Chapter 485 - 229: Don’t Get Addicted to Being a Kept Man at a Young Age

Chapter 485: Chapter 229: Don’t Get Addicted to Being a Kept Man at a Young Age

Zhou Yan smiled and said, "You have a good eye, Master. I managed to buy a lot of good stuff today."

"No, no, it’s Master Zhou who has the good eye. I’m the one who bought a lot of good stuff by following you." Xiao Lei shook his head, looking at Zhou Yan. "You’ll have to take me along more often in the future, otherwise I’ll just end up buying junk."

Zhou Yan nodded. "Alright, I’ll be sure to call you next time."

"You should learn from him. Master Zhou really does have a good eye; everything he picks is a winner," Xiao Lei said to Zheng Qiang.

Zheng Qiang: ?

’Fine, as long as he’s not being sarcastic with me.’

Having bought most of the dry goods they needed, the three of them turned onto Yutang Street and found number sixteen. A small wooden plaque hung on the door with "Pickled Mustard for Sale" written on it in charcoal.

The wooden plaque was only about the size of a palm, and the charcoal writing was already faded. You could barely make it out unless you looked closely.

Zhou Yan raised an eyebrow. ’This doesn’t look like a place of business at all.’

The courtyard gate was ajar. Xiao Lei propped up his bike, stepped forward, and banged on the gate, shouting, "Old Huang! Are you home?!"

"I’m here, Shitou! Come on in," a wizened voice called from the courtyard.

"Zheng Qiang, you watch our things," Xiao Lei said to him. Their three bikes were loaded with hundreds of yuan worth of spices.

"Got it." Zheng Qiang nodded with a smile. He had come with Xiao Lei several times before and knew the drill; it didn’t matter whether he went in or not.

Zhou Yan followed his master inside. The moment he stepped through the gate, the fragrant aroma of pickled mustard wafted over him. The courtyard wasn’t large. A white-haired old man, who looked to be in his seventies, was weaving a bamboo basket. His face was deeply wrinkled, and the hands holding the bamboo strips were rough, covered in old scars of all sizes. He looked up and smiled at them. "Shitou, you’re here."

"That’s right. I came to buy some dry goods today and thought I’d stop by to get some pickled mustard from you," Xiao Lei nodded. He then made an introduction, "This is my apprentice, Zhou Yan."

Old Huang sized up Zhou Yan and chuckled. "What a fine-looking young man."

"He’s opening his own restaurant now and needs pickled mustard too. I brought him here to show him the way, so it’ll be easier for him to come and buy it himself next time," Xiao Lei said with a smile.

Old Huang looked a little surprised. "Opening his own restaurant at such a young age? He’s truly promising."

"I’m just responding to the national policy, opening a small eatery, running my own business," Zhou Yan said.

"That’s good. The policies are good nowadays. If a young man like you dares to venture out and work hard, you’ll definitely make something of yourself," Old Huang nodded. "Wait for me a moment. I need to finish up here, otherwise if I stop now I won’t know where to pick it back up."

"Go ahead, we’re not in a hurry." Xiao Lei sat down on a nearby chair and asked casually, "Has your wife gone to set up her street stall again?"

Old Huang grinned. "What else can we do? Someone has to sell the baskets and pickled mustard. Our Erwa can’t work, so we have to try and earn more money to save for him. That way, he’ll still have something to eat after we’re gone."

Xiao Lei sat up a little straighter. "Is Huang Erwa still unwilling to leave the house? It’s been so many years, and he still hasn’t moved on?"

"There’s nothing to be done. He can’t sleep well at night, has nightmares the moment he closes his eyes. He only dares to sleep during the day with the doors and windows open." Old Huang sighed, a note of resignation in his voice. "Ah, forget it. It’s a miracle he even came back alive. Once he’s had enough sleep, he still gets up to help us move things and do some chores."

The two chatted for a while longer. Old Huang put the finishing touches on the basket in his hands, then used the wall to help himself up. He brushed the dust off his clothes and walked toward a room to the side.

He pushed open the door, and a powerful wave of the pickled mustard’s aroma washed over them.

He pulled the light cord, revealing a large room filled with over a hundred large, inverted clay urns, all arranged in neat rows.

The clay urns varied in size, and they looked to be from different eras.

Old Huang stood at the door, his back a little straighter with pride. He pointed at the urns inside and said, "I have three cellars. The pickled mustard is aged for anywhere from one to three years. This cellar here has this year’s and last year’s batches."

"The inverted-urn cellaring is a special fermentation process for pickled mustard. The mustard I make uses *erpingzhuang* green cabbage that I grow myself. The stems are wide and thick, the stalks are fleshy, and the vegetable itself is tender and crisp."

"The cabbage seeds are all brought over from Yibin, so the flavor of my pickled mustard is different from others in Jiazhou. It’s much tastier."

Xiao Lei said, "Three years is a bit too long, but one year lacks a bit of flavor. Old Huang, give me ten pounds of the two-year-old batch."

"Alright, you’re the Chef, you call the shots. If you ask me, the older the better for flavor." Old Huang nodded with a smile and led them to another room. He went up to one of the urns and carefully laid it on its side.

The mouth of the urn was sealed with multiple layers of salted vegetable leaves, tied tightly with a straw rope.

He untied the rope, removed the leaves, and reached into the urn, pulling out a handful of pickled mustard.

Zhou Yan stared intently. The pickled mustard was brownish-yellow, glossy and lustrous. The strips were uniform in size, and it had a sweet, fragrant aroma.

[A jar of extremely high-quality pickled mustard]

Zhou Yan’s eyes lit up. ’You can always count on Master to find pickled mustard of such high quality.’

’If it were me, I never would have imagined that such top-tier pickled mustard could be hidden in this unremarkable little courtyard.’

"See? This is good pickled mustard. The color is pleasant to the eye—brownish-yellow, with a moist-looking surface. It’s fermented with red broth, which makes the flavor richer, sweeter, and more fragrant."

"There are no leafy parts or tough old stems. It’s sliced to the thickness of a chopstick, and we can just cut it finer ourselves when we use it." Xiao Lei pinched a strip of the pickled mustard and explained to Zhou Yan.

"Yes, it’s really good," Zhou Yan nodded.

Speaking of his pickled mustard, Old Huang’s face glowed with pride. "Our Yibin pickled mustard is the best in the world! And my skill level is just considered average back in Yibin."

"It’s not just for making Salted Burnt White. Yibin Rice Noodles would have no soul without pickled mustard. And if you dice some up and toss it in when you’re stir-frying Twice-Cooked Pork, the flavor is just absolutely divine."