Chapter Twenty-Three: Making a Name

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“Hm?” Old Zhang, the diner, opened his eyes wide in surprise. He glanced at the flatbread in his hand, took another few bites, and continued eating.

“Come now, old sir, don’t just eat by yourself. The rest of us are all waiting,” someone in the crowd called out impatiently.

Old Zhang looked suspiciously at the flatbread in his hand, then at Old Wang, hesitated for a moment, and said, “This bread isn’t quite as good as Old Wang’s; it’s not as chewy and feels a bit too soft.”

The crowd, hearing this, was about to show their disappointment, when he added, “But even though the bread isn’t as good as Old Wang’s, the addition of this minced lamb makes it taste much better!”

At these words, Old Wang across the street instantly turned pale, raised a trembling finger at Old Zhang, then dropped his arm in defeat.

“Everyone should have a taste,” Wei Renshi said, dividing the remaining flatbreads among several people, then picking up the last two. He crossed the street and stood before Old Wang and his daughter. “Master Wang, I truly had no intention of competing with you, but you insisted. Why don’t you two try them?” He set the breads down and returned to the other side.

Old Wang stared dejectedly at the flatbread, silent for a long while, then suddenly grabbed it, tore off a piece, and put it in his mouth.

Wang Xiaohui also broke off a piece and chewed it thoughtfully.

Father and daughter were instantly surprised by the taste and exchanged glances before carefully examining the lamb on the bread.

Meanwhile, those who had tasted the flatbread were exclaiming how delicious it was, making the rest even more eager.

Wei Renshi seized the moment and called out, “There aren’t enough flatbreads for everyone, but there’s plenty of lamb broth left from the stew. It would be a shame to waste it. Let me prepare it so you all can try my lamb soup.”

Zheng Lizheng, Tian Dali, and Li He and Li Rong all pitched in, bringing out many small bowls of various shapes and sizes—Zheng Lizheng had borrowed them from all around.

They ladled out small bowls of lamb soup, added strips of flatbread, and handed them to the people nearby.

“No pushing, there’s enough for everyone!” Zheng Lizheng shouted as he passed out the bowls.

“Ah! This lamb soup is so fresh and fragrant!” someone who’d already tasted it declared. “This soup is even tastier than the lamb itself!”

The crowd surged forward eagerly.

Before long, the pot of lamb soup was completely gone.

“There’s more than one way to eat flatbread!” Zheng Lizheng shouted, as he used chopsticks to roll stir-fried lamb and bean sprouts in thin flatbread.

A group of people gathered around.

“Delicious!” someone who managed to get a bite shouted, drawing the crowd to snatch up the rolls until none were left.

When everything was gone, the crowd lingered, some disappointed at missing out, when Wei Renshi called again, “Here’s some pork I’ve cooked with my secret spices—there’s not a trace of gaminess. Stuffed in this bread, it’s just as delicious. Who wants to try?”

After sampling the previous delicacies, the crowd was much more willing to trust Wei Renshi. Some hesitated, while others were eager to try.

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Tian Dali lifted the lid, and a wave of savory aroma immediately filled the air.

The crowd sniffed eagerly—sure enough, there was none of the usual pork smell.

“Try one,” Tian Dali offered a meat bun to Old Zhang, who hesitated but then took a bite.

With that bite, his expression changed at once.

“Delicious! This is even better than the lamb!” Old Zhang exclaimed, then buried his head and devoured the rest.

Seeing this, the crowd surged forward again.

“Father, I see it now—you’ve fallen for his trick,” Wang Xiaohui said to Old Wang from across the street. “He knows our flatbread shop is famous in Fuchang and came here on purpose to challenge you. If he beats you, he’ll become famous himself, and everyone will know his bread is the best in Fuchang.”

Old Wang sighed heavily. “It’s too late now, Xiaohui. Our shop has reached its end.”

He seemed to age years in that moment.

The food was soon gone, and Wei Renshi strolled over with a smile.

Wang Xiaohui frowned, eyeing him warily.

Wei Renshi approached Old Wang and his daughter. “Master Wang, what do you think?”

Old Wang snorted, “The people’s taste doesn’t lie. If I’ve lost, I’ve lost. Whatever it is you want, just say it. I, Wang, accept my defeat.”

“Very well,” Wei Renshi nodded, then turned to Wang Xiaohui. “Young lady, I’d like you to take a handful from my cloth bag and add it to your pot of lamb, then take my gourd and pour a ladleful into your stew.”

Not only Old Wang and Wang Xiaohui, but the onlookers too, were all taken aback by this request.

“A bet is a bet, go on,” Wei Renshi reminded her.

Wang Xiaohui gritted her teeth, crossed the street, fetched the bag and gourd, took a handful of powder from the bag and tossed it into the broth, then opened the gourd and poured out a large spoonful as well.

The onlookers, curious and puzzled, stayed to watch what would happen.

After a while, Wei Renshi said, “Master Wang, if you please, taste the stew again.”

Though unwilling, Old Wang stood, took a ladle, blew on it, and sipped.

“What?!” Old Wang’s face showed shock, and he quickly tried another spoonful. He then fished out a piece of meat and chewed.

“What’s going on?” he asked Wei Renshi, astonished.

Before Wei Renshi could reply, someone burst from the crowd, snatched the ladle from Old Wang, and said, “Enough secrets between you two! Out with it, or you’ll drive