Mutton Stew

"Rattle-drum?"

Zheng De picked up a rattle-drum, turning it in his hands as he murmured, "What's so special about that to deserve thanks?"

"But then again, I should thank you, sir."

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have gotten paid for these rattle-drums."

"Thank me? Weren't you the one who helped me land a customer?" Gu Ning'an chuckled as he stood up, casually brushing off his robe. "It's only fair we help each other."

"Exactly, exactly!"

"My mother always said, 'When you see someone in trouble, lend a hand if you can.'"

"You help others, and they'll help you back."

As he spoke, Zheng De realized that Gu Ning'an was preparing to leave. He quickly changed the subject, "Sir, are you leaving already? With such a great start to the day, you should keep the momentum going."

Gu Ning'an waved his hand dismissively. "I've earned enough for now. I'll come back when I need more."

"Well... alright then."

Zheng De had been planning to share some tips on running a business, but remembering how Gu Ning'an earned in one deal what would take him months, he swallowed the words.

"Alright then, I'll save your spot for you, sir," Zheng De said, scratching his head with a sheepish smile.

Gu Ning'an thanked him and walked away. Zheng De watched him disappear at the far end of the market before slowly turning his gaze back to his stall and resuming his sales calls.

...

It was early spring, with a lingering chill in the air, but the warm sunlight brought a comfortable touch of warmth.

Walking through the bustling streets and narrow alleys, Gu Ning'an searched for Granny Sun, who sold "yang geng." [a gelatin dessert]

It's worth noting that this "yang geng" wasn't the sweet dessert known in later times. It was actually a hearty dish of mutton soup with bread, traditionally called yang geng in the present day.

After weaving through a long, narrow street, Gu Ning'an finally spotted a slightly hunched figure near the alley's entrance.

By his calculations, Granny Sun must have been in her seventies by now.

At such an age, still pushing a cart through the streets, it was clear her body remained remarkably robust.

Walking briskly to the stall, Gu Ning'an found a seat and called out, "One bowl of mutton stew, please, and make the flatbread extra crispy."

Granny Sun, busy chopping vegetables, didn't even look up as she responded, "Alright. The bread just came out of the oven. If you want it extra crispy, you'll have to wait a little while."

"That's fine," Gu Ning'an replied with a smile, settling in to observe her.

Her attire was simple and neat, with flour-dusted sleeves that had turned a permanent shade of white over the years.

From the first time he'd met Granny Sun, she'd always dressed this way. Even after twenty years, her appearance had hardly changed.

The only noticeable differences were the added wrinkles on her face and the slight hollowness in her eyes. Yet her deep brown gaze still carried the same warmth and kindness as it had two decades ago.

"Here you go!"

Granny Sun brought over a tray and set the "mutton stew" before Gu Ning'an.

The bowl of steaming mutton soup had a milky white broth, garnished with vibrant green scallions.

Next to it lay two pieces of flatbread, perfectly toasted to a golden crisp.

Even though Gu Ning'an had just eaten two large meat buns earlier, the sight and aroma of the stew immediately whetted his appetite.

Granny Sun, her expression kind, asked, "Sir, have you ever tried my mutton stew before?"

"Would you like this old woman to teach you how to eat it properly?"

Startled, Gu Ning'an paused, gazing at her intently before smiling. "Granny Sun, you don't recognize me?"

"Ah..." Granny Sun hesitated, staring at him for a long time before shaking her head with a wry smile. "Sir, I don't think I've ever met you."

"But if you don't mind, I'd be happy to explain how to enjoy the stew properly."

Gu Ning'an, a hint of doubt in his eyes, nodded and replied, "Very well. Please, I'd appreciate your guidance."

Hearing this, Granny Sun's lips curved into a satisfied smile. She gestured for Gu Ning'an to pick up a piece of flatbread, demonstrating with her hands how to hold it properly.

Over the course of about one tea's time, Granny Sun's animated gestures conveyed the "art" of eating yang geng to Gu Ning'an.

The key steps involved breaking the flatbread into four pieces of progressively larger sizes.

The order of eating them was similarly progressive: start small, go bigger.

First, eat the smallest piece dry to savor the original crispiness of the bread. Second, dip the next piece lightly in the soup to enhance the flavor. Third, soak the third piece in the broth for a deeper infusion of flavor. Fourth, use the largest piece to wrap pieces of meat for the final, hearty bite. This sequence allowed for a gradual exploration of the bread's textures and how its flavors evolved with varying amounts of soup absorption.

It's worth noting that this yang geng was strikingly similar to the later-era lamb stew with bread (yangrou paomo), though there were subtle differences.

For instance, the flatbread used here was thin, crisp, and aromatic. When dipped in mutton soup, it absorbed only a small amount of broth, retaining much of its crunchy texture.

The later paomo bread was softer, and its preparation methods were more varied, with options like "dry soak," "with soup," "watery moat," and "stand-alone."

If asked to choose which of the two dishes was better, Gu Ning'an would likely say each had its own merits.

Watching Gu Ning'an master the technique effortlessly and execute it with such finesse, Granny Sun grew convinced he must have eaten her yang geng before, even if she couldn't recall it.

"Sir, you must have eaten my yang geng before, or how else would you know the exact size to break the bread pieces?"

"What's your name, if I may ask? Perhaps it will jog my memory."

Gu Ning'an smiled and replied, "My surname is Gu."

"Gu… Gu…" Granny Sun murmured to herself, falling deep into thought.

After a long pause, she looked up and said with a wry smile, "Mr. Gu, I'm sorry... I really can't remember. No matter how hard I try, it escapes me."

Gu Ning'an waved it off with a smile. "It's alright. It was something from many years ago. It's fine if you don't remember."

Many years ago?

The gentleman before her seemed only in his twenties. Could it have been when he was just a child that he ate her yang geng?

Granny Sun hesitated to press the matter further, as her customer was still eating. Instead, she simply said, "Take your time," and returned to her cart.

At her stall, Granny Sun glanced over the tools she had worked with her entire life: the rolling pin, iron pot, cutting board, and flatbread oven. She touched her flour-dusted rolling pin, her expression wistful.

"These old tools have held up well, but this old woman… not so much."

"I wonder when the day will come that even the art of making yang geng will fade from my memory."

Meanwhile, Gu Ning'an continued to eat, taking a sip of mutton soup, a bite of flatbread, and occasionally a piece of meat, savoring the flavors together.

He heard Granny Sun's murmurs clearly.

From the moment she began explaining how to eat yang geng, Gu Ning'an had quietly observed her tian hun (heavenly soul) and di hun (earthly soul). Both were clouded, which explained her forgetfulness.

After finishing his meal, Gu Ning'an wiped his hands, reached into his sleeve, and pulled out a neatly folded piece of white paper. He placed it by the bowl.

"Granny Sun, has yang geng always been twenty wen a bowl?"

Startled from her thoughts, Granny Sun looked up, momentarily lost for words, and responded with two quick "Ahs."

Gu Ning'an gestured to the folded paper and said, "The money is here."

"Alright," Granny Sun replied. Watching Gu Ning'an turn to leave, she called out with a smile, "Mr. Gu, does the yang geng still taste the same as it did back then?"

Gu Ning'an stopped, turned back with a smile, and said, "Just like before."