With the Left Hand, With the Right Hand

Goldongban. Just as we call old things antiques, or goldong, it seems people in the old days used the word to describe a mixture of various old items. By adding ban, meaning rice, to that word, they created goldongban—which is what we know today as bibimbap.

"The foundation of goldongban lies in the Five Flavors: sweetness, saltiness, bitterness, spiciness, and sourness. It also features five distinct colors, which represent the Five Elements."

This is why bibimbap is often called the dish of five colors and five flavors.

"Since the rice is already cooking, shall we begin? Oh, and feel free to come closer to watch."

At my invitation, several students, including Man Hanseok, dragged their chairs over and sat right in front. Excellent. Very enthusiastic.

"Normally, we would need a special paste called gochujang, but because this lecture was scheduled so suddenly, I didn't have time to ferment any. Instead, I've brought tianmianjiang mixed with red pepper powder."

Tianmianjiang is exactly what you think it is. It's the original version of chunjang, the black bean paste served alongside raw onions and yellow pickled radish at Chinese restaurants.

While the paste is naturally reddish-brown, adding finely ground red pepper powder and putting it through a rapid aging process gave it a much deeper, vibrant red hue.

It wouldn't have the heavy, deep-seated depth of traditional gochujang, but the rich umami of the tianmianjiang would compensate for it nicely.

I took some finely minced beef and tossed it with soy sauce, honey, minced garlic, chopped scallions, a splash of Shaoxing wine, sesame oil, and black pepper. After mixing it thoroughly, I set it aside to let the marinade penetrate the meat.

Next up was sautéing and seasoning the various vegetables.

"These vegetables are incredibly important. Excluding the red beef, which represents the element of Fire, they represent the rest of the five directional colors. They are also responsible for the texture and overall flavor profile of the goldongban."

Explaining every single health benefit of the vegetables in bibimbap would take all day, so I kept my explanation brief and to the point.

As for the bracken fern, which had been an absolute nightmare to prepare, I had already instructed the kitchen servants to soak and boil it beforehand. All I had to do now was trim and sauté it. Afterward, a gentle toss with soy sauce and perilla oil was all it took. The squash, bellflower root, water dropwort, and soybean sprouts received the same treatment—each sautéed separately, then seasoned with soy sauce and sesame oil.

With the vegetables ready, I separated egg yolks from whites to fry up separate yellow and white egg ribbons. Slicing them thinly created a beautiful, colorful garnish.

"Is the fellow student sitting in the front from the Shaolin Temple?"

"Amitabha. Yes, this poor monk is called Myeo-on of Shaolin," the young monk replied, pressing his palms together in a respectful bow.

Behind the youthful-looking Myeo-on sat a Buddhist nun of a similar age, likely a student from the Emei Sect.

Since Shaolin and Emei forbid both meat and the Five Pungent Spices, they wouldn't be able to eat the beef-based medicinal chili paste I was about to make. But did I leave them out? Of course not. I had prepared a separate batch of stir-fried chili paste, omitting the garlic and beef and replacing them with finely diced fried tofu.

I thoroughly stir-fried the marinated beef I prepared earlier in a wok to cook off the moisture, then added a generous amount of chili paste, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠red pepper powder, honey, and plum syrup. This created a perfect medicinal chili paste—sweet, sour, and spicy all at once. In other words, stir-fried beef chili paste.

"And finally, we have yukhoe. This is a dish where raw beef is tossed in a soy sauce-based seasoning. It's commonly eaten in the northern regions of Hebei."

By thinly slicing beef rump sourced from a freshly slaughtered cow and tossing it with various seasonings to make yukhoe, all the ingredients for the bibimbap were finally ready.

I had made yukhoe a few times since arriving in the Central Plains, and its chewy texture and uniquely savory richness were absolutely out of this world. Even though I was the one who made it, it looked incredibly mouthwatering.

As the memory of that flavor made my mouth water, I unconsciously smacked my lips while mixing the meat. Seeing this, one of the female students raised her hand to ask a question.

"Chef Yoon, is it safe to eat raw meat?"

"Of course. Freshness is the only real concern, but since this meat was slaughtered just this morning, there won't be any issues."

For the students from Shaolin and Emei, I blanched and thinly sliced fresh bamboo shoots harvested from the bamboo groves of Mount Hyang behind the academy. Bamboo shoots dug up on the very same day were not only incredibly crisp but also left a wonderfully subtle, earthy fragrance lingering in the mouth.

With that, everything was prepared. All that was left was the plating.

I scooped warm white rice into a heated earthenware pot, then meticulously arranged the bracken fern, squash, bellflower root, water dropwort, soybean sprouts, and egg ribbons in a neat radial pattern. In the center, I placed a mound of yukhoe, topped with a generous spoonful of the medicinal chili paste. Finally, I drizzled a few drops of sesame oil over the top.

The result? A Yoon Gomyung-style bibimbap that was not only packed with flavor and nutrition but also perfectly balanced in the five directional colors of the Yin-Yang and Five Elements.

It would have been perfect with a raw egg yolk on top, but since I was worried about potential stomach aches, I had substituted it with the egg ribbons instead.

As the savory aroma wafted from the bowls and tickled their noses, a look of pure yearning washed over the students' faces. They clearly couldn't wait to mix it all up and take a massive bite.

"This is goldongban, a dish that encapsulates both Yin-Yang and the Five Elements."

"Isn't that just throwing some vegetables and meat on top of rice?" Namgung Geum, who had been watching with a blank, vacant expression, sneered in an attempt to pick a fight.

"And aren't you just some guy who got lucky being born into the Namgung Clan?"

"...What did you say?"

"...is what I almost said. Because this dish doesn't end here." I smirked at Namgung Geum, who trembled with rage, clearly not expecting me to snap back like that.

Where does a punk who barely managed to crawl out of Second-class into the very entry stage of First-class get the nerve to keep picking fights? Holding the bibimbap, I turned my gaze back to the other students.

"The final step is to mix it all together."

"But it's so colorful and beautiful! Why would we ruin it?" a female student asked, prompting me to explain.

"In Tibet, monks paint sacred Buddhist images called 'mandalas' on the floor using colored sand. It's a process that takes anywhere from several months to several years."

"...?"

"Why do they paint with sand, knowing a single gust of wind could scatter it all away?"

"Form is emptiness, and emptiness is form," Myeo-on replied, bowing his head slightly. Ah, so he understood.

"The moment the mandala is complete, the Tibetan monks sweep away the masterpiece they spent years painstakingly creating. They do this to realize that everything in existence is bound to change, and it is precisely because things change that they exist."

I lifted the bowl of goldongban, which was still radiating a cozy warmth.

"Even a dish as delicious-looking as this goldongban will eventually rot if left uneaten. While rotting is also a form of change, wouldn't that be a terrible waste? Therefore, eating it is the best course of action."

Let's change it by eating it! It sounded suspiciously like a ripped-off slogan from a certain country's political campaign, but the students seemed to find it amusing and chuckled softly.

"The bowl of goldongban represents the world, and we are the various ingredients contained within it. Yin-Yang and the Five Elements harmonize, complement, and nourish one another—just as we strive to spread a positive influence."

With those words, I began mixing the bibimbap with my chopsticks. Mixing with chopsticks is the golden rule; it keeps the individual grains of rice from being crushed, ensuring a perfect texture.

The 'positive influence' of bibimbap was, of course, the synergy of its ingredients. Just imagine how spectacular it would taste when these savory, seasoned vegetables met the chewy, rich yukhoe, or the crisp, flavorful bamboo shoots.

"Ah..." The students let out quiet groans, swallowing hard. The rich, savory, and slightly tangy aroma of the medicinal chili paste and sesame oil was filling the entire room as everything came together.

"This is the true essence of Yin-Yang, the Five Elements, and the Taiji," I said, gesturing to the thoroughly mixed bibimbap. A female student tilted her head in confusion.

"Chef Yoon, then what is the ultimate conclusion of this dish?"

"The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Yin-Yang and Five Elements are delicious."

"Oh, come on!"

"What, you think I'm joking?" The female student and the rest of the class giggled, assuming it was just a witty remark. Man, I'm dead serious. Isn't it a universal truth that bibimbap tastes best when mixed with the left hand, and then mixed again with the right?

"Some say the essence of the Taiji lies in the mystery of softness, but as Instructor Cheongjo always says, I believe the Taiji is ultimately about harmony. Therefore, what is the perfect dish to understand the harmony of the Taiji?"

"...Goldongban?"

"Correct! Since you all got it right, let's have a proper taste of the goldongban prepared by the Inner and Outer Hall Master himself."

They had all woken up early in the morning just to listen to an old guy's rambling, so the least I could do was feed them well. I called over the servants to portion out the bibimbap into warm bowls. As the students received their portions, their faces lit up with joy.

Namgung Geum and a few of his cronies still looked like they were chewing on glass, but that was none of my business. Besides, even if a mere chef like me tried to lecture them seriously about the Four Noble Truths or how 'feelings, perceptions, impulses, and consciousness are also like this,' would these kids even listen? It was much better to just let them enjoy a delicious meal.

"Chef Yoon, did you invent this dish yourself? It looks a bit like a colorful zhajiangmian, but with rice instead of noodles."

"I didn't invent it entirely. It's said that the king of a faraway land used to enjoy it as a light meal."

I gave that answer to the student's question, though it did differ slightly from the actual goldongban eaten by the kings of the Joseon Dynasty. I had heard that back then, they used soy sauce instead of gochujang anyway.

The student who asked the question nodded and shoved a massive spoonful of bibimbap into his mouth. He chewed for a moment, and his eyes instantly went wide. Even the students from Shaolin and Emei were eating with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gusto. Honestly, who could resist the heavenly combination of sesame oil, chili paste, fresh vegetables, and savory yukhoe—or crisp bamboo shoots?

Watching them happily devour the beef tartare bibimbap and the bamboo shoot bibimbap put a warm smile on my face. Well, time to have a taste myself.

"Mmm." It definitely tasted closer to a Central Plains flavor profile than a traditional Korean one. Perhaps because it was made with tianmianjiang and red pepper powder, it was quite different from the gochujang bibimbap I knew. Still, it was delicious. It almost had a subtle hint of black bean sauce rice to it.

Next time, I should definitely ferment some soybean blocks from scratch, I thought as I scraped the last bits of rice from my bowl. It would have been wonderful if the day had ended peacefully just like that. But as fate would have it, there was always that one person who just had to test my patience.

Clang! The sharp sound of shattering porcelain echoed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠through the room, followed by the wet splat of bibimbap hitting the floor.

"Oh dear, how clumsy of me." The voice feigned surprise, but the tone was so dripping with sarcasm that anyone could tell it was intentional. "I dropped it by accident."

The culprit was, of course, Namgung Geum. As he stared at me with a smug smirk, I slowly set my bowl down on the table and walked toward the back of the room where he was sitting.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, my hand just slipped, and I accidentally dropped the bowl. My apologies." Namgung Geum gave a half-hearted nod of his head. There wasn't a single shred of sincerity in his apology.

I rubbed my face with both hands. Am I supposed to just let this slide too? No, absolutely not. I could tolerate him mocking me for being a mere chef, but I could not tolerate him throwing food I had poured my hard work into onto the floor. Three strikes. You're out.

"Pick it up." I walked slowly toward Namgung Geum, who was sitting there with a shameless look on his face.

"Why should I?"

"That's twice. Pick. It. Up."

"Servants are supposed to clean up this kind of stuff." The kid sure had a lot of mouth. "This is my final warning." Just as I stepped forward to grab him by the collar—Crash! "N-Namgung Geum! Stop this at once!" Man Hanseok, the large student who had answered my question earlier, leaped to his feet. His massive frame sent his chair tumbling backward with a loud thud.

"Stay out of this, you fat pig!"

"Chef Yoon told you to pick it up!"

"Shut your mouth and stop oinking!" Watching Namgung Geum bicker with Man Hanseok brought me back to my senses. Right, this kid was only about fifteen or sixteen. It was my mistake to expect the mature judgment of an adult from someone his age.

...

Wait. If that was the case, didn't he need a proper lesson even more? The goal of the Mutual Righteousness Academy was to gather talents from all over the Central Plains—regardless of whether they were orthodox, unorthodox, or demonic—and mold them into righteous martial artists. And as the head nutritionist, my duty was to feed these kids well and help them grow. Surely, a staff member had the right to discipline a student of the academy, right?

The Hundred Medicine Fist Secrets was far too potent a cure, so I would have to settle for a mild preventive vaccine instead. Without hesitation, I raised my right hand. I bent my middle finger, pressing it firmly under my thumb, and began to gather my strength.

"Namgung Geum."

"Ugh, what?!"

"'What' is a question, not an answer. Are you really not going to pick up that bowl?"

"It's already dirty on the floor! How am I supposed to pick it up?!"

"Then you're going to have to take a hit."

"Ha! How is a mere cook going to hit me?" Namgung Geum sneered. Ah, has the authority of teachers in the Central Plains fallen this low? It seemed that because I was living quietly as a chef rather than a martial artist, he thought I was completely powerless. He clearly hadn't learned yet that you can't easily perceive the internal energy of someone in a realm far above your own.

Before he could utter another word, I swiftly raised my right hand. I focused every ounce of my concentration onto my middle finger. I packed my qi into it, compressing it until the blood flow stopped. My target was Namgung Geum's forehead. Aiming straight at that smooth, teenage forehead, I released the thumb holding back my middle finger.

Infused with the profound principles of the Hundred Medicine Fist Secrets, my vaccine against delinquency shot forward.

The moment my middle finger, which felt powerful enough to tear through space, collided with his forehead—

CRACK!

With a crisp sound resembling a baseball bat striking a ball, Namgung Geum let out a strangled gasp.

"Ack!"

In an instant, all noise in the classroom ceased. Namgung Geum's eyes rolled back, showing only the whites, and he crumpled straight to the floor.

Watching this unfold, Man Hanseok spoke up in a trembling voice.

"W-Was that... the Finger Flicking Art?"

No, you dummy! It's the Yoon Gomyung-style Finger Flick MK1!