She had been walking all morning, carrying a bamboo basket full of goods on her back, and was already famished. Just then, she spotted a steaming bun stall set up in front of a medicine shop.
The aroma of meat buns—the fragrance of dough wrapped around savory filling—wafted straight toward her nose, mingled with the sweet, sticky scent of red bean paste buns. It instantly stirred her appetite, and her feet unconsciously drifted toward the stall.
As she drew closer, she saw that the stall owner was an unmarried young man—he hadn’t tied his hair in the married man’s bun, simply pulling it back to keep it from falling into the food.
When Xie Yushu got a clear look at him through the swirling steam, she was momentarily dazed. He was somewhat different from other men.
Most men in this world were shorter and slighter than women, but this young man was taller than average—lean, like a tall, upright green bamboo. His expression was cool and detached, yet his brows and eyes were remarkably clean, giving off an indescribably pleasant impression.
Amidst the bustling, noisy street, he neither hawked nor called out to customers. He simply stood quietly, focused on the kneading board before him.
His fingers moved swiftly, and in an instant, he had shaped round, plump buns with beautifully pleated folds—evenly spaced, fine, and spiraling outward like flower petals. They were almost too pretty to eat.
Xie Yushu was a bit mesmerized watching his bun-making technique, and only snapped out of it when he spoke softly.
“Would you like to buy some buns, miss?” Su Chi asked gently.
“What fillings do you have?” Xie Yushu was ravenous.
“Vegetarian buns are two wen each—spicy tofu and shredded cabbage. Meat buns are three wen—pork and onion. And there are sweet red bean paste buns, also two wen.”
“One of each vegetarian, two pork and onion, and one red bean bun,” Xie Yushu ordered quickly.
Su Chi promptly picked out the buns she wanted from the steamer, wrapped them in oil paper, and handed them over. “That’ll be twelve wen total.”
Xie Yushu counted out the copper coins and gave them to him, taking the warm buns before turning to leave.
Su Chi reached out to take the coins, but unexpectedly brushed against her fingertips—warm with heat. She placed the coins into his palm, and as she withdrew her hand, her fingertip grazed his palm again.
By the time he snapped out of it, the tall, straight-backed woman had already disappeared with her basket on her back.
Making a sale should have been pleasant, but Su Chi’s face stiffened, cracking his usual cool composure.
He blinked in disbelief. The tips of his ears flushed an uncontrollable shade of embarrassed red, then were swiftly suppressed by a stronger sense of offense. He clenched the coins tightly, unable to believe that this woman had done such a thing to him in broad daylight.
So forward—touching a man’s hand like that.
Only when other customers came to buy buns did Su Chi snap back to reality and attend to them.
Xie Yushu reached the town entrance just in time to catch an ox-cart heading back to the village. As usual, she paid one wen, pulled out her linen cloth from her pocket, and sat down on it.
She placed her bamboo basket at her feet, now stuffed to the brim. Reaching in, she took out the oil-paper bundle from the top. The weather was warm, and the buns were still piping hot. She unwrapped it and took a bite of the spicy tofu bun first.
The spicy tofu bun was the most recognizable—its red oil seeped through the skin, looking incredibly appetizing. Even at the pinched closure, glossy chili oil glistened. The dough was soft, fluffy, and pale white, easy to bite into.
With one bite, Xie Yushu broke through the skin. She first tasted the faint sweetness of the dough, then the spicy, robust flavor flooded her mouth. The tofu cubes and finely chopped vermicelli had absorbed the chili oil’s richness—salty, spicy, and full of flavor with every bite.
The filling was made from chili powder drizzled with hot oil.
The tofu was firm, with a satisfying spicy bite and a lingering bean fragrance. The translucent vermicelli was smooth, chewy, and well-seasoned. The spiciness was just right—the chili oil perfectly melded the two ingredients while elevating their flavors. Xie Yushu couldn’t stop, bite after bite.
In her previous life, she’d had a complex palate—she loved spicy, sour, and sweet alike. She was very pleased with this flavor—it tasted almost exactly like the spicy tofu buns from her former world.
After devouring a few big bites, she suddenly realized—chili peppers were already being cultivated in this era.
This dynasty had frequent exchanges with foreign lands, bringing in many seeds: chili peppers, bell peppers, carrots, and even pepper. Thanks to the agricultural ministry’s vigorous promotion, cultivation had expanded enough to meet the common people’s needs.
These ingredients were now available everywhere. There were even mills grinding chili powder and pepper powder for sale. However, pepper production was still low and remained too expensive for farming households—only better-off town families could afford it for soups and dishes.
Chili wasn’t mainstream in Jiangzhou, but plenty of people ate it—the population was roughly split between those who liked spicy food and those who didn’t. In the southwestern and central prefectures, however, it was especially beloved; almost everyone enjoyed it.
But there were no tomatoes or potatoes, which meant she couldn’t make many more delicious dishes. Xie Yushu felt a pang of regret.
As she happily ate her spicy bun, a familiar warmth spread through her—the comfort of food she knew and loved.
The people on the cart, drawn by the enticing aroma, couldn’t help but glance her way.
They had finished selling at the town market and were now heading home for lunch, stomachs long empty. The strong, mouthwatering smell made them all secretly swallow.
“Smells amazing,” muttered the first person, sniffing.
The person across from him chimed in, “That’s Chi-ge’er’s buns. I’d recognize that smell anywhere. His buns are especially fragrant—just a bit pricey, a wen more than other stalls.”
Who was Chi-ge’er? Xie Yushu didn’t know and didn’t care to find out. She pretended not to hear and kept eating.
The first speaker’s eyes were glued to the spicy tofu bun in Xie Yushu’s hand. “Look at that filling—it’s practically bursting through the skin. There’s a reason it costs more. It smells amazing…” He couldn’t help swallowing.
Xie Yushu, catching his remark, said, “It’s fragrant, delicious, and packed with filling. Pretty good value, actually.”
She didn’t think it was expensive at all. The filling was generous, and the bun skin was large too—though with her appetite, a few bites and it was gone. She genuinely wondered if the stall owner wasn’t losing money on these.
One of the men on the cart, who looked rather tight-fisted, let out a snide snort. “A whole block of tofu costs only five wen—enough to feed a family of five a proper meal. We farming folk can’t afford to spend two wen on a single tofu bun. It’s not even filling. People who aren’t married just don’t know how to manage a household.”
He said the last part especially quietly, but Xie Yushu had sharp ears. She finished the last bite of her tofu bun and looked at him. “Are you talking about me?”
The man hadn’t expected her to call him out directly. He waved his hand awkwardly and fell silent.
Xie Yushu couldn’t be bothered with their sour grapes. She’d eat what she wanted—what business was it of theirs?
She moved on to the pork bun, and the meaty aroma was even more mouthwatering—the rich, tantalizing scent drilled straight into their noses. A chorus of swallowing sounds echoed across the cart.
The pork and onion bun was truly fragrant. The pork, minced with two parts fat and eight parts lean, was coated in a dark, savory sauce and formed into a tight, meaty ball. Each bite was packed with meaty richness and piping hot, savory juices.
The stall owner had handled the filling well—there wasn’t a trace of porky gaminess. The onions were likely red-head scallions from his own garden, chopped into tiny rounds and mixed into the minced meat—incredibly fragrant.
She regretted not buying more. These buns were right up her alley.
She still had the shredded cabbage bun and the red bean bun to try, though she figured they’d be good too.
Arriving at the village entrance, Xie Yushu walked home, pushed open the two wooden gates, and set down her loads in the kitchen. She was about to wash her hands with the new hand cream when she heard the gate creak open again.
She came out to find Su Quan carrying another bundle.
“Village Chief, I was just about to look for you,” Xie Yushu said, pleased to see her—it saved her the trip.
Su Quan was equally cheerful. “Miss Xie, you’re back! I didn’t see you all morning—went to town?”
“Yes, I bought a few household things and brought you something too.” Xie Yushu went back to the kitchen and returned with the box of pastries, handing it to Su Quan.
Seeing it was that expensive pastry shop’s goods, Su Quan quickly pushed it back. “Oh my, these are pricey—you should keep them for yourself, miss.”
Xie Yushu firmly pressed the box into Su Quan’s arms. “It’s fine—I bought them just for you.”
Unable to refuse, Su Quan accepted with a blush of embarrassment, then lifted the wooden pail she was carrying. “My granddaughter went frolicking in the river and caught some river snails—I brought you some.”
“How kind of you,” Xie Yushu said, then quickly added, “Well, I’ll take them, then.”
Su Quan appreciated her straightforward, unpretentious nature.
“Village Chief, do you have any vegetables for sale? I’d like to buy some,” Xie Yushu remembered her errand.
Su Quan was surprised—she’d given Xie Yushu easy-to-cook things at first, worried she wasn’t used to cooking. “You can cook, miss?”
Xie Yushu smiled. “A little—enough to get by.”
“Alright, come with me,” Su Quan nodded.
Xie Yushu poured the river snails into her own bucket, slung the empty bamboo basket back onto her shoulders, and followed Su Quan to her house to pick out produce.
The village chief’s house was much larger than hers, with more people, more land outside, and a yard full of vegetables.
In the end, Xie Yushu picked a handful of long beans, two eggplants, a few green peppers, a large head of cabbage, a bunch of sweet potato leaves, and asked for some scallions, ginger, garlic, and Sichuan peppercorns. The basket was soon filled to the brim.
She roughly calculated the total and handed Su Quan thirty copper coins.
Seeing so much money, Su Quan grew flustered. “These are all from my own yard—they’re not worth much! You’ve overpaid.”
Xie Yushu insisted. “Nonsense—this is what vegetables cost in town. Take it, Village Chief.”
Su Quan tried to talk sense into her. “You’re living on your own—don’t spend recklessly. You’ll need money for many things in the future, and eventually, you’ll want to marry a husband. You should save up.”
“That’s a long way off,” Xie Yushu laughed.
Su Quan remembered something and asked quietly, “Miss, I heard you still owed money to the gambling house—have you paid it off?”
“It’s all settled. I’m debt-free now. Just take the money.”
Relieved, Su Quan let out a breath. “That’s good to hear.”
They went back and forth, with Su Quan refusing to take more than she should. In the end, Xie Yushu gave in and paid twenty wen instead, then carried her full basket back home.
On the way, she bought a basket of eggs—about a dozen—from a household raising poultry, paying thirty wen.
Near her house, she spotted a neighbor drying chili peppers. She swallowed her pride, went in, and asked if they’d sell her some.
The husband working there was an easygoing sort, and he gave her a generous handful of fresh peppers and dried ones, charging her only eight wen.
Back on the cart, Xie Yushu had only eaten two buns—barely half-full. Once home, she finished off the shredded cabbage bun and the meat bun. The cabbage bun tasted just as she’d expected—delicious.
The cabbage was cut into fine, bright green shreds, well-seasoned, with a generous filling—crisp, tender, and refreshing. The clean fragrance of the vegetable mingled with the wheat aroma of the dough. Though it had no meat, it was light and satisfying.
After four big buns, Xie Yushu was full. She saved the red bean bun as an afternoon snack.
Now it was time to get to work. After she finished her chores, she’d take a good inventory of everything she had.
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