Chapter 172 Fried Chicken

Chapter 172: Fried Chicken

Previously, it was Meng Wan who initiated the idea of opening a breakfast shop at home. When the family was forced by poverty, they dared to try small businesses. But when it came to Chang Jinhua opening a shop on her own, she hesitated, "Do business? You do it yourself. At my age, and being a woman..."

"Mother~" Meng Wan put down the rolling pin and said nothing. As a 'ge'er, his overall status was even lower.

Realizing she had misspoken, Chang Jinhua shut her mouth. After a moment, she blurted out, "I was wrong, son."

Meng Wan smiled. His mother was a kind and sensible woman. "I didn't say this to force you to do anything. I just don't want you to be bored at home. After all, there's always someone at home to watch A Yan. You could hike up the mountain with Qing Xing, or visit Bi Yun at the sugar workshop. There's no need to stay home all day. Even when my husband and I are busy, I worry you'll be bored."

Chang Jinhua was easily persuaded. After Meng Wan talked a bit, she softened. "It's not decided yet. We'll talk about it when the time comes."

Before the buns had even steamed, Song Tingzhou returned from the county office.

Qiuse was cleaning up the kitchen. Meng Wan laid out bowls and chopsticks on the table. "You're back early today."

Song Tingzhou shrugged off his thin outer robe, rinsed his hands, and reached out to take A Yan from Chang Jinhua. "Not much going on today, so I came back early. This afternoon I need to go check the dam above Shuihe Village. Want to come with me?"

Meng Wan was itching to go. "Sure, if we come back early, I can also check out the shops on the street."

Song Tingzhou was just going with the yamen runners to check it out; they wouldn't work on the dam yet. They should be back soon.

A Yan was squirming in his father's arms. Chang Jinhua knew he was hungry for milk. "Da Lang, put A Yan on the bed first. The child is hungry."

Meng Wan took the milk that had been warming, poured it into A Yan's small bowl, and went to the bed to feed him spoonful by spoonful. "A Yan is hungry, huh? Dad thought you also wanted to go out and play with us."

Chang Jinhua was really afraid they'd take A Yan out. She said quickly, "It's windy at the dam. Don't let A Yan catch a chill."

Meng Wan fed him another spoonful of goat's milk into A Yan's slightly open mouth. "Mother, when we go out, we can barely take care of ourselves. How could we bring this little one along?"

Chang Jinhua gave up and headed to the kitchen to see how the buns were doing.

Song Tingzhou was amused watching Meng Wan feed A Yan. He went over and took A Yan's small jade bowl and jade spoon. These had been sent by Ms. Xiang after she learned of A Yan's birth.

They were stuck in Lingnan, and relatives and friends couldn't come to visit, so they sent gifts instead. Cloth, toys, utensils - everything one could imagine.

The mountains were high, the roads were far, and the journey was long. Their loved ones' thoughts added a little warmth to the passing days.

But what Meng Wan hadn't expected was that the road was way steeper than the mountains looked.

After the meal, he and Song Tingzhou set off for the dam built between Shuihe Village and Shuiquan Village. They took a narrow trail too steep for horses, so they left one yamen runner to mind the horses while the rest went on foot with minimal gear.

Halfway down the trail, seeing how narrow the path was getting, Meng Wan started to regret it. He clung tightly to Song Tingzhou's robe and said pitifully, "Song... Song Tingzhou, walk slower."

Song Tingzhou grabbed his hand; it was freezing. He glanced back and saw Meng Wan's face was ashen. It wasn't because of the height, but because the mountain was shrouded in mist. When he looked down, apart from the solid ground underfoot, the cliff on the right was all fog, looking like a bottomless pit, as if one misstep would send him falling in.

"I'll carry you across," Song Tingzhou said.

The warmth in his palm made Meng Wan feel much steadier. He refused, "No, no, no. Walking one by one hugging the edge is fine. Carrying someone would throw off the balance and be riskier. Let's just walk slowly."

Knowing he was scared, Song Tingzhou laced their fingers tightly and held him steady. It made Meng Wan feel like even if he fell, Song Tingzhou would never let go.

His fear eased a little. Though the path wasn't long, Meng Wan took half an hour to walk it.

When they reached the dam, the view opened up. Meng Wan's legs stopped trembling. While Song Tingzhou and the yamen runners inspected, he found a big flat rock and flopped right down on it.

The dam wasn't too large, but if it were breached, it could still flood a village. Hexian County had abundant rainfall, and there were many such small dams. People had to be sent periodically to open the sluice gates to release water; otherwise, too much accumulated water would overflow the dam, increasing the flow and making the dam more prone to destruction.

Song Tingzhou told him that most dams in the Yu Kingdom were built with stones and clay. Other places might have used better materials, but those in Hexian were relatively crude.

Moreover, the clay between the stones had been completely washed away over the years, leaving only the stones. This situation was dangerous, with the risk of collapse at any time. Song Tingzhou needed to rebuild several old dams in dangerous positions before the rainy summer season with frequent storms.

Song Tingzhou inspected the location and condition of the Shuihe Village dam, and had the clerk beside him record: "Shuihe Village dam, third class, condition not dangerous, location acceptable."

That was enough; no urgent repair was needed for now. But Song Tingzhou still went down the mountain to find the Village Head and instructed him to pay close attention to the dam's water level and whether the stones on the embankment were loose before and after rain. If anything unusual occurred, he must not conceal it, nor handle it privately, but report to him at the county office as soon as possible.

They took the main road from Shuihe Village on the way back. Though called a main road, it wasn't as wide and flat as an official road. If it was like this for Shuihe Village, which was relatively close to the county town, other mountain villages were even worse off. Some people had never left the mountains to visit the market town in their entire lives.

Back home, Meng Wan and Song Tingzhou talked in the study. "I once heard someone mention a type of mud made by burning limestone and mixing in sand and other things. It's not only strong and waterproof but also quick to construct."

Song Tingzhou immediately thought of something. "Tabia?"

"No, no. How should I put it?" Meng Wan went over the idea in his mind and said imaginatively, "The process might be a bit different, but the cost is lower than tabia. It can be used to build dams and roads. Roads built with it can withstand heavy carts and aren't easily damaged by water."

He really didn't understand. He only knew it was cement made by burning lime. How to burn it, at what temperature, whether something needed to be added—he had no idea.

Even with such a vague description, Song Tingzhou actually believed it. He didn't ask Meng Wan where he had heard it, nor did he press him for details. After confirming that what Meng Wan described wasn't tabia, he nodded. "Tomorrow I'll ask at the kiln. If it's feasible, we can first connect the villages and towns."

Hexian County had only one small kiln, which mostly fired porcelain. It was built against a mountain outside the county town for easy access to firewood and timber.

Song Tingzhou wasn't a procrastinator. The next day, during a break from inspecting waterworks elsewhere, he went to the kiln to inquire. The people there couldn't explain much. They could burn limestone and make tabia, but they had never heard of the waterproof and strong thing Meng Wan described.

Song Tingzhou didn't make things difficult for them, but he left a note: if they managed to fire that substance, there would be a reward of two hundred silver taels.

The kiln was a family-run operation. The market in Hexian was depressed and business was slow, so the kiln's business was also mediocre. Apart from the elderly grandparents stayed to mind the kiln, the younger able-bodied people either farmed or went up the mountains. Only when there was a big order did they all stay home. A reward of two hundred silver taels for firing limestone was a huge opportunity.

Besides the kiln, Song Tingzhou also went to the tile kiln workers. They had been firing tiles for years and dealt more with clay, so they might know more about this kind of thing.

Hexian was too resource-poor. Meng Wan was afraid they wouldn't be able to make cement. He also wrote a letter to his teacher Lin Yi, asking him to inquire in Yangzhou about reliable kiln masters. He was willing to hire them at a high price to come to Hexian County, and if they succeeded in firing what he wanted, they would receive additional rewards.

He attached a painting he had made. In the painting, at his feet was a bottomless abyss shrouded in mist, but ahead was an endless green sugarcane field.

Neither Meng Wan nor Song Tingzhou was good at this kind of thing. Worrying wouldn't help; they could only hope for the wisdom of the craftsmen. In their hearts, they even had to brace themselves for failure due to the lack of modern conditions in the Yu Kingdom.

The dams were located at varying distances. Sometimes Song Tingzhou would be away for seven or eight days. He would have Qin Jiao from the army camp outside the county town join him, while Xue Sheng stayed at home.

Meng Wan purchased three shops in the county town and bought a vacant plot near the city gate, where he had a fairly large inn built. The name came from him pestering Chang Jinhua until she gave in. Chang Jinhua mulled it over for days, even thinking about it in her dreams.

"Call it... 'Lai Fu', is that okay?"

"Great! Why not? This name is absolutely wonderful!" Meng Wan was very enthusiastic. "Think about it, in the future, more and more people will come to Hexian from elsewhere. When they come from afar and see the name of our inn, they'll feel it's as warm as home."

Although she knew Meng Wan was humoring her, Chang Jinhua was genuinely happy from the bottom of her heart.

One inn plus three shops was enough for Meng Wan. He didn't want to compete too much with the local people for resources, even though there was still plenty of vacant land in the county town.

One shop sold sugar, serving as a storefront for the sugar workshop. It would be convenient for foreign merchants to inquire about the sugar workshop. Another sold eggs and chicken, also to advertise the chickens he raised.

For the remaining shop, he planned to sell food. He didn't intend to make money from it. First, it could be a fun venture for Chang Jinhua. Second, Meng Wan's favorite fried chicken had never had time to be made. This time he wanted to try, but he didn't know if he could figure it out.

To make fried chicken, at the very least, you need starch, then fry it in oil... Uh, the rest Meng Wan didn't know how to do. He was stuck at the first step—making potato starch from potatoes.

At home, Chang Jinhua held A Yan and watched the commotion. In the yard, Meng Wan directed Xue Sheng to smash potatoes for him—one slap per potato, very efficient.

Meng Wan put all the smashed potatoes into a large basin and pounded them with a mallet. A Yan also wanted to play and kept struggling forward in Chang Jinhua's arms.

"Be good, A Yan. Your dad is messing around with some weird stuff. You watch with Grandma, okay?"

Huang Ye brought a chair for Chang Jinhua to sit on. A Yan could stand for a bit, so he leaned against his grandmother and watched Meng Wan pounding the mashed potatoes, occasionally pumping his little fists in excitement, even his chubby cheeks jiggling.

Meng Wan was sweating even though he wore a thin silk robe. Xue Sheng quickly smashed the rest of the potatoes in a few whacks, then took the mallet from his hand to pound the mashed potatoes.

Meng Wan let go and told Xue Sheng, "Just pound it into a paste."

He grabbed the round fan from the stool and fanned himself hard, but it only stirred up hot air.

"Once it's pounded into a paste, can you make that powder you mentioned?" Chang Jinhua asked curiously.

Meng Wan expected her to start by scolding him for wasting food, because he had noticed a flicker of concern in her eyes when Xue Sheng was smashing the potatoes.

"Maybe it needs to settle?" Meng Wan said uncertainly.

Qiuse fetched a basin of well water, and Huang Ye presented a basin to Meng Wan for washing his face and hands. Meng Wan really did feel a lot cooler after washing.

At first, Meng Wan had Xue Sheng squeeze the water out of the mashed potatoes, but then he realized that wasn't right. He got a piece of linen, mixed the mashed potatoes with water, then filtered the mixture through the linen. Thirty jin of potatoes yielded a large bucket of liquid.

This kind of fabric was unavailable in the north. In the south, people often wore linen clothes in summer—coarse in texture but very cool, breathable, and not sticky to the body.

The next day when Meng Wan checked, the water in the bucket had become very clear, and he could clearly see a thick, creamy-white sediment at the bottom.

Meng Wan was thrilled. It worked? It wasn't that hard after all.

After pouring off the clear water, Meng Wan felt the powder wasn't fine enough, and the color was off—too yellowish.

Should he wash it again?

He now understood that this substance seemed to come from washing and settling.

So he got to work: he poured off the water, added fresh water, washed and settled it again, and afterward the starch at the bottom of the bucket was indeed whiter.

Next, the wet starch had to be dried in the sun. From thirty jin of potatoes, he ended up with only six jin of starch.

Is it the same in modern times? Anyway, if Meng Wan used this method to open a noodle shop, it'd be a bit wasteful, since thirty jin of potatoes could feed the whole family for almost a week.

Guilin has rice noodles, but Heshan is mostly planted with sugarcane, and rice yield is low. For now, it's not feasible to produce rice noodles for a shop, but they could make some for themselves.

A Yan had also started eating solid foods. They kept it simple—just finely cooked rice porridge, some vegetable and meat puree, fed in small portions along with equal parts goat's milk.

If he couldn't open a shop, they could just eat it themselves. Nothing to stress over. After successfully making potato starch, Meng Wan moved on to experimenting with fried chicken.

He had cooking experience. He asked Xue Sheng to kill two chickens, and cut off the tender parts like drumsticks, wings, and wing roots, leaving the rest for braised chicken with potatoes.

He marinated the drumsticks and wings first, then coated them in batter and deep-fried them. Maybe it was missing some modern spices; something felt off, but it was still pretty good.

Chang Jinhua picked up a chicken wing. "Is this the 'medicine' you asked from Qing Xing?" She was referring to cumin.

Meng Wan explained to her, "Mother, this thing is a spice, used for flavoring. It's only popular in Shengjing and Jiangnan area. Our Changping doesn't have it, and neither does Heshan."

After saying that, he took a bite of the fried drumstick. "Mm—delicious!"