Chapter 49: Chapter 49: Slurping Noodles

Actually,

Freshly pressed rice noodles taste best right after they’re cooked.

Unfortunately, there were a lot of people in the tribe today. Wanting to eat the just-pressed noodles was too much to hope for—after all, there was only one press. Chang Xia could only scoop out the cooked noodles, rinse them in cold water, and place them on a rattan sieve to cool.

“Grandma Su Ye, would you like to try some freshly pressed rice noodles?” Chang Xia asked.

There was bone broth simmering in the stone pot, though unfortunately no toppings. Still, besides dragon bones and marrow bones, there were also ribs in the soup. Add a sprinkle of scallions, and the rice noodles in bone broth would surely taste great.

Su Ye glanced at Bai Qing, then at Mu Qin and her daughter, who were clearly tempted.

“Don’t just ask me—let’s all try the freshly pressed rice noodles together.”

“Hooray, Shaman!”

Nan Feng immediately let go of the press and cheered.

Just like Bai Qing, she was already stuffed, but looking at those delicate white noodles, she felt she could squeeze in another bowl.

“I’ll go pick some scallions. Nan Feng, scoop out the noodles and divide them into bowls. No fancy broth—just use the bone soup.” Chang Xia walked briskly to the vegetable patch to pick scallions. Truth be told, she was tempted too.

It wasn’t about hunger—she just wanted to taste how rice noodles made from ginkgo flour would turn out.

“Bai Qing, grab some bowls,” Nan Feng ordered.

She wouldn’t dare boss the shaman around, but Bai Qing—before he officially took over as shaman—she could order him around for once. She was probably blinded by the lure of good food today; normally, Bai Qing was so serious and stern, it was intimidating just to talk to him.

Truly, food lovers are all the same, wherever you go.

Chang Xia quickly returned with fragrant scallions, washed and chopped them, and sprinkled them over the bowls of rice noodles Nan Feng had served. Nan Feng, quick as ever, carried the bowls to the long table—first to Su Ye, then to Mu Qin, then, after a moment’s hesitation, to Bai Qing, and finally she and Chang Xia each took a bowl and sat down.

Su Ye and Mu Qin smiled and shook their heads at Nan Feng’s antics, then lowered their heads to taste the noodles.

For the first bite, everyone chose to sip the soup.

Fresh, sweet, with a hint of tang.

Su Ye and the others didn’t know where the sourness came from, but Chang Xia did. It was from the fermentation of the dough. That subtle sourness was what set freshly pressed rice noodles apart from other kinds.

“These rice noodles taste completely different from cold rice sheets or fish noodles,” Nan Feng said, quickly picking up on the difference.

Chang Xia smiled mysteriously.

Most people wouldn’t notice the distinction.

Nan Feng really had a sharp palate.

She remembered that in Nanning, China, people liked to add perilla to their rice noodles. Chang Xia wasn’t used to the taste, but she could accept perilla with grilled fish or seafood.

She just couldn’t accept perilla in her noodles.

To her, the flavor was too odd, too jarring.

“Chang Xia, can these fine rice noodles be stored?” Su Ye asked.

She’d had rice sheets before—they were easy to make, but obviously didn’t keep well.

If these rice noodles could be stored, ginkgo flour would become even more valuable.

“The dough for these noodles needs to be fermented, so the cooked noodles can’t be kept for long—they spoil easily. But the flour itself can be made into dried noodles for storage, though it’s a complicated process. I’ll need time to figure it out,” Chang Xia replied seriously.

She understood why Su Ye was asking.

The Misty Forest was rich in resources, allowing the beast tribe to thrive for generations.

But that was both a blessing and a curse. Unlike the Qinghai Plateau or the East Sea, the Misty Forest had no unique products besides ginkgo nuts, so it couldn’t offer the beast tribe much leverage.

The Qinghai Plateau had lightstones and icegrass, the East Sea had pearls, tourmaline, coral, and other treasures—each highly valuable and easily traded with outsiders.

In contrast, the only things Misty Forest has to offer are animal hides, bones, and various wild vegetables and fruits. These things can fill stomachs and sustain the large beast tribe, but they can’t be traded with outsiders for more valuable goods.

But now—

If Changxia can figure out how to make dried powder, things will be different.

Food is a top priority for any tribe, especially food that can be stored for a long time without spoiling.

“Changxia, are you saying… fruit powder can be made into a dried powder and stored like white nuts?”

Not far away, Gen was holding an ironwood box filled with things Su Ye had asked him to bring—leaves and branches from the white tree. There was also paper and a pen, which Changxia had requested.

Several other tribespeople followed behind, each carrying something: white nuts, meat, wild vegetables, and unknown root tubers.

Ever since Changxia confirmed that the yellow roots Nuan Chun mentioned were yams, and made many delicious dishes with them, the tribe had become even more enthusiastic about digging up roots. But since Changxia had been busy building the kiln lately, they hadn’t wanted to disturb her.

Today, Su Ye finally spoke up.

Gen had the tribespeople bring a small sample of everything they’d collected recently for Changxia to identify.

Changxia glanced at Gen, who was trembling with excitement, and nodded seriously. “Dried powder really can be stored for a long time, but the process is complicated.”

Things like rice noodles and freshly pressed rice flour are simplified versions of the process. The former is easy to make but doesn’t keep well; the latter is more complicated but can be stored for years without spoiling.

“Changxia, whatever you need, just ask the tribe,” Gen said solemnly.

He exchanged a glance with Su Ye, both of them barely able to contain their excitement. If Changxia could develop dried powder, Misty Forest would finally break free from its awkward predicament. At next year’s Normandy Grand Market, the beast tribe’s goods wouldn’t be at the bottom of the pile when trading with the bird and fish tribes.

Thinking of this, both of them looked at Changxia with burning anticipation.

“I won’t be shy about asking,” Changxia replied with a smile.

She didn’t fully understand why Su Ye and Gen were so excited, but she had some guesses. Still, whatever the reason, curiosity wouldn’t help until the dried powder was actually made.

“Mmm, that smells so good!”

“Muqin, what are you and the shaman eating?”

The rest of the tribe couldn’t understand the cryptic conversation between the three, but they were much more interested in what Changxia and the others were eating. The aroma was mouthwatering.

“Fresh-pressed rice noodles,” Muqin said, picking up a strand and slurping it into her mouth with a loud slurp—just like Changxia had taught them.

After a few tries, they got the hang of it.

At first, they splashed soup everywhere, but after a few more tries, they learned how to slurp the noodles properly.

And honestly, it was kind of fun.

“Is there any more?”

Some couldn’t resist asking.

Muqin gestured to the side. “All the finished noodles are here. If you want some, help yourselves. Nan Feng, go teach Uncle Yun Dong and the others how to make more noodles. I think He Yun and her group will be here soon.”

Yun Dong was He Yun’s partner, about the same age as Gen.

He was also one of the tribe’s strongest totem warriors. Gen had convinced him to come check out the kiln, and after today, the tribe was sure to get even busier.

“Nan Feng, come teach me how to make fresh-pressed rice noodles!” Yun Dong called, as he and a few others set down their vine baskets and stared eagerly at the leftover noodles on the long table. Their meaning was clear: they wanted to eat.