Li Dasao!
Li Dasao was a nickname.
Dou Qi didn’t even know his real name.
Nor was there any need to know—just some utterly unremarkable cook.
In his memory, this man had always been holed up in the kitchen, so dull you couldn’t get a word out of him even with three strikes of a stick. He made the same repetitive dishes anyone could whip up, drew the same meager wages year after year, and had never missed a day since his apprenticeship began over a decade ago.
Truth be told, even if he hadn’t shown up for a few days, Dou Qi doubted anyone would’ve noticed. Most wouldn’t even remember he existed in that kitchen.
And yet—this very man, this nobody—his grandfather actually wanted to give him a share of the Drunken Phoenix’s profits! Letting this worthless wretch and his descendants forever siphon away the Dou family’s money!
This kind of man—what right did he have?!
His grandfather was sentimental, soft-hearted in his old age, forgetting that business was business. So the first thing Dou Qi did after taking over the Drunken Phoenix was to drive out all those mediocre, dispensable hangers-on.
And this spineless worm—he actually cried when he left. Fell to his knees and sobbed right in front of Dou Qi, begging for just a mouthful of rice, saying he’d work for free.
Pathetic.
Later, word was he’d fallen deathly ill. So how’d he recover? And now—how dare he stand on stage like he’s somebody!
“Li Dasao?” Someone ahead turned around upon hearing the name, curiosity in their voice. “You know him? Who is he? He’s incredible!”
Incredible! Incredible!
Dou Qi’s face darkened.
“What’s so incredible about him?” he demanded.
The first person didn’t answer, but another turned and spoke up.
“Didn’t you see? Just now, he carved the Eight Treasures of Buddhism—all in a single bowl!” The man gestured excitedly, brimming with pride. “Too bad you were too slow! I got here just in time to see it before they took it away…”
“Anyone can carve the Eight Treasures of Buddhism!” Dou Qi gritted his teeth.
“Oh yeah? He carved them out of tofu—can anyone else do that?” another voice cut in, louder. “Tofu! Have you ever even seen tofu? Do you even know what tofu is?”
Tofu?
What the hell is tofu?
Dou Qi’s gaze snapped forward, but the spineless wretch’s figure had already vanished from sight.
“Which establishment made the offering?”
“It was Tai Ping Residence.”
“Tai Ping Residence? Where’s that? Never heard of it.”
“Yeah, weren’t they here to make an offering? Why leave before everyone could see it? Didn’t even hang a sign.”
“Is that the only dish? Nothing else? We didn’t even get a look at it. I mean, we’re not asking to taste it, but at least let us see it!”
“Oh, come on. That was meant as an offering to the Buddha, not for us to gawk at. If anyone could just look or eat as they pleased, what kind of rare treasure would that be?”
If anyone could look or eat as they pleased, would that really mean it wasn’t a rare treasure?
Dou Qi’s face darkened even further.
Just moments ago, these same people were shouting and scrambling for a taste of their Immortal’s Abode’s grand vegetarian stew—
Now look at them, cursing the moment they put their bowls down. What a bunch of ingrates!
“Master Dou.”
A familiar voice came from the side.
Dou Qi turned and saw Manager Wu smiling as he bowed politely.
“All done on your end? We’ve wrapped up too—just about to head out,” he said, not waiting for a reply before turning to leave. After a few steps, something seemed to come to mind. He turned back, gave Dou Qi another smile and cupped his hands again in mock courtesy.
“Oh, and by the way—Master Dou, wishing you great fortune.”
Dou Qi had never realized a smile could make someone feel this uncomfortable.
He stood rooted in place, face ashen, swaying slightly in the crush of the crowd around him.
The eunuch stood beside Duke Jin’an, chatting and laughing.
“…So lifelike, so vivid…” he was saying, eyes crinkled with amusement. As he spoke, he licked his lips. “And that plate of steamed tofu, with the sauce poured over it—just looking at it made my mouth water. Shame we didn’t get a taste…”
Duke Jin’an shot him a glare.
“I told you to observe the person. Who told you to ogle the food?”
The eunuch chuckled mischievously.
“I was observing the person. Just not much to look at—can’t hold a candle to Your Highness.”
Duke Jin’an snorted.
“What does a man’s looks have to do with anything? Don’t talk nonsense.”
As he spoke, his gaze drifted to the other side.
The young lady was already surrounded by a group of other ladies—one of them someone he recognized.
Startled, Duke Jin’an quickly turned away and ducked behind a corridor pillar.
“What are you looking at?” Chen Dan-niang asked, tugging at Chen Shi’ba-niang’s sleeve.
Chen Shi’ba-niang withdrew her gaze, a slight crease forming between her brows.
“I think I just…” she began, then paused mid-sentence. Taking Cheng Jiao-niang’s arm, she said, “It’s nothing. You must be tired after playing all afternoon, right? Mother’s already arranged for a vegetarian meal—let’s go.”
“Vegetarian?” Chen Dan-niang echoed, glancing around curiously. “Someone said they’d treat me to vegetarian noodles… where’d they go?”
Madam Chen was a few steps behind, listening as a maid whispered in her ear.
“They know them?” she asked quietly.
The maid nodded.
“From the way they spoke… sounds like they do,” she said.
Madam Chen paused in thought, then looked ahead at Cheng Jiao-niang walking among her daughters.
Though the girl had made a point to wear the spring blouse Madam Chen had gifted her, her figure still appeared solitary amid the group of blossoming young maidens—perhaps it was her slender frame, or perhaps the upright, composed way she held herself.
“What do you think—what kind of person was he?” she asked again.
“The young gentleman seemed about the same age as the young lady—maybe a year or two older. He was handsome, carried himself with ease. Though his manner appeared a bit bold, there was restraint in it as well. He showed no disrespect or impropriety toward the young lady,” the maid answered thoughtfully. After a brief pause, she smiled and added, “And when he saw her, he seemed truly glad.”
Madam Chen gave a soft hum and nodded.
“As long as he’s not disrespectful, that’s what matters,” she said, then sighed. “But if he ever is disrespectful, you mustn’t treat it as someone else’s business just because she’s not our daughter by blood. From now on, you are to treat her like one of our own. Protect her in all things.”
“Yes, Madam,” the maid quickly replied.
“May this child,” Madam Chen said, turning her gaze again to Cheng Jiao-niang ahead, “find a good match in the end.”
At the same time, Old Master Zhang was having his arm tugged by his grandson, Zhang Cheng.
“Grandfather, Grandfather! That’s Tai Ping Residence’s dish—that’s from Tai Ping Residence!” he exclaimed excitedly, pointing.
Old Master Zhang took a step back.
“My hearing isn’t that far gone yet,” he grumbled, shooting his grandson a glare as he straightened his robes, still slightly disheveled from the jostling crowd.
That lady—always coming up with these strange and exotic foods.
“Grandfather, Grandfather! Didn’t Ban Qin say the owner of Tai Ping Residence is here too? Introduce me to them!” Zhang Cheng pleaded, his eyes darting around eagerly. “The capital is so wonderful—I’m starting to feel reluctant to leave.”
Old Master Zhang also scanned the surroundings, his brow furrowed slightly.
The Zen tea ceremony had ended, and the crowd of onlookers had surged forward, a sea of indistinguishable heads making it impossible to pick out anyone in particular.
“Why didn’t I see her in the main hall earlier?” he muttered to himself.
Duke Jin’an stepped through the palace gates in the afternoon.
Palace maids and eunuchs bowed in greeting as the young lord swept past them like a gust of wind.
“His Highness seems so happy,” one of the maids remarked with a smile, glancing toward the palace doors.
“He’s always happy when he gets to go out,” another chuckled before shaking her head. “But he never takes his studies seriously. When the Empress Dowager finds out, she’ll be worried again.”
The box he had been carrying the entire way was finally set down on the floor. Duke Jin’an settled into his seat, still smiling.
A eunuch knelt beside him, his gaze shifting between the box and the duke.
“Your Highness,” he couldn’t help but ask, “is it… nice?”
Duke Jin’an burst into laughter and playfully kicked him.
“Of course it’s nice,” he replied, exhaling lightly before smiling again. He pointed at the box. “Look—it’s a birthday gift. For me.”
He emphasized the words “for me.”
Perhaps the lady had just casually replied without much thought, yet His Highness was so delighted. What’s more surprising was that he had even told her today was his birthday.
Had His Highness been lonely for too long?
But what astonished the eunuch even more was how naturally the words had been spoken—and how calmly they had been received. According to the duke, this was only their second meeting, yet they conversed as comfortably as old friends who had known each other for years. Was it because they had shared a life-and-death ordeal?
“That child said she made this with her own hands,” Duke Jin’an added.
The eunuch snapped out of his thoughts and nodded with a smile.
“Yes, yes. Congratulations, Your Highness,” he said, bowing deeply.
Duke Jin’an opened the box and looked at the three remaining pastries inside.
“I remember… my mother used to make these for me when I was little,” he suddenly murmured.
The eunuch’s face twitched slightly, his expression turning complicated.
“Then… I wonder if the taste is the same,” he forced a smile and urged, “Your Highness, try one quickly.”
Duke Jin’an stared at the pastries without moving, falling silent for a moment.
“Maybe… or maybe not. All pastries look alike—they don’t have to taste the same. As for the flavor… I’ve long forgotten it,” he said, then chuckled lightly.
The eunuch lowered his head and said nothing.
Footsteps sounded outside the door.
“Your Highness, His Majesty and Her Majesty have sent gifts for your birthday.”
Duke Jin’an closed the box and slid it beneath the low table before turning and bowing toward the entrance.
The door had already been slid open, and four eunuchs entered, smiling as they carried trays laden with gold, jade, fine silks, writing brushes, inkstones, paper, and other treasures—glittering, gleaming, and weighty with opulence.
“His Majesty bestows upon you a set of the Four Treasures of the Study and a jade-encrusted belt.”
“Her Majesty the Empress Dowager gifts a pair of agate plates inlaid with gold and a lidded teacup.”
“Her Majesty the Empress presents twelve precious pearls from the Southern Seas.”
“Consort Xian offers…”
Duke Jin’an raised his head, his face alight with joy, and after straightening his posture, he performed a deep ceremonial bow.
“I thank Their Majesties for their boundless grace,” he proclaimed in a clear, resonant voice.
At Tai Ping Residence, Li Dashao knelt and bowed deeply.
“Thank you for your great kindness, Miss,” he said, his voice muffled and nasal as his forehead remained pressed to the floor.
“Why thank me? I wasn’t the one who carved the tofu,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Li Dasao still did not raise his head.
He remembered, as if it were a lifetime ago, kneeling just like this before someone else, pleading not to be cast out, begging for a chance to survive.
He had apprenticed under his master since the age of ten, all the way until he was twenty-eight. He knew nothing but cooking—had no other skills to fall back on. He would have gladly given up the profit share Old Master Dou had promised him, would have accepted even lower wages, if only they hadn’t driven him away.
He was never good with words. All he could do was kowtow, again and again, his forehead thudding against the ground.
Please… please… I beg you, Master… I beg you…
Li Dashao pressed his face against the floor, the sleeve beneath it slowly dampening with tears.
But his pleas had been useless. He was still driven out—useless, worthless, left to die of illness. He sold his ox, then his land, and was about to sell his wife’s dowry fields. His mother was old and feeble-minded; his wife, meek and sickly; his children, still too young. He had already foreseen what would happen once he died.
First, all the land would be sold off. Then the house. His wife would be pressured by her family to remarry. The children would either starve or be sold. His mother would perish in the wilderness—if lucky, wrapped in a tattered mat and buried by kind neighbors; if not, left to fill the bellies of wild dogs.
At first, the villagers might sigh and lament the family’s wretched fate. But soon, no one would speak of them anymore. And eventually, it would be as if they had never existed at all.
None of those grim endings would have led to the outcome he had today.
Holding the dish he had made, he had followed the great monk—honored by the imperial family—and step by step, under the gaze of countless onlookers, walked into the temple hall. As the monk chanted sutras, he had personally placed his own creation before the resplendent golden Buddha.
He, Li Dashao, had cooked this dish!
He, Li Dasao, had finally—become a person!
How had all this come to pass? He lifted his head slightly, his gaze flickering toward the maid seated at the side.
“I’ve brought a doctor to treat your illness.”
In that dim, death-shadowed room, a clear voice had rung in his ears.
“The doctor has examined you. You’ll recover soon—don’t worry.”
Li Dashao raised his eyes to the composed lady before him.
“Miss, thank you… for saving my life,” he said, pressing his forehead to the ground once more, his voice thick with tears. “This unworthy one… has now been healed.”
She had not just cured his illness—she had saved his very existence.
