Why Is This Chicken Wrapped in Mud?

After Fang Ming finished speaking, several disciples in the courtyard who had been eating with their heads down looked up as well. Everyone had tried the popcorn, but Shao Heng's group had finished practice early yesterday, and today Rongrong had picked just the right moment to provide her boost from the sidelines. Naturally, everyone wanted to put the good stuff to use before their own practice began.

"Xiao An, my group practices in the morning too."

"We practice in the afternoon."

"Why take a break in the afternoon, then?" Fang Ming said. "You might as well join us."

"We aren't even practicing the same thing. Why should we join you?"

A few exchanges were all it took for an argument to break out. Chen An listened with his bowl in his hands for a while and nearly got tangled up in their reasoning.

Round and round they went, but they all wanted him to bring out the pot just as they were heading out. Yet with all the meals he had to cook and all the Soul Power training he had to do each day, how could he let them dictate his schedule?

"Fang Ming, don't set my schedule for me just yet." He put down his chopsticks. "Tomorrow afternoon, I still need to cultivate."

Fang Ming froze. He had been so focused on getting some for his fellow disciples that he had forgotten about that.

"Then should I tell them to start earlier?"

"Even if they do, there might not be any," Chen An said. "I have to cook at mealtimes, and making popcorn takes my own Soul Power. Tell me your practice times a day in advance. If I have the time and strength that day, I'll make a bowl for you to share. If the timing doesn't work out, practice as usual. Don't all crowd outside the Kitchen waiting."

"And another thing," Uncle Zhou put in from beside him. "Those of you who need breakfast should eat it first. If you miss a proper meal waiting for that bowl of popcorn, then come crying that you're hungry afterward, I won't cook you anything extra."

That was even more down-to-earth than what Chen An had said. Fang Ming was about to put in another good word for that group of fellow disciples, but seeing Uncle Zhou already busy collecting bowls, he swallowed his words.

Ning Fengzhi came for lunch and heard their discussion as soon as he entered the courtyard. He waited until Chen An finished before saying, "Do as Xiao An says. The sect has its own practice arrangements, and he mustn't neglect his own cultivation either. Let him decide how much he can make."

Shao Heng first clarified when his group would begin practice the next day, and Fang Ming went back to pass the message along to the afternoon group.

The following afternoon, that group of disciples did indeed come. As soon as they reached the Kitchen entrance, Uncle Zhou told them Chen An had gone to cultivate with Chen Xin. They did not wait around, instead heading to the training grounds as usual with their water flasks. When they asked again the next day, they gave their practice times first. No one asked Uncle Zhou to make promises on Chen An's behalf anymore.

More than a month passed like this. People still came to ask, and whenever Chen An had strength to spare, he would make a fresh bowl for a single group to share. When he was busy with regular meals or it was time for his own cultivation, he told them to come back another time. Mealtimes in the Kitchen remained orderly, and Shao Heng and the others did not fall behind in their practice either.

Ning Rongrong had not been idle either. Gu Rong practiced with her several more times. She still sometimes released her boost too early, but she now knew to watch the movements of the person opposite her first. When she came to the Kitchen to eat afterward and ran into Fang Ming, he would inevitably say with exaggerated flair, "Don't leave me stranded up front again today."

"You were the one who ran too fast last time."

"Fine, that one was on me."

They would bicker for a few exchanges, then both fall silent once the food arrived. Chen An had heard enough of these little disputes that he could not be bothered to decide who was right.

He had not slacked off himself. He cooked as usual during the day and meditated at night when it was time. As he prepared table after table of food, the positive reviews kept coming, and the rewards accumulated little by little. Together with Chen Xin's regular guidance, his Soul Power slowly approached Level 23.

That was when the new recipe came.

Beggar's Chicken.

Chen An had made this dish in his previous life. It sounded simple enough, but to serve it at dinner, he had to start working at first light. Especially with so many people eating at his Kitchen, if he made only one chicken, Fang Ming would probably watch everyone else finish dividing it up without even getting his hands on a chicken bone.

By the time Uncle Zhou had cleaned several young chickens, Chen An had already soaked the dried shiitake mushrooms until soft and sliced the bamboo shoots and ham. After washing the chickens inside and out and draining them, he rubbed them with salt, then worked in scallions and ginger and left them to marinate in a basin. Once the flavors had penetrated the meat, he removed the scallions and ginger, stuffed the mushrooms, bamboo shoots, and ham into the cavities, and tied the openings shut.

The stuffing could not be packed too tightly. The chicken would release juices as it slowly roasted, and if the filling was crammed in too densely, the inside would actually be harder to cook through.

Chen An softened the washed lotus leaves over hot steam, spread them out, and wrapped each chicken tightly. He then wound string around the leaves to keep the juices from escaping. Only then did he turn to the basin of clean yellow clay beside him, adding water and kneading it until sticky before spreading it evenly over the lotus leaves and sealing every gap.

Uncle Zhou looked at the clay parcels lined up beside the stove and hefted one in his hand. "With a shell this thick, you can't rush the fire. Otherwise, the outside will scorch while the inside is still raw."

"That's why we need to roast them slowly over charcoal." Chen An personally placed the clay parcels in the hot ashes beside the hearth. "Please watch the fire for me first. I'll come turn them after lunch."

"They're your chickens, yet you're quite happy to make me watch them all day."

"You'll get a share tonight too."

Uncle Zhou said nothing more and used an iron poker to distribute the coals evenly. The outer clay shells needed to harden slowly in the heat, giving the chickens inside time to steep in their juices and the fragrance of the lotus leaves.

This slow roasting would take four or five hours.

Lunch was served as usual. Chen An did not let those chickens disrupt the existing arrangements. In the afternoon, he found time to return and check the heat. The outer clay shells had dried, and a gentle tap produced a different sound from when they had first gone in. They still needed more time. Only the heat of charcoal ashes rose from the hearth; the aroma of meat remained sealed inside the clay.

When Fang Ming returned from practice, he had only meant to find some water. He had seen Chen An marinating several chickens that morning, but now, at the Kitchen entrance, all he could see were a few grayish-yellow clay shells beside the stove.

"Xiao An, where are those chickens from this morning?"

"Inside the clay parcels beside the stove."

Fang Ming craned his neck toward the stove. "Why is this chicken wrapped in mud?"

"The clay is on the outside. The chickens are inside lotus leaves. They aren't ready yet. Go drink your water first."

Fang Ming really did go drink some water, but afterward, he came back again. Seeing him sitting beside the stove, refusing to leave, Uncle Zhou simply pushed a basin of vegetables waiting to be washed toward him.

"If you're going to watch them, wash these while you do."

"I only just finished practice."

"Then go back and rest."

Fang Ming looked down at the clay parcels and resignedly rolled up his sleeves. It was a little hot here, but he had seen those chickens with his own eyes that morning. Dinner was right there inside those clay shells. How could he bear to go far?

Only at dusk did Chen An have Uncle Zhou rake the fire aside. The clay parcels were lifted from the hot ashes, their shells baked hard. He tapped around one with a wooden mallet, and as soon as the first crack opened, steam surged out.

"Stand back a little. It's hot."

Fang Ming obediently took half a step back, but his eyes never left the clay shell.

The shell peeled away piece by piece, revealing the lotus leaves still intact inside. Chen An snipped the string and lifted a corner of the leaves. The hot juices pooled within slid down, finally revealing the gleaming golden chicken skin. The fragrance of lotus leaves, the savory scent of mushrooms, and the rich aroma of chicken spread together. Among all those waiting for dinner in the courtyard, no one mentioned that outer layer of mud again.

"No wonder you wrapped it in clay. Not a bit of that meaty aroma escaped," Fang Ming said.

"Don't just sniff it. Go get a bowl."

"Already got one."

Chen An chuckled at his reply, but his hands never stopped. He first tore open the chickens and removed the stuffing, then chopped them into small pieces and served them alongside the other home-style dishes. If everyone stood around a whole chicken waiting for it to be divided up, they would not get to eat even by nightfall.

Ning Rongrong sat beside Gu Rong. Just as she picked up a piece, she noticed the juices still left in the leaves. She spooned some over her rice, took a bite, and immediately held her bowl toward Gu Rong.

"Grandpa Bone, try this too."

"I have some in my bowl."

"Mine has more juice."

Gu Rong let her add some. The chicken had roasted inside the leaves for so long that it came apart at a touch of the chopsticks, yet it was not dry in the mouth. The savory flavors of mushrooms and ham had soaked into the meat, and the lotus leaves lent a delicate fragrance. Even the few mouthfuls of rice mixed with the juices at the bottom of the bowl were too good to leave behind.

Shao Heng had practiced for a long time that day, and his shoulders and back had felt somewhat heavy. After eating, that fatigue gradually eased. He reached for another piece before remembering to ask Chen An, "How long did you watch over this batch?"

"From this morning until now."

"Then next time, I'll help Uncle Zhou watch the fire."

"Don't talk about next time just yet," Chen An said. "Wait until you're still willing to come add firewood tomorrow morning before saying that."

Ning Fengzhi listened to their banter without taking up Shao Heng's mention of "next time" to press Chen An. These few chickens alone had kept him busy from morning to night. The food was delicious, and the disciples who had practiced also recovered somewhat from their fatigue after eating. Today's meal was already enough.

After the dinner tables were cleared, Fang Ming, for once, did not ask what they would eat tomorrow. He was only concerned about whether washing half a basin of vegetables counted as a contribution. Uncle Zhou shoved the bowls into his hands and told him to finish washing them before they tallied it up.

Chen An, meanwhile, set aside time for his nightly cultivation as usual. His Soul Power had long since reached the brink of that step. Today, as he sat down and circulated it, the breath he had built up over so long finally carried him smoothly across.

Level 23.

He opened his eyes and circulated his Soul Power once more. It flowed far more smoothly than yesterday. He had been busy with a new dish during the day without delaying his cultivation at night. This past month and more of effort had finally borne fruit.

When I see Grandpa Sword tomorrow morning, I'll tell him the good news.