HCT – Chapter 9 Lamb Soup with Soaked Flatbread

Anyone who truly knows what ancient times were like wouldn’t want to time-travel there.

But since he was here, he had to find some joy for himself—otherwise, he wouldn’t have the courage to keep going in this era. One of the greatest pleasures for a transmigrator was “collecting character cards.”

Now, Zhu Xiang had “collected” the saint card of Xunzi, and he was so thrilled he wanted to spin his nephew in circles.

But with Lin Xiangru glaring at him with a look of disdain from inside the carriage, he didn’t dare.

Zhu Xiang gave Lin Xiangru a flattering smile and immediately behaved even more properly than the sleepy Ying Zheng beside him.

Ying Zheng yawned behind a tiny fist and snuck a glance at his uncle’s overly calm expression.

Though they’d only known each other for two days, Ying Zheng was sure: this expression was completely fake.

Zhu Xiang had been watching Ying Zheng the whole time. When he yawned, Zhu Xiang adjusted his sitting posture and said gently, “Go ahead and sleep. I’ll wake you for dinner.”

He reached out and covered Ying Zheng’s eyes with his palm, shielding him from the light.

Ying Zheng’s lips curved upward unconsciously. He rolled over to face Zhu Xiang, nestled into his uncle’s arm, curled up on his lap, and closed his eyes.

Both elder men in the carriage unconsciously softened their breathing at the sight.

Lin Xiangru stroked his graying beard, a look of helplessness in his eyes.

With how deeply Zhu Xiang doted on his nephew, once the child returned to Qin, Zhu Xiang would likely follow.

Lin Xiangru knew Zhu Xiang was a kind-hearted fool, easily manipulated by anyone with half a mind. If he used emotional ties to bind Zhu Xiang to stay in Zhao and continue as his retainer, it would surely work.

But because Lin Xiangru understood Zhu Xiang so well, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Xunzi glanced at Zhu Xiang, who looked at his nephew with loving eyes, and then at Lin Xiangru—who likely didn’t realize the same tenderness had crept into his own gaze. Xunzi sighed inwardly.

He turned his gaze out the window, no longer looking at the heartwarming yet quietly sorrowful scene.

By the time Zhu Xiang got home, Xue had already arranged for a young lamb to be butchered.

To his surprise, Cai Ze was already waiting at the house. When he saw Zhu Xiang come in carrying his sleeping nephew, he raised a jar of meat sauce he’d “borrowed” from Zhu Xiang’s cellar in greeting.

“You’re well-informed as always,” Zhu Xiang said with a laugh.

Cai Ze nodded. “Naturally.”

He rose and bowed respectfully to Xunzi.

As Lin Zhi slowly drove the ox cart toward Zhu Xiang’s home, he’d already sent word ahead for Xue to prepare food.

With such a stir, Cai Ze had heard the news too. He quickly put down his scroll and rushed to Zhu Xiang’s house to meet the former Headmaster of the Jixia Academy—Xunzi.

Having taught so many students, Xunzi didn’t judge others by appearance. He graciously accepted the tea brewed from dried jujubes Cai Ze offered, along with freshly washed crisp jujubes.

After that, Cai Ze respectfully presented a wooden scroll. Xunzi opened it and began to read slowly.

Cai Ze sat up straight before him, like a student awaiting a teacher’s critique.

Meanwhile, Zhu Xiang had someone carry Ying Zheng into a room to nap. After freshening up and changing his clothes, he returned to the courtyard—only to find the air so solemn it felt like a lecture hall.

He had an overwhelming urge to turn around and leave.

Lin Zhi kept signaling with his eyes for Zhu Xiang to come suffer alongside him.

Lin Xiangru pulled out a wooden ruler from his sleeve and whack—rapped Lin Zhi on the head.

Zhu Xiang didn’t hesitate any longer. He turned and left for the kitchen to cook.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to face the serious elders with Lin Zhi, but rather that today, there were distinguished guests at home. He had to cook himself to show proper respect.

Good luck, Lin Li!

In the kitchen, Xue, who was instructing the servants on salting the lamb, turned in surprise. “My lord, why are you here? Shouldn’t you be entertaining the guests?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “When there are such esteemed guests, I must cook personally. You go accompany them.”

Xue nodded. “Alright. I’ll bring the dried jujubes you prepared last time and brew some tea, along with some fresh jujubes.”

Zhu Xiang shrugged. “Cai Ze has already taken over—he’s brewed the tea and washed the fruit.”

Xue blinked in surprise, then covered her mouth and laughed. “Cai Ze isn’t like Xia Tong, who forgets his manners. These must be very important guests. I’ll go steam some rice.”

Zhu Xiang waved it off. “No need. Today we’re making lamb soup with soaked flatbread. Xue, check the front—if they don’t need you, then stay with Zheng’er. I’m worried he’ll wake up and get scared if no one’s around.”

Xue immediately washed her hands and left with hurried steps.

Zhu Xiang smiled at her retreating figure.

The elderly servants in the kitchen smiled too. Even though the little master had only been here two days, the master and mistress treated him like a treasure. The whole household felt more alert and lively.

Compared to the previous quiet ease, the steward preferred this livelier atmosphere.

Now that he had used cooking as an excuse, Zhu Xiang had to go all in and make it convincing.

First, the ingredients were limited. Second, he didn’t want to reveal cooking skills too advanced for the time. So he chose a simple braising method for the lamb.

They were in a transitional period from slavery to feudalism. If Zhu Xiang demonstrated overly sophisticated cooking, King Zhao might summon him to the palace just to cook. For a commoner, serving the king meant becoming a slave—possibly even being castrated to serve as a eunuch.

Not even Lin Xiangru could protect him. In this era, a commoner becoming the king’s servant was seen as an honor.

To avoid such a terrible fate, Zhu Xiang always made sure his cooking, while delicious, used only ordinary ingredients and techniques. Even if the food’s fame spread, it wouldn’t attract dangerous attention from nobles.

The young lamb didn’t have much of a gamy taste to begin with. Xue had already marinated it in dried tangerine peel water, so what remained was barely noticeable.

Zhu Xiang simply rubbed the meat with refined salt and did little else.

There were spring onions, ginger, and shallots available (regular garlic had not yet made it to the Central Plains). He chopped a few white scallions, tied some into knots, and combined them with ginger slices and shallots in a pot of clean water—then added the lamb.

Once the water boiled, he reduced the fire to a simmer. Each time foam floated to the top, he skimmed it off.

The servants helping in the kitchen looked on hungrily.

The lamb fat skimmed from the soup to remove odor would later be theirs—delicious when mixed into their bean rice.

Being a servant in a wealthy and kind household was a happiness many dreamed of. They cherished such masters dearly.

After skimming off the foam a few times, Zhu Xiang carefully dipped a cloth bundle wrapped with Sichuan pepper powder into the meat broth.

Sichuan pepper was the only spice Zhu Xiang could get his hands on at the moment. Its aroma, infused into the lamb broth, immediately added layers of depth to the meat’s flavor and helped cut through some of the greasiness.

After letting it simmer for a while, Zhu Xiang fished out the cloth bundle of pepper and added sliced radishes and rehydrated assorted mushrooms. Once the soup came to a boil again, he used the hot broth to blanch some chives.

“Serve it to them first,” Zhu Xiang said. “Keep marinating the sheep’s head—we’ll eat it tomorrow. Make less bean rice today; I’ll bake each of you a white flatbread.”

The old servant immediately objected nervously, “How could we accept that?”

Zhu Xiang smiled. “Zheng’er is new to the household. Everyone should celebrate a little. This is food Zheng’er is rewarding you with.”

With that, he ladled out some lamb bones with little meat still attached and placed them into a clay pot used for collecting broth foam.

In this world, being too kind to servants could be dangerous. Excessive kindness didn’t always earn their gratitude—in fact, it could lead to misfortune. A measured benefit would win their appreciation, but too much generosity… Zhu Xiang had already experienced betrayal once. His kindness had been mistaken for weakness, and the servant had conspired with bandits.

Over the years, he had learned the balance of how to treat servants.

Given a justifiable reason to accept the reward, the servants finally let themselves appear genuinely delighted and at ease.

Led by the old servant, they carried out the soup bowls filled with lamb broth, walking with such lightness that they seemed about to take flight.

Zhu Xiang sighed inwardly, tightened his sleeves, and began baking the flatbreads.

The dough had been kneaded long ago, so baking the bread was quick.

When Zhu Xiang carried the freshly baked white flatbreads to the front hall, they had just finished their first bowl of lamb soup.

Xue, holding the now-awake little Ying Zheng, was also seated at the table, quietly feeding him the broth.

Zhu Xiang brought over the flatbreads and taught them to tear the bread and soak it in the broth to eat. Xun Kuang was astonished: “What is this? I’ve never seen it before.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “A flatbread made from wheat flour.”

Xun Kuang was even more surprised. “Wheat flour? It’s so coarse, yet it can make such delicious bread?”

Although wheat had long been cultivated, commoners usually just steamed whole grains to make “wheat rice,” which was predictably unpalatable.

Stone mills did exist by this time, but they were expensive and typically found only in noble households.

Nobles mostly ate millet and yellow rice. Wheat was considered food for commoners, and it wasn’t worth using a millstone to grind it into flour. The breads and noodles found in archaeological records of this period were mostly made from millet or yellow rice.

The earliest recorded use of wheat flour to make flatbreads dates to the Han dynasty. Even during the Wei and Jin periods, the Qi Min Yao Shu still noted that “wheat rice” was the main way people consumed wheat. It wasn’t until the mid-Tang dynasty—after the prosperity of the early Tang—that millstones became common among the general population, and wheat overtook millet and yellow rice to become the staple grain.

That’s why Xun Kuang was so surprised to taste bread made from wheat flour.

After Zhu Xiang explained how he hulled and milled the wheat, Xun Kuang fell silent.

After a while, he sighed, “Let’s just keep eating the bread.”

With his mouth full of bread, Lin Zhi looked at Xun Kuang, then at Zhu Xiang, who always wore a simpleminded smile, confused but continuing to eat.

Little Ying Zheng also looked back and forth between Xun Kuang and his uncle.

Although his small head told him he should be thinking something through, he couldn’t figure it out, so he simply lowered his head and continued eating the lamb his aunt had shredded with chopsticks.

“Don’t feed him too much—children are prone to indigestion at night,” Zhu Xiang changed the subject and reminded Xue.

Xue regretfully put down her chopsticks. “Alright.”

Ying Zheng looked so pitifully adorable when eating that Xue found it hard to resist.

“Go play with your uncle.” Xue gently nudged the little boy, who was still eyeing the lamb in the bowl longingly, worried she’d give in and feed him more.

Obediently, Ying Zheng climbed out of his aunt’s arms and sat next to Zhu Xiang.

His limbs were soft and weak, and after kneeling for a short while, he slumped to one side. Zhu Xiang quickly caught his wobbling nephew and, apologetically, asked, “Zheng’er is still too young to sit upright—may he stretch his legs instead?”

Xun Kuang laughed. “Though I follow Confucianism, I’m not so strict as to expect a child this young to follow all the rites.”

Lin Xiangru frowned. “He’s just a child. Don’t be too strict with him or it’ll backfire! Lin Li turned out so lazy because I was too hard on him when he was little!”

Lin Zhi, who had been happily eating meat, looked up: “???”

Zhu Xiang gave a bitter smile. How did it turn into him being the strict one with Zheng’er?

He didn’t quite believe Lin Xiangru’s claim of being strict with Lin Zhi in the past, but since the man said so, Zhu Xiang nodded in agreement. Then he helped Ying Zheng stretch out his tiny legs and let the boy lean against him to play.

Xue had someone bring over a crookedly sewn tiger plushie and handed it to Ying Zheng to play with.

Zhu Xiang was curious. “You made this? Finished it in one day?”

Xue replied, “It’s poorly done. Zheng’er’s just playing with it for now. Later, Auntie will make you a prettier one.”

Ying Zheng hugged the little tiger plushie, unsure how to play with it. Instinctively, he squished it flat and then tugged at it.

Watching the silly little boy pulling at the toy, Lin Xiangru’s tightly furrowed brow finally relaxed a little, and his expression softened.

Zhu Xiang noticed this and couldn’t help but feel a bit proud inside. My little Zheng’er is just too adorable!

The lamb soup with flatbread was delicious, and the lamb-blanched chives were also fresh and tender. Xun Kuang accidentally ate too much and dragged Lin Xiangru out for a walk to digest.

Lin Xiangru had no choice but to sleep at Zhu Xiang’s residence, though he sent Lin Zhi back home to reassure his elderly wife.

Although the city gates were closed, Lin Zhi could still return home that night thanks to Lin Xiangru’s power and influence.

Cai Ze also took his leave, saying he would visit again the next day.

After preparing the bedding, Zhu Xiang had Xue take Ying Zheng to bed while he followed the two old men—who insisted on going for a nighttime stroll—as their bodyguard.

Lin Xiangru glanced at Zhu Xiang disdainfully. “You? Our bodyguard? If we really ran into bandits, all you’d be good for is hiding behind me and Xun Qing, screaming for help.”

Zhu Xiang shamelessly replied, “I’m young and quick on my feet—I can carry you both and run!”

Lin Xiangru almost asked how Zhu Xiang intended to carry both him and Xun Kuang at the same time, but seeing the boy’s good intentions, he gave him a little face and allowed him to tag along.

However, Xun Kuang refused and didn’t allow Zhu Xiang to follow.

Concerned for the two elderly men, Zhu Xiang had no choice but to carry a lantern and trail behind them from a distance.

The two restless old men didn’t wander far, simply walking in circles around Zhu Xiang’s residence.

They were silent for a while before Xun Kuang spoke first: “Zhu Xiang needs to align himself with a powerful and ambitious ruler.”

Lin Xiangru frowned. “You’ve been thinking about this all dinner?”

Xun Kuang said, “Zhu Xiang’s talents lie in agriculture and cuisine—both are tools that benefit the people. He must enter official service.”

Lin Xiangru replied, “I’ll help him secure a position!”

Xun Kuang challenged, “You? How? The Zhou royal house is collapsing, its fall inevitable. Whatever kingdom succeeds it—if Zhu Xiang is truly valued—he could save countless lives! The late King of Zhao may have treated you kindly, and you may tie yourself and your family to Zhao out of personal loyalty—but you cannot sacrifice the lives of the people to repay a personal debt. That defies righteousness!”

Xun Kuang’s spittle nearly sprayed in Lin Xiangru’s face. “Humans possess reason and morality—beasts have reason but no morality!”

Lin Xiangru’s face darkened. “Can’t you make your point without insults?”

Xun Kuang said, “I’m merely stating facts—beasts lack morality. How is that an insult to you?”

Lin Xiangru resisted the urge to whack Xun Kuang with his cane and gritted his teeth. “I’ll try once more. If it doesn’t work out, I won’t stop him from leaving.”

Xun Kuang sneered, “You criticize the King of Zhao yourself—don’t you realize he’s not the kind of ruler who can properly use Zhu Xiang’s talents?”

With sharp insight, Xun Kuang had only followed Zhu Xiang for a day, yet already saw the obstacles preventing Zhu Xiang from achieving his ambitions.

If Zhu Xiang wanted to teach more people how to turn barren soil into fertile farmland, a couple of wells wouldn’t suffice—he’d need government support to dig canals and build irrigation systems.

If he wanted to teach people to grow more productive grains like wheat and barley instead of millet, making wheat flatbread at home wasn’t enough—there’d need to be public stone mills in towns and villages funded by the government, and nobles with the most land would need to adopt wheat flour consumption first.

Zhu Xiang surely had more abilities, but all of them would challenge the interests of the aristocracy. If commoners lived better lives and narrowed the gap with the elite, the privileges of the wealthy would be threatened. To fully realize his talents, Zhu Xiang would need a ruler with both vision and authority to suppress court resistance and stand firmly behind him.

“How many people Zhu Xiang can save depends entirely on the ability of the ruler backing him and the trust placed in him,” Xun Kuang declared firmly. “The King of Zhao isn’t it!”

Lin Xiangru’s face turned ashen. “If not him, then who? The King of Qin? Have you forgotten the mass live burial of loyal ministers during Duke Mu of Qin’s reign?!”

Xun Kuang fell silent.

Not all Qin rulers were poorly regarded by scholars. During the Spring and Autumn period, Duke Mu of Qin cherished talent and loved his people. He honored even common soldiers in death. Despite breaking his alliance with Jin, his benevolence was widely praised in his lifetime.

Duke Mu pioneered Qin’s system of hosting foreign retainers, attracting talent from across the states.

But no one expected that upon his death, he’d force over 170 people to follow him in death—including three top ministers: Yan Xi, Zhong Xing, and Zhen Hu.

The Western Zhou had already begun opposing human sacrifice, but this typically meant not using humans as offerings. Another form, “following in death,” persisted: wives, concubines, servants, and even officials “voluntarily” accompanying the deceased to the underworld.

The difference between the two was that the former treated victims like livestock, while the latter acknowledged them as cherished people. But everyone knew “voluntary” was a fiction. Still, nobles generally exercised restraint when choosing these companions.

This incident sparked outrage—not just among scholars but among common Qin citizens. The Book of Songs, in its “Qin Wind: Yellow Bird” section, laments: “O Heaven above, you’ve taken my good men!”

Qin’s ruler lost all credibility. From then on, righteous scholars avoided Qin, and the state stagnated throughout the rest of the Spring and Autumn period.

By the early Warring States, Qin had become a second-rate power. Only during Duke Xian’s reign did Qin begin to rise again.

And it was Duke Xian, less than a year into his rule, who finally abolished the 300-year-old tradition of human burial in Qin—showing just how much reputation affected national strength.

Lin Xiangru invoked Duke Mu of Qin to warn Xun Kuang: even a ruler who seems virtuous might turn on his ministers in death. Who could guarantee today’s King of Qin wasn’t another hypocrite, charming in speech but ruthless in action—even to the point of forcing loyal men to die with him?

The old King of Qin was already nearing death.

Xun Kuang had no answer.

His recent westward trip had taken him to Qin.

Xun Kuang praised the Qin court and commoners for their adherence to law and order—like a nation governed by a virtuous ancient king. But he also saw Qin’s fatal flaw: it focused solely on law, neglecting moral education; it appointed capable men without regard for virtue.

Xun Kuang predicted Qin would fall because of this.

And in Zhu Xiang’s past life, history confirmed Xun Kuang was absolutely right.

“Perhaps such a true ruler doesn’t exist yet,” Xun Kuang finally sighed. “Until he finds one, please protect him well.”

Lin Xiangru was silent for a long time before letting out a deep sigh.

The two old men lost interest in their nighttime walk and turned back toward Zhu Xiang, who had been trailing behind them.

“Not walking anymore? Hungry? Thirsty? Want me to make you some late-night snacks?”

“Snacks at night? You’ll just upset your stomach!”

“Then eat and walk a bit more—ouch!”

Zhu Xiang was smacked with a ruler by Lin Xiangru. Xun Kuang burst into hearty laughter at the sight of Zhu Xiang obediently covering his mouth, startling the sleeping chickens and ducks nearby.