Chapter 116: Singing Mountain Songs

Japanese cuisine also features sea urchin tempura. The sea urchin is wrapped in shiso leaves, coated in batter, and deep-fried, resembling a small purse. The shiso leaf not only helps maintain the shape but also imparts a crisp, distinctive herbal fragrance.

The sharp contrast in texture is the alluring charm of this dish: the outer layer is a crispy shiso leaf, while the sea urchin center remains somewhere between raw and cooked—reminiscent of a soft-boiled egg—with a subtle, cool sweetness that is truly addictive.

In Spain, sea urchin is often served with bread. By trimming away the upper quarter of the shell, one can use a piece of bread to gently scoop out the roe. Upon the first bite, a salty, fresh flavor reminiscent of the sea breeze rushes forth; it is incredibly fresh. Though not as thick as the sea urchin sashimi found in Japanese cuisine, its inherent sweetness is not diminished in the slightest.

Sicily, Italy, is abundant in seafood, and Spaghetti ai Ricci di Mare is a signature dish. Fresh sea urchin is sautéed in olive oil with sea salt and garlic, then tossed with cooked spaghetti and finished with a sprinkle of parsley. The luscious sea urchin transforms into a thick, rich sauce that coats every strand of the smooth, al dente pasta.

In Chinese cuisine, there is a more home-style approach: steaming it with eggs. Many chilled sea urchins bought at the market sometimes arrive with the roe slightly broken, so they are simply whisked together with eggs to make steamed sea urchin custard.

Both sea urchin and eggs possess a unique umami that pairs perfectly. While the dish may appear plain on the surface, the hidden, rich, and savory essence of the sea within the silky custard is a delightful little surprise that brings joy to the palate.

Finally, the owner simply brought out a bottle of baijiu, cracked open a dozen sea urchins and scallops, poured the liquor over them, and lit it with a match...

My goodness.

It was absolutely exhilarating!

After resting for a night on Zhangzi Island, the Dalian trip came to an end, and I left the Northeast. I headed straight for Guizhou, having long wanted to visit the Miao villages to experience their unique culture.

I called Song Qiao and asked her to select a local Miao tour guide. Her name was Ginny—petite, with delicate features and an air of spirit.

I casually bought an SUV for half a million and drove straight toward the Xijiang Qianhu Miao Village. The girl was lively, her voice as clear and melodious as a lark, chattering away about various local customs and traditions.

"Many people think that when it comes to ethnic minority regions, Yunnan is the only choice—Dali with its back against Cangshan Mountain and facing Erhai Lake, Tengchong famous for its ginkgo leaves and hot springs, the fairyland of Shangri-La, and Xishuangbanna..."

She wrinkled her little nose, unconvinced, and said, "Xijiang is in Guizhou, just like Lijiang is in Yunnan; it has so much ethnic character. For example, the Wind and Rain Bridges, the stilt houses, the silver jewelry and costumes, and the Long Table Banquet..."

"There is also the mysterious Miao culture, the leisurely pastoral life, the thousands of lights deep in the mountains, and the unique wooden houses and ancient villages of the Miao people..."

"In short: as long as you come to Xijiang Miao Village, it will absolutely satisfy every imagination you have!"

Zhuang Chen leaned back comfortably, squinting his eyes. The weather was beautiful, and the sunlight spilling over him felt lazy and warm, making him not want to move a muscle. Three hours later, we arrived at our destination, stepped out of the car, and began to enter the Miao village.

From the moment we stepped through the village gate, accompanied by the laughter of locals singing and dancing, we were offered the "Twelve Blocking-the-Gate" toasts, all served in bamboo tubes. The young girl told me the alcohol content wasn't high—only forty-two percent...

There was no way around it; I had to drink three cups in a row. This is the most solemn welcoming ceremony of the Miao people, signifying a blessing. Who would dare refuse?

Xijiang itself is a massive, pristine eco-museum, the largest gathering place for Miao people in the world. On both sides are various well-preserved ancient buildings. Stilt houses and seven Wind and Rain Bridges—our first stop was the seventh bridge.

The entire village is composed of ten interconnected hamlets, and the villagers still lead a primitive life. The surroundings are filled with vast terraced fields. As we walked along the ridges, Jay Chou's "Rice Field" kept echoing in my ears:

*Running along with the scent of rice... the songs of the countryside, the eternal reliance, go home, return to the initial beauty...*

Especially when walking along the mountain paths to the ancient pavilion at the summit, we encountered a group of art students sketching. Through their brushes, they captured even more personalized depictions of the terraced landscapes and ancient Miao architecture. The rich atmosphere of village life, the villagers carrying bamboo poles, and the wisps of cooking smoke rising from the dwellings...

Suddenly, a light drizzle began to fall, which only served to highlight the unique charm of the Miao village, adding a touch of freshness and a flutter of the heart.

Strolling along the main street, the various shops subtly hinted at modern prosperity without losing the character of the Miao people. It satisfied a tourist's needs for food, clothing, housing, and transportation while allowing one to feel the ethnic spirit.

We often saw merchants offering unique Miao-style welcomes: young men playing the lusheng, or beautiful Miao girls holding buffalo-horn cups, pouring wine for you to block your path.

In the instrument shops along the street, hand drums, guitars, or ukuleles were displayed. Every song playing in the shops at that moment was unexpectedly moving, striking straight to the heart.

Guided by Ginny, we left the main street and arrived at an inconspicuous homestay, walking into the hillside alleys to see the common folk. One step away from the bustle, one step back into simplicity—the stillness in those stilt houses, far removed from the world, was truly yearning.

Thick moss grew on the mottled wooden planks; the ancient houses bore the memories of the elderly. The layout was winding and steep, and daily life had bent the backs of many of the elderly, yet it had not changed their longing for a happy life, their faces filled with kind and optimistic smiles...

Walking along the winding paths, past the elderly and children, the middle-aged men chatting and selling pork in front of their houses, and the laborers working hard to carry their shoulder poles up the stairs—every scene was filled with tranquility and detachment from the world.

We found the most luxurious homestay to settle into, and feeling hungry, we started to hunt for food. Ginny was very excited, her little mouth moving like a machine gun, unable to stop.

"Originally, this shop was called Zhou Mei's Snack Bar, but as business became more and more popular, they simply registered a trademark and changed the name to 'Rural Farmhouse.' If you ask any local for food recommendations, they will all mention this place."

We arrived in front of a quaint little shop. Ginny introduced, "It's been open for five years. The clear soup is boiled with fresh, high-quality beef and mutton; there isn't a hint of gaminess. The beef noodles are made like mutton noodles, flavored with cilantro. The soup is excellent—fragrant but not greasy!"

"Next door is Hui Nong Sour Soup, a ten-year-old shop. Her chili is homemade. Before eating the noodles, take a sip of the sour soup. The base is bone broth, added to a slightly spicy sour soup, served with cured meat and handmade rice noodles or rice flour, topped with minced meat, sausage, and quail eggs—a full bowl that is absolutely satisfying. It's a pity they only sell it in the morning..."

"Tang's Five-Color Glutinous Rice: glutinous rice soaked in the liquids of purple vine, yellow flowers, maple leaves, and red silk threads, steamed together. It's colorful, symbolizing a beautiful life. There are two flavors: salty, mixed with chive roots and spicy pickled vegetables; and sweet, sprinkled with peanuts, sugar, seeds, and bean flour. The two flavors are completely different..."

We ate as we walked, with all kinds of snacks available. Finally, we arrived at a shop in Gage Ancient Lane, not even facing the street, called Red Brick House. The little girl specifically recommended it.

The pendant light in the center of the lobby was crafted by the owner: 2,888 butterflies reflected on the walls under the light, fluttering with the breeze. Even the frame of the lamp was entirely handmade from silver; I heard it took twenty days to complete.

The interior was decorated with various Miao embroidery paintings, and even the batik throw pillows were the owner's private collection. Entering the private room, Ginny smiled and said, "Only local foodies know about this place. Even if tourists come to eat, it's usually by accident. Not only is the taste superb, but the key is that you can order many dishes here that other shops in Xijiang don't have; it belongs to the chef's private menu."

Zhuang Chen was very satisfied. If you come to eat, you must eat the most distinctive classics; otherwise, why bother coming at all?

I let the little girl order, and we had one of everything distinctive. First on the table was the Secret Recipe Eggplant, touted as a five-star recommendation—the chef's specialty. I picked up a piece; the skin of the eggplant was roasted until the sauce was fragrant without being burnt. Minced meat was cooked inside, the savory flavor soaking into the eggplant, and then coated in a thickened sauce. It was quite good.

The Secret Recipe Tofu looked like tofu balls on the outside. Only after putting it in my mouth did I realize the tofu was fresh, tender, and silky local water tofu, wrapped in a layer of batter and deep-fried. The heat was controlled perfectly, and the tomato and minced meat sweetness added a fresh fragrance with a sweet aftertaste.

The Sizzling Beef used fresh, free-range paddy-fed beef. The meat was tender, seasoned with black pepper, and cooked on a scorching iron plate, locking in the aroma of the beef and pairing it with the freshness of green peppers...

The Sour Soup Fish is a signature of Xijiang. The sour soup is made purely and naturally, without any additives. The fish used is river catfish, with few bones and tender meat; it danced on the tongue, making me sweat all over and eat heartily.

The highlights were the rice wine and the yogurt. The owner said the rice wine is good because his shop doesn't host long-table banquets, so there's no waste from the toasting process, allowing them to choose more mellow and higher-quality rice wine. The yogurt was also made from a big brand, with a sweeter taste that complemented the dishes perfectly.

Satisfied and full, I returned to the homestay. I had Ginny put on her ethnic attire. Her lark-like, golden voice rang in my ears—melodious, crisp, lingering, and sentimental—and I couldn't help but strike at the heart of the matter, letting go completely...

Kneeling between my legs, singing folk songs:

*A stream of green water protects the village flowing by,*
*Green mountains on both banks hold the stilt houses.*
*It took a thousand years to gain this thousand-household village,*
*Being in this fairyland, all worries are forgotten.*