Ning Chen and the other two were eating when footsteps sounded on the stairs.

They looked up. A middle-aged man wrapped in a heavy cloak, with a dark blue official's robe underneath, had stopped on the stairs and was shouting down, "Waiter, hurry up and get this lord something to eat and bring it to the room.

This damned weather, it's freezing to death! Your father spent ten years at a cold window and seven years waiting for a post, and the moment I finally get one, they ship me off to this godforsaken hole where even the birds won't take a shit."

The young waiter forced a smile. "Sir, go on up first. This small man will bring it right up to you."

The middle-aged man snapped at him, "You're going to bring it when you don't even know what this lord wants to eat?

This lord will tell you, so listen... It has to be soup stewed from a chicken just a year old. The wishbone has to still be soft. A hard one won't do. If the bird's too old, the soup isn't fresh enough and the meat isn't tender enough.

Also, get this lord a few side dishes ready—two meat, two vegetable, and..."

The young waiter looked miserable and said quickly, "Sir, we don't have any of that."

"Don't have it?" The middle-aged man's face darkened. "Let me tell you, this isn't what this minister wants. It's what Prefect Cai wants to eat... Offend Prefect Cai, and do you still want this rundown shop of yours to stay open?"

The waiter looked torn. "This small man wouldn't dare... But we really don't have what you're asking for, sir.

Before, people in Xiguan City couldn't even get tree bark to eat. Porridge is already a luxury now. But the things you want just aren't here, sir."

The middle-aged man sneered. "If you don't have it, go find it. The Lord Prefect drank too much last night, and right now he wants some chicken soup to sober up... This lord gives you an hour. No chicken soup, and…