The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

The crowd parted like waves, making way. A flag officer shouted, "His Excellency the Prefect has arrived! All bystanders, please make way!" Before he finished speaking, four valiant constables strode forward, their fire and water batons crossed to form a barrier, forcing the queuing people back three steps and clearing a space in front of the crowded food stall.

A fragrant breeze then wafted by. Two servants in blue robes carried a nine-curved yellow silk parasol, beneath which Chen Shimei, the Prefect of Chenzhou, slowly approached. Today, he wore a black gauze hat, his wings trembling slightly. Beneath the gauze, his face was truly like jade, his eyebrows sharply defined, and his three long strands of beard meticulously trimmed, giving him an ethereal air as they fluttered in the wind. Yet, upon closer inspection, his eyes, though clear, seemed veiled by a thin layer of ice, like exquisite porcelain from Shenhou in Yuzhou—beautiful as it was, but cold to the touch. He wore a blue official robe, the cloud and goose embroidered patches on it gleaming new, each gold thread shimmering brilliantly in the sunlight.

The procession was so extravagant that it drew attention. In addition to the yamen runners and parasols clearing the way, there were two attendants carrying gilded incense burners, walking alongside them. The wisps of ambergris incense smoke swirled around them, and even the fumes from the city streets were forced to retreat.

Goodness, the entourage of this prefect is astonishing! We must explain the prefectural governorship of the Song Dynasty:

The Song Dynasty inherited the "prefecture" system from the Tang and Five Dynasties periods, elevating important prefectures and counties to the rank of "prefecture" (such as Kaifeng Prefecture, Lin'an Prefecture, and Chenzhou Prefecture). The prefect (知府) was the highest-ranking administrative official at the prefecture level, typically ranking between the third and fifth ranks. Similar to the "prefect" (知州), the prefect was initially a temporary post, later becoming a permanent position, overseeing the military, administration, civil affairs, and criminal matters of the prefecture. Prefects in some strategically important locations concurrently served as "military commanders" (兵马钰滵滵) or "pacification commissioners" (安抚使), commanding local troops and responsible for city defense and bandit suppression, reflecting the Song Dynasty's absurd "civilian suppression of military" policy, where civil officials commanded the military.

His advisor, Master Qiu, bowed and followed half a step behind the Prefect on his right, holding a folding fan made of Xiangfei bamboo, ready to offer it to shield him from the sun at any moment. The people knelt on the ground, addressing him as "Prefect," but he only nodded slightly under the umbrella, a perfectly measured, humble smile playing on his lips—

That smile was stiff and formal, but it lacked warmth and human touch.

"I have heard that a new food stall has opened at Longsheng Ferry, and its soups are exceptionally delicious, attracting many locals. I have come to see it and share the joy with the people."

Prefect Chen Shimei's voice was clear and gentle, with a slight southern accent. His demeanor was elegant and composed, and his words were like a spring breeze, making him seem like a truly good official who cared deeply for the people.

"Lord Chen Shimei has arrived!"

"Lord Chen is also the son-in-law of the Prince of Xiangyang, what a fine official!"

"I heard that Lord Chen was an orphan; it's truly remarkable that he became the top scholar in the imperial examination back then!"

The people began to whisper among themselves, and when the whispers reached Wang Zhonghua's ears, he was secretly surprised. Since arriving in this world, he had never paid attention to officialdom, and this was the first time he had heard the name of the prefect.

Haha, there are actually Chen Shimei in this world!

Chen Shimei was not a prince consort, but a Hanlin scholar and the prefect of Chenzhou! He was also the son-in-law of the Prince of Xiangyang!

Alarm bells rang in Wang Zhonghua's mind. Damn it, he'd just transmigrated to this world and already run into another Chen Shimei (a notorious figure known for abandoning his wife)!

My sister Qin Tiehua is right here beside me, thankfully her surname is Qin and her name isn't Qin Xianglian!

Hopefully, Chen Shimei wasn't a heartless man who killed his wife and children, and hopefully, the story of "Qin Xianglian suing" will never happen again in this world!

This world is fucking "small"!

He remained expressionless, quickly put down his spoon, vigorously wiped his hands on his apron, stepped forward, and bowed: "This humble subject, Wang Zhonghua, greets Your Excellency."

Chen Shimei offered a slight gesture of support, his long, slender, white fingers and neatly manicured nails complementing the subtle Suzhou embroidery cloud patterns on his cuffs. His gaze lingered on Wang Zhonghua's face for a full three breaths, his eyes seemingly gentle, yet like a fine comb, scrutinizing every detail from his eyebrows to his every move. This examination was swift and subtle; only Wang Zhonghua could sense the chill in that instant—a gaze that weighed and assessed a person's worth, as if looking at a commodity awaiting evaluation.

Chen Shimei's smile widened, and even the fine lines at the corners of his eyes showed his approval: "Hmm, young and promising, neither arrogant nor humble, not bad." His tone was gentle, but it contained a condescending judgment.

His gaze quickly passed over Wang Zhonghua and landed on Qin Tiehua, who was carrying a stack of empty bowls and whose forehead was covered in sweat from her busy work. The moment their eyes met, his standard smile cracked open a crack—ah! There was such a wonderful woman in the world, yes, not pretty, not beautiful, not refined, not dignified, but just so "wonderful".

Today, Qin Tiehua wore a slightly worn blue cloth shirt with patches on the cuffs, yet it couldn't conceal his youthful and healthy physique. The healthy flush from labor, the focused gleam in his bright eyes, and the vitality radiating from his entire body—his slightly sweaty temples clung to his rosy cheeks, the graceful curve of his neck as he bent over, the supple arc of his waist as he turned—all these qualities, amidst the bustling city life, created a captivating and enchanting charm, like the most beautiful peony in a garden.

Chen Shimei's gaze lingered for a moment on her slender waist and flushed cheeks. His gaze seemed gentle, but deep within it lay a scholar's subtle, secret appreciation and covetousness. Like a connoisseur of art who had suddenly discovered an uncut gem in the countryside, his eyes weren't filled with amazement, but with calculation—calculating how to acquire this gem at a low price, and then how to polish and display it.

Chen Shimei's fingers tightened slightly around the jade pendant at his waist. It was an unconscious action he would take whenever he saw something he truly desired.

It wasn't until Qin Tiehua noticed the unusual gaze that Chen Shimei lowered his head uncomfortably, quickly turned around, and hid back in the kitchen, the curtain falling behind her like a hastily erected barrier. Only then did Chen Shimei slowly shift his gaze, his Adam's apple bobbing almost imperceptibly.

He looked at Wang Zhonghua again, his smile now perfectly restored, only deeper, as deep as an ancient well, a pool of water: "This young lady is also very diligent and clever, is she your sister?" The question was asked casually, as if it were merely the concern of an elder for a younger person, but the word "also" was used very cleverly, implying a certain unspoken appreciation and fondness. He even lightly dusted off non-existent dust from his official robe, as if to wipe away the momentary lapse in composure, along with the trace of worldly air brought by Qin Tiehua.

Wang Zhonghua sneered inwardly, but replied respectfully, "Sir, they are neighbors and fellow villagers who came to help."

Chen Shimei gave an "Oh," the last syllable trailing off perfectly, conveying both sudden realization and understanding, as if he had carefully concealed some unspeakable thought. He didn't press further, instead walking gracefully to the large cauldron with his hands behind his back, his posture as elegant as if he were appreciating a masterpiece painting.

Chen Shimei gestured for Qiu Shiye to take the bowl from Wang Zhonghua, and then Qiu Shiye respectfully presented the bowl to him.

When he received the bowl, his pampered gestures were truly exceptional—his thumb and forefinger gently pinched the rim, his middle finger slightly raised, as if he were receiving not a rough pottery bowl, but a fragile Ru ware celadon cup. He deliberately held the bowl to his eyebrows, examining the color of the soup in the sunlight, his focused expression resembling that of a Hanlin Academy scholar meticulously studying the emperor's imperial edict. After a while, he gently blew on it with his lips, each breath precise and controlled, even the arc of his breath seemed carefully calculated, ensuring not a single wrinkle on his meticulously groomed three-strand beard.

Only Wang Zhonghua knew that Chen Shimei's seemingly ordinary performance was essentially an externalization of his "identity anxiety" during the social mobility of this era after rising from "extreme poverty" to "extreme wealth." Every bit of his exaggerated elegance silently proclaimed: "I am no longer one of you ordinary people."

Chen Shimei, you are ultimately just a feudal bureaucrat who tries to mend the cracks in his heart with gold thread. You will probably forever teeter on the edge of inferiority and arrogance.

Chen Shimei finally took a small, elegant sip.

In that instant, he slowly closed his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly, as if he were swallowing not only the soup, but also the bustling atmosphere of the entire city. A moment later, he opened his eyes, his gaze distant, as if he had pierced through the bowl of soup and seen some profound educational meaning.

"Hmm—" His murmur lingered, its tone deep and resonant, "The broth is a bright red, like solidified agate; the aroma is rich, like orchids permeating the body. On the palate, it is spicy and mellow, warming without being dry, fresh without being bland…" With each word, he nodded slightly, as if stamping his approval on his assessment, "Truly extraordinary, worthy of being called 'The Scholar of Soup'!"

Wang Zhonghua nodded secretly: Lord Chen, I need to use your influence to get things done!

Don't believe me? Let's try it!