By the time the dishes were halfway gone, Liu Maopao had already worked his way into the good graces of three out of the four adults at the table.
Only the merchant who had invited them remained.
Unfortunately for that poor man, he had recognized Liu Maopao the moment the boy walked in.
As a fellow businessman, how could he not admire the endlessly replayed advertisements of the Warm and Sleepy Textile Factory? The wool sweaters had flooded Xi'an, and the marketing style had become a legend in its own right. To meet the factory owner's son in person felt less like coincidence and more like a stroke of commercial destiny.
The two merchants began talking at once, each praising the other with the ease of seasoned traders. Before long they were clasping hands and laughing like distant cousins reunited after years apart.
Naturally, the two tables were pushed together.
The merchant declared with great enthusiasm that he would cover the entire bill. His joy was so obvious that refusing him would have seemed rude.
Soon the seafood began arriving in waves. Lobster shells cracked, steam rose from platters, and the scent of soy sauce drifted through the air. Conversation mingled with the clatter of chopsticks. Even Sun Chuanting, who had arrived burdened with official troubles, found himself relaxing.
The two Mongolian boys, E'zhe and Zhebu, were utterly captivated.
"These strange fish and shrimp are unbelievably good," E'zhe said between bites, his eyes wide. "Are they really all from the sea?"
"Yes," Liu Maopao replied cheerfully. "Fishermen sail out, cast their nets, and bring them back."
"I heard the ocean is vast and wild," E'zhe continued. "Does that mean you can just take whatever you want from it?"
Liu Maopao nodded, then added with calculated casualness, "In theory, yes. But there are pirates. You have seen Battle of Liaoluo Bay, haven't you?"
E'zhe's face lit up immediately. "That is my favorite film. Naval battles are the best."
"If you like them so much," Liu Maopao said, gesturing lightly with his chopsticks, "you could study naval tactics. Imagine forming a Mongolian navy one day. Sweep away every pirate on the seas. Then you could harvest all the seafood you wish."
Sun Chuanting nearly choked on his tea.
A Mongolian navy.
Only Liu Maopao could plant such an idea so smoothly, like slipping a seed into fertile soil.
E'zhe turned eagerly toward Sun Chuanting. "How do I learn that?"
Liu Maopao smiled as though he had merely remembered something trivial. "Principal Sun is right here. Why not ask him?"
Sun Chuanting cursed inwardly but maintained a composed expression. The child before him was no ordinary boy. He was a descendant of Genghis Khan, heir to the Heavenly Khan. Mocking the suggestion outright would serve no purpose.
"If you are interested in maritime studies," Sun Chuanting said gently, "my academy recently established a specialized naval program. You would be welcome."
E'zhe clapped his hands in delight. "Then I will become a naval officer."
The adults exchanged glances.
If this Mongolian prince continued spending time around Liu Maopao, heaven knew what he might become.
The meal lasted nearly an hour. By the time the last shells were cleared, dusk had fallen over Xi'an. From the restaurant's upper floor, they could see Caishikou Plaza below, already filling with people.
It was time for Gaojia News.
The Kulinan carriage from the Prince of Qin's residence rolled into view. Zhu Cunji and his consort stepped down and made their way to their usual viewing platform. Since Lian Guoshi had been reassigned, no one crowded the stand anymore. The prince and his wife had regained their privacy, though both secretly missed the lively company they once kept.
As they settled in, Flat Rabbit and the others emerged from the restaurant next door.
Zhu Cunji's face brightened. "Brother Rabbit, come over. Join this heir in watching the news."
Flat Rabbit responded with enthusiasm and led the entire group up. Even the children squeezed in without ceremony.
Sun Chuanting observed all this in quiet disbelief. Flat Rabbit's network seemed to extend everywhere, from beggars to wealthy merchants to princely heirs.
Liu Maopao wasted no time.
"Uncle Zhu," he greeted warmly, then turned to the consort with a respectful bow. "Auntie, you are wearing one of our wool sweaters. Tomorrow I will send you a new design."
The consort beamed.
Just like that, the boy secured his place.
Sun Chuanting could not help thinking that this child's future would be formidable.
The broadcast began.
International news opened the program. The Mongolian tribes, led by the Wushen Tribe under orders from E'zhe, descendant of Genghis Khan, had launched a punitive expedition against the Khorchin Tribe. Victories had been secured, and most of the Khorchin had already submitted.
Every adult present slowly turned to look at E'zhe.
The boy grinned proudly. "I gave the order myself. Sister Gao Yiye even stamped the agreement with the Imperial Seal."
No one quite knew how to respond.
At that moment, the small cotton figure of Dao Xuan Tianzun on Flat Rabbit's chest suddenly spoke.
"E'zhe, you have done well. I have decided to grant you a reward."
E'zhe nearly leapt out of his skin with joy. "Dao Xuan Tianzun has manifested!"
The surrounding nobles and commoners alike hurriedly performed their salutes.
The cotton figure smiled mischievously. "It will arrive at once."
The night sky above Caishikou Plaza tore open as though a curtain had been pulled aside. A colossal golden hand descended, holding a round object so enormous that it resembled a building.
The crowd scattered in alarm and awe.
Gently, the hand placed the object in the center of the plaza.
It was a gigantic golden pastry, soft and gleaming under lantern light.
The cotton figure announced with satisfaction, "This is your reward. It is called Egg Yolk Pie."
The plaza fell into stunned silence.
"It is delicious," Dao Xuan Tianzun continued. "You may enjoy it freely. You may also cut it into pieces and send it back to the grasslands to share with your brothers and sisters."
E'zhe ran forward without hesitation. He broke off a chunk from the massive pie and stuffed it into his mouth.
Sweetness exploded across his tongue. The rich fragrance of egg yolk and pastry melted together in perfect harmony.
His eyes widened.
"This is incredible."
He turned to the crowd. "I will give half of it as payment. Which capable merchant is willing to help me cut it into portions, package it, and send it to the Mongolian grasslands?"
There was no shortage of volunteers.
As long as the profit margin was generous, merchants could accomplish anything under heaven.
Before long, an experienced trader stepped forward. He organized laborers, claimed half the pie for himself as agreed, and carefully cut and packaged the remaining half. Crates were sealed, wagons prepared, and shipments dispatched toward the steppe.
Days later, across the vast Mongolian grasslands, warriors and herders alike tasted Egg Yolk Pie.
The fierce nomads, descendants of wolves and riders of the open sky, chewed thoughtfully.
It was soft. Sweet. Pleasant.
One piece led to another.
Soon, a curious change occurred.
Bellies grew rounder. Cheeks filled out. Coats of hair became glossy and well fed. Mounting a horse required just a little more effort than before.
Minor inconveniences.
The pie was delicious.
Surely that was what mattered most.