Chapter Eleven: Excellent! This Donkey's Fine Wine!

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“Want to try some?”

The waiter showed a look of disdain—this was the first time someone described being tricked into drinking in such a refined and elegant manner.

“What kind of liquor is this?”

Ye Xiu looked curiously at a wine jar. Even with the thick lid on, the fragrance of the wine inside was unmistakable.

“You don’t even recognize Wangyou Bai?” The waiter spoke arrogantly, already intending to shoo Ye Xiu away.

“Is this a strong liquor?” Ye Xiu lifted the lid, and a rich, mellow fragrance wafted out gracefully.

“That’s right. From the name alone, you can tell this is the strongest liquor on the market.”

“How much does this cost?”

“Wangyou Bai must be pre-ordered in advance, and only a hundred dou are produced each year.” The waiter’s impatience was obvious. “Young sir, don’t even think about it. The noble buyers who purchase Wangyou Bai are already booked three years ahead.”

Ye Xiu instinctively reached for the wine vessel, wanting to pour a little taste.

Unexpectedly, the waiter reacted as if facing a great threat, snatching the vessel away and quickly sealing it.

“Young sir, you’re so inconsiderate. Such a precious wine cannot be sampled so casually.”

“How expensive can it be?” Ye Xiu frowned.

“Ten taels of silver per jin. Do you think I’m joking?”

“What? Why so expensive?” Ye Xiu’s eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the man. Damn, this is only about twenty-five degrees proof, and it costs ten taels of silver per jin?

Before the waiter could answer, a middle-aged stout man dressed in silk stepped forward—it was Manager Liu, the shop owner.

“Sir, Jinling is the commercial hub of the Great Qian Dynasty. Wangyou Bai is produced only a hundred dou a year, and half of that must be tribute to the palace. Do you think it’s not expensive?”

Ye Xiu suddenly understood. “It’s not that you can’t afford it, but even if you have the money, you can’t buy it.”

“Exactly!”

Excited, Ye Xiu rubbed his hands together. Looking at Wangyou Bai, treasured by every winehouse, he had finally found a second simple and quick way to make money.

After thanking them for the explanation, Ye Xiu left the Jinling winehouse.

In the Great Qian Dynasty, wine is sold by the small dou, with one dou weighing about four jin.

A dou of the common strong liquor “Shaodaozi” costs sixty wen.

To avoid unnecessary trouble, Ye Xiu went to a winehouse in the western part of the city.

He took out three taels of silver, treating it like treasure, and bought only Shaodaozi and “Mendao Lu.”

He also hired porters to deliver the goods to the address he gave them.

With the remaining money, he bought equipment for distillation, then happily returned home.

By the time he got back, evening was approaching.

Before even entering, he heard a clinking sound.

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Upon entering, he saw Zhao Yide had already helped repair the roof.

He had reinstalled the gate panels on the courtyard door and fixed the bed in the side room.

Zhao Youyou had tidied the side room spotless and laid out the bed and bedding.

“Thank you both so much.”

Ye Xiu was overjoyed—finally, he wouldn’t have to listen to his father’s snoring anymore.

“We closed early today, so my father asked my sister and me to come see if we could lend a hand.”

After the last nail was set, Zhao Yide pointed at the roof, “Only one room left to repair. The rainy season’s coming soon. I’ll come back tomorrow afternoon to finish the roof.”

Ye Wuji pursed his lips and looked at Zhao Youyou’s flushed face. “Your niece even washed your clothes.”

At first, it seemed nothing, but once mentioned, Zhao Youyou’s cheeks reddened further.

Shyly, she shuffled her toes a bit, then turned and covered her face as she dashed into the house.

Originally, father and son planned to have Zhao Yide stay for dinner, but he declined repeatedly.

Just then, the porters arrived with the deliveries.

Ye Xiu filled a pot full of wine and handed it to Zhao Yide. “Take this back for your father.”

Zhao Yide refused, but Ye Xiu persisted all the way to their doorstep before he reluctantly accepted.

When Ye Xiu returned home, he found Ye Wuji sipping Shaodaozi.

“Son, this wine tastes awful. Why did you buy it?”

Though he didn’t like Shaodaozi, constrained by their current situation, he still tilted his head back and drank a cup.

“If you don’t like it, don’t drink it.” Ye Xiu looked helpless. “It’s not for drinking—it’s capital for the both of us to live well.”

Ye Wuji looked puzzled. “Son, back in the day, even our servants wouldn’t touch this rubbish. And you expect to get rich from it?”

“Father, today I passed by the Mountain God Temple and went inside to pray. Unexpectedly, during my nap, the Mountain God appeared in a dream and taught me the method of brewing wine. He said the method I received can produce wine even better than Wangyou Bai.”

To avoid suspicion, Ye Xiu decisively attributed everything to feudal superstition.

Ye Wuji stood up and touched Ye Xiu’s forehead, “No fever, so why are you talking nonsense?”

“Father, go read your book. I’ll manage on my own.”

With that, Ye Xiu went to the kitchen and began to work.

Ye Wuji thought it over and followed him into the kitchen, curious whether this Mountain God really existed.

Ye Xiu first pasted a piece of paper on the stove wall, inscribed with the characters “Du Kang.”

Then he bowed three times.

Du Kang is the founding ancestor of the brewing industry, revered as the God of Wine.

Whenever new wine is brewed, or a distillery or winehouse opens, the first ritual is to pay homage to Du Kang.

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The proper ceremony involves offering livestock and three sacrificial animals, burning incense, and kowtowing.

Ye Xiu simplified the process, performing only the essential steps.

Soon, under Ye Xiu’s careful operation, the steamer basket, distillation pot, and bamboo pipes were sealed and installed with cloth strips.

Fueled by a roaring fire, the aroma of the wine rose and filled the air.

Below the distillation pot was an iron drip tray connected to bamboo pipes.

When steam condensed on the pot, it formed droplets that fell into the tray and flowed through the pipes.

In a short time, clear, mellow white liquor began to flow out.

“Is the wine ready so quickly?”

As more wine flowed, the entire courtyard was filled with its rich fragrance.

“This wine doesn’t seem right.”

The Ye family had once held high status, a top aristocratic house.

Ye Wuji had been living in decline for nearly forty years, tasting famous wines from all over, even imperial wines from the palace.

Yet, faced with the wine Ye Xiu had made, he fell into deep thought. Could it really be that the Mountain God appeared in a dream, teaching my son to brew nectar?

His passion for wine was stirred. Ye Wuji reached for a cup to taste the new creation, but Ye Xiu stopped him.

The first portion, called the “head,” was about seventy degrees proof. It smelled fragrant but was not drinkable due to harmful impurities.

After taking about half a cup of the head, Ye Xiu discarded it and switched to collecting the main batch in a wine jar.

The liquid was clear and transparent, without any cloudiness or impurities.

He poured a cup, inhaled deeply, and his face lit up with delight.

Ye Wuji nervously watched the flowing wine, barely daring to breathe.

Only when Ye Xiu handed him a cup did he sip cautiously.

The wine moved gently in his mouth as he concentrated on the taste.

In the next moment, he downed the rest in one gulp.

The unique flavor was like a wild storm, full of power.

Its taste evoked the beasts of the jungle, awakening the most primal instincts.

A mouthful of strong liquor burned as it slid down his throat, delivering a uniquely thrilling shock that lingered long after.

Suddenly, Ye Wuji opened his eyes and roared, “Excellent! This is damn good wine!”