Chapter Twenty-Six: Nitre

In ancient times, delicious food was always healthy because it came with secret, carefully crafted recipes. But in modern times, tasty dishes aren’t necessarily good for you. Often, the ingredients added... are downright deadly.

To explain this, I simply told Zhao Hongdao, “We’re eating at a communal banquet. Nearly a hundred people from the whole village are here, but the Zhao family has only one or two stoves at most. Those ‘village chefs’ preparing private feasts have to hurry to get everything done, so they sometimes take shortcuts and add some ‘bad stuff’ to make the meat cook faster.”

Then I told him that this so-called “bad stuff” is actually a kind of chemical additive used to speed up cooking and steaming. These additives also serve to enhance the color, sweetness, and even tenderness of the food.

“That sounds good!” Zhao Hong said, clutching his stomach in confusion.

I sneered and told him, “It does sound good, but no matter how great these additives seem, they’re bad for your health. Only unscrupulous merchants and cooks use them to cut corners—they never eat their own food.”

“Why not?”

I patted Zhao Hong on the shoulder and said bluntly, “Because the scientific name for these ‘bad stuff’ is chemical additives.”

“Chemical additives?” Zhao Hong’s face turned pale at my words.

I nodded and explained helplessly, “These things are generally harmful to the body. Many are industrial chemicals, not fit for consumption. But the one thing in common is that cooks never call them by their real names—they usually use code names.”

The term “bad stuff” is what people in Hebei call “ripening agents,” chemical additives used to accelerate cooking. In Northwest China and Sichuan, these substances are called “secret additives” because they’re taboo. In the South, where people speak more delicately, they’re called “flavor enhancers” or “fresh seasoning” to sound more refined.

“What’s the use of sounding fancy? I’m about to die here! And you’re still going on about this!” Zhao Hong gritted his teeth in pain.

As he spoke, another sharp pain hit his stomach, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he groaned quietly.

Facing his predicament, I awkwardly cleared my throat twice and immediately dropped my smug attitude.

Once the pain subsided, he dragged his nearly exhausted body and asked, “So… what kind of ‘bad stuff’ do they put in the meat when they cook it?”

Usually, cooks won’t answer this question, whether they know or not—after all, it’s a family shame, a taboo.

But since Zhao Hong asked, I couldn’t refuse to answer.

After all, we’re comrades-in-arms. Even if it kills him, he deserves to know how he’s dying...

I thought for a moment, then continued.

There are mainly two types of “bad stuff” used in stewing meat. The most vicious is “caustic soda.” Its chemical name is sodium hydroxide, and in the culinary world, it has a shocking nickname: “bone-dissolving powder.”

As the name suggests, it can even dissolve bones, revealing just how fierce and terrifying it is.

Using caustic soda to soak and cook meat is a dangerous and skillful technique. When cooking, the meat must be thoroughly cleaned, and the caustic soda dissolved in water at a ratio of one to a hundred.

Then, a quick-handed person must briefly dip the meat into the caustic soda solution—never leaving it soaking for long—before immediately cooking it.

This process is a race against time.

Meat cooked this way tastes delicious and tender, with the ability to “dissolve bones and remove sinew.” Even tough, old beef can be transformed to taste like premium tender beef, the texture unchanged, shelf life extended, and diners unlikely to notice.

But no matter how good it is, there’s one major downside: eating too much can literally burn through your intestines.

“Ah?!” Zhao Hong clutched his belly and asked anxiously, “I haven’t... burned through my intestines, have I?”

I quickly reassured him that he hadn’t. Caustic soda is so potent that careless use can be fatal. Handling it requires great skill and speed, and only chefs in high-end restaurants dare use it.

“If the meal was cooked by Lei Ren and his team, they definitely put caustic soda in it. But ordinary village cooks...” I shook my head.

“Then what did I eat?”

I looked up, recalling the distinctly reddish color of the beef, and told him, “It was probably ‘mirabilite’.”

“Mirabilite?” Zhao Hong repeated as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

I nodded.

Mirabilite, known to cooks as “horse’s tooth salt” or “fake salt,” looks very much like salt and is pure white like snow. Originally, it’s a widely used traditional Chinese medicine.

But even medicine can be harmful if misused.

In many places, it’s common to add a certain amount of mirabilite when cooking large cuts of meat. Using it shortens cooking time, improves taste, and makes the dish look appealing—very popular among the masses.

Moreover, it has an advantage that caustic soda does not: a high tolerance for error. Occasionally adding too much or too little usually doesn’t kill anyone. At worst, it causes symptoms like Zhao Hong’s—vomiting and diarrhea.

“Does it really not kill people?!” Zhao Hong asked anxiously.

I shook my head. “Not always... there are exceptions.”

In the countryside, I’ve heard of occasional deaths caused by mirabilite poisoning. But these cases usually result not from ignorance of proper dosage, but from cooks mistakenly confusing mirabilite with salt and adding double or even multiple times the correct amount.

Well, it is called “fake salt” for a reason.

“In short, it’s still dangerous.” I finished, patting Zhao Hong’s shoulder and handing him a bottle of water. “Drink plenty of electrolyte drinks. After all that running to the bathroom... don’t faint!”

Zhao Hong took the drink and the tissue, then pointed at my nose and snarled, “How do you know so much about this?”

“I’ve seen it before... and even done it sometimes!” I said helplessly. “When I first left the army and worked in a restaurant, that’s how they did things. Later, my conscience wouldn’t let me stay, so I went out on my own.”

I was telling the truth... though it wasn’t the kind of truth Zhao Hong wanted to hear.

He seemed about to curse me, but at that moment, another wave of stomach pain hit him.

With the “revolution” raging inside, he said nothing more and hurried off to the bathroom to deal with his “internal affairs.”

Watching his retreating figure, a wave of emptiness washed over me.

Now, I was the only one left at the mourning hall.

The feeling was chaotic, like a sheet of paper covered in graffiti suddenly being erased with a dirty eraser.

So much had changed in just one day—too fast for me to keep up, too overwhelming to know how to handle. Yet, as I looked once more at my old squad leader’s familiar, anxious face, I found calm again.

Death is the ultimate truth... and with my old squad leader’s passing, the true faces of many began to reveal themselves.

Whether it was the exorcist Duan, the Lei family uncle and nephew, or others, none of them attended the funeral by mere coincidence or innocence.

Behind each of them lay unspeakable secrets and schemes.

And the Zhao family was sure to become a battlefield soaked in blood and chaos.

What truth awaits me... I wonder what it will be?