Back Kitchen.
Jiang Da stood in front of an oversized chopping board, expertly slicing open a pig stomach with a single flick of his knife. Sssht—the skin was peeled away cleanly in one smooth motion.
He rinsed the stomach thoroughly in clean water, removing the tendons and impurities from inside. Then, he scored the exterior with a crisscross pattern, the cuts reaching two-thirds deep, creating a fishnet design.
Next, he diced it into 2.5 cm cubes, soaked them in alkaline water for 3 minutes, rinsed them again, and set them aside in clean water.
Then came the chicken gizzards. He scored them diagonally in a crosshatch, again two-thirds deep, rinsed them clean, and placed them in a separate bowl.
He brought a pot of water to a boil over high heat—when it was nearly bubbling, he first blanched the gizzards, then the pig stomach pieces, before scooping both into a soup bowl.
He added 10 grams of scallion, Sichuan peppercorn, and yellow cooking wine, gave it a good mix, and sprinkled in some chopped cilantro and white pepper.
Meanwhile, another pot was prepared with 750 ml of clear broth, 15 grams each of soy sauce, fine salt, and the scallion-pepper yellow wine mix. It was brought to a boil, skimmed of foam, and poured into the soup bowl.
Jiang Da called out, “Table Thirty-Two, Phoenix in Flight, dish up—!”
Two servers sprang into action: one carried the soup pot, the other served the soup bowl on a tray. As soon as it landed on the table, the contents of the bowl were poured into the pot.
In an instant, the rich aroma burst through the dining room, drifting out the door with the breeze.
At that very moment, the crisscross-cut pig stomach and gizzards blossomed beautifully in the hot broth, an utterly mesmerizing sight.
Nie Guotao squeezed into the restaurant just in time to witness that “blossoming” moment. Like a wolfhound on the hunt, he shot forward.
Nie Chen tried to hold him back but couldn’t.
Moments like this always made Nie Chen wonder—does the old man really have a heart condition?
A young couple just about to eat were startled by the old man’s sudden lunge—the woman almost dropped the soup bowl.
Nie Guotao quickly reached out to steady it. This kind of delicacy couldn’t be spilled!
Not even a single drop!
“Th-thank you, sir,” the young wife said gently and politely, clearly someone respectful to elders.
The old man’s eyes flickered. “Don’t mention it. My bad for scaring you.”
“No, no, not at all…” the woman waved her hands, a bit flustered. Noticing he remained standing, she asked, “Um… is there something else?”
Sigh—the old man let out a heavy breath, eyes sorrowful. “Truth is, I was drawn in by the smell of this soup. The aroma brought back memories of my grandson… who passed away too young.”
Nie Chen, the “late” grandson: “?”
He discreetly backed off. The old man was clearly about to work his “mooching magic” again.
Sure enough—
“Ah?” the woman looked surprised, then apologetic.
The husband was skeptical, but the old man’s dignified appearance made it hard to suspect deceit.
Nie Guotao put on a wistful expression. “My grandson loved pig stomach and chicken gizzard soup. But I always found it troublesome to make. And like any kid, the less I gave him, the more he craved it…”
The woman nodded—she’d been the same as a child.
Even the wary husband began to get drawn into the story, nostalgia creeping into his expression.
Who doesn’t have childhood food memories?
“Sadly,” the old man continued, his eyes reddening, “when I finally decided to make it for him… it was too late.”
The couple were now completely disarmed.
“Please, don’t be sad. I’m sure your grandson wouldn’t want you to feel this way,” said the woman softly.
“Yes,” he nodded, “he was always such a good boy.”
In a corner, Nie Chen whispered: “…” I can’t even chime in at this point.
“Because I loved making this soup, I’d cook it whenever I missed him. But now…” another heavy sigh, paired with a slow shake of the head, full of aged sorrow.
The young couple’s hearts clenched.
“What’s wrong?”
“My hands tremble now—heart problems. I had surgery and barely made it, but my hands were never the same. I can’t even hold a knife anymore, let alone make those intricate cuts… So no more pig stomach and gizzard soup for me. Sometimes I just miss my grandson so much, and the emptiness inside… feels like something’s been carved out of me.”
The woman’s eyes moistened, unsure how to respond.
“Today, I happened to pass by, and caught a whiff of that familiar smell. It made me long for just one more taste. But there were so many people in line outside… I figured I’d come in and look… and it really is the same!”
“Sorry for rambling and holding you up. You should hurry and eat—this soup is at its best exactly eleven minutes after serving. That’s right now!”
He turned to leave, his figure exuding loneliness.
“Wait! Sir—”
Nie Guotao turned back, feigning confusion: “Huh?”
“If you don’t mind… would you like to join us?”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—” he waved his hands repeatedly.
Nie Chen, watching, smirked coldly. Some people always fall for this…
The husband stood up and helped the old man to the table. “Meeting is fate. Don’t be shy.”
“We were actually thinking of offering the soup to you,” he added, “but my wife is pregnant. She’s had a hard time keeping food down—everything makes her nauseous and she’s losing weight rapidly. The doctor said if she still can’t eat, she’d need to be hospitalized. We’ve tried everything. Only Jiang Ji’s pancakes work for her.”
“Today, we heard Chef Jiang had opened a private kitchen, so I brought her here to try. We’ve been in line since early morning. Luckily, when she entered and smelled the dishes, she didn’t feel sick…”
He couldn’t give up the whole pot, because both his wife and their unborn child depended on it.
The woman looked apologetic too. Only Jiang Ji’s food seemed to awaken her appetite.
“How about this: we order another portion for you, and we share the table?”
Nie Guotao waved it off. “No need. Just a small bowl is fine. Thank you. Good people are always rewarded.”
The couple exchanged a smile. “We’ll take your kind words to heart.”
Finally, Nie Guotao tasted the hot soup—one sip, two sips, three sips…
Before he knew it, the bowl was empty.
Even he was shocked.
“Would you like some more?” the woman offered warmly.
Honestly, she’d downed a few gulps herself. It was just too good!
“No need. Thank you. The soup is delicious—and you’re both very kind.” Smiling, he stood up to leave.
Suddenly, he turned back. “I forgot to ask—what’s this soup called?”
The woman smiled, “Phoenix in Flight.”
Nie Guotao savored the name, then said with a grin, “Marvelous,” and walked off.
Nie Chen came over to help clean up after the old man, leaving behind a card for an OB-GYN, before hurrying after him.
The couple sat there in a daze. The husband glanced at the card—and froze.
“Private contact info for Dr. Bai Xinhui?!”
“Huh? The top OB-GYN in Linhuai?”
“Yes! That’s her!”
“But didn’t you say she’s fully booked?”
“Yeah, even next year’s appointments are gone.”
“Then how…”
“I’ll try calling.”
Five minutes later, the couple exited the restaurant in high spirits, having left their seats to Nie Guotao and Nie Chen.
“Thank you, sir! Dr. Bai said we can come in right away for a check-up and file our pregnancy record!”
“Go on, go on,” muttered the old man. “Told you—good people get rewarded.”
The servers came to take orders.
After looking through the menu, Nie Guotao closed it with a flourish and, under their stunned gaze, declared, “Bring me one of everything!”
The server gaped. “E-everything?”
Nie Chen facepalmed, then pointed to about ten dishes at random. “Just these.”
“R-right away.”
Meanwhile, a staff from Cao Ji stood numbly nearby.
Suddenly, Nie Guotao asked, “Hey, you—want to join us?”
“Huh?”
Nie Chen frowned, “The old man’s inviting you. Eat or wait outside—we need the space.”
The staff rubbed his hands, eyes flickering, and mumbled, “Then… I’ll eat, I guess.”
He swallowed hard.
Boss Liu, I swear this wasn’t voluntary. I was forced into this!
Once the dishes started arriving…
He nearly wept. Oh my god, it smells f**ing divine!*
