Chief, don't hit me in the face

Chapter 47: The Heart of Candied Fruit

In the workshop, Xia Ye poured the harvested strawberries into a large stone pot and added salt water to soak them for half an hour, which would remove and kill any tiny bugs that couldn’t be washed off. “That’s such a waste!” Watching the pure white salt grains being used up like that, Song Guo licked her lips, grabbed Xia Ye’s hand, and stopped him from adding any more salt. “Haha, come on, let me take you on a tour of the storeroom!” Beneath the rock walls, which looked as if they’d been carved by an axe or chisel, were several caves. Six nests of spring swallows had already made their homes there. Xia Ye led Song Guo into the first one on the left. Drip! Drops of condensed water fell from the cave ceiling, making a crisp sound in the quiet cavern. “Ah!” A cool drop of water landed right on the nape of Song Guo’s neck, making her shiver involuntarily—it was so cold! Soon, a row of well-crafted oak barrels came into view, neatly stacked in the corner. Xia Ye found the barrel marked “No. 1.” He gave it a shake; since it was sealed, he didn’t know exactly what was inside, but he was ready to open it. He planned to take some of its contents with him for this Blood Survival Trial. “Sugar cane!” Seeing Xia Ye dig out a bundle of sugarcane from the cellar, Song Guo smiled sweetly. She picked up a stalk, tore open the outer skin with her little white teeth, and took a big bite. Crunch! Juice overflowed in her mouth. Though called a cellar, it was simply a few neat, square pits dug into the ground, lined with straw mats, with over twenty earthenware jars—each about the size of a watermelon—stacked inside. Xia Ye carried one out, pulled the survival knife from his boot leg, scraped away the yellow clay used to seal it, and lifted the lid. “Wow!” Song Guo gasped in surprise, dropping the piece of sugarcane she’d been chewing. In the light of the torch, she saw the jar filled to the brim with table salt, as white as snow. Xia Ye dipped his finger into the salt, tasted it, and nodded with satisfaction: “Excellent—it hasn’t absorbed moisture or gone bad!” Gulp! Song Guo swallowed hard, unable to tear her eyes away from the snow-white salt. In all her life, she had never seen so much salt—and of such high quality. After all, let alone a whole jar—even half a jar would be enough for a tribe to wage war against the tribe that possessed it. Wait a minute! Song Guo instinctively turned her head and stared at the twenty-odd watermelon-sized clay jars, her lips trembling slightly: “Big brother, these… aren’t all… snow salt, are they?” “Snow salt? That’s a nice name! And yes, they all are!” Xia Ye smiled and pulled out another one to open it. “Oh!” Song Guo patted her flat little chest—as flat as a ribbonfish—and let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness it wasn’t all of it; otherwise, she’d be so happy she’d go crazy! With so much pure white Snow Salt, never mind eating it—just looking at it every day would be a treat. The little girl picked up a watermelon-shaped clay jar, just as she was about to get a close-up whiff of that blissful scent, when she heard the rest of Xia Ye’s sentence. “A third of it is brown sugar!” Song Guo’s little hand trembled, and she nearly dropped the watermelon jar. What? Brown sugar? The little girl darted to the front of the jar in an instant, baring her teeth and glaring fiercely at her surroundings like a hunting dog guarding its food, all while reaching for her weapon. Xia Ye raised her hand and gave Little Song Guo a light tap on the back of the head: “What are you doing? You scared the life out of me!” “Protecting the brown sugar!” Song Guo declared with complete conviction. Brown sugar water was the best-tasting drink she’d ever had—sweeter even than honey—and candied hawthorn on a stick was the most delicious snack she’d ever eaten. So to her, brown sugar was something as precious as life itself that needed protecting; anyone who tried to take it would have to step over her dead body first. “Protect what? I’ve already planted the sugarcane. Once we harvest it in the fall, we’ll make more brown sugar!” Xia Ye ruffled the little girl’s hair. In this era, it was truly tragic—brown sugar had become a commodity worth fighting to the death for. “Oh!” Song Guo still couldn’t let her guard down; even as she crouched beside the jar, her eyes remained fixed on the brown sugar, which looked just like fine sand. Sniff! A sweet, sugary aroma lingered in the air, making the little girl’s mouth water profusely. “Grab them—let’s go!” Xia Ye was tidying up the cellar. His original plan was for the little girl to carry one jar, but she ended up holding one in each hand, carefully shuffling her way out of the cave, afraid that one misstep might cause her to trip and shatter them. “It’s not that big of a deal—I can make all this stuff myself.” Xia Ye couldn’t help but chuckle. It was a long way to the abandoned salt mine, so he’d made a large batch at once—after all, salt doesn’t go bad as long as it’s stored properly. “Wow, big brother, you’re so amazing!” Song Guo gushed, gazing at Xia Ye with adoration in her eyes. Still, her movements remained cautious—after all, the psychological gap couldn’t be bridged overnight. After all, little Song Guo had carefully kept a pale yellow lump of salt—full of all sorts of impurities—close to her body, reluctant to eat more than a little at each meal and content just to lick it. Now, with so much snow salt right in front of her, it was practically a dream come true! In the kitchen, Xia Ye washed the strawberries that had been soaking for half an hour, used his survival knife to cut off the stems, sliced them in half, and then tossed them into a stone pot. He added clear stream water and began to simmer them. Once it came to a boil, she added brown sugar, stirred it in, and let it simmer. Song Guo stood by the stove, watching the strawberries bubble in the stone pot, constantly swallowing her saliva. Steam rose as the strawberries neared the point of disintegrating. She removed the pot from the heat, let it cool, then transferred the mixture to a clean earthenware jar and sealed it with damp yellow clay. Homemade strawberry preserves—done! “These taste best when chilled—go, put them in the stream!” Since there are no preservatives, the strawberry preserves won’t last more than a few days, but that’s okay—this is all about enjoying them fresh anyway. What really matters is the candied fruit that comes next. “Ah-woo!” Xiao Song Guo did as instructed right away. Making candied strawberries takes a bit of time. Start by selecting high-quality strawberries. After soaking, rinsing, removing the stems, and cutting them into chunks, place them in a stone pot with brown sugar and let them sit. Stir occasionally to ensure the strawberries are thoroughly coated with the sugar. This is called sugar-curing. After more than six hours, some strawberry juice seeped out—bright red and very pretty. Song Guo took a sip with a wooden spoon; the sweetness made her furrow her brow instantly, and she felt as if she’d been tossed into a jar of honey. Pour the sugar-cured strawberries into a stone pot to heat them. Be sure to remove them before they become mushy, then let them cool naturally and set aside. This step is called “sugar infusion,” which allows the sugar to fully penetrate the strawberry flesh. This process takes a while—about twelve hours. Afterward, remove the strawberries and drain off the excess syrup clinging to them. Since Xia Ye didn’t have an oven, the drying process had to be done by air-drying, which took about a few days. At this point, the candied strawberries were complete. “Thanks to the preservative properties of the sugar solution, preservatives are generally not added, and the candied fruit can still be stored for more than three months,” Xia Ye explained. “Hmm! Sugar syrup, preservatives—it all sounds so sophisticated! Little Song Guo whittled a bamboo slip and carefully recorded the details with a stone knife. Taking advantage of a break in the sugar-soaking process, Xia Ye baked some cookies to take back for Xia Lingyue to try. Wrapped in a little black bear pelt, with a bag of raisins tucked away and a piece of sugarcane in hand, Little Song Guo set out to explore the area around Peach Blossom Spring, filling in any field mouse holes she came across along the way. That night, the little girl insisted on keeping watch inside the cave; she was worried that someone might steal the snow salt and brown sugar. “In our tribe, it takes at least ten warriors to guard these things!” Song Guo spread her two little hands wide to demonstrate to Xia Ye. After much coaxing and persuasion, Xia Ye finally managed to talk the little girl out of it, but when he woke up the next morning, she was nowhere to be seen. He went to check the cave and, sure enough, found the little girl sleeping on top of the cellar, clutching a stone hammer. “It really isn’t worth much!” Xia Ye rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. It was all too common for tribes to fight to the death over salt mines, yet abandoned ones were simply left to rot. For tribal people, eating too many of those impure salt blocks could be fatal—but Xia Ye was different; he knew how to purify and filter them. Salt and iron were strategic commodities; meddling with them without the necessary power would guarantee a fate worse than death—otherwise, Xia Ye would have become a salt merchant long ago. It’s important to note that throughout Chinese history, salt merchants were incredibly wealthy, and trafficking in contraband salt was a capital offense punishable by the confiscation of property and the extermination of one’s entire clan—a clear indication of the enormous profits involved. Any salt well or salt field is a vital strategic resource—one that tribes must fight to seize and defend with the blood and weapons of their warriors. Yet Xia Ye doesn’t need to do that; he can simply find an abandoned salt mine and produce “snow salt” of surprisingly high quality. He wouldn’t dare sell it, but for his own consumption, he’d never be able to eat it all in a lifetime. Brown sugar isn’t a daily necessity, but in an era of scarcity—where honey and fruit were the only available sweets—it served as an artificial sweetener. Even when simply mixed with water, it was considered a top-tier luxury item, so it could command a very high price. Only the wealthy could afford it; ordinary people could only dream of tasting it. Unfortunately, Xia Ye still didn’t dare to sell it. “Being weak is a sin in itself!” Xia Ye mused as he set off for home. To avoid drawing attention, he hid the two bronze chests in the Peach Blossom Spring and wrapped all his weapons in burlap. Xia City, the slums. Xia Qian walked out of a thatched hut, buttoning his shirt as he savored the memory of his wife Xia Ba’s scent—that woman really had a big butt. Although he was just a lowly tax collector, in this slum, Xia Qian was a big shot no one dared to cross. Though there wasn’t much to skim off the top, these people were so poor—especially those who’d lost their husbands or sons—that tossing half a sorghum cake was enough to sleep with a widow. Why not toss one? Because the remaining half of the cake could get him another one. Xia Qian prided himself on being a shrewd businessman, so he never did deals that left him in the red. As he rounded the corner, Xia Qian’s eyes lit up. “Xia Wa！” Xia Qian quickened his pace. Xia Wa was somewhat frail from malnutrition, and her face was painted with a frog-shaped design, but in Xia Qian’s sharp eyes, this girl—given proper nourishment—would undoubtedly grow into a great beauty. Hearing that voice, Xia Wa didn’t run away in fear; instead, she stood her ground and gripped her dagger. “What kind of look is that? Do you think I won’t beat you to a pulp?” Xia Qian raised his hand as if to strike. He hated Xia Wa’s attitude the most, because she was one of the few poor people in the slums who didn’t fawn over him. Xia Wa said nothing, but her gaze grew sharp, and her fingers tightened around the dagger.