Chapter 33: Five-Colored New Silk Wrapped Zongzi.
Luocheng, Dragon Boat Festival.
The banks of the Luo River were crowded with people, so crowded that they looked like a group of ants. From time to time, people were even pushed into the water, and then bursts of laughter rang out.
Some people threw the wrapped zongzi into the river to feed the fish and shrimp in the river, so that they would not gnaw on the bodies of loyal ministers and righteous men.
Of course, Qu Yuan did not die in this river, but people did not care.
Just like those dragon boats with gorgeous decorations racing left and right in the river, the horns and shouts filled the air, and some people even bet on which dragon boat would reach the finish line first and receive a generous reward. The Dragon Boat
Festival is the fifth day of the fifth month. Early summer has arrived, but Luocheng is not too hot yet.
However, despite the bustle by the Luo River, Xue Ling was not by the river.
She was following Fang Bie, pretending to eat zongzi at a zongzi stall.
The glutinous rice wrapped in bamboo leaves, when peeled, exuded a pleasant fragrance. Luocheng is located in the north, and Xue Ling is a true Yanjing native, a northerner among northerners. Therefore, Fang Bie and Xue Ling did not get angry over the sweet or salty taste of the rice dumplings, and they did not quarrel.
Xue Ling ate a candied date, which was sweet. Although the girl was no longer able to eat sweets, she was still happy to have something sweet.
When she was in Yanjing, she always ate honey with the rice dumplings during the Dragon Boat Festival. The sweet honey mixed with the fragrance of the rice dumplings was really delicious.
But now, she could only eat these sweet rice dumplings filled with candied dates.
Just as she was thinking this, Fang Bie handed Xue Ling a small plate. She took a look and was surprised to see fine, white, and soft granulated sugar. "Where did you get this?"
Fang Bie smiled and said, "Don't worry about it."
Xue Ling pursed her lips, picked up a zongzi from the plate with her chopsticks, dipped it in the granulated sugar in the small plate, and then put it in her mouth.
Granulated sugar is sweeter than honey and is also softer and easier to swallow. The girl felt her heart melt at the sight of sweets, especially such precious granulated sugar.
"I heard that this granulated sugar is only produced in the southernmost regions where sugarcane is abundant, and is only supplied to the emperor as tribute." Xue Ling looked at Fang Bie and asked curiously. The boy sitting opposite her was watching the people passing by and had not ordered any zongzi.
Xue Ling had fully sensed Fang Bie's constant caution and prudence. For example, he always used his own containers for food and drink, brought his own rations, and avoided outsiders. For example, right now, while Xue Ling was eating zongzi on the street, Fang Bie remained seated on a stool, like a teenager accompanying his sweetheart for a meal and a stroll.
Even though he was constantly observing the movements on the street, Fang Bie had mentioned that the Venerable Monk Kongwu might be passing through Luocheng today. He was a top-tier contemporary master, and he needed to be treated with the utmost caution.
"Don't worry about it, as long as it tastes good," Fang Bie said calmly.
Making white granulated sugar isn't difficult, and Fang Bie wasn't producing it in bulk. Using his own equipment, he could easily make a few pounds for consumption.
Furthermore, by this time, the yellow mud water-drenched sugar method already existed in the south. While not yet widespread, it was already being presented to the imperial court as tribute. Even if production were a bit larger—probably not much—the productivity of small-scale peasant farming was ultimately limited, and the quality wasn't high. It was, after all, a pre-existing practice of the time.
So, it wasn't surprising.
Xue Ling nodded, then took another bite and asked, "Could it be that the monk went to watch the dragon boat race?"
In fact, Xue Ling herself really wanted to go and see the dragon boat race. After all, she had never seen such a lively event before. However, Fang Bie was certain that the monk Kong Wu would pass by this street, so Xue Ling had no choice but to follow him.
Xue Ling really wanted to ask, "Who are you, or am I the bee wing?"
The young man's recent habit of grabbing bee stings and wings irritated Xue Ling, even though she knew she wasn't yet worthy of Fang Bie's wings.
But that was mainly because Fang Bie's rank was truly too high.
Fang Bie quietly shook his head. "Look, I don't even watch the dragon boat races. Do you think a high monk would?"
Xue Ling was instantly choked and speechless. After a long pause, she could only manage, "You definitely didn't have a childhood." FangBie looked like he hadn't. He was always gentle and calm in his dealings with others, unfazed by praise or criticism, but when he actually struck a blow, he was ruthless and decisive. Just like when Fang Bie held her with a dagger in that small side room, Xue Ling had no doubt that Fang Bie would slit her throat at any moment.
The more she interacted with Fang Bie, the more she solidified her initial belief.
After all, was Ning Huaiyuan strong? Was Red Fox strong?
Before Fang Bie, they were like puppets, at his mercy, ready to die when he said they would.
And until the very end, no one knew Fang Bie's true strength.
But what exactly was Fang Bie's strength?
Xue Ling truly couldn't understand.
"You still have the right to mock me for not having a childhood?" Fang Bie smiled. Just as he was about to retort, to let her know the profoundness of his own childhood, and the painful realization of three years of college entrance exams and five years of mock exams, a melodious Buddhist chant rang out from the distance.
"Amitabha."
"Coming," Fang Bie whispered softly, then placed five copper coins on the table, called Xue Ling, and walked towards the source of the chant.
The two of them made their way through the somewhat bustling Dragon Boat Festival crowd and saw a tall, white-bearded monk, draped in a tattered, khaki robe. Nine scars marked his brow, he held a brass staff, and faced a woman, clasping his hands in apology.
Behind him was a pale young monk, dressed in a white linen robe, a bit worn but immaculately washed. He looked no more than ten years old. On his back was a woven bamboo basket containing some clothing and other ritual items.
The monks, one old and one young, were walking down the road when they were surrounded by people, simply because a woman was blocking their way.
If it was just one woman blocking the road, it wouldn't be surprising.
What was surprising was that this woman was incredibly beautiful and wore surprisingly little.
She had a deep nose and high eyes, three-dimensional and delicate features, long, slightly curly, light chestnut hair, and an alluring skin color close to honey. She was looking at the monk in front of her who was chanting the Buddha's name, and she spoke quietly.
"Master, your little monk looked at me too much. His six senses are not pure. Shouldn't you gouge out his eyes to compensate me?"
Her voice was the proper Mandarin of the Central Plains, with clear, loud pronunciation and a soft and pleasant sound.
(End of this chapter)