RPS – Chapter 92 Eating Tofu

Now that they had gypsum, the most important thing was to make tofu — something Li Feng had been longing for a long time. He was quite familiar with the process of making tofu. Back when he was a child, every household would make tofu during the New Year. At the orphanage, the aunties would lead them in making it. They even had a stone mill, which made the process easier.

As for iron ore, Li Feng really didn’t understand much. He couldn’t even be sure if the stones he saw were really iron ore. But this was a case of better to be overly cautious than let one slip by. Since they didn’t have a magnet to test, they could only use the most primitive method — letting Li and Bu keep forging and refining the stones over fire. If they were really iron ore, then after high-temperature refining, they wouldn’t burn or crumble like ordinary stones.

Out of half a basket of stones, only a few turned out to be usable gypsum. Since they couldn’t confirm which ones were iron ore, Li Feng decided to throw them all together, including the ones they had collected earlier, and let Li and Bu test them one by one. If they could confirm even a single piece as iron ore, that meant there must be an iron deposit nearby — or perhaps a meteorite had once fallen in the area.

They split into two groups, and no one in the family was idle. Li and Bu especially — the pile of stones might not look like much, but having to hammer away at the roasted stones every day with stone hammers was no easy task. To make things worse, it was now late summer, the hottest time of the year, with the lingering “autumn tiger” heatwave still roaring. The two of them sweated buckets daily, wearing nothing but rough linen shorts around their waists, and still felt hot. But they were hardworking and didn’t complain. Knowing those stones might yield the sharpest weapons and most advanced tools, they worked with boundless enthusiasm and energy.

Li Feng, on the other hand, could make tofu in just a day or two. And one slab of tofu could last them many days. Still, he didn’t plan on making too much. In such weather, if they couldn’t finish it, it would go to waste. Unless… he tried making stinky tofu or fermented tofu? That thought reassured him — even if he made more, it wouldn’t matter. Besides, the household was large; they might not even have enough. And fresh, hot tofu was the best.

There was a saying: “Rowing boats, forging iron, and selling tofu are the three hardest jobs.” Li Feng’s household was now doing two out of the three. Thankfully, it wasn’t forever — just for this period. And they were all motivated.

Although Li Feng’s belly wasn’t huge, it was already around five months along, so not exactly small either. Still, that didn’t dampen his determination to personally make tofu. He soaked the soybeans in a basin, planning to scoop them out once they were ready. But squatting down was becoming more difficult. Washing and scooping them would be a struggle.

He had no choice but to call Nuo for help. Lately, Nuo had become addicted to weaving. Though sitting all day seemed tiring — and boring, in Li Feng’s eyes — Nuo enjoyed it immensely. Watching countless threads turn into cloth, later sewn by Li Feng into clothes, filled him with pride. Now, everyone in their family wore big linen shorts. They were unevenly cut, but much cooler and more comfortable than animal skins. Even Ka’s family had some, since they had contributed a lot. The tribe at large had started wearing linen clothes too. The chief had even led people to gather more flax. At the time, Li had reminded them to save the flax seeds for next year’s planting. He hadn’t mentioned that flaxseed could be made into oil, since Li Feng hadn’t produced any yet. Of course, Li always listened to Li Feng. As for the loom — once the flax was brought back, Li taught them how to build it.

The weaving machines kept improving. Still, good cloth didn’t depend on the machine alone; some people needed more practice. Nuo, however, had become the tribe’s top weaver, producing dense, even, and comfortable fabric.

“Li Feng, why are you soaking so many soybeans?” Nuo asked. “When we make soy milk, we don’t use nearly this much. Isn’t this too much?”

Li Feng, holding the baby who was leaning over the basin to play with the water, smiled. “Mm, this way we’ll have more. Otherwise, it won’t be enough. And if we make too much, I can use it for other things. Don’t worry — nothing will go to waste.”

The baby loved playing with water. Seeing everyone gathered around the basin while Nuo washed the soybeans, he became excited. With his little butt sticking up, he splashed at the water with his chubby hands. Li Feng held his waist, letting him play — otherwise, his pitiful wails would break their hearts. Since it was hot, Li Feng let him play for a bit. But if it went on too long, he’d have to take him away.

Nuo kept rinsing the round soybeans in the basin. The beans spun and swirled in the water, fascinating the baby. He imitated Nuo, grabbing at the beans and stirring, splashing water all over himself. His soft hair plastered to his scalp, his face wet, but he didn’t care. The colorful reflections of the splashes under the sun thrilled him even more. He clapped harder, until he nearly toppled headfirst into the basin. Luckily, Li Feng caught him, though the basin almost tipped, spilling water onto everyone.

“An, why are you being so naughty? Daddy said you can play, but not soak yourself. And just now, you were being a rascal! No more playing. Come on, let’s dry you off. Later Daddy will make tofu pudding and tofu for you.” Li Feng scolded gently as he carried the baby back to the room, drying his wet hair and clothes. The clothes needed changing right away. This little one was getting naughtier by the day.

Hearing Li Feng’s slightly stern tone, the baby pouted but didn’t cry. Holding a lock of Li Feng’s hair, he whispered, “Daddy… daddy…” He didn’t realize he’d done wrong. He only knew that whenever Daddy called him “An,” Daddy wasn’t smiling anymore. Usually, Daddy called him “baby” or “darling.”

Seeing the baby’s aggrieved little face, Li Feng pinched his chubby cheeks and smiled. “What’s wrong, darling? Are you mad at Daddy? But who told you not to listen? You can play with water, but not soak your clothes. And you almost tipped the basin! Most importantly — what if you caught a cold? Daddy would be so heartbroken. Come on, darling, give Daddy a smile.”

Though the baby didn’t understand his words, seeing Daddy call him “darling” again and smiling warmly, plus being tickled, he burst into giggles, wriggling in Li Feng’s arms so much that Li Feng nearly lost his hold. He had to be careful not to let the baby kick his belly. Just carrying him this short distance left Li Feng a little breathless.

He sat the baby on the bed and changed him into a clean linen bib. Looking at the plump, soft, fair-skinned baby with black hair, Li Feng suddenly thought he resembled the child-god Sudhana — only missing a red bib. The baby, crawling around with his little butt sticking up, spotted his wet bib and promptly tossed it to the floor. Lately, he loved throwing things — anything he could lift.

“You little rascal, you just can’t sit still, can you? Even if it’s dirty, you can’t throw clothes on the floor!” Li Feng sighed, patting the baby’s smooth, tender little bottom. The feel was too good — baby skin was the softest.

By the time Li Feng carried the baby out, Nuo had finished washing the soybeans. Next came milling. Li Feng called others to help. Though he wanted to push the mill himself, Nuo wouldn’t allow it. So he stood aside, holding the baby, watching. Even Mo and Lu came over, though they could barely reach the mill, more play than help. Eventually, Nuo shooed them away to play.

Once the raw soy milk was ground, Li Feng’s role was mostly directing. Li and Bu took the chance to rest — they couldn’t forge all day. And indeed, a few stones had yielded real iron. After repeated hammering, they had cleaned out most of the impurities, leaving solid lumps of iron. They just needed shaping. With only a few stones left, a break was well-earned.

The soy milk was poured into cloth bags and pressed. Thankfully, the linen they’d made was so versatile. After two rounds of pressing, it was ready to be boiled in a big clay pot — since they didn’t have iron cookware.

Li Feng skimmed off the froth, then mixed powdered gypsum with water and poured it into the hot soy milk, stirring constantly. Soon, the milk curdled into soft tofu pudding. The steaming tofu flower smelled heavenly. Li Feng ladled out bowls for everyone, adding soy sauce and chopped scallions. The silky tofu melted on their tongues, fragrant and smooth.

He himself didn’t have time to eat much — tofu needed to be transferred quickly into the frame he had built from stone and wood boards, lined with cloth. After filling it, he wrapped the cloth over, placed a board on top, and pressed it for ten to twenty minutes. This yielded tender tofu. If he wanted firmer tofu or dried tofu, he’d need to weigh it down with stones. But for now, tender tofu was perfect.

The baby loved the tofu pudding. After Li Feng fed him some, he tried grabbing the spoon to eat himself, smearing his face with it. Luckily, his bib caught most of the mess. Li Feng sometimes let him practice eating alone — even if he wasn’t steady yet, it was good training.

When the tofu was finally ready, it was as tender and smooth as the baby’s cheek — tempting enough to kiss or bite. Pure white, slightly yellowish, still steaming hot. Just in time for lunch.

Li, watching Li Feng beam while holding the baby and admiring the tofu, leaned down to kiss his cheek. Li Feng glared at him — what was that for?

Li winked, then glanced at the tofu in the frame. “Eating tofu — so white, so tender.”

Li Feng nearly fainted with black lines across his forehead. So that’s where the saying came from? This rascal! Has the phrase “taking advantage” really existed since ancient times?

Finally, Li Feng’s long-held wish was fulfilled. He decided to cook personally today. In summer, cold tofu salad with scallions was a must. Too bad they didn’t have century eggs — no lime yet. He sighed. They still lacked so many things. Well, one step at a time.

He invited Ka’s family to join. He made homestyle tofu — dusting the tofu in flour, frying it until the outside was crisp but the inside stayed tender, then topping it with a sauce of garlic, ginger, shredded meat, and mushrooms. Garnished with scallions, it looked and tasted unforgettable.

The tofu, though slightly yellowish since it came from soybeans, was all-natural — unlike the unnaturally white ones on the market back in his world, whitened with additives. This tofu was rich, fragrant, and pure.

No meal was complete without soup. He made crucian carp tofu soup, light and cooling, or fish-head tofu soup. With limited ingredients, tofu dishes alone became a feast — stir-fries, soups, braises, each with unique flavors. Everyone ate their fill, bellies round and satisfied. Even the baby had plenty of crucian carp tofu soup — tender tofu and deboned fish, mild and delicious. Still, Li Feng gave him mostly tofu; crucian carp had too many tiny bones.

By now, everyone was used to Li Feng’s unusual delicacies. They didn’t even bother asking anymore — just waited eagerly to eat. No one else could make such delicious food. Others often cut corners, dumping all ingredients in together. Li Feng, on the other hand, took his time with care, knowing good things were worth waiting for.

After the hearty meal, it was back to the forge. With a few lumps of pure iron in hand, Li Feng decided the first tool should be a kitchen knife. There wasn’t enough iron for a machete. But a kitchen knife was essential — he was tired of struggling to cut meat with stone blades. Hunting had become less frequent anyway, with most people farming and raising animals instead. Meat was rarer, but other foods were abundant, and no one went hungry. Occasional hunts were enough to keep balance in the ecosystem.

For now, harmony and development mattered most.