Chapter 116: Water Knows the Answer

The news that the water itself had gone bad was not something to be dismissed lightly.

Water is life.

In the primitive, ancient, agriculture-dependent society of the Central Plains, the importance of water couldn't be overstated—you could add hundreds of asterisks, and it still wouldn't be enough emphasis.

History, or perhaps myth, told of King Yu [^(Legendary sage-king in ancient China, famed for flood control)] who tamed the great floods, established the boundaries of the Central Plains, and brought stability to the world through water management.

So profound was his achievement that Emperor Shun [^(Another legendary sage-king, one of the Five Emperors)], moved by Yu’s mastery over water, passed the imperial throne to him.

The Three Sovereigns were gods; the Five Emperors were demigods. Emperor Shun, the last of those Five Emperors, marked the transition, passing the mantle of rule to a human successor.

It was a pivotal historical moment, the bridge from myth to human governance.

And that crucial link? It was water management—the mastery and control of water itself.

That's how fundamentally important water was here.

“What exactly do you mean, the water has ‘gone bad’?” Jayu asked Bai Changzi, his tone sharp with concern.

“I am not entirely sure,” the chef admitted, looking troubled. “We always draw water from the wells located near the upper reaches of the Min River, as the quality there is typically excellent. But I visited every single well throughout the night, and the problem was the same everywhere. However,” he added, “the water sourced from the Tuo River [^(The other major river flowing through Sichuan)] still tastes perfectly normal. Therefore, I suspect the issue lies specifically with the Min River itself. And matters like this… aren't they precisely the specialty of the Tang Clan’s experts?”

Sichuan province is defined by two major waterways flowing east and west, both eventually merging into the great Yangtze River.

The eastern river is called the Tuo River (or just Tagang); the western one is the Min River (or Min-gang).

The character 'Jiang' (river) is often omitted, so they are also called Ta-gang and Min-gang.

While numerous streams and canals crisscross Chengdu city, the four primary water sources all branch off from the Min River.

Starting from the Yunyang River flowing north, then the Baidu River, the Zhuma River, and the Dao River—the exceptional clarity and pure taste of the water from these rivers were often cited as the fundamental reason why Sichuan cuisine could confidently claim supremacy in the Central Plains.

It wasn't just a minor difference in taste.

Most rivers in the Central Plains were typically yellow, turbid, carrying the distinct, unpleasant taste of earth and silt.

Rivers clean and pure enough to drink directly from were a common blessing in Sichuan but incredibly rare in most other regions.

“The Min River is always bustling with boat traffic,” Jayu mused aloud. “Perhaps that is the cause? Still, this is not something we can simply dismiss.” He turned to the group. “Let us proceed to the Tang Clan estate first and inquire further.”

Jayu naturally started to lead the way.

Or rather, he tried to.

Qing subtly took a step back, dissociating herself from the group’s sudden serious mood.

Her stomach was already doing anxious flips just thinking about potentially ruined meals; she wasn't about to get swept up in some grave discussion about rivers and water management,

especially when she had absolutely no clue whether it was actually a serious problem or not.

“Yeah, I need to eat lunch first,” she announced abruptly. “It’s technically brunch at this point, breakfast and lunch combined, so I really can’t delay any longer. You guys go on ahead. Gramps and I will grab a bite somewhere and catch up later, okay?”

However, Jayu was quickly learning how to handle Qing’s particular brand of nonsense.

“But why seek out another cook when the Greatest Chef Under Heaven himself is standing right here?” Jayu countered smoothly, gesturing towards Bai Changzi. “And surely, esteemed Chef Bai, you must have secretly desired an opportunity to grace the renowned Tang Clan kitchens with your presence at least once?”

Hearing this, Bai Changzi immediately took offense again.

“I have already refused the Tang Clan’s previous offers! The kitchen I wished to stand in was that of the Royal Prefecture, not the Tang Clan’s!”

He declared this proudly while standing directly in front of the very Prince of said Royal Prefecture. Truly, a spectacular case of being blind despite having eyes wide open.

Jayu was left speechless, torn between frustration at the chef’s stubbornness and a grudging admiration for his (misplaced) loyalty.

Qing let out a small, hissing sigh. Friend, your persuasive finishing move is kinda weak. “Hey now, Mister Chef,” she chimed in, her voice deceptively sweet. “So, you’re only helpful when you need something? Is that it? You’re really saying you can’t possibly whip up one simple meal for the people who just saved you from your little kitchen meltdown?”

She casually reached out her hand again, and Choi Leeong, ever attentive, seemed to produce the magical Bokshinjeok flute from thin air, placing it into her grasp.

Seeing the flute, Bai Changzi instantly changed his tune, puffing out his chest proudly.

“Haha! Of course! As a proud chef of Sichuan, is it not my duty—nay, my honor—to stand within the legendary Tang Clan kitchens at least once? Indeed! I am extremely curious to see what kind of rare and exquisite ingredients they might possess!”

The Tang Clan compound, often referred to as Tang Center, wasn't just a mansion; it was an entire neighborhood district occupied exclusively by members and affiliates of the Tang Clan.

As Qing, Jayu, Choi Leeong, Old Dog, and the now-compliant Chef Bai Changzi entered the sprawling Tang Center, one of the Tang brothers—was it the second? Third? Fourth?—appeared as if from nowhere to greet them.

Wait, was this the guy who gave me the duck tail? Or the neck meat? Or the Jian Nan Chun liquor?

Qing honestly couldn't remember. She hadn’t really paid much attention during the banquet chaos.

But it didn’t really matter; a few more of the brothers materialized almost ghost-like shortly after, seemingly always available when needed. It felt like whichever brother you called for, one of them would eventually show up.

Anyway, after Jayu briefly explained the situation regarding the water, Tang So-and-So [^"Tang Somebody," indicating Qing doesn't know or care which brother it is)] nodded gravely.

“If that’s the case, then we absolutely must call for our Ah-ah [Tang Nanah]. She should be tending to patients at the Tang Clan Clinic right about now.”

“Her?!” Qing blurted out, instantly dubious as she recalled Nanah’s earlier performance.

Okay, her face looked fierce enough, she thought, but there was something about her… kinda reminded me of my pathetic Sister-wannabe.

Definitely seems like an unreliable choice for something serious.

“There is no Poison Master in the entire Tang Clan who can handle poisons as freely or expertly as our Ah-ah,” the brother insisted proudly. “I’m not just saying this because she’s my younger sister; her talent is truly a gift from the heavens.”

Tang Nanah, he explained, always carried her own custom-made Combination Poisons.

They were all terrifyingly effective concoctions, specifically designed to target only the opponent's face or dignity rather than causing fatal harm.

They worked fast—taking effect after just a few breaths—and were notoriously difficult to counteract.

(Though, the clan’s more traditional Poison Masters often lamented that she wasted her heaven-sent talent creating frivolous poisons that merely induced uncontrollable sneezing fits or caused victims to weep unnoticeable tears, rather than focusing on more 'serious' applications.)

Nevertheless, Tang Nanah was unequivocally the Tang Clan’s top Poison Master.

The ‘Poisonous’ part of her ‘Poisonous Speaking Flower’ title wasn’t just because she was vicious, insidious, and ill-tempered—though she was certainly all those things too.

(Of course, another contributing factor was that the Tang Clan itself no longer focused primarily on poison development. Their current Poison Masters mostly just analyzed existing formulas, so their overall skill level wasn't particularly high compared to the clan's legendary past.)

The Tang Clan now concentrated its efforts on a completely different field.

“Wow… A clinic…”

Qing marveled at the sheer scale and impressive sight of the massive Tang Clan Clinic.

Seven enormous gates stood wide open, leading into a vast courtyard already bustling with long lines of waiting patients.

Inside the main hall, which had clearly been converted, rows of physicians sat attending to patients, each wearing an expression of solemn dedication.

The rich, savory aroma of medicinal herbs being decocted wafted through the air, paradoxically whetting Qing’s appetite.

“These are the Seven Great Gates of the Tang Clan Clinic,” the Tang brother explained. “Any patient, regardless of status, can freely enter at any time. Even in the dead of night, at least two of these gates always remain open. This,” he added with pride, “is also why there are essentially no other independent medical clinics left operating within the city of Chengdu.”

“Oooh.”

The Tang Clan’s modern focus was medicine.

Since the era of the Celestial Martial Emperor, Chengdu had known relative peace, free from major external enemies. Perhaps because of this prolonged stability, the Tang Clan’s historically ‘poisonous heart’ had gradually softened over the generations.

Thus, they had opened the doors of their formidable medical institution to the public, caring for patients entirely free of charge—reportedly even taking a net loss on every single pulse diagnosis they performed.

However, it wasn't purely charity.

Medicine, fundamentally, is built upon the accumulation of empirical experience.

By treating countless diverse cases, the Tang Clan’s collective medical knowledge had advanced explosively, reaching unparalleled heights.

Qing nodded, impressed by the concept of unlimited free treatment.

No wonder the Righteous Karma scores of these Tang Clan folks weren’t too bad!

That explained why, even when Tang Nanah had arrogantly cancelled everyone's reservations, people had mostly just grumbled amongst themselves rather than cursing the Tang Clan outright—they had clearly built up a considerable amount of public goodwill through their medical services.

Jayu smiled slightly, a hint of bitterness in his expression.

This was also why the Grand Prince hadn’t simply crushed these parasites who were slowly nibbling away at his official assets.

Even if they acted like arrogant tyrants sometimes, they rarely caused direct physical harm to the populace anymore. Instead, they actively saved lives with their medical skills.

Unless they crossed the line into truly unforgivable territory—like embezzling strategic resources like mines or engaging in treasonous activities like illegal gunpowder manufacturing—he could afford to turn a blind eye.

Honestly, Jayu thought, they were arguably more beneficial to society than those pretentious Daoist sects who just consumed resources without contributing anything tangible.

They found Tang Nanah in a corner of the clinic, tending to female patients. She looked up as they approached, her eyes immediately turning fierce.

“Ha! What is it now?” she snapped, instantly hostile. “Do you think Nanah is some idle person with nothing better to do, who will just drop everything whenever you ask her to do something or look at something? And my Oppas should know better too! Falling head over heels for that vixen, completely abandoning their pretty little sister! Hmph!”

Ah, Qing thought dryly. There’s that nasty temper they mentioned.

Funny, I actually thought she seemed unexpectedly docile earlier, considering her reputation.

This must be the real Tang Nanah, the one without Peng Choryeo around to impress.

“Look here,” Jayu began patiently, trying to explain. “This isn’t about some trivial matter. It concerns water management for the entire region. Personal feelings should—”

“Whatever,” Nanah cut him off dismissively. “The weakling who just tagged along seems to have a mouth that works far too much.”

Ignoring Jayu’s explanation entirely, she took the water sample they had brought, dipped a finger in, tasted it thoughtfully, tilted her head side to side several times… and then abruptly took the container and gulped the entire sample down.

“See? There’s nothing wrong with it!” she declared triumphantly. “Making a big fuss over nothing. Ridiculous. Now, everyone just get out! Nanah needs to see her patients!”

Because her face was so undeniably pretty, even her referring to herself by name didn't trigger Qing’s usual urge to deliver a 'nuclear noogie.'

If this had been Crutch or Jin Jangmyeong acting this annoying, Qing mused, they definitely would have deserved a noogie by now.

Anyway, Nanah clearly had no intention of helping, and it felt wrong to forcibly detain a physician who claimed she needed to tend to patients. The situation seemed hopeless.

It was at that precise moment—

“Hmm. Now where did Nanah run off to…? Oh! Qing-ah! There you are! Even with something covering your face, you stand out from afar.”

It was Peng Choryeo, having apparently tracked them down to the Tang Clan Clinic after hearing that some Shiquan Teapills [^(십전탕; Sipjeon-tang - "Ten Perfect Decoction," a traditional restorative herbal medicine)] she had personally brewed were ready for pickup.

“Ah! Hello!” Qing greeted her cheerfully. “Good morning, isn’t it?”

“Morning?” Peng Choryeo raised an eyebrow. “Qing-ah, a dedicated martial artist should be diligent! The sun is already high in the sky; you shouldn’t be saying such things! A proper martial artist should wake when the dawn itself is still screaming and already be sweating through their morning training!”

“Sister!” Tang Nanah gasped, seemingly shocked by Peng Choryeo’s unexpected nagging tone.

Fortunately, Nanah immediately interrupted the potential lecture by rushing over and latching onto the nagger’s arm affectionately.

“Hehe, Sister, you came?”

“Oh my,” Peng Choryeo said, her attention shifting to Nanah. “Were you in the middle of tending to patients? I didn’t see you that way before, but you seem to have an admirable side after all. A female doctor … truly excellent work.”

“Hehe. It’s nothing…” Nanah beamed, then paused. Wait, huh?

Something’s weird… Was that actually praise? Or was it shade?

While Tang Nanah was momentarily confused…

“But I feel rather left out,” Peng Choryeo continued, turning back to Qing. “Are you all gathering here without me? Qing-ah, is there something fun going on?”

“The only potentially fun thing,” Qing replied, “is that the Greatest Chef Under Heaven over there promised to make us lunch later. Aside from that, there’s just the unfun thing we came here about. Apparently, the water has gone bad.”

At the mention of bad water, Peng Choryeo’s cheerful expression immediately turned serious, as if she herself had tasted something foul.

Everyone present—except Qing—understood instantly that this was a genuinely grave problem.

“That is indeed a serious issue,” Peng confirmed grimly. “Ah. So that’s why Nanah was attempting to investigate just now?”

“Of course!” Tang Nanah declared instantly, puffing up her chest. “Who else in the world but me would volunteer to take charge of such a critically serious matter!”

As she spoke, she shot a venomous glare around the group, silently daring anyone to contradict her.

Qing and Jayu exchanged glances, both thinking the exact same thing as they watched Nanah’s performance.

Isn’t she remarkably like a dog?

Yes. Somehow, disturbingly dog-like.

Something did eventually come out of Nanah’s investigation.

Even Tang Nanah herself looked surprised by the results.

“Well,” she announced after examining various samples and reagents, “there’s a type of fish called Oyangjeuk that naturally carries a certain toxin. If they reproduce in extremely large numbers, it’s possible their toxin could dissolve into the water to some extent. But,” she added dismissively, “it’s not particularly harmful to the human body. Unless, perhaps, you happen get stung by a Red Twin Hornet right after eating the fish. But anyway, Oyangjeuk only live way down south in Yunnan province, so there’s absolutely no need to worry about them up here in Sichuan.”

“Ah! That’s right!” Bai Changzi suddenly shouted, interrupting Nanah mid-sentence. “I knew the taste was familiar! It was exactly the fishy taste of Oyangjeuk! Eut—?”

He broke off, suddenly grabbing the back of his neck.

He seemed to pluck out a minuscule, almost invisible needle. Instantly, his nose turned bright red, and thick streams of mucus began gushing uncontrollably from his nostrils.

“How dare a mere chef interrupt someone while they are speaking. Hmph,” Tang Nanah sniffed disdainfully, shooting Bai Changzi a sour look.

“By the way,” Qing asked curiously, eyeing the profusely dripping chef, “is he even human? How the hell does he notice a subtle change in the water’s taste just because some random river fish changed slightly?”

“Ish true!” Bai Changzi insisted nasally, undeterred by the mucus cascade. “I am Greatesht Chef Under Heaven, sho of courshe I would notishe! Thish ish pride Greatesht Chef! Sho, wha do now? Jusht leave like thish?”

In his own way, he was a remarkably consistent individual.

“Anyway,” Nanah continued thoughtfully, ignoring the chef, “Oyangjeuk can’t survive the cold winter, so they’ll all naturally disappear after this winter passes. But… it is admittedly a bit strange.”

She furrowed her beautiful brow.

“Oyangjeuk is a fish native only to Yunnan. It’s completely unsuited to the waters here in Sichuan; the water chemistry itself is wrong for them. But you’re saying they’ve somehow reproduced in numbers large enough for their toxin to actually dissolve into the river water?”

“Isht shtrange,” Bai Changzi added, sniffling. “No increashe Oyangjeuk at market either.”

It was the kind of practical insight only a professional chef would have:

If the fish population had truly exploded, wouldn't local fishermen have immediately started catching and selling them at the market?

“Then,” Nanah concluded, her eyes narrowing, “it seems someone must be attempting to farm them somewhere upstream. If the entire Min River is affected, the source would have to be near Dujiangyan. What? Someone dared to set up a fish farm at Dujiangyan without the Tang Clan’s permission? How audacious!”

Jayu frowned deeply upon hearing this.

To establish a fish farm at Dujiangyan, one would need to report to the official government office and obtain permission from the rightful authority, the Royal Prefecture. Why on earth would they need the Tang Clan’s permission?

“Well, anyway,” Peng Choryeo interjected decisively, grinning as she summarized the situation, “we’ll find out the truth if we go check directly ourselves, right? I was getting bored anyway, so this is perfect timing.”

Qing immediately added one crucial condition.

“Let’s eat lunch first.”