Chapter 29: An Unexpected Interloper and the Restaurant's New Dish Ambition

Just as Master Shen was about to step into the restaurant, a man abruptly grabbed his arm. Turning around, he saw a fellow dressed as a boatman, and asked, puzzled, “What help do you need? Do we know each other?”

“Master Shen, I saw you last time you traveled to Jiangnan. Today, as I was sailing past Hexia, something happened, and I was at a loss—by chance, I met you,” the boatman explained.

“Come, sit here and tell me everything,” Master Shen invited.

The boatman sat down on a stone slab by the roadside and recounted the whole affair. Only then did Master Shen understand: the boatman had brought silk from the south for trade with a local merchant, who turned out to be none other than the notorious swindler Qian Youcai.

“He came aboard yesterday to collect the goods. We agreed I’d go to his residence today for the payment. But when I arrived, he only gave me half the silver and insisted he would not, under any circumstances, hand over the rest,” the boatman sobbed, tears and snot streaming down his face. “I thought I’d make a little profit with this silk, but now I won’t just lose what I hoped to earn—I'll end up losing money outright.”

“That scoundrel Qian—he truly dares to stoop so low!” Master Shen said furiously. “Come, let’s go demand what’s owed.”

With righteous indignation, Master Shen turned on his heel to march back. As luck would have it, Young Master Shen was just approaching. Seeing something was amiss, he stepped forward. “Father, what’s going on?”

“Boss Qian took the goods but only paid half the silver. I’m on my way to confront him,” Master Shen replied.

“This is no small matter,” Young Master Shen countered. “But father, what makes you think he’ll heed your words and return the money?”

“Fair trade is the foundation of trust. Since ancient times, a murderer must pay with his life, and debts must be repaid. Does he dare defy this?” Master Shen retorted, utterly serious.

“Father, think carefully. If Boss Qian deigns to respect you, that’s one thing. But if he refuses, you’ll only be humiliating yourself,” Young Master Shen said, taking his father’s hand.

“My son makes a valid point,” Master Shen mused, stroking his small beard. “What would you suggest?”

“Take him to court.”

“Take him to court?”

“Yes. The laws of the Ming are wise and just. I doubt he’d dare challenge the authorities,” Young Master Shen said, smiling at the boatman.

“Very well, my son. Let us divide the tasks: I’ll go to the restaurant to arrange for my grandson’s full-month banquet, while you write the complaint and accompany him by boat to file the case,” Master Shen declared, every inch the seasoned commander.

“Agreed. Is there brush and ink on the boat?” Young Master Shen asked.

“There is, young master. I can’t thank you both enough,” the boatman replied.

With that, Master Shen made his way toward the restaurant, leaving Young Master Shen to ascend the steps of Huzui Street with the boatman, soon arriving at the Grand Canal embankment.

This broadest avenue of Hexia’s ancient town, Huzui Street, was so named for the sandy spit that jutted into the lake’s heart. Flanked by former marshland, it stretched south to the canal and north to Flower Lane, famed throughout the town. Merchants gathered here in droves—a place bustling with prosperity. The street itself, paved in stone for 680 meters, comprised 2,447 slabs, making it the longest ancient stone-paved street north of the Yangtze.

“Boss Song, I’ll be counting on you for my grandson’s full-moon banquet,” Master Shen said, smiling and clasping hands in greeting.

“Rest assured, Master Shen. Our restaurant’s Huaiyang cuisine is second to none. But that’s not all—at noon, I’ll prepare two tables with a special new dish, guaranteed to delight you,” Boss Song replied, spittle flying with excitement.

“Good, I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”

Meanwhile, Young Master Shen boarded the boat at the dock, seized a brush, and swiftly composed a complaint. Young Dragon, at his side, ground the ink with care, pride shining in his eyes as he watched his master write with such poise.

The sun was already blazing—July’s heat merciless. Standing at the bow, Young Master Shen, in high spirits, admired the riverside scenery. The wide waterway babbled gently, and at Hexia, the canal turned sharply east of the imperial dock. Boats large and small crisscrossed the river; those fighting the current crept westward, pulled laboriously by a handful of towmen onshore.

Willows lined both banks, their leaves a deep jade, while flocks of sparrows flitted noisily from branch to branch.

The boat drifted downstream when suddenly Young Dragon exclaimed, “Young Master, look—a tower!”

Gazing north, Young Master Shen beheld the towering pagoda of Lake Xiao, its reflection rippling in the emerald water. A pang of melancholy struck him; he knew Lake Xiao was the gathering place of scholars and talents, and as he had no official title, he could not mingle with the high and mighty…

“Young Master, another tower!” Young Dragon shrieked in excitement. “I know this one—I saw it during our night tour of Shanyang City—it’s the Wentong Pagoda!”

“Yes,” Young Master Shen replied, raising his head to see Wentong Pagoda rising from the woods. He knew they were nearing the western dock of the city and, reciting the poet Li Bai’s lines, he murmured, “Truly, the gibbons’ calls echo ceaselessly on both banks, while our light boat has already passed through ten thousand hills.”

“What’s your name?” Shen asked the boatman.

“Li Dahai.”

“Good. Let’s hurry to the county yamen and file the case.”

They hired a sedan chair and made straight for Shanyang County Office. At the gate, two bailiffs stood guard. Young Master Shen seized the drumstick and struck the drum.

“Insolent commoners! Do you think you can strike this drum at will?”

The urgent drumbeats reached Magistrate Huo in his study. He stepped out. “Who is beating the drum?”

Back at Song’s Restaurant on Huzui Avenue, the place was abuzz with excitement as relatives and friends arrived to celebrate the Shens’ young master’s first birthday. The waiters, unfamiliar with some of the guests, bustled about, serving everyone with warmth and care. “Please, upstairs—take a seat, have some tea, enjoy some sunflower seeds while you chat.”

Today, Master Shen had arranged eight tables, inviting all his friends and family, including, of course, Master Wu.

At noon, he and his wife arrived at the restaurant to review the arrangements with Boss Song, meticulously discussing every detail, especially the menu, which Lady Shen knew by heart—row upon row of exquisite Huaiyang dishes.

“Boss Song, my husband has looked over the menu—it’s well-matched,” Lady Shen said with a radiant smile.

“Such praise from madam is an honor beyond words,” replied Boss Song.

“But—” Lady Shen’s tone shifted. She noticed Boss Song’s attentive gaze and, pointing at the menu, said, “I heard from my husband that you promised us a surprise today—a brand new dish. But it’s not on the menu?” She shook the menu slightly, the paper rustling softly.

“Of course, but I left it off the menu on purpose—to surprise you and Master Shen,” Boss Song replied, his glib tongue ever ready, always knowing just what to say.

“Don’t you dare mess it up!”

“Rest assured, Master Shen, madam—you have nothing to worry about.”

What happened next? That awaits the telling in the next chapter.