Chapter 19: A Gathering of Flavors
Xu Huazhang wanted to find a place to sit but saw that the small stall only had two tiny square tables, both lower than knee height—and already full.
Mu Lantu motioned for Xu Huazhang to keep walking and picked up a bite of stir-fried rice noodles to taste. Most people would instinctively lean forward and crane their necks when eating while standing, trying not to spill food on themselves—resulting in a rather awkward posture. But Mu Lantu had no such problem. He picked up a few strands of noodles, gave the chopsticks a gentle twirl, and the noodles wrapped neatly around them—no risk of making a mess.
As he ate, he glanced at Xu Huazhang, eyes filled with quiet amusement.
Of course, Xu Huazhang noticed he was being teased. But instead of feeling offended, a ripple of indulgence flickered in his gaze.
Mu Lantu urged him on, “Hurry up and eat. Didn’t you say you wanted to try things you’ve never done before? I bet you’ve never walked while eating, right?”
Xu Huazhang twirled some noodles himself, lifted them, and placed them neatly in his mouth—just as clean and unbothered, with not even a drop of sauce on his lips or clothes.
Mu Lantu shrugged and stopped teasing. “Is it good?”
“Very good,” Xu Huazhang replied. “You really know your food.”
“Of course,” Mu Lantu said proudly. “I have a goal—to eat at every restaurant in the capital.”
“Did you try the places I recommended?”
Xu Huazhang ate slowly, his attention split—more than half of it focused on Mu Lantu, making sure he didn’t get bumped. The night market crowd was dense, and although there were two bodyguards, they were there to protect him, not Mu Lantu.
“Most of them? Not yet.” Mu Lantu saw a stall up ahead selling grilled cold noodles and sped up his eating. “I want to sample all the street food first. Then I’ll enjoy the fancy places. Hurry, next up is grilled cold noodles—they’re great.”
Ten minutes later, they each had a new patterned paper bowl. One portion of grilled cold noodles had been cut into six pieces—just right for three each.
Mu Lantu tried one piece and frowned slightly. It wasn’t as good as he expected.
Seeing this, Xu Huazhang calmly picked up the remaining two pieces and put them into his own bowl, eating them slowly.
Mu Lantu felt a little guilty. “My bad. I figured the long line meant it’d be delicious. Those people were probably just paid shills!”
Xu Huazhang chuckled. “Mm, let’s skip that place next time. Thirsty?”
“A little.” Mu Lantu looked around for a drink stall.
One of the bodyguards handed Xu Huazhang a bottle of mineral water.
Xu Huazhang twisted it open and passed it to Mu Lantu.
Mu Lantu glanced at the label—whoa, excuse me, this was Thousand-Year Peak Mineral Water, 99-yuan a bottle. He took a sip and honestly felt… it tasted pretty average.
“What do you want to eat next?” Xu Huazhang asked.
Other than stinky tofu and some “dark cuisine,” Mu Lantu wasn’t picky. “Too much good stuff. I’ll eat whatever looks tasty.”
After scanning the crowd, he grabbed Xu Huazhang and headed straight for the sizzling tofu stall. This time he added lots of chili—and only gave Xu Huazhang two pieces.
The tofu was fragrant, tender, silky, hot, and full of flavor. If he didn’t want to try more things, Mu Lantu would’ve happily bought another serving. In fact, he made a mental note to come back alone and buy dozens more to stash in his system inventory.
As they ate their way through the market, they drew a lot of attention.
Probably because their outfits looked like couple wear. Strangely enough, no one approached to flirt tonight.
Suddenly, Mu Lantu looked like he’d had an epiphany. “I know why you dressed like this!”
Xu Huazhang’s gaze darkened slightly. His voice was a bit hoarse. “Why?”
“Obviously to avoid getting hit on,” Mu Lantu said, impressed. “Smart thinking!”
Xu Huazhang was silent for two seconds. “You’re pretty clever yourself.”
“Of course,” Mu Lantu said, without even looking up, as he happily finished the last bite of tofu.
They went on to share half a portion of roasted sweet potato noodles, half a serving of duck blood vermicelli, and one roujiamo (Chinese meat bun—it wasn’t easy to split in half).
Not far ahead was a mala tang (spicy hot pot) shop. Mu Lantu paused, hesitating.
Xu Huazhang took his hand and led him forward. He didn’t know where Mu Lantu had gotten the idea that he couldn’t handle spicy food. At lunch, he’d eaten just as much spicy grilled fish, chili chicken, and beef with green chilies as Mu Lantu had.
“This place isn’t just spicy—it’s authentic Sichuan-level spicy,” Mu Lantu warned kindly. He’d seen food bloggers recommend this place in videos, and he’d tried it once before. This was his second visit. Judging by the packed restaurant and even the outdoor tables under the canopy being full, it was clearly popular.
Xu Huazhang finally had to explain, “I can handle spicy food.”
Mu Lantu didn’t want to admit that he’d held back earlier because of Xu Huazhang’s minor stomach issue. Oh well. He’d just invite Xu Huazhang over for tea later and quietly spike the brew with a little something helpful.
With a plan in mind, he said no more. When he saw a table being vacated, he grabbed Xu Huazhang and rushed over.
A young couple was a second too slow and had to move aside to keep waiting.
It was the only open table. Mu Lantu waved the two bodyguards over.
They both shook their heads and stayed nearby, continuing to eat the leftovers of their snacks while keeping a sharp eye on the surroundings. With so many people standing around, the two didn’t stand out at all.
