Chapter 33: Wine and Meat

After Zhao Da had eaten and drunk his fill, he stayed in Fatty Dou’s tent for a while longer, mainly to discuss how they could team up to make money in the future.

Although Fatty Dou had sworn to squeeze every last cent out of the other local militia groups, he admitted to Zhao Huaian that they were all penniless wretches. The wrestling matches that morning had pretty much drained every copper coin those men had hidden in the soles of their shoes.

He told Zhao Huaian that to make real money, one had to go to Chengdu. That was where the true splendor and indulgence lay. When he spoke of it, Fatty Dou’s eyes glazed over, and he began to giggle foolishly, as if caught in a daydream.

Zhao Huaian didn’t really intend to exploit the militia groups mercilessly. Envoy Song had already tipped him off that a battle was imminent, so there was no point in souring these relationships. His primary goal for this visit was simply to make a friend of Fatty Dou.

With this in mind, Zhao Huaian gave Fatty Dou a vague warning: "Fatty, keep your wits about you lately. Keep a close eye on my side, and if anything happens, stick near me."

Fatty Dou had already polished off two or three cups of coarse wine and was enjoying a light buzz while reclining on a wooden cot. Hearing this, he sobered up instantly. He scrambled to his feet and asked, "Zhao Da, what’s going on? Tell me."

Zhao Huaian shook his head, gestured vaguely toward the direction of the main camp, and muttered, "I don’t know the specifics myself, but just stick with me when the time comes, and you won’t come out on the losing end."

Fatty Dou nodded repeatedly. Seeing that Zhao Huaian was about to leave, he tried to insist on another meal that evening, but Zhao Huaian had genuine matters to attend to and declined.

Seeing that he couldn't keep him, Fatty Dou quickly turned to Doulu San and ordered, "Go, bring the half-carcass of pork that hasn't been cooked yet to Zhao Da's tent. And send half a cart of the local wine we brought from the fortress to him as well."

Zhao Huaian was thick-skinned, but after eating and receiving so much already, he felt a bit embarrassed and tried to refuse. "There's really no need, truly. Just bringing back two bowls of cooked meat for Old Six and the others is enough."

Hearing this, Fatty Dou immediately barked another order at Doulu San: "Go to the back and see how much is left. Send it all to my good brother, Zhao Da."

He grabbed Zhao Huaian’s hand, speaking with heartfelt sincerity: "Zhao Da, listen to your brother. I, Doulu Sanlang, am a few years your senior, so I’ll call you brother. You coming here to visit me gives me great face. If I, your brother, were to worry about these trifles, I’d be no better than a pig or a dog. If you consider me a brother today, don’t refuse."

Since Fatty Dou had gone so far as to compare himself to a pig or a dog, what else could Zhao Huaian say? He cupped his hands and said with emotion, "Then Zhao Da thanks you, brother."

Fatty Dou was overjoyed. Still clutching Zhao Huaian’s hand, he turned to Doulu San again: "Today, I, Doulu Sanlang, have gained a brother. Doulu San, add another pig and a sheep; it’s only proper."

Doulu San glanced at his master hesitantly but nodded and left the tent to see to the arrangements.

Zhao Huaian did not refuse this time. After all, he wasn't well-versed in Tang Dynasty etiquette. He figured he would just slaughter the pig and sheep for the men; ever since they had arrived at the Qiongzhou camp, Old Six and the others hadn't had a single decent meal. As their leader, he couldn't just enjoy himself while leaving his men behind.

Finally, Zhao Huaian cupped his hands and prepared to depart. Doulu San walked him all the way outside the tent, thanking him repeatedly for the warning. Zhao Huaian waved him off, signaling that there was no need for such formalities between family. He then returned with a cart full of wine, meat, and livestock.

Watching Zhao Huaian leave, Fatty Dou was thrilled, genuinely feeling that he had made a great friend. The man was fair, knowledgeable, well-connected, and supposedly excellent with a horse-chopping saber—a true hero.

He was feeling quite pleased with himself when a cold breeze suddenly blew past, instantly dispelling the last of his alcohol-induced haze. Standing outside the tent, now completely sober, he watched Zhao Huaian depart with his bounty and slapped his own face.

"You son of a turtle, did you eat so much lard that it clouded your mind? That Zhao Da’s tent is stacked high with furs; he’s clearly much wealthier than I am. Why was I the one acting like a big spender?"

Thinking of what he had done, Fatty Dou felt a pang of deep regret and wanted to slap himself again. At the same time, he muttered to himself—he usually split every copper coin in two, so why had he been so generous today? He figured it was just the alcohol going to his head and didn't dwell on it further.

"Son of a turtle, drinking really ruins everything!"

...

Zhao Huaian hummed a little tune, his face flushed with wine, as he led Doulu San and the others back to his own camp.

At this moment, Zhao Liu and the others were gathered outside the camp, where Lu Zhongyuan and a few of the personal guards were teaching them how to use horizontal swords and bows. Seeing Zhao Huaian return humming, Zhao Liu jumped up in anger, silently cursing:

"That blockhead must have been wining and dining at Fatty Dou’s place while leaving us here to blow in the cold wind. Damn him."

Thinking this, Zhao Liu signaled for Lu Zhongyuan and the others to continue the lesson, then ran over himself. The snow had melted the day before, leaving the camp a mess of mud. Zhao Liu splashed through it in his grass sandals.

Zhao Huaian waved to Old Six and said to Doulu San, who was beside him, "San, this is far enough. Send my regards to your master."

Doulu San bowed respectfully to Zhao Huaian, had the porters and the cart left on the ground, and headed back. Unlike his master, who was wallowing in regret, Doulu San felt that although his master had given away a bit too much, it was worth it. He felt that Zhao was a man of great spirit, approachable, and skilled in martial arts. He was happy his master had made such a brother. He also felt that his master was growing up; he used to be quite stingy, but to give away so much without batting an eye—perhaps his master really did have a chance to revive the family business. With this hope, Doulu San walked back to the camp with a light step.

...

Zhao Liu arrived with a fierce aura, but Zhao Huaian just gave a grand wave of his hand and shouted to the disciples and adopted sons still training: "Come, kill the pigs and eat meat!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, and even the personal guards clapped when they saw the cart of wine and meat. Zhao Liu’s anger vanished; he grinned and ordered Old Mo and the others to set up the pots and cook, told Niu Li to build a fire, and called the strongmen Zhou Dexing, Chen Fahai, and Guo Congyun to help slaughter the pig.

In the end, even with three strongmen and Old Six, they couldn't hold down the fat pig. It wasn't until Han Tong brought Qian Tiefu and Wei Jingang over that they finally managed to slaughter it. After draining a full bucket of pig blood, Old Six shouted to Zhao Huaian, "Zhao Da, this pig is very fat; it’s enough for us. Let’s save the sheep for later."

But Zhao Huaian waved his hand boldly. "No, slaughter them all! I’m going to the main camp to call Old Yue and the others, and some of the brave men from the Zhongwu Army under Old Li. There must be enough meat!"

Zhao Liu understood the need to maintain good relations with Li Shitai and the Zhongwu Army, so he agreed.

And so, the group killed pigs and slaughtered sheep. Amidst the cheering and bustle, Zhao Huaian suddenly let out a cry: "Ya-ya-ya!"

Zhao Liu and the others, who had just finished skinning the sheep, jumped in unison. They stared at Zhao Huaian in confusion, wondering what kind of madness had taken hold of him.

Seeing he had everyone’s attention, Zhao Huaian used the lingering effects of the alcohol to strike a pose. He flicked his robe, took a wide, dramatic step—a classic move from a Peking Opera warrior—and sang out:

"Ya-ya-ya! To cook pork and slaughter sheep is a joy! Let us drink three hundred cups in one go!"

"Clang, clang, clang!"

It was the first time everyone had seen such a performance. Hearing Zhao Huaian’s powerful, theatrical singing, they cheered and clapped. The four short-statured men even clapped until their palms turned red, giving Zhao Huaian plenty of emotional gratification.

Zhao Huaian was delighted. It really was joyful to have a group of people to go crazy with when you were in the mood. He waved his hand and told them, "Light the fire! Today, your Zhao Da will show you a thing or two, and let you guys see what real skill looks like."

Another round of cheers followed, drawing side-glances from the militia groups in nearby camps.

What kind of fortune was this, eating meat and drinking wine? Oh, how they envied him!

...

Zhao Huaian sent Zhao Liu to the main camp to fetch Xianyu Yue and the others, then began preparing the pork and mutton. He intended to roast the mutton, but for the pork, he planned to make red-braised pork.

While making red-braised pork might seem simple in the future, it was quite difficult at this time. Zhao Huaian had Old Mo and the others build a stove, then sent Niu Li to borrow the large iron pot from Fatty Dou—the same one they had used to stew pork earlier—and invited Fatty Dou to join them for dinner that night. Niu Li spoke Han Chinese well, and having been trained recently, he had improved greatly in his social skills.

With the stove and iron pot secured, two difficult problems remained: soy sauce and white sugar, both of which were nonexistent at the time. Could you believe it? The Tang Dynasty had no dark soy sauce!

Zhao Huaian couldn't get soy sauce, but he managed to acquire a jar of bean paste, which he had traded for earlier with Old Fang from the front of the camp. By frying the bean paste in pork fat, he could at least give the meat a bit of color.

As for white sugar, he had to settle for cane sugar. Even in western Sichuan, cane sugar was extremely expensive. It was no exaggeration to say that Zhao Huaian had spent a fortune on this meal.

...

After finishing the preparations, Fatty Dou’s voice could be heard from afar. He arrived with a cart carrying not only the large iron pot but also vegetables and even two cooks.

Zhao Huaian was too busy to entertain him, so he told him to go play with the children, then beckoned for the two cooks to help.

Soon after, Xianyu Yue arrived with Ren Tong and Song Yuan. Although they hadn't seen each other in a few days, Xianyu Yue’s enthusiasm was undiminished. Seeing Zhao Huaian busy, he greeted him and found a place to sit. Fatty Dou, recognizing Xianyu Yue, pushed aside the noisy group of children and came over.

Before long, Fatty Dou and Xianyu Yue were chatting away. Zhao Huaian glanced over occasionally; he didn't know what they were talking about, but Xianyu Yue seemed quite pleased.

Just as he turned to stoke the stove, he heard Fatty Dou yelping, "Zhao Da, you're in for a treat! Master Xianyu brought a jar of Gaochang grape wine, tsk tsk."

Zhao Huaian curled his lip, thinking to himself, "I've even had Zhangyu Cabernet! Am I bragging about it?"

Unable to stand the provincial nature of his ancestors, Zhao Huaian began to stir-fry with vigor. When the iron pot arrived, he finally understood why no one stir-fried dishes—the pot was so thick that nothing cooked through. To compensate, Zhao Huaian had Old Mo bring over some charcoal from a pit they had burned recently.

With the charcoal, the fire burned much hotter, and the cooking became much easier.

As Zhao Huaian was finishing the meat, Li Shitai and his men arrived. Besides Wang Jian, he had brought Zhao Huaiyi and Xie Zaixing of the Tujiang, and Sun Chuanxiu of the Baoyi Army—all people Zhao Huaian knew.

As soon as they arrived, they tried to help, but were chased away by Zhao Huaian.

The mutton had already been marinated. Zhao Huaian had Li Shitai and the others place the sheep over the fire pit and told them to turn it. Roasting mutton was a specialty of these soldiers—especially Wang Jian, who once killed a cow just for a taste of roast beef; his grilling skills were impeccable.

And so, the soldiers gathered around the hot fire pit, turning the mutton while bragging to each other.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the aroma of the meat grew richer. The entire camp was in a state of agitation. The militia members in their tents were scratching their heads and drooling, wishing they could kill Zhao Da—that man was truly hateful!

...

When the time was right, Zhao Huaian lifted the lid of the pot. The fragrant, steaming aroma of the meat wafted through everyone’s nostrils. Even the initially nonchalant Xianyu Yue couldn't help but swallow hard.

"My second brother’s cooking is just too fragrant!"

Zhao Huaian was never a stingy man. He had Sun Tai take his retainers and the men from Tongshan with bowls to distribute the meat, ensuring every tent in the camp received a portion. Sun Tai and the others had already grown familiar with the other militia members, so they went off in a grand procession to deliver the food.

Soon after, cheers erupted from the tents. Of course, there were a few discordant notes—people complaining about why their bowls were smaller. Zhao Huaian saw a few of his men returning with grease still on their lips and knew they had been snacking. He glared at them, then filled another bowl of meat and had them deliver it to the complainants.

"Does your Zhao Da lack a bit of meat? Don't lose face for us men!"

Ignoring the greedy youngsters, Zhao Huaian turned to Xianyu Yue, Li Shitai, and the others and shouted, "Pot off the fire, serve the meat!"

In the center of the camp, three large wooden boards had been neatly arranged. Platters of red-braised pork were laid out, the whole roasted sheep was set on the table, and various seasonal vegetables were served in pottery bowls. The local wine and grape wine were poured into everyone’s cups without distinction.

With a wave of his hand, Zhao Huaian commanded: "Brothers, what are you waiting for? Dig in!"

And so, grabbing meat with one hand and lifting wine with the other, the men feasted until dawn.

This was the first time Zhao Huaian had eaten red-braised pork since coming to the Tang Dynasty, and for many of those present, it was the first time they had tasted it in their lives.

It wasn't perfect, but it was truly delicious!

But joy is always fleeting.

That night, Xianyu Yue whispered to Zhao Huaian that the central command had decided to go to battle in three days.