CH 94

The leisurely seeming winding stream party was more time-consuming than it looked. It was noon now, the banquet seating already set out on the extravagant carpet nearby. Considering the Shangsi holiday and Sima Teng’s fondness for good wine and gourmet food, this meal was sure to be interesting. At the order, the maidservants flowed forth, bringing an endless stream of delicacies. By the time they were finished, there were at least a dozen dishes on each guest’s table. As it was still early spring, there were only eight plates of vegetables, but the amount of fish and game was innumerable!

But there wasn’t one among these highborn guests who would glance twice at these delicacies. Five dishes in, Sima Teng set his chopsticks down and clapped, “Gentlemen, today, let us share the fortune of enjoying the carp caught at the mouth of the Yellow River.” 

Two chopping tables were carried in by several servants; two maids, wearing green, came to the center of the banquet tables and bowed to everyone. They were delicate and pretty, and even rarer, identical twins. After rising from their bow, the two young maidens each stood behind a chopping table and retrieved a fish from the bronze basins beside them.

The girl on the left had grabbed a live silver carp around a foot in length, which she then, when it took a soaring leap after leaving the water, seized and slapped on the chopping table. Thump thump, two chops severing the head and tail. A slice along its body to remove its innards, and a rinse with ice water to wash away the blood. Then, still unscaled, its abdomen was splayed open filleted. Flashing silver sent snowy-white slivers of fish fluttering into the nearby basin of ice.

The girl on the right, though, took out a large crucian carp over a foot in length, with scales red as rogue and glistening as oil. It had to be prepared a month in advance by stuffing its belly with pepper and coriander, slathering it with salt and oil, pickling it for three days, soaking it with wine, then sealing it in a jar, in order to attain such a vivid crimson color. Like her sister beside her, she cut the fish open and filleted it.

White wrist and silver blade, sound rhythmic as music, two lithe figures in seeming dance. Shortly, slivers of fish no thicker than a hair were caught in slender, jade-like fingers; toss them, and they might float away on the wind. 

The sliced sashimi was plated on inch-long saucers and set before each guest. The sashimi, red and white, was accompanied by radish, coriander, orange, ginger, and minced scallion, and doused with vinegar. The sashimi, set against the plate of black, was like a delicate haitang flower in full bloom, almost too precious to eat.

Sashimi wasn’t rare, but it was rare to find such hefty live carp in this season. Not to mention how the two kitchen maids’ beautiful performance added to its presentation. Even the high aristocrats of Jinyang gasped with admiration.

Liang Feng hesitated for a moment at the mouthful or so of sashimi on his tiny plate before pinching it between his chopsticks. The texture of the fish, paired with crisp strands of radish, was not bad, and even the fishiness common to freshwater fish was subdued. But all the ginger and wine had masked the flavor of the fish itself. To Liang Feng, all it was was a pretty-looking decoration. He’d only given it a taste out of curiosity and because there wasn’t too much. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken the risk of getting infected by parasites from raw freshwater fish.

But he had no sooner swallowed the fish when a pointed sound cut in, “What, do you not like sashimi, Liang-lang?”

So abrupt was the interjection that even the background music was nearly interrupted. Liang Feng set down his ivory chopsticks and dabbed his mouth with a silk napkin before responding, “Why do you say so, Senior Subaltern Sun?”

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Thus, Sun Zhi had been staring unblinkingly at Liang Feng, and instantly shouted upon seeing Liang Feng’s slight reluctance to eat sashimi. His unbothered expression was more fuel for the fires of his anger, “Sashimi is a rare delicacy, especially so in spring! All the others marvel at the beauty of its taste, but you alone are unimpressed as if you find it difficult to swallow. Is it because you have never eaten sashimi before, that you cannot enjoy such delicacy? Or are you dissatisfied with the governor’s hospitality?”

Mocking his household’s destitution in the first half, and suggesting that he looked down on Sima Teng in the second half. Either one of those accusations could destroy a person’s standing. Yet Liang Feng didn’t so much as frown, “In the sea, there are king salmon; over three feet in length, its spine azure, its underside silver, though born in the rivers, they dwell in the East Sea. Every autumn and winter they return to land from sea, swimming a thousand leagues a day, splitting waves and piercing rapids. The flesh of this fish is soft as fat, its color is that of sandstone; matched with sauce and leaf mustard, it is like snow dyed with green frost, without odor, melts in the mouth, and has a savory-sweet aftertaste.” 

His description was too detailed, so detailed even Sun Zhi had to swallow his saliva. But he immediately came to his senses and yelled, “What king salmon? Why have I never seen it mentioned in any book? Or perhaps it’s something you invented?”

But Liang Feng continued, “In the land of Chu, there is a fish that is large-headed and small-bodied, has flecks of yellow on its green back, and swells into a ball when startled, and thus it is known as lungfish. Its blood and organs are highly toxic, immediately fatal if consumed. But when its toxins are removed, its flesh is like snow, tender and fat, known also as Xishi’s breast.”

“Hm?” by the side, Wen Jiao suddenly said, “Might that fish be hóutái? It was written in the ‘Ode to Wu!’”

“Ode to Wu” was part of the masterpiece, “Ode to the Three Capitals,” authored by Zuo Si. The minister of works, Zhang Hua, had once praised that it was on par with the works of Ban Gu and Zhang Heng. For a time, wealthy families raced to transcribe copies, pushing up the price of paper in Luoyang. In it, there was mention of wángwěi and hóutái: “the hóutái is fish-shaped, like a tadpole, the large amongst them are over a foot, its belly is white, its back is dark green, it has yellow markings, it is poisonous.” But Zuo Si had never mentioned that the fish was edible, and moreover, so delectable! 

Wen Jiao was widely learned and had such excellent memory that no one would question his recollection. Those who’d read “Ode to Wu” remembered the description and startled. If lungfish did exist, then king salmon was likely not a fable. That Liang Zixi’s knowledge was indeed extensive!

Liang Feng smiled at Wen Jiao, “In India there are trees, nine meters tall, which bear large fruits and are called máng. The fruits can grow to be over a kilogram large, they are round as eggs, the skin is sometimes green, sometimes yellow, the flesh is pure gold. The skin is thin and the flesh is full with juice, its taste is rich and sweet, its shape and color are splendid. Its fragrance can fill a room and linger in one’s memory.”

With his reputation as a bodhisattva, people were predisposed to believe whatever he said about India. Three delicacies, two fish and one fruit, none of which anyone had ever heard of before. But Liang Feng’s description was detailed as if he had truly tasted them before. The sashimi they’d just eaten seemed bland in comparison.

Seeing the longing on their faces, Liang Feng said, “The delicacies of the world are uncountable. If one had to gasp and pale at every one, would you not be changing colors all day? The Sun family is a prestigious clan, you must mind your words, Senior Subaltern.” 

In a few short words, it was immediately obvious who was above and who was below! The Jin people prized poise and stoicism, “calmness in the face of change.” Like Ji Kang, who never in his life was observed to be angry or pleased. Like Xiahou Xuan, who, when a flash of lightning burst through the roof and struck the column he was leaning against, kept reading his book, completely unruffled. That was the quality that made a famous scholar!

That was the proper attitude one should have, even when chancing upon lightning, much less when eating fish. Or were they supposed to ooze tears and mucus from their face to express their enjoyment? Sun Zhi was so utterly plebeian! And to criticize Liang Feng on such base contentions, it was obviously deliberated. Many of the nobles frowned in distaste. Sima Teng was embarrassed. He said to the servant beside him, “Senior Subaltern Sun has imbibed too much, bring him away to waken from his drunkenness.”

Sun Zhi blanched at Sima Teng’s words and looked at the white-robed lord, still leaning idly against his rest. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He silently left the banquet.

Once the vulgar annoyance was gone, Sima Teng laughed, “Though sashimi is good, it is not so rare as what Zixi has described. Never mind. Gentlemen, drink to your heart’s content, fine wine, like fine food, is just as intoxicating!” 

Many of the guests laughed in agreement. Liang Feng picked up his chopsticks again and brought a piece of roast suckling pig to his mouth. Hmm, it wasn’t bad; he could let the chefs at the estate try their hand at it. As for sashimi, forget about it. Not only was in unhygienic, it wasn’t even as good as saltwater fish. Maybe he’d have them make poached sliced fish.

The banquet went on merrily, with more wine and a dance performance, for another two hours. Once everyone was tipsy and full, they had to have some recreation to aid digestion, and the most fitting game, of course, was archery.

Sima Teng ordered for targets to be set up. The guests split up into several groups, to compete against each other in teams. Sima Temg was full of youthful vigor, and his archery was good, so he very magnanimously only formed a group with a few subordinates. The other nobles sought out their friends and acquainted. It was expected that everyone would participate, but the adolescents, like Wen Jiao; the sick, like Liang Feng; and the elderly, weren’t able to draw a bow, so instead they played pitch-pot.

Liang Feng thanked his stars that he’d practiced pitch-pot for a while already, and was able to hold the arrow shaft steady and throw it smoothly. His wide sleeves fluttered beautifully in the wind like wings of a crane. More importantly, his accuracy was quite remarkable. It made one wonder if he were healthy and could wield a bow, how stunning he would be. 

While they were enjoying themselves, the sound of hooves suddenly came from afar. Shortly, a servant came forward, “To report, Duke, the north division commandant has come to make a call.”

That old coot Liu Xuan had gone out on a spring outing as well? Sima Teng frowned, “Invite him in.”

It wasn’t long before an old man, his hair and beard white, dressed in martial attire, entered the tent. He smiled and cupped his hands to Sima Teng, “I heard that you were having a banquet here, Duke, so I specially paid a visit.”

Sima Teng returned his salute lacklusterly, “How aesthetic of you, commandant. I didn’t expect you to be treading the green by the Waters of Jin?” 

That could be interpreted as a question asking why Liu Xuan had left Jiuyuan, where the North Division was located, to take a stroll in Jinyang. It could also be interpreted as mockery that he, a Xiongnu, had no reason to perform the cleansing rites of Shangsi.

Liu Xuan smiled as if he hadn’t understood, “It’s only natural to take a trip to the river on the third of the third month. Oh? A shooting for entertainment? I have a few subordinates under my tent whose archery is superb. Shall I summon them here to perform for you Duke?”

Since when was “performing” ever a part of friendly archery? Sima Teng’s face darkened, but as the other had already suggested it, he couldn’t back down, “A demonstration of archery skill should be a face-off. Servants, set up targets, bring heavy bows.”

Then, he quietly ordered his attendant to have General Nie Xuan bring his best archers, quickly. The Xiongnu were, as a whole, excellent at riding and shooting. It wouldn’t do to lose face in this competition. 

Liu Xuan, his hands clasped behind his back, paid no mind. He watched, with the corner of his eye, the white-robed figure nearby.

The author has something to say:

Young Liang: eating raw freshwater fish is dangerous. You know. In ancient times there were indeed records of people getting sick from the parasites in freshwater fish; apparently one of them was even cured by Hua Tuo, but they didn’t learn their lesson and kept eating raw fish and ate themselves to death [bye bye] so guys, don’t carelessly eat raw fish; safety and health comes first!