Chapter 17: Record of Kindness and Hatred

Lei Ren this old fellow was the classic type who “waited for profit before acting,” a truly black-hearted customer, his behavior at the highway service station completely exposed. Anyone who could impress him had to be something of real value, genuinely worthwhile.

That was why I was furious with Zhao Haikun. “This old man really isn’t a good sort—have to watch out for him trying to claim the family heirloom treasure blade.”

To my surprise, Zhao Haikun seemed utterly indifferent to the blade. He waved his hand dismissively and said, “Where is there even a treasure blade? If he had no past with my father, even giving him the broken knife would be fine… letting someone like that step through the Zhao family gate would be far too good for him.”

From my uncle Zhao Haikun’s words I heard not only anger and resentment but also a reluctant, aggrieved complaint. If he had not been so worried about his younger brother’s death and had not wanted to use Lei Ren’s food curse to ease the knot in his heart, he would long ago have driven the Lei clan uncle and nephew from the house.

Curiosity stirred in me again, and I asked why the Zhao family and Lei Ren harbored such deep enmity. I had always been puzzled, for earlier Lei Ren himself had spoken of how Zhao’s ancestor had once saved his father Lei Abniu’s life. The Zhao family were Lei’s benefactors; how could the debt of gratitude turn into hatred after only one generation? What had happened in between?

“Ah!” Zhao Haikun sighed deeply and did not try to hide the story from me. He began slowly. “The tale must go back before Liberation, before your Lei Ren’s father, Lei Abniu…”

Soon Zhao Haikun had laid out for me the entire tangle of gratitude and resentment between the Zhao and Lei families.

Lei Abniu had been saved from the Yellow River’s glutinous-rice boat by Zhao Qingfeng and was profoundly grateful. He repeatedly tried to become a disciple of the “Zhao Chef Hero.” Yet Zhao Qingfeng was conservative by nature. The Zhao family had ancestral precepts forbidding outsiders to be taken as disciples, and he refused even the modest request to become a servant. Still, Zhao Qingfeng was a man of honor. After saving Lei Abniu, he arranged his livelihood by writing a letter of introduction to the Guangzhou Guild Hall in Jinan and, later, by guiding him into the Five Ridge Temple sect of Cantonese cuisine. Thus Lei Abniu embarked on the straight path of a family chef.

But Lei Abniu’s story had only just begun. Born a seafarer, he had left the sea before sixteen, carrying an unquiet spirit. Once his skills matured, he did not remain humbly in the Guangzhou Guild Hall. He left to seek greater fortunes.

In the Republic of China era, a chef’s path lay in four directions—red, white, black, and yin. The red path meant joining the army and serving private kitchens for warlords and officials, earning well but with great risk. The white path was the traditional route of restaurant work, serving ordinary folk and earning far less. Only a few twisted minds chose the black or yin routes, opening illicit establishments with even higher risk. Lei Abniu chose the red path without hesitation.

He understood that while danger was great, opportunity abounded. The warlords who ruled then were all self-made speculators—rich, pleasure-loving, and fond of living in the moment. Most, like bandits, cherished the ideal of “five sons ascending to rank”: a chef, a performer, a courtesan, a carriage, and a house. To support such dependents demanded vast sums. Lei Abniu followed that logic, speculating his way into private kitchens for warlords, serving whichever faction held power and attaching himself to whoever had troops. Gradually he earned a name within the National Army.

A few years later he became the chef to a **** high-ranking general and received a military rank, living in splendor for a time. Grateful for Zhao Qingfeng’s kindness, he invited the older man south several times to take office, but Zhao refused each time.

Yet, as the saying goes, “thirty years east of the river, thirty years west”—Lei Abniu rose quickly and fell just as fast. During the civil war he followed the **** general he served into the Huaihai Campaign. On the Xuzhou-Pengcheng battlefield that general was unlucky, his head blown apart by a grenade, and the hundred thousand troops under his command collapsed with him. In the chaos of war no one cared for another’s life, much less for things beyond life itself. Lei Abniu’s entire half-life of accumulated wealth vanished in an instant, and he became a prisoner.

It was Zhao Qingfeng who pulled him back at the last moment. As prisoner soldiers were escorted by our forces and passed through Southern Shandong, Zhao Qingfeng encountered Lei Abniu among them. Their eyes met. Zhao acted swiftly, rushing forward to embrace him and cry out, “Big nephew!”

With that single word Zhao led Lei Abniu from the prisoner line, sent him away that very night at his request, and thus Lei Abniu escaped with his life. He wandered to Taiwan, married, raised children, and founded the Lei Ren branch of the family.

When Zhao Haikun reached that part of the story he sighed. “It’s a pity my grandfather’s life. During the ten-year turmoil his saving of Lei Abniu was dragged out, and it was discovered that he had once attached himself to Han Fuju. Labeled a counter-revolutionary, he was beaten naked in the snow for three days and three nights, then…”

Zhao Haikun shook his head and did not continue. He turned the conversation and brought up Lei Ren, born in Taiwan, and his misdeeds.

At the start of Reform and Opening, Lei Ren had brought his entire family to the Zhao family courtyard. In his thirties or forties, he carried his father Lei Abniu’s ashes and demanded to see Zhao Qingfeng the moment he entered the gate. He wished to repay the debt by personally visiting to thank the Zhao family for saving his life. The matter had great impact in Southern Shandong and gave the shaken Zhao family a glimmer of hope.

The person in charge of the Zhao family at that time was my old class leader’s father, Zhao Deguang. Because of his father’s counter-revolutionary taint, the old man could never raise his head in the village and was known as “Zhao San Wan”—late to marry, late to establish a career, late to have children. No one could blame him for his father.

At first the two families got along harmoniously. Zhao Qingfeng and Lei Abniu had shared life and death; Lei Ren seemed eager to make amends. The families drew closer through that bond, becoming almost like one. Lei Ren’s help also gradually improved the Zhao family’s strained finances.

When I heard that I felt no cause for alarm. Lei Ren sounded surprisingly righteous, the sort of man who might serve as abbot in my five viscera temple and still manage to argue his point.

I could not help asking, “But later… why did our master fall out with him?”

“Ah!” Zhao Haikun sighed again. “Isn’t it because my father was too honest…”

Originally, once the two families had grown close, Lei Ren proposed a suggestion to Zhao Deguang.