Chapter 58: The Imperial Blade

To begin with, Zhao Haikun gave me a rough account of the history of his family’s kitchen knife.

Zhao Haikun told us that the "ancestral kitchen knife" was rumored to be an imperial gift from the Jiajing Emperor of the Ming Dynasty. Having survived for several hundred years, it served as a witness to the history of the Zhao family. Because there was only one such knife, it had always been passed down according to the Zhao family genealogy, kept by the main branch in southern Shandong, and the lineage of its stewardship was very orderly.

In more recent times, the knife was always kept by Zhao Qingshan. After Zhao Qingshan passed away, his home was raided by the Red Guards. The "ancient cookbooks" and "pots and pans" that remained in the Zhao family were labeled as "feudal remnants" and "monsters and demons." Back then, the Red Guards not only burned them to ashes but also claimed they were "ironclad evidence" of Zhao Qingshan’s counter-revolutionary activities. This upheaval caused the last vestiges of the Zhao family’s heritage to vanish completely. However, this knife miraculously survived.

Of course, this was not because Zhao Qingshan had hidden it well or because his son, Zhao Deguang, had been particularly careful; it was simply because the knife was so old, so dull, and so devoid of any luster or elegance that when the Red Guards ransacked the house, no one suspected that this very kitchen knife was the most important heirloom of the Zhao family, let alone the "weapon" of the famous southern Shandong chef-hero, Zhao Qingshan. In the chaos of the raid, it was tossed into the snow, trampled underfoot, and then buried. Just like that... it miraculously escaped that calamity.

Later, Zhao Qingshan was tied up in the snow for three days and nights to be publicly denounced. After he returned, he developed a severe case of bronchitis and passed away before the Spring Festival. Naturally, the Zhao family’s imperial kitchen knife was passed down to his son, Zhao Deguang. However, the Zhao family’s misfortunes continued. More than a decade later, Zhao Deguang was framed by Lei Ren and died in prison, filled with resentment. The knife then fell into the hands of the two brothers, Zhao Haikun and Zhao Haipeng.

Of the two brothers, Zhao Haikun was the elder. The treasure should have been inherited by him, but unfortunately, Zhao Haikun was "unable to sire offspring." He and his wife, Gui Yuxiu, had been childless for over a decade, and it seemed he would be unable to carry on the Zhao family line. Because of this, Zhao Haikun, displaying great character, gave the knife to his younger brother, Zhao Haipeng, who was serving in the military. Zhao Haikun’s actions were both magnanimous and encouraging; his intention was clear—to urge his younger brother to marry and have children early so that he could carry on the family legacy. But with the death of my old squad leader... all of that came to an end.

With the man gone, the knife became a relic, and even more so, a burden in Zhao Haikun’s heart. Ever since his younger brother’s death, the more Zhao Haikun looked at the knife, the more troubled he felt. The glory and hardship it carried became a naked "mockery" of the failed lives of the two brothers. Zhao Haikun understood, and we understood too, that after six hundred years of trials and tribulations, the southern Shandong Zhao family had reached the end of its life. With the death of my squad leader, there would be no more descendants. All that remained were the lineages of the Huainan Zhao family and my own, an outsider’s branch. Whether we admitted it or not, this was the reality.

Because of this reality, Zhao Haikun could no longer bear to face the knife that carried the family's honor and destiny. Moreover, with the loss of my squad leader—the family's breadwinner—the Zhao family was in dire need of money. Thus, Zhao Haikun decided to sell the treasure to make ends meet. I could not stop him from selling the knife, but I was not reconciled to it. I could hear and feel that the knife carried the honor of the Zhao family for over six hundred years! Zhao Qingshan had used it as a weapon, Zhao Deguang had used it to run a restaurant, and my squad leader had carried it for over a decade... The knife held the bitterness, sweetness, and life journey of generations of a culinary family. In my eyes, it was not merely a knife, but a "sacred artifact" of our temple of gastronomy. Such a treasure should have been enshrined in an ancestral hall.

Finally, I understood why Lei Ren had gone to such great lengths to get his hands on this knife. To a chef, it was not just an antique; it was a spiritual legacy—the soul of our culinary temple!

Driven by frustration, I asked, "Even if you sell it, why sell it to Master Duan?" In my heart, selling this treasure—which symbolized the honor of the culinary world—to a charlatan was worse than giving it to Lei Ren. At least Lei Ren was a chef who understood the meaning and glory contained within the blade.

Zhao Haikun explained that besides "exorcising demons," this Master Duan occasionally dabbled in the side business of reselling cultural relics; he was a well-known "tomb rat" in the surrounding area. He felt the knife was a decent item and wanted to acquire it. Master Duan had approached the Zhao family several times about this, but as long as my squad leader was alive, it was out of the question. Now that my squad leader had committed suicide, and my Uncle Zhao Haikun no longer wanted to see the object and be reminded of his loss, the two reached an agreement. Before Lei Ren and I arrived, they had already settled on the price and the delivery time; the exchange was to take place today.

Upon hearing this, Master Duan looked smug, Lei Ren was so angry his mustache quivered, and I was even more unwilling to accept it. In my helplessness, I asked, "Uncle! How much... did we sell the knife for?"

Ordinarily, I shouldn’t have asked such a question in front of others. It was a business secret, and anyone had the right to refuse to answer. But I was truly unreconciled to seeing a kitchen knife with such history and heritage sold off just like that. I was calculating whether I could offer a higher price to buy it back—for the sake of the Zhao family, and for myself. After all, it was the knife my squad leader had left behind; it was my master’s relic!

Facing my question, Zhao Haikun did not hide anything. He nodded with great satisfaction and said, "Well... it didn’t sell for little. I went to the antique shops to ask, and the knife sold for five thousand yuan!"

"What!" Lei Ren and I shouted in unison, eyes wide. "Five thousand! Selling it like cheap cabbage?"

My mind went blank. Although I didn't know much about antiques, I knew the weight of that knife in a chef’s heart. Even if it were only worth five thousand yuan in the antique market, in the hearts of those of us in the culinary temple, it was a priceless treasure! A kitchen knife bestowed by the Jiajing Emperor, six hundred years of Zhao family heritage, a blade used by Zhao Qingshan to kill ghosts and by my master to cook. Was it only worth... five thousand?

Facing our skepticism, Master Duan chuckled and said, "You chefs! You’re laymen! That’s the going rate for Ming and Qing ironware these days. Go ask around Panjiayuan; Ming Dynasty kitchen knives are sold by the kilogram! Five thousand is a very high offer."

Hearing this, I sneered inwardly. A high offer? You’re a "tomb rat"—would you not try to make a profit from it? There is a saying in the antique trade: "The buyer is the harshest critic." The more this fraud Duan disparaged the treasure, the more it proved how valuable it truly was. I, Mr. Tian, knew a thing or two about "tomb rats" like Master Duan.