In such cold weather, eating something hot and steaming is the only way to feel comfortable in the stomach, but the sentinels stationed here don’t have that condition.

As she looked over at the watchtower, a few sentinels occasionally glanced at her, their gazes purely curious and without malice.

This place is remote and freezing, even a wild rabbit wouldn’t want to stick its head out.

The sentinels rarely get to see young women.

Jiang Yanyi’s cloak was oversized, and her hat nearly covered half her face, but when she gracefully sat on horseback, she created a picturesque scene.

The head sentinel smiled and asked Feng Shuo, “Is that the new wife of the young general on horseback?”

In their view, only newlyweds would venture out into the snow on such a day.

The term “wife” sounded particularly pleasant in Feng Shuo’s ears.

He glanced at Jiang Yanyi, a hint of a smile forming at the corner of his mouth, one he wasn’t even aware of.

The sentinels enviously said, “The young general is really lucky. We wish the young general and his wife a hundred years of happiness.”

Once someone enters the military, life and death are gambled with their lives.

Today, they can sit here munching on a few burnt pancakes, but tomorrow, they might spill blood on the battlefield.

When they retire, they hope to save some silver to marry and have a healthy child, so they can serve their parents in their old age—that’s their greatest aspiration.

Feng Shuo said, “Thank you.”

On their way back, Jiang Yanyi asked Feng Shuo, “What were you talking about over there?”

At first, she could hear them clearly, but as their voices lowered, she couldn’t make out the words anymore.

She just noticed those sentinels glancing at her several times, seemingly laughing while talking to Feng Shuo.

Feng Shuo lied without a blush, “We were discussing border defense matters.”

Although Jiang Yanyi was doubtful, she successfully shifted the topic.

She recalled the burnt pancakes the sentinels were making and asked, “Why doesn’t the army directly distribute food to the sentinels at these remote watchtowers so they can cook for themselves?”

Feng Shuo replied with two words: “Too troublesome.”

With so many outposts, once they distribute food, they also need to provide oil and salt.

This is no small task.

Moreover, if there is any sudden situation, sentinels must quickly return to report, and if they carry pancakes with them, they can eat anytime.

If they were given food to cook, with only one pot available, any unexpected incident might leave some sentinels starving.

From the lessons learned throughout the ages, distributing ready-made pancakes is the wisest choice.

Jiang Yanyi sighed, “These soldiers stationed at the watchtower have it tough too.”

Feng Shuo’s voice, tinged with either weariness or coldness, said, “Having something to eat is not a time to complain.”

When the Minghan Kingdom broke through the southern border and cut off the food supply, he had chewed on tree bark and grass roots with his trusted soldiers.

If it weren’t for the faint sense of reason left in him, he might have ended up consuming the flesh and blood of his fallen comrades.

Jiang Yanyi had spent some time at the military camp in the West and knew that the soldiers at the bottom were not doing easy work.

As a military leader, Feng Shuo had done his best to ensure ordinary soldiers were fed, but expecting them to eat well was certainly impossible.

He was responsible for an army of over 20,000, not just a few hundred or thousand.

Suddenly, Jiang Yanyi remembered instant noodles from later times, which could fill one’s stomach whether eaten dry or cooked in water.

In fact, during her previous life, there was an ancient version of “instant noodles” from the Han Dynasty, invented by the Marquis of Huaiyin, Han Xin, known as “Xue Mian.”

It was made by mixing buckwheat flour with regular flour to create thin pancakes the size of pot lids.

After drying, they were cut into strips and boiled in water before being served with oil and spicy seasoning.

Although it could only be stored for three to five days, it could quickly solve the meal problem for the army.

Having spent only a short time in the camp and with no fighting in the West, Jiang Yanyi wasn’t sure if there were Xue Mian in this world.

However, for the outposts, Xue Mian would be quite inconvenient, while the later instant noodles could be useful in such places.

—When conditions permit, one can soak them in hot water for a steaming bowl of noodle soup, and they can be paired with buckwheat pancakes to warm the stomach and fill the belly.

If conditions are poor, they can be eaten dry, with no waste.

---

Jiang Yanyi thought about this on her way back, and when she returned to her shop that evening while preparing the broth, she took some flour to try making instant noodles.

She followed the method of making regular noodles for mixing and resting the dough.

Once the dough had rested enough, she began to stretch the noodles.

Stretching noodles involves repeatedly folding two strands and pulling them apart: rolling the dough into a long strip and holding one end of the noodle in each hand.

The right amount of force must be balanced perfectly—if it’s too loose, the noodle will fall and be ruined; if it’s too tight, it will break, which can really test the cook’s skills.

While stretching the noodle, she would let the right end drop onto the left and then flip the left end upwards, creating a twist.

Then she would slam the noodles onto the counter to develop their elasticity.

An experienced noodle maker does this step like performing acrobatics and can even create several variations with the noodles.

Many types of noodles have evolved from stretched noodles; for instance, seven folds create big hand-pulled noodles, while eight folds produce dragon whiskers noodles.

Hand-stretched noodles are smooth and chewy, incomparable to dough mixed by industrial machines.

When Jiang Yanyi learned to stretch noodles, the master teaching them often lamented that in the past, no matter where one went in the south or north, if there was a noodle shop, the cook could stretch noodles well.

They even relied on this skill to attract customers, but now it’s hard to find.

Young people learning to cook prioritize quick results; with noodle machines available, they are unwilling to put in the effort to learn these skills.

Those from the older generation sometimes worry that the crafts passed down for generations might lose their successors.

The trend of an era won’t stop for the dedication of a few, but in her past life, Jiang Yanyi had given up her big-city job after graduating from university to return to her old town to plan opening a traditional hot pot restaurant.

That had been her grandfather’s lifelong wish.

Times have changed; a craft holds different meanings to different generations.

What young people find dispensable might be something the older generation diligently fears losing.

In her previous life, Jiang Yanyi’s parents had opposed her decision to give up a high-level job in the big city to return to her hometown.

However, Jiang Yanyi felt that reading books and meeting people did not mean she had to confine herself to the mundane ways of life.

Knowledge and understanding were only meant to foster wisdom and propriety.

She had already seen the reality behind the superficiality and preferred the warmth and essence that emerged from cooking with a pot and spoon.

Pulling herself away from her memories, she finished stretching the noodles, coiling the dough into a bowl.

Once it was about half full, she placed it in the steamer.

Stretching noodles was a bit troublesome. If she successfully made instant noodles, she planned to produce them in bulk, using a method for making hanging noodles for efficiency.

Otherwise, it would be too labor-intensive.

In the later times, whether fried or non-fried, instant noodles must go through the steaming process; otherwise, the noodle cakes cannot be soaked in water.

Fried instant noodles have very low moisture content, preventing bacterial growth, allowing them to be stored for a long time.

They also have a decent flavor, but the fats in the noodles can deteriorate over time.

Non-fried instant noodles skip the frying step and are directly dried, retaining more moisture than fried noodles.

Their shelf life may not be as long as the fried ones, and while they may not taste as good, they are healthier.

Jiang Yanyi preferred to make non-fried instant noodles for one simple reason: oil in ancient times was too expensive!

Since she was running her own shop, making a small batch for testing was fine, but if she needed to produce a large quantity of noodle cakes, the oil costs would be substantial, and repeatedly using oil for frying wasn’t healthy.

As she pondered these matters while sitting behind the stove, the kitchen door opened.

Qui Kui, having gotten up at night, saw Jiang Yanyi still awake and couldn’t help but come over to take a look. “Hua Hua, why are you still busy so late?”

“I’m trying to make some snacks,” Jiang Yanyi replied with a smile. “You should go back to sleep; I won’t be busy for much longer.”

It was cold outside, and Qui Kui shivered as she entered the kitchen. “I had a nightmare and couldn’t sleep.”

Jiang Yanyi moved a small stool closer to give her some space to warm herself by the fire. “What kind of nightmare did you have?”

Qui Kui’s expression turned a bit gloomy. “I dreamed about my parents and my aunt.”

As soon as she mentioned her parents, Jiang Yanyi remembered the household registration documents she had asked Feng Shuo to help with.

She comforted Qui Kui, saying, “Household registration documents require multiple layers of approval; it’s common for them to take months to obtain. Now that there’s a war in the south, the officials might be too busy devising strategies to quell the unrest, so the household matters might not be resolved quickly.”

Qui Kui shook her head. “I’m not in a hurry about the household registration. Being with you, Hua Hua, makes me feel very secure. I want to stay with you for a lifetime.”

Jiang Yanyi patted her head. “Silly girl.”

Once the noodle cakes were steamed and soft, even though they held their shape in the bowl, they took on strange shapes in the frying pan.

To avoid a disaster, Jiang Yanyi waited for the oil to firm up the noodle cakes before flipping them with a spatula, then scooped the drained cakes into a colander to let the oil drain off.

Having followed Jiang Yanyi for so long and tasted many delicious dishes, Qui Kui looked at the oddly shaped noodle cakes and felt no appetite at all, simply stating, “Hua Hua, this looks like it won’t taste good.”

Jiang Yanyi replied, “We’re not done yet; they’re still not formed.”

She lit the outdoor oven and placed both the fried and un-fried noodle cakes inside to bake while she prepared the seasonings.

Jiang Yanyi diced some meat, heating sesame oil in a pan to cook the meat before adding ginger, nutmeg, Sichuan pepper, minced garlic, cardamom, and fennel to sauté until fragrant.

Then she added salt and a spoonful of the prepared broth to enhance the flavor.

The aroma of the seasonings was strong, though the nutmeg could not compare to chili, and the spiciness was rather mild.

Jiang Yanyi dipped her chopsticks into the sauce and tasted it.

Although the flavor wasn’t as good as the seasonings from later times, it was still acceptable.

The sesame oil could preserve freshness for a long time without spoiling, but the meat she stir-fried was fresh and would not last long.

Next time, Jiang Yanyi thought she might consider using dried meat.

The aroma of the seasonings whetted her appetite, but the noodle cakes in the oven needed some more time to cook.

Bored, Jiang Yanyi noticed a few sections of lotus root in the corner of the kitchen and turned to ask Qui Kui, “Do you want to eat marinated lotus root?”

Qui Kui had already started salivating when Jiang Yanyi prepared the seasonings.

At this moment, as soon as Jiang Yanyi asked, she quickly nodded and eagerly grabbed a lotus root segment to start peeling.

Jiang Yanyi placed the peeled lotus root slices in water to soak and wash.

Once finished, she blanched them in cold water for a few minutes before draining them in a colander.

With the water drained from the pot, she heated oil to sauté the ginger and garlic, then added Sichuan pepper, fennel, bay leaves, and cardamom in sequence, pouring in half of the lotus root to stir-fry evenly.

When seasoning with salt, she added a bit of sugar to enhance the flavor and poured in some soy sauce for color.

Jiang Yanyi generously added a spoonful of broth to deepen the flavor, and finally added water to braise and reduce the sauce.