Chapter Fifty-Seven: Unbearable

“I am well aware,” Emperor Taizong said, drawing a deep breath to ease the churning in his stomach. “But I simply cannot accept it. Their way of life is just too filthy!”

Li Zhi chuckled. “Father, where is the envoy? I’d like to see him.”

“You’d best not,” Taizong replied.

“Why not?”

“He’s filthy… His whole body is caked in mud, even his hair is wrapped in it. If you meet him, you’ll surely vomit on the spot—how disgraceful would that be?”

Taizong would not allow it.

But Li Zhi was not so easily deterred. After some investigation, he learned the envoy was lodged in the relay station.

“Luo Tong!”

“I’m here!”

“Come with me to the relay station. I want to see the envoy from the Southern Mud Tribe. Ha! I hear he’s terribly dirty and reeks. You’d best bring something to block your nose, lest you vomit!”

Luo Tong, though young, understood a bit of etiquette. Their impromptu visit to the envoy was already disrespectful. To bring a nose plug would be blatant disdain for the envoy’s odor—far more insulting! If the envoy felt discriminated against and stormed off, their offense would be grave indeed.

“Your Highness… Is this really wise?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it! Trust me, the envoy from the Southern Mud Tribe won’t be so petty. I even want to ask him for some yellow clay—now that would be rude, indeed!”

Luo Tong could not fathom Li Zhi’s intention. What use was asking for yellow clay? Did he mean to eat it like the people of the Southern Mud Tribe?

…

Under Li Zhi’s pressure and persuasion, Luo Tong finally joined him, sneaking off to the relay station.

At the door, Luo Tong knocked. “Is anyone there?”

“Who’s outside?” A small, plump fellow came to open the door.

Instantly, an unbearable stench rushed out, impossible to describe in words. Imagine decades without bathing, a body covered in a mingling of mud and sweat, and the severity of their odor becomes clear.

“Ugh!” Luo Tong could not endure it and promptly turned to retch.

“Hey!” Li Zhi narrowly dodged the mess.

The plump envoy, smiling, seemed unbothered. Li Zhi stepped forward. “I am the ninth son of the Emperor of Great Tang, Prince of Jin, and have come to greet the envoy. Which of you is the envoy?”

“That would be me! Please, come in!” He welcomed them warmly.

The Southern Mud Tribe lived outdoors year-round, content with a mere shed for shelter, asking little of life. They required neither bedding nor other comforts, living little differently from wild beasts—just a shade above savages.

This time, they had volunteered to join the Culinary God Contest, for reasons unknown. Li Zhi could not fathom it: the tribe ate clay, so how could they compete? Would they use clay as their ingredient, as he imagined?

They entered and took their seats.

The envoy knelt before Li Zhi, offering a grand salute. “Your humble servant pays respect to the Prince of Jin!”

“Please rise, please rise… I am but a three-year-old child; such a grand salute would shorten my life!” Li Zhi helped him up.

But as Li Zhi’s hand neared, the envoy shrank back, rising on his own. “No need, Your Highness. I am too filthy.”

“Why say so?” Li Zhi was surprised. Though he privately agreed, outwardly he had to show respect.

But the envoy seemed unperturbed. He smiled, “Your Highness, I know our tribe uses clay as food and adornment, and we rarely wash, so we are dirty. You are the dragon among men; how could I sully you?”

Li Zhi and Luo Tong exchanged glances, finding this envoy refreshingly unpretentious—without a trace of arrogance. Most envoys coming to pay respects to Great Tang carried some prejudice, believing their customs superior and looking down on Tang. The Southern Mud Tribe, however, displayed no such pride.

After some conversation, Li Zhi learned the real reason the Southern Mud Tribe had come to the Culinary God Contest was merely a pretext. Their true aim was to submit to Tang and seek its protection and aid.

“So that’s it!”

“And what is your name, sir?” Li Zhi asked.

“Your Highness, you may call me Li Nan.”

“Li Nan?” Li Zhi was surprised. “Does your tribe all bear the surname Li?”

“No, no,” he waved. “Our tribe’s surnames differ from those of the Central Plains. But since coming to Tang and witnessing its grandeur, I was so impressed that I gave myself a new name. From now on, I am Li.”

“Ha!”

Li Zhi was bemused. Changing one’s surname so lightly—what frivolity!

“Rest assured, the Emperor of Tang will help you and create a better life for your people. But before that, I wish to learn your tribe’s culinary arts. I’ve heard you eat clay—is it true?”

“It is, Your Highness.”

…

“The clay we eat differs from that of the Central Plains. It’s a kind of yellow clay from the mountains, specially processed to be edible. But compared to Tang’s cuisine, it pales in comparison. Why would Your Highness wish to learn?”

Li Nan was puzzled. Tang’s advanced technology and flourishing food culture—why would the Prince of Jin show interest in clay cuisine? Was he jesting?

“Your Highness…”

“Just tell me whether you’ll teach me or not.”

“I would not presume to teach. Whatever Your Highness requires, I will do my best to provide,” Li Nan replied.

“Excellent!” Li Zhi quickly instructed Luo Tong to prepare the necessary tools.

With Li Nan’s guidance, they made a batch of yellow clay cakes.

When the cakes were ready, Li Nan explained, “These yellow clay cakes were given to me by our chieftain when I left our tribe. I worried I’d have nothing to eat in Tang, but now, it turns out they’re convenient for Your Highness!”

A dozen yellow clay cakes were arrayed on the table.

Li Zhi shot Luo Tong a sly look and laughed quietly, “Luo Tong, why don’t you try one first?”

“No, no…” Luo Tong bolted at once.

What a joke! Clay for food?

“This fellow runs fast, ha… Envoy Li Nan, why don’t you try one? If you can stomach it, I believe I can too.”

“As you wish!”

Li Nan picked up a clay cake and took a hearty bite.

But after a few chews, he spat it out.

“What’s wrong? Does it taste bad?”

“Sigh,” Li Nan replied, “These days I’ve been eating Tang’s delicacies, and I’ve almost grown used to them. Now, clay is hard to swallow. Your Highness, you are the dragon among men; best not try it. This… it should not even be called food. Let’s discard it.”