The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

Yao carefully blew on it, took a small sip, and her eyes widened suddenly. Although she had experienced extraordinary things in her early years and had seen and even tasted some high-end dishes, the taste sensation brought by this bowl of spicy soup was still unprecedented.

The pepper flavor was truly potent; the moment it entered her mouth, it felt like her taste buds exploded, a tingling, numbing sensation shooting straight to her head. Then came the richness of the various spices, the savory kick of the bone broth, and the satisfying texture of the other ingredients, layer upon layer rising up—salty, fresh, spicy, and hot, all swirling on her tongue. The hot soup flowed down her throat, instantly warming her stomach like a fire, burning all the way to her heart. As she drank, she suddenly felt her back straighten a bit—as if all the pent-up frustration and poverty she had endured over the years had been washed away by this bowl of soup.

She didn't speak, but lowered her head and took another big gulp, her eyes slightly moist.

Wang Zhuacai wasn't so particular. He cleared his throat, wiped his hands on his trousers, picked up the bowl, and gulped down half of it. The scalding soup made his face turn red, and he coughed violently. He grinned, touched a non-existent beard at the corner of his mouth, revealing teeth worn yellow by time: "Good! Strong! Flavorful! This soup warms you up and makes you sweat, it keeps you full and cold, and gives you energy for work!"

Old Qin and Tie Dan remained silent, only refilling their bowls one after another, fine beads of sweat appearing on their foreheads. They let out a long sigh and uttered only two words: "Delicious!"

Wang Xiangjun sipped the hot drink, panting as it burned her skin, but her eyes were half-closed, her face filled with satisfaction and happiness, like a little mouse that had finally stolen some oil. She muttered softly, "Brother, it's so delicious, I'd drink it every day!"

Qin Tiehua was sweating profusely from drinking, his cheeks flushed as if he had applied the finest rouge, and his eyes were watery from the steam. Occasionally, he would glance at someone, and his eyes would be surprisingly bright.

She looked at Wang Zhonghua, her tone filled with undisguised admiration: "Brother Zhonghua, this soup...it's so fragrant it warms my heart! I've never had such delicious soup before! It's sure to be a bestseller! All those boatmen and porters at Longsheng Ferry will be full of energy all day after having a bowl!"

"Hot soup, it's hot!"

As Wang Zhonghua called out, he handed out a bowl to each of the villagers present, who praised it highly.

Haha, a first attempt has already made a name for itself in the village. If we add some sesame seed cakes, fried dough sticks, pancakes, or dumplings to the menu and go for a low price, it's guaranteed to be a hit throughout Chenzhou and even… Wang Zhonghua was secretly delighted.

As a modern writer, Wang Zhonghua was well-versed in word-of-mouth marketing and "hunger marketing." The day before the official opening, he asked Uncle Qin and Qin Tiedan to invite several prominent local gentry from Longsheng Street, as well as several influential local students who often recited poems at the ferry teahouse, to come to the shop to "try out" the new business.

A specially made large pot was set up at the entrance of the shop, and its rich and fragrant aroma served as the best invitation, drifting along half the street. Several old scholars, stroking their beards, had come with the intention of giving Master Lü some face, but when the fragrant, bright red, and tempting hot and sour soup was served in front of them, they were all moved.

Lu Sanjun did come in person, dressed in a brand-new silk shirt, his belly protruding, surrounded by a group of local gentry, looking quite proud.

Upon seeing Wang Zhonghua, Lü Sanjun patted him on the shoulder warmly: "Good lad, you've grown capable. You must keep that matter in mind."

Wang Zhonghua gave a reassuring smile, his lips, reminiscent of Louis Koo, curving into a charming arc. They possessed both the sharp angles of a Greek sculpture and the gentle warmth of the Luoyang Luoshena Buddha. He didn't look like a sixteen-year-old at all, but rather exuded an indescribable maturity and composure.

He respectfully held up a bowl of spicy soup: "The first bowl is specially reserved for the master."

After finishing a bowl of hot soup, Lü Sanjun immediately felt sweat bead on his forehead. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped it away, and burst into loud laughter, his voice booming: "Haha! That's refreshing! That's fucking refreshing! A bowl of spicy soup has made me feel so refreshed, like all 36,000 pores have suddenly been able to breathe! China, rescuing you from that old pit was probably the best and most worthwhile thing I, Lü Sanjun, have ever done in my life!"

"Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!" An elderly scholar with white hair exclaimed after savoring the soup, "This soup is spicy but not drying, fragrant but not greasy, rich in flavor and ingredients, warming both the stomach and the heart! In my old age, I often feel cold in my hands and feet and have poor blood circulation in winter. After drinking a bowl of this, I feel completely comfortable and the cold has vanished! Young Master Wang, this soup is truly a fine product for 'strengthening the weak and enhancing virility,' worthy of being called 'the Chinese Scholar of Soup'!"

Wang Zhonghua was overjoyed: "Please write these eight characters out, sir. I want to have two plaques made to hang in front of the door!"

A student in a blue robe nearby was even more excited. He immediately asked for paper and pen, and with a flourish of his brush, inscribed a poem on the white wall in front of the shop: "Amber light shines in the red jade bowl, spicy broth pierces the throat, spirits soar. Do not laugh at the poor youth, for even a bowl of soup can move the world!"

Although the poem was somewhat immature, it was full of spirit and drew cheers from everyone.

"Morning mist shrouds the streets and alleys, the aroma of spices breaks the chill of dawn. Wood soup seasons a hundred flavors, earthenware bowls comfort peace." Wang Zhonghua recited a quatrain.

"Wow! This poem has some merit!" The scholars instantly brought the atmosphere to a climax.

Wang Zhonghua chuckled inwardly, thinking to himself, "My fellow folks, actually I wanted to write it like this:"

The morning mist still clung to the eaves of the old street.

Like a white gauze curtain that someone forgot to put away.

A spiciness suddenly pierced through

This gray, early chill

Stir with a wooden spoon

Hundreds of fireworks

A hundred flavors in the pot

He turned over and sank again.

Holding a rough earthenware bowl

Scalding Tranquility

Take a sip

Life softened.

The fog has dissipated

The streets and alleys are awake

There is still some left at the bottom of the bowl

半勺

Steadfast light

Unfortunately, this is the Song Dynasty now, so I can't write modern poetry, let alone use the "shallow style".

"Brother Wang, may I order two bowls of this soup every day? My mother is old and frail, and has been sensitive to the cold for a long time. This soup is just right for her! The price is negotiable!" Another wealthy-looking gentryman who dealt in cloth hurriedly said, afraid of being left behind.

"I want to order too! We open tomorrow, please reserve five bowls for me so I can take them home for my in-laws to try!"

"Save me three bowls!"

"I'll pay the deposit first!"

For a time, the area in front of the small shop resembled a gathering of literati, with the snow-white walls covered in calligraphy; it also resembled a shopping frenzy, with endless praise and a flood of orders.

Even those who came to Longsheng Street to buy "wheat goods"—wooden forks, brooms, cow bridles, etc.—gathered around, eager to try something new.

Wang Zhonghua bowed calmly and responded appropriately, which Qin Tiehua noted down, secretly pleased him.

Haha, the results of this "tasting event" far exceeded expectations.

On its official opening day, a sign with the five large characters "Wang Family Spicy Soup" was hung high, and two colorful flags with yellow backgrounds and red characters, proclaiming "Strengthening the Weak and Enhancing Male Virility" and "A Chinese Gentleman in Soup," fluttered in the wind. Firecrackers crackled, and red paper scraps littered the ground. Word of mouth had already spread by yesterday, and diners flocked from all directions, forming long queues.

Wang Zhuacai was in charge of collecting money. His rough hands took the copper coins one by one, and he couldn't stop smiling. Yao Shi and Qin Tiehua were busy in the kitchen. One was in charge of cooking soup ingredients, and the other was in charge of washing dishes. Wang Xiangjun was like a happy butterfly, shuttling between a few simple tables and chairs, clearing away dishes and wiping tables. Her little face was full of excited blush. Lao Qin and Tiedan ran around helping with odd jobs. Wang Zhonghua sat steadily behind the pot, ladling soup and serving it. His movements were quick and orderly.

The rich aromas and bustling sounds of people created a vibrant scene of everyday life, much like a recreation of the famous painting "Along the River During the Qingming Festival".

Just as business was at its peak, a commotion suddenly broke out at the street corner. A constable sounded a gong to clear the way, shouting, "His Excellency the Prefect has arrived—!"