Demoness, where are you Fleeing to?
Chapter 881 - 729: The Kind-hearted Court (Vote for Monthly Tickets, Subscribe!)

Chapter 881: Chapter 729: The Kind-hearted Court (Vote for Monthly Tickets, Subscribe!)

"Dahao, what are these glass noodles? They’re quite tasty."

Amidst a rudimentary tent, Xiao Nanyan sat on a saddle, looking at the wooden bowl in his hand with a surprised expression: "I’ve had rice noodles, wheat noodles, and flatbread, but I’ve never had this. There are even flecks of oil in it?"

He hailed from a military family in Henan, his household passing down the rank of flag-bearer officer generation by generation, which facilitated having a temporary tent to take shelter under the blazing Dari sun.

The soldiers under Xiao Nanyan’s command could only stay outside, wolfing down their food under the scalding sun.

They were not without their camp tents, but those were located over three li away from the battlefield, atop a small hill.

Opposite Xiao Nanyan, also slurping up the glass noodles, was his colleague Chang Dahao, another flag-bearer officer like himself.

The team from the Fire-Head Army within their hundred-man unit was managed entirely by Chang Dahao.

"It seems to be called potato starch noodles, made on the orders of the County Prince of Fenyang. The Ministry of War made a great effort to transport them from the east to comfort the large army. As for the source of the oil flecks, I’m not exactly sure, possibly pork lard? I was too busy today, didn’t get a chance to look over at the Fire-Head Army side."

Having said this, Chang Dahao glanced sideways at Xiao Nanyan with dissatisfaction: "Why all the chatter? Just eat it, will you? For all we know, there might be no potato starch noodles left in the pot soon enough."

A single bowl of potato starch noodles was certainly not enough to satiate their hunger; they had to supplement it with two or three large steamed buns, along with the noodle soup.

However, Chang Dahao knew that it was the first time the cook had made them and hadn’t managed the portions well. There was still a lot left in the huge iron pot, enough to ladle out another half-bowl for the eighty-odd men in their unit without issue.

At this moment, everyone was eating and drinking furiously, as if afraid of falling behind the others.

Xiao Nanyan, however, was taken aback: "These are made from potatoes? You’re not pulling my leg, are you?"

He thought of the potatoes that had been boiled with millet this month, his expression growing quite complex.

It wasn’t that they tasted bad; Xiao Nanyan thought they were quite novel and delicious when he first tried them. But after eating them for a month straight, he began to feel a slight aversion.

In the past, they were provided with millet rice, but ever since the introduction of potatoes, it became a thin millet porridge with potatoes, seasoned with a bit of salt, where potatoes constituted ninety percent of the meal.

Xiao Nanyan felt that the food officers were fooling them, and his subordinates had complained to him more than once.

In fact, Xiao Nanyan knew that The Court was still quite generous. Even back at the Weisuo Institute, an officer like him couldn’t necessarily count on being fed till full at every meal.

But firstly, they were at the front lines, toiling with digging and carrying soil, which truly consumed a significant amount of physical energy; and secondly, human desires are endless — potatoes were fine to eat occasionally, but intolerable as a daily staple.

Xiao Nanyan hadn’t expected that potatoes could be turned into glass noodles; he wished they had thought of this earlier.

He could eat dozens of meals with such potato starch noodles and not grow tired of them—

It was County Prince Fenyang who was impressive, for inventing such food.

"I actually prefer the sweet potato boiled with millet we had in the morning. Why didn’t they make that for lunch?"

Thinking of the sweet potato and millet porridge he had that morning, Xiao Nanyan couldn’t help but swallow his saliva.

The sweet potato was very sweet, almost like sugar, pairing perfectly with the millet porridge.

When he took his first bite, his taste buds were nearly sent to heaven.

In his entire life, Xiao Nanyan had eaten sweet foods less than fifty times, with the vast majority of instances being in his childhood.

He thought the sweet potato tasted even better than malt sugar.

Reportedly, the sweet potato was also procured from overseas by the County Prince of Fenyang, hence it was named ’Guanjun Potato’ in honor of his title, Marquis of Guanjun.

Xiao Nanyan was recalling the taste when he noticed that the wooden bowl of the Baihu beside him was nearly empty. He immediately bowed his head down and began devouring his food voraciously.

But at that moment, a thunderous cheer erupted from outside the tent.

"It’s sheep! The supply officer Jianshu sent over some sheep, ten of them!"

The few people inside the tent exchanged astonished looks before the officer of their Baihu immediately placed his hand on his waist sword and strode out.

Xiao Nanyan and Chang Dahao couldn’t put down their potato starch noodles; they continued to eat with one hand while following closely behind.

At this time, it seemed that surrounding camps had also received sheep as cheers reverberated everywhere, echoing like thunder through the skies.

When Xiao Nanyan reached the Fire-Head Army’s area and squeezed through the crowd, he indeed saw ten sheep, bleating with seemingly frightened eyes.

A glint of green flashed in Xiao Nanyan’s eyes, but then he turned puzzled toward Chang Dahao.

"This is so strange, why is The Court being so generous? Normally it’s once every ten days for a meat meal, but how much time has passed since then? It seems like only two days, right?"

He thought that if the sheep were carefully rationed, they would suffice for two meals for their entire unit.

"How would I know?"

Chang Dahao rolled his eyes and walked towards a scholar standing next to the sheep—the Wenshu from their superior Qianhu Office, responsible for overseeing the grain supply. As the head of the Fire-Head Army, he had to go over for the official handover and to sign for the goods.

He was also curious: "Old Liang, why are we getting sheep again today? Didn’t we just receive five the day before yesterday?"

While inquiring, he took the account book from the Wenshu and noticed the entry for ten skinny sheep.

In reality, the sheep weren’t that skinny, quite plump actually. But this was a common trick by scribes to avoid disputes.

Chang Dahao didn’t hesitate to take out his personal seal and stamped the document right away.

"Who am I supposed to ask?" The Liang surnamed Wenshu replied with a smile: "I heard there’s more to come, they say if we can advance to the walls of Xi’an City, we’ll receive sheep deliveries every five days from now on, still ten each time. I suggest you make ’lamb and potato soup.’ It saves meat and tastes good, allowing ten sheep to last for three meals. I’ve had it twice at the rear; the flavor is superb."