novelSusiti Chapter 81 The Straightforward Yuchi Baolin
Chapter 81 The Straightforward Yuchi Baolin
Yuchi Baolin hesitated for a moment, then clasped his hands and said, "Brother Wang, I am a rough man. I know that the recipes for raising pigs and brewing wine are the foundation for people's livelihood. I really shouldn't ask for them rashly."
But now the border is bitterly cold, and the soldiers are struggling to find food and clothing. If these methods can help with the military supplies, it would be an immense favor.
"Today, Baolin has taken the liberty of making this request. If you could grant my request and write down these regulations to benefit the border troops, I would like to express my sincere gratitude on behalf of the brothers guarding the frontier."
He spoke in a booming voice and with a serious tone, not at all like a young man in his twenties, but more like a general.
Wang Zhihuan looked at him, and after a moment nodded: "Brother Yuchi, don't worry, I'm not that petty. I will write the regulations. However, promotion can't be rushed; we have to take it one step at a time."
Yu Chi Baolin replied solemnly, "Thank you again, Baolin. There's no rush for promotion; I can wait."
Cheng Chumo interjected at the opportune moment, raising his teacup towards Yuchi Baolin: "Brother Baolin, we're here today to eat pork stew, not to discuss military matters."
However, while this pork is good, it lacks the rich, fatty flavor of mutton. Let's go hunting later and hunt a few gazelles, then Brother Wang can make a whole roasted lamb—that would be absolutely amazing!
Distracted by his interruption, Yu Chi Baolin relaxed and grinned, "Alright! The wild boar we hunted in the Qinling Mountains last time wasn't as good as this braised pork. I'll have my men prepare horses later, and we'll go together."
The group of people ate heartily and chatted enthusiastically.
Chang Le sat diagonally opposite Wang Zhihuan, holding a cup of tea in her hand. The tea had already cooled down, but she didn't change it.
His gaze occasionally pierced through the rising steam on the table and landed on the young man who was talking to Cheng Chumo.
He spoke with a faint smile on his lips, and leaned slightly forward when listening to others. His posture was not rigid, but rather exuded a reassuring focus.
She noticed that he barely touched his chopsticks, spending all his time looking after others—handing a handkerchief to Si Zi to wipe her mouth, serving food to Cheng Yang, refilling tea for Li Zhi, and smoothing things over for the several boys who were wolfing down their food.
He did these things with remarkable naturalness, as if they were ingrained habits, demonstrating excellent upbringing.
She lowered her head and gently stirred the lotus root with osmanthus in the bowl with her chopsticks, suddenly feeling a slight warmth in her chest.
What delicacies could the palace not have? Yet, the simple meals in this little courtyard made her feel at ease with every bite.
Towards the end of the meal, Sizi suddenly raised her little hand and announced loudly, "Guoguo's meat is the best! It's even better than what our family cooks make! Sizi wants to eat at Guoguo's house every day from now on!"
Everyone at the table burst into laughter. Chengyang tugged at his sister's sleeve and whispered, "Don't let it slip again." Sizi quickly covered her mouth, her eyes darting around.
After they had eaten and drunk their fill, Wang Zhi got up and asked Old Zhang to collect the leftovers and distribute them to the tenants. He then picked up a few scraped pork bones and threw them to Ah Huang.
Ah Huang, with a large bone in his mouth, lay under the jujube tree root, gnawing away with great enthusiasm. Hui Hui also got half a pig lung, which Wenwen quietly enjoyed while squatting on the windowsill.
Several teenagers, still engrossed in conversation, sat around the long table.
Cheng Chumo was chatting with Yuchi Baolin about the Qinling hunting grounds when Yuchi Baohuan pulled Cheng Chuliang aside and asked him all sorts of questions, from how to make pig's blood tofu to what sauce to use for braised pork. Cheng Chuliang, with his limited knowledge, gave him a vague explanation, and Yuchi Baohuan listened intently.
Yu Chi Baoqi remained silent, leaning against the stone table and listening quietly.
Chang Le stood under the jujube tree with Si Zi in her hand, watching Cheng Yang squatting by the chicken coop teasing Gou Dan.
Li Zhi remained quietly seated on the stone bench, holding a freshly brewed cup of tea in his hands.
In the afternoon of June in the ninth year of Zhenguan, sunlight filtered through the dense foliage of the jujube tree, casting dappled gold patterns on the stone table.
The air was filled with the sweet aroma of braised pork and the faint char of charcoal, and everything felt so peaceful that time seemed to stand still.
Just then, there was a gentle knock on the courtyard gate.
Three very light, hesitant knocks, spaced far apart, as if the person knocking was gathering all their strength for each knock.
The laughter and chatter in the courtyard gradually subsided. Wang Zhihuan put down his teacup, got up, and walked towards the courtyard gate.
The courtyard gate opened. Three people stood outside.
The leader was a boy, sixteen or seventeen years old, with handsome features and a face roughened and darkened by the mountain wind.
He wore a faded, coarse brown short-sleeved shirt and carried a medicine box on his back, the leather strap of which was worn and frayed.
His lips were chapped, and his forehead was covered in sweat, but his eyes shone with an astonishing light—the kind of light that comes from someone who has walked a long way through a desperate situation and finally sees a glimmer of hope.
Behind him stood an old man, hunched over, dressed in rags, his face etched with deep lines of sorrow.
Beside the old man was a dilapidated oxcart, on which lay a young man with a sallow complexion and a strip of cloth soaked in black blood tied to his left leg. The stench of decay mixed with the hot wind wafted over.
The boy looked at Wang Zhihuan, opened his mouth, and spoke in a hoarse voice like sandpaper scraping rough pottery: "May I ask... is this the residence of Master Wang?"
"I come from the Taihang Mountains. I've heard there's strong liquor here that can be used to wash sores, so I've come specifically to request it. Is Master Wang here?"
Wang Zhihuan's gaze fell on the medicine box on his back, then swept over the leg injury of the wounded man on the oxcart. Without asking any questions, he simply stepped aside to open the courtyard gate: "That's me. Bring the man in first."
The boy was stunned. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he only bowed deeply and turned around to carefully carry the injured man from the oxcart into the yard with the old man.
Wang Zhihuan pointed to the shady spot next to the stone table: "Put it here. Chu Liang, go to the winery and get a jar of family-grade raw liquor, the aged kind. Chu Mo, bring the medicine box from my room, the second shelf of the wooden cabinet against the wall."
Wang Zhi was aware of this drawback, but at this point he had no choice but to try it as a last resort.
Cheng Chuliang immediately ran towards the distillery, and Cheng Chumo also turned and went inside. Wang Zhihuan squatted down and untied the bandages from the injured man's leg.
Peeling back the layers, the exposed wound was horrifying—a deep gash on the outside of the calf, the bone visible, with blackened and rotten edges, pus and blood mixed with dark red muscle tissue bulging outwards, the stench so strong it made one's stomach churn.
The boys who had gathered around all gasped in surprise.
Yu Chi Baolin frowned deeply, while Yu Chi Baohuan only glanced at him before turning her face away, her face turning pale.
Chang Le quickly and gently pulled Si Zi to her side, using her sleeve to block her view.
"How did you get this injury?" Wang Zhi asked without looking up.
"I was picking herbs in the mountains a month and a half ago when I was cut by a sharp rock."
The boy squatted on the other side, took out a pulse pillow from the medicine box, skillfully placed it under the injured person's wrist, and placed his fingers on the pulse point. "At the time, I thought it was just a common flesh wound and used the wound medicine left by my master."
But the wound wouldn't heal, and later began to fester and turn black. Doctors along the way were all helpless; one old doctor even said… he feared the only option was to amputate the leg.
He spoke softly, but his fingertips trembled slightly.
"Amputation? Who said that?" Wang Zhihuan looked up at him.