Experimental Xiaolongbao
The body I’d controlled under the Mirror Ghost’s sorong sorong influence suffered no small aftermath. From that night on, I spent days groaning in agony from muscle pain. Fortunately, those around me bought my feigned illness.
<Could it be they’ve given up on you because you’ve caused too much trouble?>
‘No way, you worthless mirror.’
My uncle, the punishment hall vice head, had only joined training on a whim—if anything, my father had never truly neglected me. Sure, as family head he didn’t teach me personally, but hiring a good master would’ve been nice. Picking some average instructor showed zero enthusiasm. If he was pinning his hopes on the eldest or pricks like Dang Chehwan and abandoning me and Dang Jihwan, that pissed me off. But what could I do?
‘Life’s just like that.’
Screw it, party time. For now, I was free from Tang Family Fist training, luxuriating in bed munching fruit.
<Your uncle must’ve lost a lot of face over the punishment hall incident.>
‘Wasn’t it my fault they couldn’t stop the intruder?’
If they felt wronged, they should’ve stopped the intruder. What kind of security lets a five-year-old slip through? That’s how I passed the days, counting down to the holiday. Finally, the day arrived. I bolted awake at dawn and rushed to the Bi Yeon Pavilion master’s residence. Only to get turned away at the door.
“Why not?”
“Fifth Young Master, the master ordered no visitors…”
I ignored the politely speaking steward and raised my voice. “Doesn’t the Bi Yeon Pavilion master know what a holiday is? Why do you think the clan even set one!”
I was the fifth young master—no time to bicker with underlings. If the master inside heard over the wall, that’d be enough. An elder like her wouldn’t be hard of hearing.
Clunk—
The gate swung open, and the object of my shouts stormed out.
“Is that you, Yohwan? Hogu bulgyeon—it’s been a while.”
Why did a normal greeting feel off? The survival specialist in me swallowed it down and asked politely, “Hello. Is Sohee here?”
‘Am I not touching that a five-year-old shows this much manners?’
The ever-stoic Bi Yeon Pavilion master replied curtly. “It’s a training holiday. She’s not without tasks.”
“What kinda bullshit…”
I noticed the old lady, usually smelling of tea, now carried a complex, subtle aroma. Steam rose from the kitchen behind her.
“Is that what you’re cooking?”
I scurried closer. There stood Sohee and other servants clustered around steamers. The central table was lined with bamboo steamers already filled with what looked like dumplings.
“Hey, Yohwan.”
Sohee greeted me, sweat beading on her forehead. I pointed at the half-open steamer’s contents. “Sohee, did you make these?”
“Just these ones… I did.”
…In Korean, they’re all just dumplings, but damn confusing. Not gyoza or mantou—these were those. The ones you blow on with a spoon! From… Guangdong!
“Xiaolongbao?”
“Where’d you hear about xiaolongbao?”
“Ah! Xiaolongbao! Of course I know it—it’s the dish for beauties, right?”
Sohee averted her eyes for some reason, and the Bi Yeon Pavilion master frowned. “Don’t drool in the kitchen.”
“Sohee, that old hag doesn’t make you knead dumplings every day, right?”
“Huh?”
“How else could a first-timer make them this good?”
For the record, no exaggeration. Thinking back, even after reincarnating into the Tang Clan, I’d only eaten xiaolongbao once or twice. These were more delicately shaped than those.
‘How does she shape them with those tiny hands? Rolling the dough that thin is super hard, right?’
“Want to try one?”
I gladly accepted the Bi Yeon Pavilion master’s offer and hopped in place without theatrics.
“What the hell did you put in this!!!”
“The one you just ate? Korean ginseng.”
Ginseng—wild mountain ginseng, no less. How could I not recognize it?
“Not just that—something else mixed in… fish?”
This zhongguoren who doesn’t know samgyetang mixed ginseng with chicken and mistook it for fish.
“Guess what fish.”
A faint smile tugged at the Bi Yeon Pavilion master’s lips.
“…Mandarin fish?”
“That’s another name for guiyu.”
I’d eaten it following a relative uncle fishing. Tasty in spicy fish stew, and as the Tang Clan’s youngest, I’d had it occasionally. Hard to get sea fish in Sichuan, so maybe natural.
“…Why mix mandarin fish with ginseng? Who decided that?”
Mandarin fish is oily among freshwater fish. Without spices, the earthy mud flavor blended oddly with finely chopped ginseng bits! Like dipping seafood pancake in ice cream—not playing nice!
“…Not good?”
“No way! With precious Korean ginseng, I feel like a heavenly warrior already! Power surging!”
I’d heard here that even Shaolin’s Great Return Pill had K-ginseng. Pair spicy seafood pancakes with ice cream for dessert? Hell yeah!
“…You won’t say it’s tasty.”
Damn, why so sharp? Before the crestfallen Sohee, I flailed my hands.
“Uh, different flavors per steamer?”
Sohee brightened and explained each one. “Yeah, in order: carrot-turmeric, bear bile-tofu, ephedra-shrimp…”
After free-tasting over ten varieties, I finally picked bear bile-tofu as best—less bitter bile earned points—and sighed in relief.
For reference, bear bile-tofu won because the bile’s bitterness was milder.
“Kinda… all experimental flavors…”
Ingredients were anything but ordinary. Spices like turmeric or ephedra fit Sichuan’s heavy seasoning, but bear bile or Korean ginseng? Those were elixir-level tonics.
Our family’s loaded, huh. The Bi Yeon Pavilion master nodded, pleased.
“Cooking’s a fine start to mastering poison arts.”
I was floored. ‘So if the cooking fails, it’s poison?’
The tasting session ended—my taste buds numb—and she fetched a steamer by the window.
“Take these xiaolongbao on your way out?”
“These? To where?”
I popped one from the offered steamer. Even without expectations, I gasped.
“Ooooh—!”
Subtle ginseng aroma paired with chives and pork texture, perfect ratio of Sichuan peppercorn and seafood sauce making my mouth water. Not top-tier, but addictive like red ginseng candy.
Sohee smacked my back. “Yohwan! You can’t eat that!”
“…Who’s it for?”
“Deliver to the new Bi Yeon Pavilion master. She’ll like the Korean ginseng note.”
Realizing this was the Bi Yeon Pavilion master’s xiaolongbao!
‘If Sohee learns her cooking skills, perfect.’
We left side by side, heading to the Golden Flower Merchant Group—Sohee’s old “father’s” workplace. Straight down the main road, simple path, but my heart felt heavy.
“Y-You okay?”
“Huh?”
“About your dad’s work.”
Her fake father, the Golden Flower Merchant Group head, died during the punishment hall investigation—hushed up nicely. Sohee said flatly, “The Bi Yeon Pavilion master said my blood cult-contact dad was wrong.”
Good she’d taken her as ward. Couldn’t read Sohee’s mind, but…
“You okay, Yohwan?”
“Me?”
“Heard you’ve been slacking on training lately…”
“No, that’s—”
She pressed on. “Bi Yeon Pavilion master worries too. No talent, yet slacking…”
Tortured by Dang Jeongseok, it was hell—but she’d done nothing for me and just mouths worry?
“Got it. I’ll do better.”
Seeing K-student Sohee hit like generations apart, total change. Send me back to playtime prime!
Chatting led us to the destination. As a merchant group, Golden Flower was near the village gate. Yang Wife welcomed us warmly.
“Who’s this? The former head’s young miss?”
With her father gone, Yang Wife was now Golden Flower head. Merchant family, equipped for trade. As family head’s wife, no side gigs—and trustworthy enough after her blood cult puppet son-in-law.
“What’d the Bi Yeon Pavilion master send?”
Everyone knew Sohee was her charge.
“Xiaolongbao.”
“Special with Korean ginseng.”
“Oh! Thank her. Jihwan can eat when training ends.”
“Huh? Brother Jihwan trains on holiday?”
“Young master, so the punishment hall vice head’s overseeing briefly.”
Hearing Dang Jihwan worked hard stirred self-loathing. Was I really falling behind? Anxious at five that my skills lagged other kids? Felt like urban legends of Gangnam kids finishing middle school math at seven. Oh, and the no-martial-arts-besides-Tang-Family-Fist rule was like banning pre-learning.
“Wanna snack on these waiting for Jihwan?”
No clue why we needed him, but Sohee obeyed adults. We sat in a corner, picking at Yang Wife’s treat: silkworm pupae. Rich fluids burst, nutty flavor spreading.
“Little aunt, you’re here.”
Then another entered the head’s room. Dang Chehwan, in deep navy coat over white robe. To Yang Wife’s position, the son-tormentor thorn—her warm face twisted.
“What brings Second Young Master to Golden Flower?”
Glancing, Dang Chehwan wasn’t empty-handed either.