At the village chief’s house, during dinner, her husband spoke up: “Why did both the Meng and Huang families come to see us today? Was something going on?”
Su Quan took a bite of rice and replied, “They were asking about Miss Xie.”
Just mentioning it made Su Quan uncomfortable.
Miss Xie was such a good child—so appreciative. She’d merely given her some rice and flour that didn’t cost much, and Xie Yushu had gone and spent money on expensive pastries to thank her.
Though the Meng and Huang families hadn’t said it outright, anyone with eyes could see what they were after.
They wanted Xie Yushu to marry into their families as a live-in wife for their sons.
If you asked Su Quan, their sons weren’t good enough for Xie Yushu—and they wanted her to marry in, of all things?
Xie Yushu, the object of all this scheming, couldn’t care less what others were thinking. She was busy eating her first proper meal of rice since arriving here.
She’d steamed a big bowl of fragrant rice and stir-fried a plate of cabbage with pork cracklings.
The cracklings were what remained after rendering the lard—about half a bowl’s worth. Money was tight, so she couldn’t waste a thing—everything had to be put to good use.
The cabbage was from the village chief’s house—a large, solid head that she estimated weighed five or six jin. She couldn’t eat it all in one meal, so she cut half and saved the rest for later.
After washing the cabbage, she separated the stems from the leaves and cut both into thin, long strips, setting them aside. She also sliced some garlic, dried chili peppers, and scallion whites.
Xie Yushu threw some firewood into the stove. Once the pot was hot, she added a small piece of solidified white lard. With a sizzle, the paste melted into a pale golden oil.
She moved the spatula around a few times, then tossed in half a bowl of small cracklings, stir-frying them quickly until they turned crispy again and released a rich, porky aroma. Then she added the garlic slices, dried chili segments, and scallion whites, stir-frying until fragrant.
Instantly, the kitchen was filled with an irresistible, mouthwatering smell.
Next, she added the tougher cabbage stems and stir-fried until they turned slightly translucent, then threw in the leaves.
Once every leaf and stem was glossy with oil and had softened to release its juices, she poured in a spoonful of light soy sauce, sprinkled in salt and a touch of sugar, and continued stir-frying. Just before taking it off the heat, she drizzled a circle of vinegar around the edge of the pot—the acidity instantly released a burst of aroma. In no time, the glossy, glistening plate of stir-fried cabbage with pork cracklings was ready to be plated.
Meanwhile, the steamer had finished cooking the rice. Each grain was distinct and fragrant.
Xie Yushu cracked an egg, whisked it, and quickly made a bowl of scallion egg drop soup, seasoned simply with vinegar and salt. Then she carried everything to the main hall and sat down to eat.
This meal was plain and unpretentious—perhaps the simplest she’d ever had—but her mindset was completely different now. She felt deeply satisfied. Food cooked with her own hands, no matter how humble, tasted wonderful. From now on, she would cherish every meal.
The pork cracklings had been fried until golden and crispy, bursting with rich, fatty flavor in every bite. Paired with the sweet, tender cabbage leaves and the crisp stems with their earthy bite, the glossy, savory sauce spooned over the rice, and the egg drop soup on the side—Xie Yushu couldn’t stop eating, one mouthful after another.
She’d always had a good appetite in her previous life, and here it was even better. She ate a lot and got hungry fast. In just a few bites, she’d already polished off most of the bowl.
The Zhai family’s rundown little house sat at the end of the village, near the back mountain. Anyone going up or down the mountain had to pass by her front door.
Around this hour, villagers who’d been gathering firewood or cutting grass on the mountain were making their way home. Several of them, passing by Xie Yushu’s house, suddenly stopped in their tracks.
The villagers had enough to eat, but their meals were plain, with little meat or oil. It was rare to smell such fragrant cooking. The tantalizing aroma drifted through the air in wisps, making everyone crane their necks and sniff around.
“What a delicious smell,” one person said, drawn in by the fragrance.
“It must be Chi-ge’er cooking—his cooking skills are unmatched,” another remarked enviously.
Everyone in the village knew that Su Chi made great buns and cooked well, and since his house was nearby, they naturally assumed it was his cooking.
But the other woman followed the scent and pinpointed the source, shaking her head. “No, it’s not Chi-ge’er—it’s the house diagonally across from his.”
The first woman was shocked. “That’s the new Zhai family daughter! How unusual—a woman who can cook, and so well at that.”
“Let’s go—I’m starving. My husband’s waiting for me at home.”
As they left, they took one last deep sniff of the aroma, as if memorizing it to savor with their own meals later.
Xie Yushu finished her meal, full and content, and took her bowls and plate to wash. She found that the plant ash didn’t work well on grease—it left her hands dirty again.
She made a mental note: next time she went to that toiletries shop in town, she’d buy a couple of dish soap bars. Those cleaned much better.
Farming families rarely used such expensive items—their meals had little oil, so a quick rinse was usually enough.
After washing up, she remembered the river snails the village chief had given her, still soaking in the bucket to expel sand and mud. She took the opportunity to change the water. Changing it regularly would keep them alive for a few more days, so there was no rush to cook them—she’d let them sit longer to spit out all the grit.
Once everything was tidied up, Xie Yushu heated some water. With her new bath beans, she was ready to have a proper, clean wash.
After taking off her outer robe, she realized there was no place to bathe in the house. She ended up having to wash herself awkwardly in the kitchen.
This only strengthened her resolve to buy a house in town. Townhouses had more rooms—she could set one aside as a bathhouse.
The bath beans had a pleasant natural fragrance. After washing, Xie Yushu felt completely refreshed. In the yard, under the moonlight, she used a dried cloth to pat dry her long, dripping hair.
The moon was bright tonight, with scattered stars around it. Xie Yushu enjoyed the rare moment of moonlight and tranquility. Then she caught sight of the house diagonally across from hers—the bun stall owner—busy at work in his yard.
Wang Wen had drunk a bowl of rich, milky fish soup with a small bowl of rice that evening and had already gone to sleep. Su Chi was in the yard preparing the flour for tomorrow’s dough.
Fine flour at the town grain shop cost twenty-eight wen per dou, while coarse flour was only ten wen. Su Chi bought coarse flour and sifted it himself. Though it took extra time, it saved him a significant amount of money in the long run.
Sifting coarse flour through a bamboo sieve five or six times produced fine powder, while the leftover bran could be fed to the chickens. One jin of coarse flour yielded about 70% fine flour and 30% bran.
Su Chi used the bran from the sifted coarse flour to feed his chickens—saving money on fine flour and providing feed for the poultry at the same time.
After sifting the flour, Su Chi continued preparing the fillings for tomorrow’s stall.
The red beans needed to soak in water overnight, and he’d get up early the next morning to cook them. The pork was minced in advance and stored in a cool, low-temperature spot. The vegetables were washed and chopped ahead of time, placed in a wooden basin with a lid—this would speed up the filling preparation the next day.
Xie Yushu watched Su Chi, who spun like a top without stopping, and was utterly amazed.
This guy was too diligent. Just watching him work made her tired.
She dried her hair and turned to go inside. Just as she closed the door, Su Chi glanced in her direction.
He’d been focused on his work and had known all along that she was watching him. He could clearly feel her gaze cutting through the night’s darkness, settling on him like a shadow he couldn’t shake off.
The woman’s eyes were bright, her pupils like two flickering sparks in the ink-black night, and her gaze was fixed on him—unblinking.
His hands were busy, but that sticky, lingering gaze locked onto the back of his hands—bold, unabashed, and scorching. The more he tried to ignore it, the more prone he was to mistakes; he’d nearly poured the red beans out like wastewater just now.
At this moment, only one thought churned in his mind:
He was almost certain—just like the touch on his palm when she’d paid—this woman had done it on purpose.
She was indeed frivolous and forward. What woman stared at a young man like that, especially at night?
Back in his room, Su Chi’s face felt warm. Annoyed, he decided to keep his distance from this woman from now on.
—
Xie Yushu woke up early the next day. She went through a simple washing routine—the coarse bristle brush was uncomfortable to use, so she had to be gentler. The tooth powder, however, was refreshingly fragrant, and she got used to it quickly.
She then steamed two sweet potatoes for breakfast. While eating, she mulled over how to patch the roof.
Though the weather had been hot these past few days—the midday sun nearly melting people—it was now summer, the rainiest season. A downpour could come at any time, sudden and torrential.
After breakfast, Xie Yushu went to the nearby back mountain to gather dried grass, straw, and other thatching materials. She spread them out in the yard, smoothed and straightened them, then bundled them into thick, neat rows. She also swallowed her pride and borrowed a wooden ladder from a neighbor to climb up onto the roof.
She layered the thatch over the broken hole in the roof, crisscrossing the rows. But after finishing, she felt it wasn’t sturdy enough—without the original gray roof tiles, it lacked durability. So she climbed back down, went to the mountain to find a flat, large stone, and placed it on top of the thatch for extra weight.
The result was crude and not particularly pretty, but no one would be looking down at her shabby little house from above. She let that minor flaw slide.
Once done, she climbed down and dusted off her hands. At least it shouldn’t leak now. This would do for the time being—once she had money to spare, she’d redo it properly with gray tiles.
Just the thought of money deflated her spirits.
She wasn’t in a hurry about the ferry matter—after all, she’d already gotten her wages back. Her only regret was whether she’d ever get the gambling money back.
That was a full forty guan—enough for a house in town.
Just thinking about it made her heart ache so much she couldn’t speak.
After all that work, Xie Yushu figured it was still early and thought about going back to catch a little more sleep. But just then, a bright voice called out from outside the yard:
“Miss Xie, busy at work?”
A smiling woman pushed open her wooden gate and sized her up with undisguised admiration.
What a fine-looking woman—not just in the village, but even in town you’d be hard-pressed to find such a handsome face. No wonder one after another had come to her for matchmaking—truly good taste.
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