Rising Phoenix Pavilion

As soon as the fifteen-day Spring Festival holiday ended, Luan Yi, Guo Jia, Shan Fu, Xi Zhicai, and Mao Jie had to pull themselves away from their busy tasks and attend classes at the academy punctually. After their afternoon lessons, they would return to the tavern in Fengqi Town to oversee the craftsmen working on the interior, perfecting the decorative details, while also completing the coursework assigned by Master Cen. Every day, they worked late into the night.

The consequences of these late nights were obvious. In class, all five of them yawned incessantly, fighting off sleep. Master Cen scolded them repeatedly, but whenever he questioned them about the day’s lessons, they always responded flawlessly, leaving him baffled. He couldn’t help but wonder if his disciples were somehow absorbing the lectures even while asleep.

In truth, he was unaware that Luan Yi had anticipated this situation and devised a plan. Each day, three would stay up late working, while two went to bed early and rose refreshed, attentively absorbing the knowledge imparted in class. After lessons, they would relay what they learned to the others while working at the tavern. The five took turns, rotating continuously, so Master Cen’s questions never caught them off guard. Over time, Master Cen began to believe they were simply too diligent, sacrificing sleep for their studies, and stopped reprimanding them, often reminding them instead to take care of their health and not study too late.

Time flew amidst their busyness. In the blink of an eye, two months passed, and the main part of the tavern’s renovations was complete, with only the decorative carvings left to finish. While the craftsmen hurried about, Luan Yi and his friends focused on the finer details, leaving no aspect unattended—from courtyard landscaping to the construction of latrines, striving for perfection in everything. Luan Yi often brought innovations from later eras into the Eastern Han. Take the latrines, for example: the Eastern Han had no toilets, only pits, which were uncomfortable. So Luan Yi introduced a wooden toilet—a small chair with an oval hole in the center, designed for comfort, and a bucket beneath to collect... well, the necessary.

At the same time, Luan Yi shifted focus to furniture manufacturing. Earlier, Xi Zhicai had rented a house in Fengqi Town to set up a woodworking workshop, and Guo Jia had recruited five skilled carpenters. Luan Yi named the workshop “Yi Woodworks.”

With personnel and facilities ready, the workshop began production.

It must be admitted, the five craftsmen recruited by Guo Jia were exceptionally skilled. Combined with Mao Jie’s exquisite designs, the resulting furniture was stunning, even more beautiful than the machine-made carved pieces of future generations, imbued with a rustic elegance.

The only flaw was the slow pace—each craftsman took over three days to make a chair, and two working together needed five days to produce a table. Luan Yi found this unacceptable and spent a sleepless night pondering ways to improve their efficiency. At dawn, he roused the workers and shared his solution.

The answer was simple—an assembly line.

As is well known, the degree of division of labor is a benchmark for civilization’s progress; the more specialized the division, the more advanced the society. Following this principle, Luan Yi instructed the craftsmen to break down the production: one would handle chair backs, another seat boards, another the legs, another the carvings, and the last would assemble everything. Each person became more skilled and faster with repetition.

To avoid laziness, Luan Yi also devised an incentive system. Besides basic wages, he promised bonuses based on the number of parts produced—more work, more pay; less work, less pay; no work, no pay.

The craftsmen’s eyes lit up at the prospect of extra earnings, and their efforts intensified. With the assembly line in place, the production rate of tables and chairs doubled.

Luan Yi saw nothing amiss with this result, but Guo Jia, Shan Fu, Xi Zhicai, and Mao Jie were deeply impressed, privately marveling at Yi’s genius—a single idea that could double productivity. Imagining such efficiency applied to weapon manufacturing, Mao Jie began to realize that business was as complex as governance.

Throughout these days, Luan Yi kept Guo Jia and the others busy. Mao Jie, skilled in painting and calligraphy, was given a pile of silk to create three paintings daily, no less. Mao Jie soon found himself exhausted and sore.

Luan Yi selected the best works for mounting, fitted them with scrolls, and hung them in elegant rooms.

Meanwhile, Guo Jia had recruited all the servants and managers. Luan Yi tasked Guo Jia and Shan Fu with training them.

He taught Guo Jia and Shan Fu the service methods used in modern hotels—how to walk, where to place dishes, how to greet guests, and so on. They learned and passed the knowledge on to the staff.

Unbeknownst to Guo Jia and Shan Fu, their training would later earn them the title of “patron saints” of the restaurant service industry, honored with annual rituals a century later. But that is another story.

The first training session was conducted personally by Luan Yi. He introduced the tavern to the new servants, explaining that the establishment offered not just food, but a warm, welcoming service. He defined service as treating guests like one’s own parents. He assured them, “Don’t worry, your service won’t go unrewarded. For every table you serve, you’ll receive one-tenth of the payment as a bonus, in addition to your basic wage. The manager will also reward you with another tenth, and the kitchen likewise.”

The servants’ eyes shone. A table’s bill was no small sum; with this system, their income would far surpass that of farming.

At the end of training, Luan Yi promised even more: the Luan family’s enterprises were vast, and those who excelled and demonstrated integrity could be recommended to manage other businesses, raising their income further.

The servants were overjoyed, grinning ear to ear for days, savoring their good fortune, and gradually realizing their seven-year-old master was extraordinary, teaching them things unheard of, surrounded by remarkable companions.

While Shan Fu and Guo Jia trained the servants, Luan Yi turned to the chef.

The chef had been recruited at great cost from a recently closed restaurant in Yangzhai by Guo Jia. After a brief conversation, Luan Yi saw the chef was quiet and honest—the ideal candidate. He had the chef prepare several dishes, and was impressed by their flavor, puzzled that such skill had not saved the previous establishment.

Regardless, Luan Yi had found a treasure. After school, his new task became training the chef.

In truth, Luan Yi couldn’t cook and had no real training to offer, but he had experienced many 21st-century restaurants and still remembered the flavors of modern Chinese cuisine.

Among countless later Chinese culinary styles, Luan Yi chose Shandong cuisine as the tavern’s foundation. As the oldest Chinese culinary tradition, originating from the Qi royal palace and refined by the Confucian family banquets, it suited the tastes of the era. Sichuan cuisine tempted him, but chili peppers, native to South America, would not reach China until the Ming dynasty; without them, Sichuan cuisine lost half its charm.

Drawing on his memory, Luan Yi described dishes such as Kung Pao Chicken, stir-fried kidneys, creamy reed soup, crispy pork, and sweet-and-sour carp, detailing their appearance and flavor for Chef Zhao to replicate. To his surprise, Zhao’s experience allowed him to recreate these dishes convincingly after a few tries. Though not as authentic as those of the future, they surpassed most offerings of the Eastern Han. Thus, the tavern gained its signature dishes.

With signature dishes in place, the tavern needed a name. It had to be grand and elegant. After much deliberation—“Come Again,” “Gathering of Talents,” “Delicacies Hall”—none satisfied them. Finally, they named it after the town: “Fengqi Pavilion.”

On June 15th, 175 AD, in the fourth year of Xiping of the Eastern Han, under a round moon, the renovation of Fengqi Pavilion was completed. Luan Yi, Guo Jia, Shan Fu, Xi Zhicai, and Mao Jie stood in the courtyard, admiring the result of three months’ labor, faces glowing with pride. Each had poured their efforts into the luxurious tavern; every corner bore traces of their sweat.

To celebrate, Luan Yi had Chef Zhao prepare a feast, rewarding his hardworking brothers and staff. The group ate and drank with gusto, lively and cheerful.

“Yi, do you think Fengqi Pavilion will be successful? What if no guests come?” As opening day approached, Guo Jia grew anxious, and Shan Fu, Xi Zhicai, and Mao Jie shared his unease, all watching Luan Yi intently.

Luan Yi smiled and replied, “With such a fine establishment, who wouldn’t come? Even if guests are few, I have ways to make it thrive. Success is in our hands!”

Hearing this, Guo Jia’s doubts vanished, confidence restored. He declared, “If Yi says it will succeed, then it certainly will.” The others, too, regained their optimism, smiles breaking across their faces.