Wan San followed suit, pulling a copper vessel from the water and opening it to discover the fragrant aroma of Dongpo Pork with Winter Bamboo Shoots, a delicacy from Jiang Su and Zhe Jiang cuisines.
One by one, they retrieved the tubs and vessels from the water, filling the table with a feast: eight cold appetizers, eight hot dishes, four plates of dried fruits, four plates of fresh fruits, and four trays of sweet and savory pastries—a total of twenty-eight dishes. Though served in small, delicate portions, the sheer variety and richness of the meal for just two diners bordered on extravagant excess. In addition, there were four types of wine: the robust Phoenix Fragrance, the aged Ningxia Red, the chilled Taibai Intoxication, and the smooth Barley Highland. It was clearly a banquet designed to ensure no one left sober.
But instead of feeling pleased, Wan San grew wary. For Wang Cang Hai to go to such lengths for a banquet meant either he had no intention of involving the Wan family in the Yellow River project and was apologizing in advance, or he had some other troublesome task he wanted to entrust to Wan San.
With this realization, Wan San decided to hold off on raising his business request for the time being.
“Drink freely, Brother Wan,” Wang Cang Hai said, pouring a cup of wine for him. “You don’t need to worry about getting drunk. In about an hour and a half, someone will come to escort us out.”
Wan San asked, “Will we have to take that track car again? I’m afraid I’ll throw up from all the bumping.”
Wang Cang Hai chuckled. “I’ve installed a mechanical lift at the other end of the tomb passage. It works on a pulley system like a well bucket—straight up and down, fast and steady. We’ll take that to leave.”
Wan San sighed in half-relief, half-annoyance. “So that track car was just one of your toys for thrills, not an actual mode of transport?”
Wang Cang Hai smiled faintly. “I thought it was quite fun. Honestly, your screaming earlier was unexpected. It seems you need more practice to build your courage. Once you get used to it, you’ll find it enjoyable.”
Wan San shook his head in exasperation. “You immortals and your amusements. Us mere mortals can hardly endure them.”
Wang Cang Hai raised his cup and said, “Let me toast you three times to calm your nerves.”
The two began eating and drinking.
As the empty tubs and vessels were returned to the water, they floated back into the stalagmite maze, continuing to create the ethereal music. Wang Cang Hai hadn’t exaggerated; this truly was a luxurious banquet paired with a symphony—a scene reminiscent of how the Queen Mother of the West might have once entertained King Mu of Zhou.
The music was enchanting, alternating between delicate charm and heart-wrenching sorrow. Its melodies alone were intoxicating.
After three rounds of wine, Wan San finally broached the subject of his family’s merchant fleet taking on the transportation logistics for the Yellow River project.
Wang Cang Hai, of course, understood Wan San’s intentions. In recent years, the Wan family had monopolized sea trade, stirring whispers within the Ministry of Revenue. While Wang Cang Hai had never explicitly shown favoritism, his friendship with Wan San inevitably led to speculation. Some believed that Wan San’s access to policy insights and economic opportunities had given him an unfair advantage. With the court now placing greater trust in the Wang family, and with Wang Cang Hai entrusted with managing the Yellow River project alongside his recent appointment as Minister of Works, giving Wan San control over inland river logistics might appear too biased.
Sensing Wang Cang Hai’s hesitation, Wan San tactfully shifted the conversation. “Earlier, you entrusted that little messenger to manage Xi Sha County. That was a bold and admirable move. Allow me to toast you in gratitude for recognizing and uplifting talent, giving an overlooked stable boy a chance to transform into an official who can benefit the people.”
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