Chapter 24: Acting Spoiled
If Jiang Changxin had wanted to argue, with his eloquence, he could have easily come up with a whole basketful of reasons to dissuade Zhang Zhiyuan from following Ye Ning.
Unfortunately…
Unfortunately, Jiang Changxin was now a “fool.”
And as a fool, how could he argue with anyone?
So, Jiang Changxin took a slow, deep breath, braced himself, and began to fake cry: “I want to go, I want to go—want to go with Ye Ning—want to go…”
Behind him, Cheng Zhao was holding a teacup. With a sharp crack, it almost slipped out of his hands. Luckily, he reacted quickly and caught it midair, though some tea still splashed out.
A nearby servant woman hurriedly handed him a handkerchief and whispered, “Careful, don’t disturb the matriarch.”
Cheng Zhao gave an awkward laugh, nodding repeatedly. He also wanted to be careful—but how could he, when he was watching his master, the dignified Young Master Jiang, acting cute, whining, and even stomping his feet? Goosebumps ran down his arms like a waterfall. He really couldn’t bear to watch.
In Cheng Zhao’s eyes, the scene was excruciating—painful to behold. But to everyone else, Jiang Changxin was simply a mentally slow young man. His behavior, though a little willful, appeared innocent enough, even endearing in its own way—not awkward or overdone.
The matriarch of the Jiang family could clearly see it now: her son truly liked Ye Ning. Wherever Ye Ning went, he wanted to follow. That, to her, was a good thing! So she hurried to smooth things over, saying, “Zhang Sanlang, don’t trouble yourself. You’re our honored guest today. Sit, sit. Let Xin’er go with him—it’s fine, you don’t need to fuss over it.”
“But…” Zhang Zhiyuan hesitated.
He was the Jiang family’s clerk, receiving a monthly salary. It was unthinkable to let the young master run errands like a servant.
The matriarch continued gently, “You see, Xin’er finally wants to go out for a walk. That’s good for him—maybe if he moves around more, his appetite will return. Let him go. You stay.”
Ye Ning didn’t take it seriously. Like everyone else in the village, he thought Jiang Changxin was just simple-minded. Especially since Ye Ning was someone who had read this story before—he already knew the general plot. So, in his mind, Jiang Changxin was nothing more than childish.
Ye Ning said, “Cousin, don’t worry about it. It’s not heavy. I’ll take Young Master Jiang with me and be right back.”
The matriarch smiled. “Yes, that’s good.”
And just like that, Jiang Changxin finally got rid of that oblivious tail, Zhang Zhiyuan, and left the Jiang residence with Ye Ning. It was the perfect chance to be alone together.
They exited through the Jiang family’s back gate, which faced the noodle stall not far away. The road near the Jiang residence was paved with stone slabs, neat and dry. But once they reached the border where the stall stood, it was no longer Jiang family property—just a dirt and gravel path.
After the rain, the ground was slippery. Ye Ning’s foot slid suddenly, and he almost lost his balance. Almost—but not quite. His body tilted slightly before he quickly steadied himself. Unexpectedly, Jiang Changxin reacted with surprising speed, taking a large stride forward and wrapping an arm around Ye Ning’s waist.
Ye Ning: “…”
Jiang Changxin looked at him with sincere eyes and said, “Ye Ning, be careful.”
There might have been a hundred other little accidents between balance and a fall, but Jiang Changxin’s intentions were good. So Ye Ning responded politely, “Thank you.”
Creaaak—
Ye Ning pushed open the noodle stall’s door and walked into the back kitchen. The space was only large enough for one person to turn around, but it was tidy and spotless. He bent down and lifted a small clay jar from the corner of the floor—it looked like a wine jar.
Of course, it wasn’t wine anymore. The jar had been emptied long ago and repurposed to pickle vegetables. Ye Ning, being short on money, couldn’t afford new jars specifically for pickling, so he made use of whatever he had on hand.
The two of them quickly returned. When the matriarch saw the jar, she looked surprised. “Oh? What’s this?”
Ye Ning didn’t keep her in suspense. He set the jar on the table, unsealed the lid—and immediately, Jiang Changxin instinctively held his breath.
He suffered from hating food disease, unable to eat—or even smell—anything oily or pungent. His usual diet consisted of plain noodles, plain porridge, and steamed buns.
Though he had gone along with Ye Ning to fetch food, it was really just for show—to let others think he treated Ye Ning differently, so his mother might later consider proposing marriage to the Ye family. As for the food itself… Jiang Changxin had no appetite at all.
When the jar was opened, everyone except Jiang Changxin leaned forward to take a whiff—but there was hardly any smell. If anything, perhaps just a faint… salty scent?
“Eh?” The matriarch’s nephew, Quan Qian, craned his neck and widened his eyes in surprise. “This is…”
Ye Ning nodded. “Red fang.”
“Red fang” was actually fermented red bean curd—red tofu. In modern times, every household had eaten it before, nothing new. Ye Ning still remembered how, before the apocalypse, his family always kept a few jars at home. For breakfast, they’d spread red bean curd on steamed buns—quick and convenient. And of course, old Beijing-style copper hot pot with lamb was never complete without it—bean curd mixed into sesame sauce, a pinch of chive flower for flavor… absolutely delicious.
There were many kinds of fermented bean curd. The red kind was also called red fang; naturally, there was also green fang, which was the famous stinky tofu.
Ye Ning had made his own batch of red fang, and now it finally came in handy. Red fang didn’t have a strong smell—especially since Ye Ning hadn’t made the rose-flavored kind. When the jar was opened, the strongest scent was just saltiness, which made it perfectly suitable for Jiang Changxin, who suffered from hating food disease. From the smell alone, it wouldn’t cause him any discomfort.
Quan Qian’s family were wealthy merchants from Jiangnan who owned restaurants, so he had naturally seen red fang before. Still, he looked a little curious. “This… this was made by you?”
Ye Ning replied, “Yes, I fermented it myself. Though the wine I used to soak it wasn’t anything special, so the flavor might be rather ordinary—not particularly refined. But if everyone doesn’t mind, please feel free to try it.”
The rich and noble families had of course seen red fang before. Compared to fancy meats and seafood, it wasn’t anything rare. The matriarch had previously eaten Ye Ning’s Pian’er Chuan noodles and fish strips, and she greatly trusted his cooking skills. Naturally, she wanted to try this too.
“It seems I’m in for a treat again today. Tell me, how should this red fang be eaten?”
After washing his hands, Ye Ning took a white steamed bun, split it open, and used clean chopsticks to take out a piece of red fang, spreading it evenly in the middle before pressing the two halves together. It was simple, yet the sight of the pure white bun paired with the red fang—redder than the matriarch’s own fingertips—was striking. The juices from the bean curd quickly soaked into the bun, and though it was just a plain staple, it somehow made one’s appetite stir.
The matriarch took the bun and, in front of everyone, took a bite.
“Mm!” She only made that one sound and said nothing more.
Quan Qian stared eagerly at her and urged, “Aunt, how does it taste?”
The matriarch didn’t answer, busy taking another bite of red fang, again letting out a “mm.”
Quan Qian, puzzled, asked again, “Is it good?”
After swallowing the big mouthful of bun and bean curd, the matriarch finally finished chewing, slowly wiped her mouth, and said, “I’ve never eaten red fang this delicious before!”
The matriarch was someone who never liked pickled or preserved foods. Her taste was mild, and she disliked anything too salty, so she had always kept her distance from all pickled vegetables. Qingtian Village was a small place—during summer, it was hard to preserve or transport fresh produce, so every household made their own pickles. But since the matriarch disliked them, Master Jiang often had to go out of his way to have fresh vegetables and fruits brought in for her.
She praised, “I always thought pickled foods were just dry and salty, without any real flavor. Ning Ger, your red fang is truly exceptional! Eaten with a plain white bun—it’s even more appetizing than meat buns!”
Quan Qian, who had already been itching to try it, hurriedly picked up a bun himself after hearing that. He carefully spread the red bean curd inside and impatiently took a big bite. Immediately, his eyes widened like the matriarch’s—he couldn’t say a single word.
Jiang Changxin, who had lived two lifetimes, had eaten all manner of delicacies. Red fang or green fang were things he normally wouldn’t even look at. Yet the way the matriarch and Quan Qian were eating—heads down, utterly absorbed—was infectious. Watching them devour it actually made him feel hungry.
Jiang Changxin’s hating food disease wasn’t something he was born with—it was psychological. Strictly speaking, he hadn’t even had this problem in his past life. It was after being reborn in this one that the condition developed. In the end, it all came from the poison Empress Wang had once given him. Jiang Changxin was cautious and calculating by nature—he trusted no one.
But Ye Ning…
Ye Ning was a complete outsider. In their previous life, he and Jiang Changxin had absolutely nothing to do with each other, and both had been victims of the Zhou family’s schemes. Perhaps, deep down, Jiang Changxin felt that this outsider wouldn’t try to harm him. And strangely enough, he began to feel hungry.
Ye Ning spread another bun with the red bean curd and handed it to him. “Young Master Jiang, would you like to try?”
Standing behind, Cheng Zhao immediately tried to stop him. “Ning Ger, our young master—he…”
Before Cheng Zhao could finish, reality slapped him in the face. Jiang Changxin took the bun, gave Ye Ning a sweet smile, and said, “If Ye Ning gives it, I’ll eat it.”
Cheng Zhao: “…” He nearly sprained his ankle—not because the ground was uneven, but because his mind was!
Jiang Changxin held the steaming bun. Since he had already taken it, he held his breath, steeled himself like a man facing battle, even closing his eyes slightly before taking a bite.
At first, there was only the taste of the bun—plain, with just a faint wheat fragrance and a touch of sweetness. Then came the salty flavor of the red fang—neither too strong nor too mild, perfectly balanced. If eaten alone, it might have made him thirsty, but paired with the bun, it was just right—harmonious, satisfying, and surprisingly appetizing.
A flicker of surprise passed through Jiang Changxin’s sharp eagle-like eyes. That first bite—simple, humble, ordinary—somehow made him want to take another, and another after that.
He couldn’t help but glance at Ye Ning again. This Ye Ning truly was different from others…
Ye Ning looked at him and asked, “Young Master Jiang, how is it? Can you eat it?”
Jiang Changxin nodded. Just as he was about to praise Ye Ning’s red fang, Quan Qian suddenly rushed in between them.
His face full of admiration, his eyes sparkling like stars, he said excitedly, “Ye Ning, you’re amazing! My family’s restaurant also makes red fang, but it’s not as fragrant as yours. Next time, I’ll definitely visit your noodle stall to show my support!”
Nearly knocked off balance, Jiang Changxin almost dropped the bun in his hand. “…” Yet another one who didn’t know how to read the room.
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