Chapter 448 - 217: Doesn’t That Make Ming a Clown?

Chapter 448: Chapter 217: Doesn’t That Make Ming a Clown?

Lunch concluded in a light and cheerful atmosphere, leaving everyone with a smile of delight.

Enjoying a fine meal was truly one of life’s simple pleasures.

Song Changhe pulled Zhou Yan aside. "Zhou Yan," he began, "are you free next Sunday? I’d like you to help me host a banquet at my home. I want to invite a few of my old comrades over for a get-together, treat them to some good food and drinks.

"There used to be over twenty of us old comrades from Jiazhou, but now only twelve remain. Our chances to meet are getting fewer and fewer. They all call me their old platoon leader, so I’m the only one who can organize this.

"Don’t you worry, I won’t have you do it for nothing. Just charge me your usual rate for a catered banquet, and factor in the fee for cooking on-site. Whatever the price is, I’ll pay it."

"If you put it that way, sir, then your banquet is the most important thing happening next Sunday," Zhou Yan said, his expression growing serious. "My grandfather was in the Sichuan Army. He left Sichuan with Wang in 1937, fought all over the country, and ultimately fell in South Korea. At home, we still hang the First-Class Merit plaque that he earned with his life.

"I’ll make sure to prepare a magnificent banquet for you, and I’ll only charge for the ingredients. If I take a single cent more, I’d be a disgrace to the plaque hanging in my home, and I’d never be able to hold my head high at the martyrs’ monument."

Song Changhe stared, taken aback for a moment. Looking at Zhou Yan in surprise, he asked, "Is your grandfather Captain Zhou Yi from Suji?"

"Yes," Zhou Yan nodded. "You knew my grandfather?"

Song Changhe nodded slowly, his gaze turning profound. "We shared a trench in 1938 at Taierzhuang," he said in a low voice. "I thought his accent sounded familiar, and sure enough, we were from the same area. I even bummed two cigarettes off him and asked for his name. But then the charge was sounded, and we were separated in the ensuing rush.

"Later, after the founding of the PRC in 1949, I returned to Jiazhou and saw him for a second time. We had a drink together. He wasn’t back for long before he was recalled to Korea, and I was transferred to the local armed forces department.

"Later, when the news came that Comrade Zhou Yi had heroically sacrificed his life defending his post on the battlefield, I was one of the men who delivered the First-Class Merit plaque."

"So that’s how it was," Zhou Yan said with dawning realization. "Then you and my grandfather were comrades-in-arms, in a way."

Song Changhe chuckled. "As we were leaning back in that trench, smoking, your grandfather told me with a grin that his wife’s braised pork was the best in the world. I didn’t believe him—how good could braised pork possibly be? You learned the recipe from your grandmother, didn’t you? He wasn’t lying. It truly is the best in the world."

Zhou Yan smiled at the story. ’Grandma would be so happy if she knew,’ he thought.

"Elder Song, with twelve people, plus you and Teacher Song, I think we’ll need to set up two tables. I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle it all on my own. I can bring a helper with me, if that’s alright with you," Zhou Yan asked.

Song Changhe glanced at him and nodded with a smile. "Of course."

"Sounds good," Zhou Yan nodded. ’I’m really pulling out all the stops for Ming,’ he thought.

Zhou Yan and Duan Yu Yan walked Song Changhe and Song Wanqing to the door.

"How do you know Wanqing?" Duan Yu Yan asked curiously. "You two seem pretty familiar with each other."

Zhou Yan replied, "I don’t actually know Teacher Song that well. She’s a classmate of my brother’s. We met once before when my brother brought her some of the braised pork I made. She must have remembered me because she liked it."

"He brought her braised pork? So they went on a dinner date?" Duan Yu Yan’s gossip-loving soul ignited. "Quick, tell me, what does your brother look like? How did he manage to win over an artsy girl like Teacher Song!"

Zhou Yan smiled. "Let’s just say his looks and height are about the same as mine. He’s been training in martial arts since he was a child, so he’s well-built. He’s won national championships for Emei Fist and the Mount Emei Sword, and he’s currently a P.E. teacher and martial arts coach at Jiazhou First Middle School."

"In that case, Wanqing has pretty good taste," Duan Yu Yan said thoughtfully. "So, when you kept asking Grandpa Song about taking on a disciple, was it because your brother wants to become his student?"

Zhou Yan nodded. "That’s right. My brother is currently involved in the urgent preservation of Emei Martial Arts. Many martial arts traditions are in danger of being lost. Elder Song is a Grandmaster of the Emei Spear, and my brother wants to become his disciple to inherit the Emei Spear Technique. Failing that, he’d like to learn from him and consult with him, to preserve the Emei Spear in written form so it can be passed down."

"Whoa... don’t tell me your brother is seducing Wanqing just to get what he wants?" Duan Yu Yan raised an eyebrow, her mind already conjuring up a dramatic soap opera plot: a social climber using a relationship with the heiress of a Martial Arts Family, all for the sake of stealing their Martial Arts Secret Manual.

"If he had that kind of cunning, I wouldn’t be here racking my brain trying to come up with a plan for him," Zhou Yan sighed.

"Interesting. If those two end up getting together, you have to give me a call and tell me the rest of the story. I might even fly back for the wedding reception." Duan Yu Yan walked back toward the courtyard with Zhou Yan. She found a pen and paper, wrote down a phone number, and added her name at the end. "If you run into any trouble, you can call me. I’m a general manager now, after all."

"Alright, I’ll let you know what happens," Zhou Yan said, folding the piece of paper and tucking it into his breast pocket.

Exchanging contact information meant their goodbyes were imminent.

On Friday, they would be heading to Rongcheng to catch their flight. There was no telling when they would see each other again.

"Oh, by the way, I had a thought while we were eating—it’s not fully fleshed out yet." Duan Yu Yan looked at Zhou Yan, her expression suddenly serious. "I feel like your culinary talent is being wasted in Suji Town, earning pennies on the dollar. Why don’t we go into business together and open a Sichuan Cuisine restaurant in Xiangjiang Central?

"We’ll target the high-end market. We could sell a plate of Twice-Cooked Pork for 88, a bowl of Kneeling Beef for 108. Snowflake Chicken Porridge is a premium dish, so we’ll price that at 666. We could set a minimum charge of 6,600 for the private rooms. You’d definitely make a lot more than you do on the mainland."

Zhou Yan was stunned into silence. ’What kind of fairy tale is this rich girl talking about?’ he wondered.