The red soup base simmered in the copper stove, while molten gold butter and crimson chilies swirled in waves of pungent heat, twisting the aroma of freshly brewed Old Eagle Tea into a fine mist that wove an invisible web across the lobby of Zhang's Old Kitchen. The crackling of sparks from the stove, mingled with the clinking of bamboo chopsticks against porcelain bowls—the most common sounds of Sichuan's marketplace—were abruptly silenced by a resounding bang. The shop door was kicked open by a nailed boot, sending sawdust flying. Three gusts of cold wind, carrying the stench of cheap wine and sweat, blew in through the curtains, swaying the candlelight sideways and casting the shadow of the wall plaque "Sweet, Sour, Bitter, and Spicy" into a distorted, grotesque face, as if foreshadowing the farce to come.
The bearded burly man in the lead stood at the threshold like an iron tower, the brim of his rat-skin hat covering half of his face. The exposed beard was condensed with unmelted snowflakes, which fell with his heavy breathing and hit the shiny stone floor. The two followers behind him had their sleek sheepskin coats open. The machetes on their waists gleamed coldly under the candlelight. The patina on the handles was so thick that it could reflect people's shadows. It was obviously a sharp weapon that they held in their hands all year round. "Old man Zhang!" The burly man kicked the elm stool at the door into pieces, and the wood chips flew into the vinegar dish on the neighboring table. The sound was like a bell hitting the beam, shaking the dust on the beam to fall. "Give me the best soup base! Double butter, ten pounds of tripe, one less piece and I will smash your stove!"
The waiter wiping the table was so frightened his hand shook that the blue rag plopped into the vinegar jar. The sour and spicy smell rushed into his nose, making him cough repeatedly. He looked at the snake tattoo on the burly man's forearm. The dark blue lines shone eerily in the candlelight, and the snake's tongue seemed ready to spit poison at any moment. The waiter's Adam's apple rolled and he couldn't speak. The corner of his apron was wrinkled from being clenched, and his knuckles were white. "Prince...Prince, you still owe five taels and eight cents for last month..." His voice was as thin as a mosquito, but it was drowned out by the burly man's thunderous roar.
The bearded man glared, his bloodshot eyeballs threatening to burst from their sockets, like a glaring King Kong in a temple. "Did I pay for my food?" He took a half step forward, his boot soles crunching the sawdust on the ground. His sleeves slipped down, revealing a dark blue tattoo. The serpentine pattern seemed to come alive in the candlelight, its tongue twitching with murderous intent. "If you keep nagging, I'll throw your shabby shop, your people, and your pots and pans, into the Jinjiang River to feed the fish!"
Su Jinli gently placed her bamboo chopsticks on the edge of the white porcelain bowl. The yellow throat in the bowl was still trembling and steaming, the red oil flowing through the veins in tiny streams, gathering into a pool of bright red at the bottom of the bowl. She raised her eyes to the burly man, her gaze calm and unwavering. Her voice was low but chilled with ice: "It's only natural to pay back a debt." The hall suddenly became so quiet that one could hear the crackling of sparks in the copper furnace. Everyone's eyes were focused on her. "If you are having trouble, please come back another day. Why bother a clerk?" Her words were like drops of water dropped into boiling oil, instantly exploding in the silence.
The bearded man then noticed Su Jinli in the corner. She was covered in water droplets from the hot pot steam, dotted with diamonds, her eyebrows and eyes smudged in the misty water vapor like ink. Though dressed in plain clothes, she was still elegant. He grinned, revealing teeth yellowed by cheap tobacco. The smell of alcohol made him almost vomit. "Hey, where did this young lady get such a good chatterbox?" He swung his head closer, his leather boots crunching the sawdust on the ground, making a crunching sound. "Pay the bill for me, and have three drinks with me. This small amount will be my reward for your rouge, how about it?"
"Don't be so rude!" Jiang Yan suddenly stood up, shielding Su Jinli behind him. His moon-white robe was deeply wrinkled from his grip, as if it were his only weapon. His cheeks, already red from the spiciness, were now even redder. Whether it was the lingering spiciness or the rising anger, his knuckles made the edge of the table creak, nearly crushing the old wooden table. "Don't you understand what my wife said?" His voice trembled slightly with anger, but still carried the elegance of a scholar, making him seem out of place in this bustling tavern.
The bearded man scoffed and thrust his fan-like palm against Jiang Yan's chest. Black dirt clung to his nails, clearly unwashed. "Where did you get this pretty boy to meddle in my affairs?" His wrist was as thick as a child's calf, and the wind from his shove nearly knocked over the vinegar dish on the table. A few drops of vinegar spilled, forming a river across the table. "Don't you even realize whose territory this is!"
"Sir!" Si Yan suddenly stood in front of the table, clacking the red sandalwood abacus against the cracked wood. The beads clattered like popping beans, instantly drowning out the gurgling of the hot pot. His face was flushed, and the tip of his nose was still stained with the crumbs of the candy cake that had just fallen, like a small amber mole. But his eyes were sharp as a drawn knife, piercing the bearded man's eyes. "You spent five taels, eight qian, and seven fen here on the eighth day of last month. At the daily interest rate of one fen, you owe a total of six taels, five qian, and three fen today!" The abacus beads danced rapidly at his fingertips, making the candlelight flicker and play a war song.
The bearded man was mostly sober now, and he stood there blinking, as if he couldn't believe that the child with such a baby voice could say such clear numbers: "What do you know, little brat? If you keep talking nonsense, I'll throw you out to feed the wild dogs!" He roared in a timid tone, but he unconsciously took a half step back.
Su Jinli took the abacus from Siyan's hand, her fingertips brushing across the cold beads, making a small, creaking sound like a prelude to battle. "My son's calculations were correct." She paused, her voice suddenly cold, like the well water on a winter night in Sichuan, chilling the bones. "The prefect of Chengdu and my master are of the same age. I wonder what he would think of hearing that someone was eating a free meal in the city and attempting to molest a decent woman?" She deliberately emphasized the words "molested a decent woman," causing a commotion among the diners.
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