Chapter 37: A Share for Everyone

The next second, gasps of astonishment erupted throughout the hall.

"Heavens! These noodles are so incredibly smooth!"
"I have served in the army for ten years, yet I have never tasted such a delicacy!"
"It’s pungent! Pungent! But why does the more pungent it gets, the more I crave it?"

Although it was braised beef noodles, for the Qin soldiers who never ate spicy food, they could still perceive that faint hint of heat. In this era of the Qin Dynasty, there were no true chili peppers; there were only native ingredients like ginger and dogwood, which carried a slight piquancy. Compared to modern chili peppers, this was merely considered "pungent."

During the Qin period, the character for "spicy" had not yet been recorded; there was only "pungent." The four flavors of "sour, sweet, bitter, and pungent" became established during the Tang and Song dynasties, though the concept began to sprout in the pre-Qin era. However, according to *Lüshi Chunqiu: The Essence of Taste* (Qin Dynasty), "Sour without being harsh, salty without being bland, sweet without being cloying, and pungent without being acrid," the term "pungent" was used to describe what we now call spicy.

The colonel ate until he was drenched in sweat, yet he could not stop his chopsticks, eventually drinking every last drop of the broth. He bowed solemnly to Qiao Wenbai, "My young friend, your generous gift is something this general will never forget!"

A rustling noise suddenly came from the kitchen. Wu Jie poked his head in and discovered several inn servants secretly licking the discarded seasoning packets. His heart ached. He turned around and cooked another pot of noodles, intentionally adding extra sausages, and called out to the servants, "Come, come! There is enough for everyone!"

The servants dared not approach until the innkeeper gave the word, at which point they tremblingly accepted the bowls. A thin, young servant took a single bite and was stunned by the savory, aromatic flavor, his eyes widening into perfect circles.

This—this was too delicious! He did not know how to describe it; he only felt it was the best food he had ever eaten in his life.

"Wuwu, it’s delicious, it’s delicious! I’ve never eaten anything so good!"
The old innkeeper’s hands trembled as he held the bowl. "I have lived for fifty years, and only today do I know what a true delicacy is."

The entire inn was brought closer together by this pot of instant noodles; a joyful atmosphere and the unique fragrance of the noodles permeated the building. Zhang Huaiming watched the scene and couldn't help but sigh, "In the modern world, this is just a bowl of instant noodles not fit for a formal table, but here, it is a delicacy they will never forget."

Li Qingyi looked at the four, including Qiao Wenbai, surrounded by the crowd, and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "After thousands of years of accumulation, our taste buds have been filled with various seasonings, making our tongues increasingly picky and dull. Compared to our ancestors, their taste buds are still in a primitive stage."

***

In the second half of the night, everyone who had eaten their fill slept soundly. Only the lights in the inn kitchen remained on, where several servants were using wooden spoons to scrape every last bit of residual broth from the copper cauldron, unwilling to waste even a drop. Outside the courtyard wall, the Qin soldiers on night watch licked their lips from time to time, savoring the fresh, spicy flavor they had never experienced before.

Meanwhile, in the nearby city of Xianyang, darkness enveloped the entire capital, and the candles in Xianyang Palace flickered in the night breeze. Ying Zheng set down the bamboo slip in his hand and gently rubbed his throbbing temples. Most of the memorials on his desk had been reviewed, yet his gaze kept drifting toward the palace doors.

"Zhao Gao." The emperor spoke suddenly, his voice appearing exceptionally low in the empty hall. "Has anyone come seeking an audience with the Black Iron Token recently?"

Zhao Gao, who was standing by, bowed hastily. "Reporting to Your Majesty, no one has come with the token yet."

Ying Zheng’s brows furrowed imperceptibly. It had been two and a half months since that turmeric-colored car vanished from the training grounds. Could those descendants who claimed to come from the future have gone and never returned?

"Your Majesty." Zhao Gao stole a glance at the emperor’s expression and said cautiously, "I observed that Young Master Jiang Ye is a man of his word. Since he has promised Your Majesty, he surely would not break it. Perhaps he was delayed by matters in the future."

"Loose tongue," Ying Zheng interrupted coldly, though he did not fly into a rage as he usually would. He reached out and picked up a new mobile phone that had just been "powered on," his fingertips gently brushing against the cold screen. Of the items left behind by the descendants, two could no longer light up—they seemed broken—and he wondered how long the remaining two would last.

Zhao Gao wisely kept silent, only to see the emperor suddenly rise, his black dragon robe flowing with a dark luster under the candlelight. Ying Zheng paced to the corridor outside the hall, looking at the starry sky in silence. The night wind lifted his unbound ink-colored hair, revealing the sharp lines of his profile.

"If no one arrives by the end of the year..." the emperor whispered, as if speaking into the void, "send someone to Langya Terrace to investigate."

Zhao Gao’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly agreed. Watching the emperor’s back as he stood in the corridor, for the first time, he caught a glimpse of imperceptible anxiety in the man who had swept across the six states.

The night was deep, and the sound of rapid hoofbeats came from outside Xianyang Palace. The palace guards recognized him and immediately cleared the path; unless it were a matter of life and death, the Minister of the Imperial Household, Meng Yi, would never enter the palace in the dead of night.

***

Ying Zheng, who had just retired to his bedchamber, heard the report and frowned. "Summon him."

The candles in the hall flickered. Ying Zheng sat on the edge of his bed, wearing only a casual outer robe. Meng Yi entered the hall, performed the rites, and then reported, "Your Majesty, the colonel at the East Gate reports that those holding the Black Iron Token have arrived in Xianyang! There are eleven of them, currently staying at the inn on the outskirts!"

A glimmer of light appeared in Ying Zheng’s eyes, and his brows, tightly locked for days, finally relaxed.

"Eleven?" Ying Zheng’s voice carried a rare sense of urgency. "Is Jiang Ye among them?"

"The colonel says the leader is indeed Jiang Ye." Meng Yi looked up and noticed the slight upward curve of the emperor’s lips.

"Good." Ying Zheng stood with his hands behind his back. "At the hour of the rabbit tomorrow, you will lead the imperial guards to receive them personally."

"I obey your command!" Meng Yi replied respectfully.

Before falling asleep, Ying Zheng’s brow was smooth, and he appeared quite relaxed. After Zhao Gao attended to Ying Zheng, he exited the bedchamber on tiptoe, turned, and gathered his robes, hurrying through the palace complexes. The night dew dampened his boots, but it did not slow his hurried pace in the slightest.

The palace of Huhai was brightly lit, and the sound of music was endless. When Zhao Gao stepped into the hall and saw the absurd scene before him, he frowned slightly, but it quickly smoothed out.

Twelve-year-old Prince Huhai was half-reclining on a soft couch, three disheveled dancing girls surrounding him and feeding him wine. Overturned fruit platters and wine goblets were scattered on the floor, and in the corner, a trembling musician was playing the zheng.

"Everyone, withdraw!" Zhao Gao commanded, startling the musician so much that he snapped a string.

Huhai raised his head with drunken eyes. "Oh, Master of the Carriage Office..." He let out a hiccup. "Coming so late... *hic*... are you here to drink with this prince?"

Zhao Gao waved his hand, driving everyone out of the hall. Once the doors were tightly shut, he lowered his voice. "Prince, those people from the future have arrived in Xianyang! They are to have an audience with His Majesty tomorrow!"

"People from the future?" Huhai played lazily with his wine cup. "Are they those people the Imperial Father keeps muttering about all day?"