Chapter 20: Petty Schemes Unfit for the Spotlight

Ge Hongying had invited several high-ranking officers from the division: Commander Chen, Chief of Staff Shi, Deputy Political Commissar Wang, a Political Department Director, the Heads of the Equipment and Logistics Departments, and Director of Operations, Ling Hansong.

Except for Ling Hansong, all the others were married, and those whose families were local had brought their spouses along. Deputy Commissar Wang was an exception—he hadn’t brought his wife but his mother, Madam Wang.

Shi Weiguang couldn’t help teasing him. “Everyone else is here with their wives. You came with your mother—how filial of you.”

Wang Heping looked frustrated and muttered under his breath, “You think I had a choice?”

“Son, come sit down. The meal’s about to start,” Madam Wang called from the other side.

Wang Heping immediately put on a smile. “Coming, Mom.”

Shi Weiguang shook his head with a chuckle.

With over a dozen people including children, Yu Baoshan borrowed another table and set it up in the Courtyard. It was just enough to seat everyone.

The dishes were brought out one after another. Though simple and home-style, they were visually appealing and fragrant, clearly promising in taste.

The Political Department Director—Zhang Zhaodi’s husband—was under Yu Baoshan’s direct supervision. Both husband and wife were adept at reading a room.

Just as Ge Hongying was contemplating how to introduce Ge Hongxia to the crowd, the Director took the lead, praising loudly, “Incredible! Sister-in-law Hongying really outdid herself today. This feast must’ve taken a lot of effort.”

Ge Hongying smoothly responded, “Oh, you’ve got it all wrong. I wouldn’t be able to cook such a spread by myself. This was all my younger sister’s doing.”

Someone expressed surprise, “How old is your sister? So skilled and capable!”

At that moment, Ge Hongxia walked over with the final dish. Ge Hongying quickly pulled her forward, placing her beside herself. “This is my younger sister, Hongxia. She’s just turned twenty.”

All eyes immediately turned to Ge Hongxia—including Ling Hansong.

She lowered her gaze, shyly twisting the tip of her braid between her fingers, the picture of a demure maiden.

To be fair, Ge Hongxia fit the ideal bride image for many men of that era: more diligent and down-to-earth than most city girls, prettier than most village girls, and with the added advantage of a brother-in-law who was a Political Commissar.

As long as word got out that she was looking for a husband, at least half the bachelors in the garrison would be at her feet.

Unfortunately, while everyone else was complimenting her, Ling Hansong gave only a passing glance before turning to play with some children nearby.

Ge Hongying noted this with composure and quietly had Ge Hongxia step aside.

She then said, “Speaking of which, Young An also made a dish for us today.” She pointed at the lumpy mound already placed on the table. “That right there is hers.”

The Political Department Director burst into laughter. “That’s a dish? What is it—mudballs? I have to admit, though, among all these sumptuous dishes, a clump of mud does stand out.”

The sarcasm was so blatant it might as well have been slapped across her face.

Xiao Yu narrowed his eyes and shot a sharp glare at the Director.

The man immediately shivered, laughed awkwardly, and shut up.

But Xiao Yu wasn’t about to let it slide. In a cold tone, he said, “If you don’t know what you’re talking about, maybe shut your mouth. That would be unique, too.”

He didn’t know what that mound of mud was either, but he trusted his wife wouldn’t serve something unpresentable.

Sitting beside him, An Huan pursed her lips into a subtle smile at his show of support.

“Don’t be angry, Deputy Commander Xiao. I spoke out of turn,” the Director said quickly, smiling while wiping sweat from his brow. Offending Xiao Yu—the devil incarnate in their eyes—just to flatter the wrong person? Not worth it.

Yu Baoshan cut in to ease the tension. “All right, all right, let’s eat before the food gets cold. But really, how are we supposed to eat this mudball?”

At that moment, Wen Xueman’s cool voice drifted in. “That’s Beggar’s Chicken. None of you have seen it before?”

Beggar’s Chicken?

Most of the people present genuinely hadn’t heard of it.

This wasn’t a time of rapid information exchange—transportation was slow, and other than what books could teach, people lived within small, self-contained worlds. With food scarcity a reality, most folks just wanted a full belly, not gourmet creativity.

Wen Xueman explained, “The dish supposedly originated in the Song Dynasty. A beggar once stole a chicken but had no cooking tools, so he wrapped it in lotus leaves and then in yellow clay, and baked it over fire.”

Ling Hansong picked up the thread, “Later on, the dish became well-known. When Emperor Qianlong traveled south, he tasted it and praised it highly, even inscribing the name ‘Yellow Clay Beggar’s Chicken’ himself.”

Everyone listened in stunned silence. Shi Weiguang whistled, “So we’re eating the emperor’s delicacy today, huh?”

Chen Gang grumbled, “Nonsense. It’s just a roast chicken. No need to bring in all that feudal garbage.”

Wen Xueman shot him a displeased look.

Old fossil. Always dragging ideology into everything.

An Huan smiled. “There are many origin stories for Beggar’s Chicken. We won’t debate that now. I’ll take the chicken aside and crack open the clay.”

Serving it with the mud crust had been intentional—not just to keep it warm, but because cracking it open was part of the experience.

She carried the dish to the side and positioned it so everyone could see. Then she used a small mallet to gently break the baked clay.

As the hardened shell cracked open, a rich aroma immediately wafted out. When she peeled away the lotus leaves, a golden-skinned chicken was revealed, the fragrance intensifying.

An Huan brought the chicken, now resting on the lotus leaf, back to the table. “Everyone, eat it while it’s hot.”

Ge Hongying’s expression began to darken. You could tell how good food was just by the smell—no need to even taste it. And the aroma had already made everyone’s mouths water.

Limited ingredients meant An Huan’s Beggar’s Chicken wasn’t overloaded with extras, but it retained a purer, more authentic flavor. The tender, fall-off-the-bone meat melted in their mouths, rich without being greasy, flavorful without being chaotic.

Chen Gang was the first to give a thumbs-up. “Delicious! Better than roasted chicken!”

The others chimed in, offering sincere praise and eagerly reaching for the dish—especially the children, who had been hovering around ever since An Huan started breaking the crust.

This one chicken—novel and delectable—captured everyone’s attention.

The dishes Ge Hongxia had prepared were temporarily forgotten. She cast a disheartened glance at her sister, and Ge Hongying patted her hand comfortingly, though a tightness lingered in her chest.

Wen Xueman, puzzled, asked, “Young An, weren’t you supposed to be bad at cooking? How did you make this so well?”

Ge Hongying answered coolly, “A good chicken tastes good no matter how you cook it.”

Wen Xueman dabbed her lips with a handkerchief and chuckled. “Even the best ingredients need proper cooking. Why don’t you try making one yourself and see if it turns out the same?”

“You—!” Ge Hongying’s expression soured as she glared. That capitalist heiress always loved making things difficult for her!

An Huan glanced at Ge Hongying and suddenly smiled. “I know everyone’s heard that story about how I nearly burned the house down cooking. But I’d like to clarify—burning a house and not knowing how to cook aren’t the same thing. You’ve all misunderstood me. I should actually thank Sister-in-law Hongying for insisting I show off my cooking skills today. Thanks to her, I got the chance to clear up those rumors.”

Ge Hongying could no longer maintain her composure.

Everyone present was sharp. Given how Ge Hongying had pushed her sister into the spotlight earlier, and how the Political Department Director had ridiculed An Huan—well, the message couldn’t be clearer.

It was a scheme to elevate Ge Hongxia by diminishing An Huan.

Wen Xueman cast a disdainful glance at Ge Hongying. This country woman really never changes—always scheming behind the scenes with tricks unfit for polite company.