It seemed that whenever something momentous was about to happen, there was always some unusual weather to set off its tense atmosphere.
In the autumn of the ninth year of Great Enterprise (610), it was a cold, rainy day.
Wang Yan slipped out of work at noon, hauled a cartload of vegetables home, and had ten sheep and three cattle slaughtered. The entire household—maids, servants, retainers, and all—gathered together for hotpot.
Thanks to Wang Yan's unceasing voyages across the seas, which had brought back all manner of crops to be cultivated, planted, and improved locally, ingredients had become quite abundant. He handled the vegetable supply for the powerful and wealthy in the capital, so naturally, he could eat whatever he wanted, in whatever quantity he wanted.
All kinds of seasonings had also been fully developed. The hotpot they ate was not all that different from what people would have more than a thousand years later.
Just as Wang Yan was comfortably eating hotpot, drinking a little wine, and chatting and laughing with his retainers, the front gate of the residence was pounded so hard it boomed.
There was no one at the gatehouse; they were all eating with Wang Yan.
It was not the gatekeeper's fault. Visitors to the Wang Family had gradually become fewer in recent years, and on a rainy day like this, there was even less chance that anyone would come. The man serving as gatekeeper was also a retainer who had followed Wang Yan for many years. They were brothers, of course they would eat and drink together.
They were dining in the front courtyard and had heard the noise piercing through the rain.
The gatekeeper cursed under his breath, took a huge gulp of wine, then finally got up to open the gate. There, he