Water Knows the Answer
Water knows the answer. The claim that the water had gone bad was not something to be taken lightly. Water was life itself. In this primitive, ancient, and uncivilized Central Plains that relied on agriculture, the importance of water could never be overstated, even with hundreds of asterisks. In the distant past, King Yu had tamed the floods and set the rivers of the Central Plains in order, stabilizing the realm through flood control. Moved by this feat, Emperor Shun had passed the throne to him. The Three Sovereigns were divine, and the Five Emperors were demigods; Emperor Shun was the last of those Five Emperors to hand the throne over to a human. It was the historical moment when the throne passed from mythic beings to mortal hands. In other words, the link connecting myth to humanity had been flood control—mastery over water. That was how vital water was.
“The water has gone bad? What do you mean by that?”
“I’m not sure. We’ve always drawn water from the wells upstream of the Min River because it’s good, but no matter how many wells I checked last night, they’re all the same. The water from the Ta River side still tastes normal, so I’m thinking the problem lies with the Min River. That’s your Tang Clan’s specialty, isn’t it—being chivalrous heroes and all?”
Sichuan had two great waterways flowing east and west, both eventually joining the Yangtze. The eastern one was called the Ta River, the western the Min River. Sometimes the character for “river” was dropped, leaving just Ta and Min. Several streams ran through Chengdu proper, but the main ones branched off from the Min River—four in total. In order from the northward-curving Yunyang River came the Baidu, Zhuma, and finally the Du River, all prized for their clean, sweet taste that made Sichuan cuisine the finest in the Central Plains.
It wasn’t merely a matter of flavor. Most rivers in the Central Plains ran murky and yellow, thick with the taste of earth. Only in Sichuan could one find streams clean enough to drink straight from. Elsewhere, such water was rare.
“The Min River is always busy with boats, so that might explain it. Still, we can’t just ignore this. Let’s head to the Tang Clan first.”
Jayu naturally took the lead. Or tried to. Cheong slipped a step ahead. Her disguise was already wearing thin, and she had no patience for being swept along by the mood. She didn’t know whether rivers and flood control were truly serious matters or not.
“I need to eat lunch. I skipped breakfast, so I can’t afford any more delays. You all go on ahead. I’ll eat with the old man and catch up later.”
By now, Jayu seemed to have figured out how to handle Cheong.
“Why bother looking for another chef when the greatest cook under heaven is right here? I’m sure you’ve always wanted to stand in the Tang Clan’s kitchen at least once.”
At that, Baek Changja took a defiant turn.
“I already declined the Tang Clan’s offer. The kitchen I wished to stand in was the royal residence’s, not the Tang Clan’s.”
It was a bold thing to say right in front of the very prince of that residence. Jayu found it frustrating, yet oddly admirable, and didn’t know how to respond.
Cheong let out a soft snort.
“Friend, your delivery’s a bit sloppy. Hey, Chef. You only help when it suits you, so you won’t even cook one meal?”
Cheong extended her hand, and Choe Ri-ong appeared from somewhere to press a magical flute into it. Baek Changja then spoke with perfect composure.
“Haha. Any chef worth his salt in Sichuan ought to stand in the Tang Clan’s kitchen at least once. I’m terribly curious what ingredients they might have.”
----
The Tang Clan was also called Tangga-ta, an entire district of the city inhabited solely by members of the Tang bloodline. The moment they stepped into Tangga-ta, one of the direct-line Tang brothers appeared—second? third? fourth? Cheong hadn’t been paying attention, so she wasn’t sure whether it was the one called Tail, Neck-Meat, or Sword-Namchun. More brothers materialized afterward like ghosts, so whether second or third, they all seemed to show up when called.
After hearing the situation, one of the Tangs nodded.
“In that case, we’ll need to call for our Ah-ah. She should be at the Tang Clan clinic treating patients right about now.”
“Her?”
Cheong recalled Dang Nan-a with deep suspicion. The girl had a vicious face, yet something about her reminded one of a neighborhood stray, making her an unconvincing choice.
“No poison master in the Tang Clan handles toxins as freely as Ah-ah does. I’m not saying this just because she’s my sister—it’s truly a heaven-sent talent.”
Dang Nan-a always carried a custom-made combination poison. Every single one was terrifying, designed to target only an opponent’s pride. They took effect after just a few breaths, making them deadly poisons that were difficult to cure. To the clan’s poison masters, it was frustrating that such a gifted prodigy only produced things like continuous sneezing or inconspicuous tears. Still, Dang Nan-a was the Tang Clan’s greatest poison master. The title “Understanding Poison Flower” had been given not merely because she was vicious, scheming, and ill-tempered—though that played a part. It was also because the Tang Clan no longer focused solely on poisons, and their poison masters’ overall level had declined from merely analyzing existing toxins.
The Tang Clan’s current focus lay elsewhere.
“Wow. A clinic…”
Cheong marveled at the sight of the massive Tang Clan clinic. Seven grand gates stood wide open, and a long line of patients stretched across the broad grounds. Physicians sat along the main hall, each wearing a solemn expression as they examined patients. The rich aroma of brewing medicinal decoctions already stirred the appetite.
“These are the Seven Great Gates of the Tang Clan Clinic. Any patient may enter freely, and even at the deepest hour of night, at least two gates remain open. That’s also why there are no other clinics in Chengdu.”
“Oh.”
The Tang Clan’s focus was medicine. After Mucheon Daeje, Chengdu had no enemies, so the Tang Clan’s poisonous hearts had softened. They opened their clinic doors wide and treated patients for free—even at a loss with every pulse diagnosis. Yet this was no mere charity. Medicine had always been built on accumulated empirical experience. Countless cases had piled up, causing the Tang Clan’s medical knowledge to advance explosively.
Cheong nodded at the mention of unlimited free treatment. No wonder the Tang Clan members’ karmic merit wasn’t low. Even when Dang Nan-a pushed ahead in line, people grumbled but never cursed her outright—that was the goodwill they had built.
Jayu gave a bitter smile. It was also the reason the prince tolerated the parasites who steadily siphoned off his wealth. They might act arrogant and cause trouble, but they rarely harmed anyone. Instead, they saved lives with their medical skills. As long as they didn’t steal mines or secretly manufacture gunpowder at a treasonous level, it was easy enough to turn a blind eye. They were more useful than the Daoist sects that only took and gave nothing in return.
At one side of the clinic, they found Dang Nan-a tending to female patients. She glared at them with fierce eyes.
“Hah, what is it now? Do you think I’m some idle person who’ll do whatever Nan-ah asks and look the other way? You should be ashamed, Oppa. Getting bewitched by that vixen and abandoning your pretty little sister. Hmph.”
Ah. So she really did have a nasty temper. Cheong had wondered if someone with such a foul disposition might actually be surprisingly docile. This was Dang Nan-a without Paeng Cho-ryo installed.
“Listen. This isn’t about personal feelings—it’s a matter of flood control and water management. Setting aside private grudges—”
“What are you even saying? The extra tag-along who only knows how to run his mouth.”
She dipped a finger into the water they had brought, tasted it, tilted her head left and right several times, then finally scooped up a large amount and drank it down in big gulps.
“It’s nothing serious. You’re making a fuss over nothing. How ridiculous. All of you, get lost. Nan-ah’s going back to treating patients.”
Because her face was pretty, even when she referred to herself by name, the nuclear noogie urge didn’t trigger. If it had been Jin Jangmyeong or the stand, she would have felt the overwhelming need to deliver one.
In any case, she clearly had no intention of helping. And since she insisted on treating patients, it was hard to press her. Just then—
“Hmm. Where’s Nan-ah… Oh. Cheong-ah. You’ve got something smeared on your face, so I could spot you from far away.”
It was Paeng Cho-ryo, who had come to the Tang Clan clinic after hearing that Cheong had prepared a personally brewed Sipjeon-tang.
“Ah. Hello. Good morning, right?”
“Morning? Cheong-ah, a martial artist must be diligent. The sun’s already high in the sky—how can you say that? A proper martial artist should rise when the dawn screams and sweat through training.”
“Unni!”
Paeng Cho-ryo, who hadn’t seemed the type, suddenly launched into a lecture. Fortunately, Dang Nan-a burst out, cutting her off, and clung to the nagger’s arm.
“Hehe, Unni, you’re here?”
“Oh my. Were you in the middle of treating patients? I didn’t expect that from you, but you do have some admirable qualities. A female physician—how wonderful.”
“Hehe. It’s nothing… Huh?”
What? That felt off. Was that praise? Dang Nan-a looked slightly confused.
“Still, I’m a little hurt. You all went off without me? Cheong-ah, is there something fun going on?”
“The only fun thing is that the greatest chef under heaven is making lunch. Other than that, there’s something not fun. They say the water’s gone bad.”
At that, Paeng Cho-ryo’s face also grew serious. Everyone except Cheong understood how grave the issue was.
“That’s definitely a serious problem. Ah, so Nan-ah was about to check it?”
“Of course! Who else in the world would step up for something this serious if not me!”
She said this while shooting them a venomous glare, her expression daring them to argue. Cheong and Jayu watched her and thought the same thing.
Doesn’t she look like a dog? Somehow, she really does look like a dog.
----
Something did turn up. Even Dang Nan-a looked surprised.
“It’s the Oyangjeuk—a carp that carries poison. If they spread in large numbers, some of the toxin could dissolve into the water, but it’s not particularly harmful to the body. Unless you get stung by the Hongdu Ssangryeo Peak afterward, but those only live in Yunnan anyway, so there’s no need to worry about them in Sichuan.”
“Ah! That’s right! I thought it tasted familiar—it was the fishy taste of Oyangjeuk! Huh?”
Baek Changja interrupted Dang Nan-a with a shout, then suddenly grabbed his own nape. He pulled out a thin needle, after which his nose turned bright red and snot began pouring out in torrents.
“How dare a mere chef interrupt someone. Hmph.”
Dang Nan-a looked at Baek Changja with a sour expression.
“Still, is he even human? He noticed the water tasted different just because the fish in the river changed?”
“Young Master. This humble one is a chef, so of course I can tell. This is the dignity and pride of a chef. Then, does this mean the Young Master’s precious water will be ruined like this?”
Baek Changja asked without yielding to his runny nose. In a way, he was a remarkably consistent person.
“Oyangjeuk can’t survive the winter anyway, so they’ll all disappear after this winter passes. Still, something feels off.”
Dang Nan-a furrowed her pretty brow.
“Oyangjeuk are fish that only live in Yunnan. They shouldn’t even be able to survive in Sichuan waters. Yet they’ve multiplied enough for their poison to dissolve into the water?”
“That’s strange. There haven’t been any Oyangjeuk showing up at the market either.”
It was an observation only a chef would make. If Oyangjeuk had multiplied, fishermen would have caught them and brought them straight to market.
“Then it looks like someone’s trying to farm them. If the entire Min River is like this, then the source must be at the headwaters—Dujiangyan. What? Setting up a fish farm in Dujiangyan without the Tang Clan’s permission? How dare they.”
Jayu’s expression darkened. To set up a fish farm in Dujiangyan, one needed to report to the authorities and get permission from the rightful owner—the royal residence. Why would they need the Tang Clan’s approval?
“Anyway, we’ll know for sure once we check it ourselves. Perfect timing—I was getting bored.”
Paeng Cho-ryo grinned and wrapped up the situation. Cheong added one more thing.
“Let’s eat lunch first, though.”