make it, beans must be ground into a slurry, then boiled and filtered before being coagulated with brine or gypsum. Tofu is the essence of the beans—though delicious, it’s less filling than eating the beans whole.”

Lin Xiangru sighed deeply upon hearing that.

Lian Po grumbled, “What’s wrong with you two? Can’t you stop talking about depressing stuff while eating? If you want to worry, do it in the study after you’ve eaten your fill. Stop sighing at the table—it’s making the tofu in my bowl taste bland.”

Zhu Xiang agreed, “He’s right, Elder Lin. Let’s eat first.”

Lin Xiangru sighed again, then shot a glare at Lian Po.

Lian Po rolled his eyes back and resumed eating heartily.

Lian Po had quite an appetite. He ate more than half the large pot of lu zhu huoshao by himself. And he still said he had room for more and wanted a roast chicken.

Zhu Xiang had no choice but to bring out the roast chicken meant for Xun Kuang, who was out visiting friends, and let Lian Po fill up.

Every time Lian Po came to mooch a meal from Zhu Xiang, Zhu Xiang would think of a meme of someone holding a spoon bigger than their head.

“Can I come eat at your house? I’ll just have one spoonful. A spoon as big as my head.jpg.”

Lian Po’s appetite was far scarier than that spoon.

After he was full, Lian Po didn’t leave right away this time. He said he wanted to teach Zhu Xiang martial arts.

Zhu Xiang was left groaning as he got worked over by Lian Po. He didn’t stop until Zhu Xiang was collapsed on the ground, refusing to get up even when poked with a stick. Only then did Lian Po leave, satisfied, on horseback.

Zhu Xiang rolled onto his back and weakly said to Ying Zheng, who was squatting nearby with a furious expression, “Zheng’er, don’t be angry. General Lian meant well… cough, cough… whew.”

Lin Xiangru helped Zhu Xiang sit up and said, “Meant well? He’s just bored and came to bully you on purpose.”

Zhu Xiang gave a wry smile.

Of course he knew Lian Po was bullying him on purpose. But Lian Po was proud and arrogant, and usually looked down on everyone. The fact that he came to “torment” Zhu Xiang once a month showed he cared about him in his own way—Zhu Xiang wouldn’t take offense.

Lian Po was extremely stubborn about his principles. For instance, because Zhu Xiang didn’t go to war, no matter how much Lin Xiangru persuaded him, Lian Po refused to recommend Zhu Xiang and would often call him a cowardly wimp.

But whether it was sending his subordinates to help Zhu Xiang with irrigation or blatantly mooching meals to show that Zhu Xiang had his support as well as Lin Xiangru’s, Lian Po’s actions proved he saw Zhu Xiang as a younger relative.

“General Lian is indeed well-meaning, but…” Zhu Xiang rubbed his aching waist, “why is it that the older he gets, the more he acts like an unruly child?”

Lin Xiangru thought: Exactly. Lian Po really is growing more unruly with age.

“All right, let’s not talk about him. Come with me to check on the potatoes,” Lin Xiangru said. “They should be blooming today, right?”

Zhu Xiang said helplessly, “It’s only been half a month—they won’t. Elder Lin, you asked me the same thing yesterday.”

Lin Xiangru didn’t care about normal plant growth cycles. He dragged the sore all over Zhu Xiang out to see the potatoes.

Ying Zheng stopped fuming and followed his uncle and Lin Xiangru to check on the potato seedlings—the ones he had planted himself.

As Lin Xiangru stroked his beard with a mysterious smile at the seedlings, Ying Zheng squatted nearby, mumbling to the plants: “Grow fast, little seedlings. Bloom soon.”

Zhu Xiang slumped on a stone bench in the courtyard, watching Lin Xiangru and Ying Zheng daze out over the plants, pretending he was a paralyzed man.

“Uncle, uncle! The seedlings have grown taller again!”

“Mmm…”

“Uncle, uncle! One of them has another leaf now!”

“Mmm…”

“Uncle, uncle! Will they bloom tomorrow?!”

“No…”

“Then when will they bloom?”

“Maybe another half month. But the potato flowers will be picked while they’re still buds so the plant grows better. So we won’t get to see them bloom.”

Ying Zheng looked up in disbelief. “Huh? We won’t see the flowers?!”

Zhu Xiang said, “If you like the potato flowers, you can leave a few plants to bloom. Then you can compare the harvest with the ones we picked.”

Ying Zheng nodded gently. “Okay. I’ll leave some flowers to give to Auntie.”

Zhu Xiang laughed. “Zheng’er already knows how to give flowers? Then what about Uncle? You’ll only give them to Auntie?”

“I’ll give them to both,” Ying Zheng said.

“Good boy!” Zhu Xiang tried to get up to hug him, but as soon as he did, pain shot through his body and he plopped back down. “Ow…”

“Sit still,” Lin Xiangru chuckled. “Who would’ve thought some crops grow better with their flowers picked?”

“We eat the potato roots, so we can’t let them flower and divert nutrients,” Zhu Xiang explained. “Elder Lin, the potato seedlings haven’t changed much—can we go back inside? It’s cold.”

“I’ll stay a bit longer. You go ahead,” Lin Xiangru said.

Ying Zheng refused to leave too. He kept talking to the seedlings, bossily commanding them to grow tasty potatoes.

Zhu Xiang sighed inwardly and had no choice but to sit in the cold wind with the old man and the little boy.

Half a month later, the potatoes finally budded.

Zhu Xiang hung a small basket over Ying Zheng’s little arm. “Go on then, Little Zheng the Flower Picker!”

Ying Zheng gleefully ran into the small potato field and began picking the buds with great enthusiasm.

Being small, he was the perfect height for the job. But picking buds was tiring work. Ying Zheng carefully checked every plant, pulling off the buds and placing them in the basket. After just five plants, he was sweating.

Zhu Xiang stopped him from working further and pulled in Lin Zhi, who had been watching with arms folded.

“Now it’s Uncle and Uncle Lin’s turn. Zheng’er, take a break,” Zhu Xiang said. “When they get tired, you can switch back in.”

Ying Zheng nodded. “Okay.”

Xue wiped Ying Zheng’s sweat and changed the cloth on his back. “Zheng’er worked hard.”

Ying Zheng held up the basket. “Auntie, these are for you.”

Xue leaned down and sniffed the basket. Potato flowers didn’t have much fragrance—especially as buds—but she smiled anyway. “They smell wonderful. Thank you, Zheng’er. I love them. I’ll dry them and make a bracelet.”

Ying Zheng beamed, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. “When the flowers fully bloom, I’ll pick prettier ones for Auntie.”

Xue patted his head, which had a tiger hat on. “Alright.”

Zhu Xiang and Lin Zhi picked far faster than the boy. In no time, most of the buds were gone—except for a few reserved plants.

As expected, Ying Zheng was thrilled to be given the honor of “switching shifts” and finishing the last two plants. He puffed up his chest, cheeks flushed red. Zhu Xiang, watching, once again lamented not knowing how to make a camera.

Even Lin Zhi now looked at Ying Zheng with softness.

Having spent so many days with him, even Lin Zhi—who hated Qin and had been wary of the Qin prince—finally let go of his bias. Ying Zheng was far more obedient and sensible than the average child.

Everyone praised how good and clever Ying Zheng was—but Zhu Xiang, his biggest fan, started to worry.

If he raised the future First Emperor to be this well-behaved, would a mighty emperor ever emerge? He couldn’t imagine a docile Qin Shi Huang.

Then again, when the old Qin king passed and the boy was returned to Qin, his father would take over his upbringing. Maybe there was no need to worry.

After all, Zhu Xiang had no idea how to raise a domineering emperor. Better to leave it to fate and trust the momentum of history.

The potato flowers bloomed in just a few days.

Ying Zheng carefully cut a few branches and, with Zhu Xiang’s help, arranged them in a vase for Xue.

Potato flowers came in white, pink, and purple, with five or six blooms on each stem. Very beautiful.

Xue took them from the vase and tied the stems to a wooden hairpin with thread—turning them into a decorative floral pin.

In autumn, women liked to wear chrysanthemums. So when Xue went out with a pin of star-like potato flowers instead of big blooms, it caught everyone’s eye.

When asked, she smiled and said, “These were grown by my Zheng’er—not anything rare. Next year my husband will teach people how to grow potatoes too. If you like the flowers, you can pin a few on as decoration.”

The women all said they’d grow potatoes next year. Not just for eating—also for the pretty blooms.

Seeing how much Xue liked the flowers, Zhu Xiang had a silk version made by a craftsman and gave it to Ying Zheng to present.

Xue was overjoyed and wore it every day.

Lin Zhi also asked for the artisan’s name and had silk potato flower pins made for his wives and concubines.

Before the potatoes spread, the silk flowers became the latest fashion in Handan. Even women in the palace started wearing them.

The King of Zhao became curious about this strange new bloom.

Lin Xiangru dug up a potato, placed it in a golden pot, and presented it to the king.

The king loved the potted plant. Upon learning it was cultivated by Zhu Xiang, he wanted him to enter the palace to tend the royal gardens.

Lin Xiangru objected: “Zhu Xiang is a commoner—how can he enter the palace?”

The king waved his hand. “Anyone who can cultivate such rare flowers deserves an official post as a gardener.”

Lin Xiangru advised, “Your Majesty, with Qin watching like a tiger and the other five states being no less dangerous, this is the time to focus on strengthening the state. If word gets out that a commoner was given a post for growing flowers, the scholars will be displeased. Please reconsider!”

The king asked, “Weren’t you the one who kept recommending Zhu Xiang? Why not now?”

Lin Xiangru replied seriously, “I recommended him to start as a minor official, not to be given a sudden leap into the palace.”

The king was convinced. “True. To win the scholars’ hearts, I shouldn’t show such favoritism over a plant.”

Lin Xiangru bowed. “Your Majesty is wise.”

The king smiled. “Then I shall reward him with gold and silk and have him deliver potato flowers to the palace next year… But why is it called tudou? Such a crude name.”

Lin Xiangru explained, “When grain is scarce, commoners dig up tree roots and grass roots to eat. In famine, they found this plant’s underground root edible. Dou means bean; tudou means a bean that grows in the ground.”

At that time, people were beginning to use the word dou for beans, though it wasn’t yet widespread. The king nodded. “Ah, I see. No wonder it’s called that. But now that it’s in the palace, the name should be changed…”