Chapter Forty-One: Delicacies on the Tip of the Tongue (Part One)

The foolish deer was tied up and secured far away from the peach tree.

Inevitably, it still managed to bite off a flower, losing another blossom.

Chen Yu returned to the courtyard first, arranged his things, gathered all his tools, and then repaired the fence, patching it up enough to keep using.

“That appetite is really something.” Watching the little deer circle beneath the tree, he wondered how it could endure such bitterness. Not only did it endure it, but it seemed to have taken a liking to it, greedily nibbling away.

He clamped several thick wooden boards left over from building the bookshelf inside and out, holding them firmly in place to prevent further damage.

Looking up at the peach tree, its top branches were higher, so many blossoms remained, their pale pink hues vivid in sight, which finally put his mind at ease.

He then wandered around the other six trees, plucked petals to taste; a faint fragrance wafted up, and biting down gave a slightly tender, melting sensation.

After a brief pause, Chen Yu shook his head. Although these trees had been treated with some spiritual technique, it seemed the effect had yet to activate. Peach blossoms were still just ordinary peach blossoms.

Down in the valley, secluded women would decorate pastries with carefully selected peach petals, and the older artisans knew how to mix peach flowers with flour to make peach-flower cakes or fragrant pan-fried treats. But Chen Yu neither possessed these skills nor had flour in his observatory. Though millet could be ground, it was too coarse compared to the fine wheat flour.

It simply wasn’t comfortable to eat.

After rebuilding the fence sturdily, he withdrew his gaze and removed the noose from the deer’s neck.

With just over a month until summer, the greedy deer had already shed its smoky brown fine fur, now wearing a light chestnut tint that was still faint.

Freed again, the little deer predictably returned to the peach tree, pacing around twice without making any progress, then resumed its previous behavior, striking its hooves against the wooden fence.

Unfortunately for the deer, the reinforced barrier was far beyond its ability to break again. After long efforts with no success, it lost patience, lowered its head, and was soon attracted by the tender grass at its feet, chewing slowly.

“A troublesome creature.”

Having encountered it multiple times, Chen Yu wouldn’t kill it just for a single peach blossom. The deer’s head and belly were quite pleasant to rub, and seeing it so silly sometimes made him consider simply tying it up and keeping it within the observatory.

But such thoughts remained fleeting; after all, a deer was a deer and belonged to the forest. Keeping it confined within the small observatory grounds would surely be unwelcome to the animal.

“Always eating, eating, eating!”

He went to the backyard and cut a handful of immature spring millet seedlings, their entire stems emerald green, resembling gems.

He brought it to the deer, which sniffed but then turned its head away, uninterested.

Sure enough, the deer didn’t eat that.

Despite the high fence enclosure, after witnessing the destructive power of this creature, he still couldn’t help but sweat nervously. But now, seeing that even with such a greedy appetite it refused to nibble, he could relax. There was no need to worry about the day it might sneak into the medicinal field and cause havoc while he was away.

At present, the medicinal field was filled with spring millet about to mature.

Chen Yu was still waiting to compare ordinary millet with millet ripened by spiritual liquid, as there could be no mishaps at this crucial stage.

He took the millet seedlings to the chicken coop and tossed them into a corner.

The rooster raised its head high, giving him a disdainful glance before pecking at the juicy millet husks.

A hen nearby tried to sneak a few grains but was startled away by a flap of the rooster’s wings.

The rooster ended up eating alone… Chen Yu smiled wryly. This big rooster had eaten many varieties of spiritual plants, though not in large amounts of any single kind. As a medicinal trial chicken, the total was considerable.

Besides, the daily grain feed was ample, and the expanded chicken coop allowed plenty of space for activity, raising it tall, plump, and robust.

Man and chicken never quite saw eye to eye. At first, Chen Yu thought he might eventually boil it in water, pluck its feathers, and make a nourishing chicken soup. But seeing it remain evergreen and vigorous through all trials, always at the forefront of medicine testing, Chen Yu felt a deep sense of satisfaction.

He’d keep it for now; no eating yet.

As for the other chicks, he glanced at them; they had grown much larger, some already sprouting combs on their heads. Like attracts like, perhaps influenced by the rooster, they strutted around proudly, barely looking at people.

He was less polite with these. Once they grew bigger, preferably by the cold winter, they would be suitable for slaughter during festivals and feasts.

“Need to buy some wine, or maybe brew some myself?”

He could distill liquor, but its high alcohol content was less appealing. He preferred fruit wine or rice wine instead.

Something with flavor, smooth and fragrant.

Rice wine was rare down in the valley. Even if brewed, it was kept hidden and seldom sold.

As for fruit wine… Chen Yu planned to inquire on his next trip down the mountain. If none were available, it wouldn’t matter much; with roasted chicken, braised chicken, and beggar’s chicken to eat, having no wine wouldn’t be a problem.

…

In the kitchen, Chen Yu carried a basket to the countertop.

He scooped up handfuls of wild vegetables—rust-yellow fiddleheads and curled purslane. He had seen the latter in his past life back in his hometown, where they were plentiful. The leaves resembled horse teeth, with thick, short stems. The texture was crisp and refreshing to eat, and paired with the observatory’s sauces, they would surely be especially appetizing and light.

There were more wild vegetables gathered from the mountains, but these two common varieties made up the bulk; others had their own preparations.

He planned to dry some of the fiddleheads, and stir-fry the rest with about two taels of wild boar meat.

By chance, he had found two wild pepper trees in the mountains and picked about a dozen wild peppers to crush and add to the dish.

As for the purslane, he would simply use the oil left from stir-frying the fiddleheads to cook it lightly. Although purslane could be served as a cold salad, he had eaten plenty of those recently and wanted a change in flavor.

He lit the fire and heated the stove.

He sprinkled some water into the pot, then looked down to find the water jar nearly empty. After lunch, he would have to fetch more from the well.

Sizzle!

White mist curled, steam rising in the air.

He scrubbed the pot’s bottom with a wooden brush several times, rinsing the water into a wooden ladle extended outside the stove.

His fingers trembled slightly; the brush head vibrated continuously. Drops of water were carefully shaken off one by one, all falling into the ladle without a single drop spilled on the ground.

Chen Yu was no master chef, lacking that skill, merely applying some internal energy to avoid wetting the floor—a muddy earthen surface, not paved stone, that would become very messy when soaked.

In his previous life, his childhood stove had always retained water in front of it, and the earthen floor was trampled uneven.

After cleaning the pot, he added more firewood, used tongs to toss some dry leaves into the flames; after a brief puff of gray smoke, the fire blazed brightly.

The pot bottom hissed, but Chen Yu paid it no mind and instead washed the purslane and fiddleheads, placing them in a bamboo basket.

He then took out the wild boar meat he had obtained in the village.

Dry and tough.

“…”

After cutting a couple of slices, he ladled some water and dropped the meat into the pot.

Thinking it over, he cut a small piece and tossed it in to boil as well. Then he picked up the wild peppers to chop into bits.

These wild peppers differed from those in the southwest from his previous life; they were neither chili peppers nor spiny caterpillar-like fruits, but round fruits the size of tangerines.

Growing on trees, their skins were darkened.

When cut open, their interiors resembled tomatoes with hollow chambers filled with white seeds.

He discarded the flesh and kept the seeds.

The flesh was inedible, tasting like chewing wax, but the seeds, especially the immature white-skinned ones, had a spicy kick.

In fact, there were no native chili peppers here, so the local name for these was “wild wax seeds,” referencing the waxy texture of the flesh.

Chen Yu recalled trying them once in his past life and tasted them again now. The flesh was indeed dry and astringent, but the seeds surprised him with a fresh, spicy aroma.

Thus, he immediately renamed them on the spot.