My Taoist buddy has practiced surrogacy

Chapter 1474 Fragrance
The capital city was still shrouded in a thin mist in the early morning, but Lingji Snack Shop had already set up steaming pots. On the cutting board lay glistening, reddish-brown braised ducks, the blade making a crisp sound as it fell, the aroma of meat mingling with the scents of star anise and cinnamon filling the air. The proprietress, Ling Xue, deftly sliced ​​and arranged the meat on a plate, her sleeves rolled up. A small wooden duck hairpin adorned her hair, its movement shimmering with tiny golden sparkles.

"Girl, another half!" A porter carrying a load wiped his sweat and sat down as he passed by. A shop assistant from the cloth shop next door also came over: "Save me a duck leg!" The old shopkeeper by the stove smiled and added firewood. This was a recipe passed down from his ancestors, using more than thirty kinds of spices, and it needed to be simmered over a low flame for three hours to fully absorb the flavor.

Zhou Xing of Yipinxuan Restaurant appeared at this moment. Dressed in a long blue silk robe, he stood on the street corner, watching customers line up for a piece of duck. His hand, clutching the gold-embossed invitation, tightened slightly—as the owner of one of the capital's premier restaurants, he had never seen such a popular street vendor. When he took his first bite of the braised duck, his twenty years of culinary experience instantly impressed him: the meat was firm yet tender, with a sweet and salty flavor intertwined with the aroma of herbs and plants—a taste that ordinary braising spices could never produce.

The next morning, just as Ling Xue set up her tent, a magnificent carriage pulled up in front of her door. Zhou Xing stepped out, carrying an exquisitely carved sandalwood box containing a hundred taels of silver and a land deed: "This is a three-courtyard house on West Street. I'm willing to exchange it for the young lady's secret recipe." The old shopkeeper, who was wiping the table, trembled, and his teacup nearly fell to the ground.

"Not for sale." Ling Xue didn't even look up and continued chopping the filling. She remembered when she was seven years old, she had a fever and fell into a coma. It was her father who stayed by the stove to cook medicinal food and fed her ginseng chicken soup spoonful by spoonful, which saved her life. On the eve of her wedding, her mother held her hand and told her: "Our family's craftsmanship is not a commodity, but the taste of living people."

For half a month, Zhou Xing sent all sorts of people to persuade him. Sometimes it was a steward carrying pearls from the South China Sea, sometimes it was an official bearing a plaque bestowed by the emperor, implying a powerful background. The most outrageous thing was that one night, a few ruffians pretended to be drunk and caused trouble, smashing the signboard, but were chased away by the guards who were secretly protecting them. The old shopkeeper looked at the mess and sighed, "A tall tree catches the wind."

The rainy season arrived unexpectedly. The continuous drizzle made the streets much quieter, but it couldn't stop the envoys sent by Yipinxuan. This time, Zhou Xing came in person, his refined face showing some fatigue: "If you are willing to part with it, I am willing to use all my branches as collateral to promote this dish." He unfolded the blueprint, which marked the chain plan from Jiangnan to the north.

Ling Xue's fingertips traced the faded door panel, where her father still had the inscription "Honesty is fundamental." She suddenly recalled last winter when she gave a beggar a duck carcass, and the old man tearfully said it was his grandson's favorite flavor; she also remembered the little girl she met during the Qingming Festival outing, who had saved up her spare change for half a year just to buy her mother a piece of duck breast. These vivid faces flashed before her eyes, transforming into a resolute gaze.

"Does Master Zhou know why my family only makes a hundred a day?" She scooped up a spoonful of old braising liquid and poured it into an earthenware jar. The amber liquid shone with the luster of time under the sunlight. "Too much would be wasteful. Someone once offered me a high price to mass-produce, but I ruined my reputation because of insufficient cooking." She gently pushed the jar over. "If you really love to eat them, you can come and take ten each day."

Zhou Xing paused for a moment, then burst into laughter, his hearty laugh startling the sparrows under the eaves. He pulled out a contract he had prepared beforehand: "Then let's cooperate! I'll provide the capital to expand the workshop, and you'll take charge and control the quality." It turned out he had long seen through the stubbornness and wisdom in this girl's bones; the real business secret lay not in the formula but in the heart of the person.

Three months later, a counter bearing the golden signboard of "Ling's Braised Duck" appeared in the lobby of Yipinxuan Restaurant. In the transparent kitchen, artisans in uniform strictly followed ancient methods to prepare the ducks, and each duck was personally tasted by Ling Xue before being sold. People were surprised to find that even with the price tripled, the ducks were still sold out every day, and dignitaries considered it an honor to be able to eat freshly cut and prepared braised duck.

At the Mid-Autumn Festival banquet, Zhou Xing carried a jade platter into the inner courtyard. On the platter lay a whole, golden-yellow duck, adorned with moons and stars carved from osmanthus blossoms. "This is an improved version, braised in your family's old braising sauce," he said expectantly, watching her taste it. Ling Xue bit into the soft duck skin, her eyes brightening slightly: "Perfectly cooked!" They smiled at each other, while outside the window, the full moon shone through the city lights, and wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys.

Winter arrived in the blink of an eye, and Ling Xue launched the "Warm Winter Campaign." Impoverished families could receive free duck soup by presenting bamboo sticks distributed at the soup kitchen, and dozens of large pots were set up in the workshop's backyard to simmer day and night. Zhou Xing not only fully supported the initiative but also mobilized other merchants to donate rice, flour, and cooking oil. Seeing the thinly dressed children smiling as they held steaming bowls of food, she felt far more fulfilled than earning money.

One day, while patrolling the streets, Ling Xue encountered an elderly woman with white hair, trembling as she held an empty bowl in a daze. Ling Xue quickly had someone fill the bowl to the brim and send it to her, but the old woman waved her hand and refused: "I want to use this bowl to exchange for a word from you, young lady—" Her withered fingers clenched the pages of a book wrapped in tattered cloth, "My son was caught red-handed for secretly learning the recipe back then, and now he is seriously ill and still wants to taste the flavor of his hometown one more time."

The next morning, the old woman received a heavy food box. Inside was a perfectly wrapped braised duck, with a note underneath: "All parents in the world share the same heart; may your son recover soon." It was later learned that Zhou Xing had secretly sent people throughout Jiangnan to find the authentic recipe, lost for many years, as compensation for her son. After this story spread, the people said that eating this duck made them feel at ease.

Ten years have passed in the blink of an eye. Today, Lingji has become a living advertisement in the heart of the capital, with apprentices from all over flocking to its door. Ling Xue often sits under the locust tree, teaching them to identify medicinal herbs: "Good materials and good craftsmen are needed to make a delicious dish." Sunlight filters through the branches and leaves, casting a frost on her temples, while her eldest apprentices, who have already started their own families, stand beside her.

Zhou Xing filled his glass with newly brewed Daughter's Red wine: "If you hadn't stuck to your principles back then, how could we have achieved what we have today?" The "Jishetang" restaurant they co-founded is now both a top-tier restaurant and a charitable organization, training hundreds of impoverished children to learn skills and earn a living each year. On the counter lies a yellowed first-edition contract, with newly added clauses: any apprentice who completes their apprenticeship can use the brand to open their own shop free of charge.

In late spring, peach blossoms were in full bloom as Ling Xue returned from inspecting the various branch stores with her grandchildren. The children ran across the cobblestone path, carrying windmills, the air filled with a familiar fragrance. She looked up at the clouds and sighed softly, "How wonderful it would be if Mom and Dad could see all this." Turning around, she met Zhou Xing's warm gaze. He smiled and handed her a handkerchief to wipe away the tears from her eyes, saying, "They would be so proud of you."

With the help of others, Zhou Xing collected enough resources and began to work on repairing Ling Xue's body.

After months of effort, Ling Xue finally slowly awoke. When she saw Zhou Xing, who had been tirelessly working for her, a touch of emotion and warmth appeared in her eyes. This was an emotional experience she had never had before, and her long-closed heart began to slowly melt. From then on, she was no longer as cold and aloof as before, but became more cheerful and lively, and her relationship with Zhou Xing grew increasingly intimate. The peaceful days did not last long. One night, the sky suddenly flashed with lightning and thunder, dark clouds gathered, and an extremely oppressive atmosphere permeated the air. Zhou Xing keenly sensed that another heavenly tribulation targeting Ling Xue was about to arrive. Sure enough, soon, thick purple lightning bolts descended from the sky, targeting their location.

It turned out that the Upper Realm still hadn't let them go and wanted to completely eliminate this threat. Facing such a powerful enemy, Zhou Xing showed no fear. He knew this would be a life-or-death battle, but he was fully prepared. He gripped Ling Xue's hand tightly and said firmly, "We'll face it together!"

The battle escalated rapidly from the outset. The power of lightning surged like a relentless torrent, constantly assaulting their defensive barrier. Each attack carried earth-shattering force, leaving them breathless. However, thanks to Zhou Xing and Ling Xue's seamless teamwork, they managed to barely withstand the onslaught. But as time passed, their stamina dwindled, and the situation grew increasingly dire.

At this critical juncture, Ling Xue made a bold decision. She decided to merge with Zhou Xing's bloodline power and restart the "Mortal-to-Immortal" method created by the banished immortal. This was an extremely risky move; failure would mean utter destruction. But in order to defeat the powerful enemy and fulfill her former master's wish, she was willing to gamble everything.

Under Ling Xue's guidance, the two began the arduous process of fusion. Their blood and qi intertwined, their souls merged, and gradually, an unprecedentedly powerful force was formed. This power transcended the comprehension of ordinary cultivators, containing endless possibilities. When the final step was completed, a brand-new immortal sword was born! It radiated a dazzling array of colors, its blade covered with mysterious runes, as if containing the secrets of the entire universe.

Holding the newly born immortal sword, Zhou Xing felt an unprecedented surge of power flowing into his body. He roared to the sky, his voice piercing through the clouds and reaching beyond the heavens. He was no longer the novice young cultivator, but a true master of the sword. He swung his immortal sword, slashing at the thunderclouds in the sky.

That sword strike gathered all his power and conviction, as if to cleave the entire world in two. Wherever the sword light passed, space distorted and deformed, emitting a piercing sound. The powerful impact tore through the thick clouds, revealing the true face hidden behind them—a group of high and mighty gods coldly watching all of this.

These deities, who had initially thought they could easily crush these two insignificant beings, were now stunned by the sight before them. They hadn't expected that a mere mortal could unleash such terrifying power. Seeing this, they hurriedly dispatched more of their subordinates to reinforce them and try to stop this frenzied counterattack.

But it was too late! Zhou Xing was completely absorbed in his own world, all distractions forgotten, leaving only his sword and his enemies. He moved like a ghost, weaving through the enemy ranks, each strike hitting its target with deadly accuracy. No one could withstand his fierce attacks.

The moment of final battle had arrived! The power of both sides reached its peak, and the entire world trembled. Zhou Xing concentrated all his mental energy and mobilized all his strength to unleash a final strike—a strike that embodied his life's cultivation and his yearning for freedom. A dazzling beam of light shot into the sky, soaring straight into the heavens and striking the enemy leader, utterly defeating him!
With their leader fallen, the remaining enemies lost their command and fell into chaos, quickly being wiped out one by one. Thus, this protracted battle finally came to an end, and Zhou Xing, through his indomitable will and exceptional strength, won the final victory!

After the battle, the sky gradually returned to calm, and the sun shone brightly on the earth once more. Everything seemed so beautiful and peaceful! Zhou Xing looked at Ling Xue beside him, who was tired but smiling with relief, and his heart was filled with emotion! He knew that it was all worthwhile because they had not only defeated a powerful enemy but also proven their worth! From now on, their names would be recorded in history, and they would become heroes praised by future generations! And that broken sword, once considered worthless, would become a symbol of legend, forever engraved in people's hearts!

The biting winds of the northern frontier whipped up heavy snow, like countless sharp blades slicing through the heavens and earth. The charcoal brazier inside the medical tent had long since extinguished to cold ash. Ling Xue stuffed the last piece of dried ginger into the old soldier's mouth, then turned to boil the pot of medicine that would never run out. Her coarse cloth sleeves were stained with herbal juices, and a gleaming silver hairpin adorned her hair—a keepsake given to her by her master before his death.

"Girl! There's a seriously wounded man over here!" Several soldiers carried in a blood-soaked human figure, dark red blood still seeping from the gaps in the armor. As Ling Xue bent down to examine the wound, her fingertips touched the pulse beating in the man's wrist and suddenly stopped—this person was still breathing! She tore open her tattered battle robe, revealing a gruesome arrow wound on his chest, flesh and blood ripped open; an ordinary doctor would have already pronounced him dead. But she refused to give up. She took out her treasured Panax notoginseng powder, mixed it with snow water, and applied it to the wound. She also twisted dried mugwort into a thin rope, lit it, and used it to fumigate acupoints.

While unconscious, Zhou Xing struggled between high fever and excruciating pain, vaguely seeing a moonlit skirt swaying before his eyes. Those hands, carrying the warm scent of herbs, gently stroked his burning forehead, then carefully stitched up his torn flesh. He didn't know how much time had passed, but when he opened his eyes again, the bitter smell of medicine filled his nostrils, and he saw a small face flushed red by the firelight: "Awake? Drink this medicine."

When the news of spring arrived, Zhou Xing was already able to stand with his spear in hand. Watching her slender figure busily preparing wound medicine, he suddenly realized that his savior had eyes that could speak volumes. Whenever villagers brought her freshly picked wild ginseng, she would always smile and push it back, saying, "Keep it for the elders at home to nourish their bodies." This noble character stood in stark contrast to those quack doctors who embezzled military funds.

On the day the bugle call sounded for battle, Ling Xue was drying her newly made Purple Cloud Ointment. A young lieutenant rode up, a bandage peeking out from beneath his black cloak: "Come with me to the capital." She hesitated for a moment, remembering her master's dying wish to collect all the world's rare remedies, and finally nodded. The carriage rolled over the melting snow, the gradually greening fields flashing past the curtains, while a faint scent of sandalwood lingered within—her specially made calming sachet.

That night, while passing through the inn, a torrential downpour began. Zhou Xing heard a muffled cough coming from the next room. He burst in and found Ling Xue kneeling on the edge of the bed, administering acupuncture. The silver needles danced swiftly between her fingers, and the sick child's pale face gradually regained its color. As dawn broke, the child's mother wiped away her tears and tried to kowtow in gratitude, but Zhou Xing helped her up, saying, "It's just a doctor's duty." Water droplets condensed on the windowpane dripped down, reflecting her silhouette as she remained awake all night.