Fang Ming had barely reached the Kitchen door when he smelled the oil heating in the wok. He poked his head inside and saw slices of pork tenderloin spread out across the worktop. Before he could ask when lunch would be ready, Uncle Zhou handed him a bunch of scallions.
"Perfect timing. Chop these."
"I haven't even said anything yet."
"You opened your mouth. I saw."
Fang Ming could only take the scallions and look for a knife nearby. Chen An was spreading out the last few slices of meat. Seeing the look on his face, he laughed. "Cut them fine. They'll be going into the wok with the meat later."
They had been cooking as usual these past few days, and Kung Pao Chicken had accumulated over a hundred positive reviews. Chen An had already read the new recipe the system supplied yesterday, and Uncle Zhou had set aside ordinary pork tenderloin and potato starch for him. The dish was called Guobaorou, made in the old-fashioned Harbin style from his previous life. The name made it sound as though tossing meat into a wok would do, but making it was nowhere near that simple.
He chose a whole piece of fresh tenderloin, checked the direction of the grain, then cut across it into broad slices. Each slice needed some thickness so the meat would stay tender after frying; too thick, and the outside would scorch before the inside cooked through. Chen An added a little salt and cooking wine to the sliced meat, gently mixed it by hand, and set it aside.
After chopping the scallions, Fang Ming leaned closer again. "Was that tenderloin dish last time cut like this too?"
"That time, I cut it into strips." Chen An picked up a slice to show him. "Today, we're after the crisp shell around this whole slice."
Fang Ming understood. He put down the scallions and was about to fetch bowls when Uncle Zhou brought over ginger and a carrot. He simply settled into his seat and cut those into fine shreds too. Since he had arrived early today, there was no escaping this bit of work anyway.
The potato starch soaked last night had settled at the bottom of the basin. Chen An slowly poured off the clear water on top, then mixed the damp, thick starch slurry into the meat slices by hand. The slurry needed to cling to the meat and drip slowly when lifted, but it could not be so thin that the color of the whole slice showed through. He drizzled in a little oil and separated the slices one by one so they would not all stick together when they entered the wok.
The oil in the wok was hot now. Chen An lifted a slice of meat with his chopsticks and gently lowered it along the side of the wok. Fine, dense bubbles immediately rose across the oil.
"Step back a little," he told Fang Ming.
Holding the three kinds of finely cut vegetables, Fang Ming moved back, but his eyes never left the wok. The edges of the first slice quickly set before Chen An added the second, then the third. He only added more when there was space in the wok, never dumping the entire basin of meat in at once.
The broad, thin slices spread out in the oil, and the once-translucent slurry gradually turned white. Chen An used long chopsticks to separate edges that touched. Once the outer coating had set and the meat was cooked, he lifted the slices out one by one into a bamboo strainer to drain.
Seeing him set down the strainer, Fang Ming thought it was ready to plate and hurriedly reached for it, but Chen An stopped him.
"It needs another round of frying."
"But it's already cooked."
"Cooked is one thing. Crisp is another."
That, Fang Ming understood. He moved the bamboo strainer beside the stove and helped watch the remaining batches during their first frying. Uncle Zhou was outside taking care of the rice, and Chen Chuan tended the fire, leaving Chen An free to watch the oil temperature. Once all the slices had been fried once, he had the fire built up. Only when the oil grew loud again did he return the meat in batches for a second frying.
This time, they stayed in only briefly. As the pale yellow coating turned light gold and the edges curled slightly, Chen An immediately lifted them out. The slices landed in the strainer and knocked against one another with a faint, crisp sound.
At last, Fang Ming could not resist. He pinched up a small piece of crisp coating that had fallen off at the edge, blew on it, and popped it into his mouth.
"I can eat this first, right?"
The words had barely left his mouth before he bit down with a crunch and grinned. But that shell alone was not enough. What truly lured people to the stove was the bowl of sauce that came next.
Chen An mixed sugar, vinegar, and a little salt, keeping some plain water separate. The sourness and sweetness needed to be distinct, and the vinegar needed fragrance without completely overpowering the meat. He tasted a little and added half a spoonful of vinegar. In that final step before Guobaorou reached the table, controlling the heat mattered more than the ingredients.
As lunchtime approached, footsteps could already be heard outside. Uncle Zhou would not let anyone crowd the stove entrance, instead having the early arrivals help set out plates and serve rice. Shao Heng arrived too, still radiating his usual post-training heat, but he did not crane his neck toward the wok like Fang Ming. He would be leaving the sect with the team early tomorrow morning. First, he handed his empty waterskin to Uncle Zhou to fill, then asked whether the cloth bag for dry provisions was ready.
"I set it aside for you ages ago," Uncle Zhou said. "Have a proper meal today. Tomorrow's business can wait until tomorrow."
Shao Heng answered and helped move the table outside. Seeing him get to work, the regulars in the courtyard each found something to do as well. Fang Ming was still calling out as he carried plates outside, "I tried some of the crisp bits by the wok. Don't blame me for grabbing first later!"
"Just keep those plates steady." Shao Heng took one from him. "Don't let Chen An's two rounds of frying go to waste."
Once the last few batches of meat were out of the oil, Chen An wiped the wok clean and added a small amount of hot oil. The shredded scallions, ginger, and carrot released their fragrance with the first stir. He poured the Sweet and Sour Sauce along the hot wok, and with a sizzle, the vinegar's aroma surged through the doorway. Someone outside was carrying rice, and even their steps slowed for a beat at the smell.
But Chen An gave them no time to savor the aroma at leisure. He tipped the fried slices back into the wok and tossed them rapidly over high heat. A thin layer of sauce clung to the crisp coating, instantly giving it a glossy sheen. Two more tosses, and it had to come out. If it soaked in the sauce too long, that second frying would have been wasted effort.
"Uncle Zhou, plate."
The moment the first plate reached the table, Fang Ming wanted to reach in with his chopsticks. Then he remembered that some people had yet to sit down and could only move it to the center first. Chen An continued cooking the sauce in separate batches. Uncle Zhou carried out one batch and Chen Chuan another, hot food leaving the Kitchen one after the next so no one had to sit waiting over a plate that had gone cold.
Rongrong arrived with Chen Xin just as a fresh batch was coming off the stove. She smelled the sweet and sour aroma from beyond the doorway, but after sitting down, she first studied the meat slices. "Can you finish a slice this big in one bite?"
"Try it." Busy tossing the wok, Chen An gave only that reply.
She picked a smaller slice and bit into its edge first. The crisp shell was thin and made a sound as it broke, but the meat inside was soft and tender, steam rising with the sweet and sour aroma. She had expected it to taste much like the Sweet and Sour Pork Tenderloin from before. Only after eating it did she realize that the sauce coating the whole slice was not thick. A trace of vinegar fragrance lingered after she swallowed, and her mouth was not coated in sweetness.
"Save me another slice," she told Chen An.
"There's still some on the table."
"Fang Ming just took two."
Fang Ming's chopsticks stopped in midair. He glanced into his bowl and could only push the plate toward her. "Then you go first."
The people beside them all laughed, but their hands did not stop. Guobaorou was best eaten hot, with rice accompanying the sweet and sour sauce. Who could bear to wait for the compliments to finish before picking up their chopsticks? By the time Chen An finished the last batch and sat down, Uncle Zhou had already served him rice and even set aside a slice no one else had touched.
"You made it. You should eat it while it's hot too."
Chen An took a bite. The shell was still crisp, and the meat inside had not toughened. Only then did he start eating his rice in earnest. After a full morning of training, Fang Ming had another half bowl; the two Disciples seated on the outside had things to do that afternoon, so once they were full, they helped Uncle Zhou clear the plates. With hot food in their stomachs, some of the aching fatigue in their shoulders and backs eased, but they still had to cultivate their own Soul Power themselves.
Shao Heng ate a little more slowly than Fang Ming, but he still took a slice when the plate reached him. With travel ahead early tomorrow, he did not stuff himself. After finishing one bowl of rice, he put down his chopsticks and went to get more water.
"Why not have another bowl?" Fang Ming asked.
"Will you do the walking for me tomorrow?"
Fang Ming immediately shielded his rice bowl. "I'll watch the Kitchen for you."
"Then you'd better watch carefully." Shao Heng pointed at the bottom of the plate. "By the time I get back, at least know how today's dish is made."
"All I learned was how to chop scallions."
"That's enough. Ask Chen An about the rest."
With that exchange finished, both went to help Uncle Zhou clear the bowls. Seeing that they did not make tomorrow sound too heavy a matter, Chen An felt more at ease too. Shao Heng had spent several days away from the sect for his second ring. Now that Chen An himself had reached level thirty, the sect's elders had checked the route and the target, and Grandpa Sword would be accompanying them too. He only needed to prepare as agreed.
After lunch, Shao Heng went back first to check his things. Chen An did not hurry to follow. He wiped away the oil splashed beside the stove, put away the remaining starch, and waited for the wok to cool before washing it. He had risen early to cook today, with not a single task spared, and would be heading out tomorrow. Whatever Soul Power and energy he could conserve needed to be kept in reserve.
Rongrong stayed behind and asked for the sheet of notes she had handed Chen An yesterday. On the back, she ruled off several boxes: what you saw, how far away, what else was nearby, and what you could not see clearly. At the very bottom, she added another line: look at each feature separately; do not decide yet. Only after finishing did she fold the paper and put it in the outer pocket of Chen An's travel bag.
"Don't just write down a name," she said. "I want to know how you recognized it."
"I remember. Whatever we come across, I'll write it down."
"And anything you couldn't see clearly."
"That too."
Only then was Rongrong satisfied, and she left with her Soul Beast book in her arms. Chen An scrubbed the wok clean, then went to Chen Xin to confirm their departure time for tomorrow morning. Seeing that he still wanted extra training that afternoon, the old man simply told him to meditate as usual. There was no need to wear himself out training just before leaving.
That night, after drawing in his Soul Power, Chen An glanced once more at the travel bag beside his bed. The paper was in the outer pocket, and the ordinary kitchen knife and everything needed for the journey had been packed securely. He blew out the lamp and fell asleep not long after.
At first light tomorrow, it would be time to head into the woods to find Shao Heng's third Soul Ring.
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