Soon they arrived at the entrance of a household. A woman in the yard was busy laying out kelp to dry. Beside her stood several bamboo drying racks covered with kelp, and on the ground were large, freshly washed bluestone slabs. At her feet were several rolled-up sheets of dried kelp.
He Chao called out directly to the busy woman: “Aunt Hong San!”
Then, turning to Xie Yushu: “This is Aunt Hong San—she’s the best at drying kelp around here.”
Hong Hao, also known as Aunt Hong San, had spotted the two heading toward her house earlier. She’d been a little puzzled—what was He Chao doing with a stranger so closely? They didn’t seem to stand on ceremony. She set down the kelp she was about to hang up and asked, “Something I can help you with, Chao-ge’er?”
“I’ve brought you a customer—this is Miss Xie,” He Chao said.
Xie Yushu stepped in: “Aunt Hong San, I’d like to take a look at your kelp.”
Hong Hao gave Xie Yushu a longer once-over. This woman was clearly not from Qianwan. It was unusual for someone from outside the village to come specifically to see her kelp.
Kelp was known to be cheap. Even if she dried it well, it wouldn’t sell for much. Medicinal buyers paid a bit more, but still far less than other seafood products.
Jiangzhou was by the sea—most people ate fresh kelp. Apart from pharmacies, hardly anyone bought dried kelp.
This woman knew what she was looking at.
Hong Hao kept a straight face, but inwardly she felt a flicker of pride. No matter what others said, she took pride in her craft.
She picked up the stack of dried kelp at her feet and showed it to Xie Yushu. “Here’s some—I’ve got more inside. Take a look.”
Xie Yushu ran her fingers over the dried kelp. Her first impression was dry and crisp.
The kelp had a fine, even layer of white powder on the surface, easily brushed off with a light touch. That was the mannitol and salt that had crystallized during drying.
Mannitol was a beneficial nutrient for the body.
Her fingertips traced the dried ridges and grooves on the surface—the wrinkled texture left behind by the drying process.
She brought the kelp to her nose and sniffed gently. The aroma was acceptable—a salty, briny seaweed smell mixed with a hint of salt. But it lacked depth.
Xie Yushu broke off a small piece from the edge. The kelp snapped cleanly with a crisp sound—it was dried too hard, affecting the texture when eaten.
Dried kelp should be moderately crisp—neither too hard nor too soft. Hong Hao’s was overly brittle, meaning it was too dry.
After a thorough assessment, her overall verdict was: acceptable, but not up to her standards.
She wasn’t being picky for the sake of it. Hong Hao’s kelp was already better than any dried kelp at the ferry—arguably the best drying technique of this era.
But in Xie Yushu’s eyes, there was still plenty of room for improvement. After all, she came from an age with advanced drying and dehydration techniques. This just wasn’t enough.
Xie Yushu asked Hong Hao: “Auntie, what price do you get for your dried kelp?”
“Ten wen.”
Xie Yushu shook her head. “Too low.”
Hong Hao knew it was low, but she had no choice. Ten wen per jin was the best offer she could get.
After selling to the traders who bought kelp, those traders would sell it at a much higher price to upscale restaurants and pharmacies. Rural folks like them had no direct access to those buyers—they had to go through middlemen just to scrape by.
After leaving the Hong household, the two headed to the next one. On the way, He Chao asked curiously, “Miss, what did you think of Aunt Hong San’s dried kelp?”
“It’s alright.”
He Chao was baffled—just “alright”? Shouldn’t it be excellent?
They visited two more households to inspect their kelp. Xie Yushu’s assessment remained the same as Hong Hao’s.
“Alright, but not quite up to my standards.”
These two were even slightly worse than Aunt Hong San’s.
After leaving the third household, He Chao looked at Xie Yushu differently.
He’d seen the way she handled the kelp—experienced, knowledgeable. Miss Xie clearly knew her stuff.
He Chao had assumed she was comparing prices to buy dried kelp. But she hadn’t bought a thing.
So what did she want?
At Xie Yushu’s request, He Chao took her to the nearby shallows and reefs for a look around before they headed back.
On the return trip, they took a shortcut along a village path. Suddenly, a large house—well above the average building size in Qianwan—appeared before Xie Yushu.
She stopped in front of the overgrown, ivy-covered structure, peering in with curiosity, and turned to He Chao: “Is this house empty?”
He Chao explained that the house had once been a fish processing facility owned by a wealthy household from the county. They’d sent a steward and a few servants to run it.
But after less than two years in operation, the people from the fish facility had suddenly left about a year ago, taking the servants and all the valuables with them—leaving behind only this large compound.
Since the former business dealt in fish—and on a large scale—the house and yard were far larger than the average person’s home. In Qianwan Village, it looked like a minor manor.
With no one to tend to it, it had fallen into this overgrown, desolate state, as if abandoned for years.
Today’s trip to Qianwan with He Chao had been fruitful. Xie Yushu now had a much clearer idea about entering this business.
Before leaving, she asked He Chao, “You’ve been running your stall at the ferry all this time?”
“Yes,” He Chao immediately caught her meaning, flashing his white teeth with confidence, “If you ever need anything else, Miss, just come find me.”
Xie Yushu gave him a polite smile and carried the bucket of small fish—which she’d hauled all the way—back to the village.
Her palms, after carrying the bucket for so long, were thoroughly saturated with the fishy smell from the handle. The first thing she did when she got home was scrub her hands repeatedly with her hand cream, until both sides were rubbed red.
After sniffing the faint, clean scent on her hands, she finally relaxed. She went to her room, took out paper and brush, and wrote a few pages of a business plan for dried kelp.
She’d never written anything like this before, so she jotted down ideas as they came.
When she finished a few lines, she couldn’t help but be surprised.
The original owner’s handwriting was truly excellent—forceful strokes, the ink pressing deep into the paper. Even a few simple words looked like a calligraphy masterpiece.
She’d outlined several major categories: raw materials, production, storage, staff, and sales.
Right now, she had only thirteen guan in usable cash. To start a kelp business, she couldn’t just buy from coastal villagers—she’d need her own production and processing base.
She couldn’t even afford the base alone right now.
How big a space would she need? How many workers? She had no idea.
Starting a business from scratch was really tough.
She set the plan aside for now, waiting for the ink to dry before tucking it under her pillow.
Hungry, she went to the kitchen and stared at the bucket of small fish with a frown. She had no idea how to handle them.
The original owner couldn’t clean fish, and neither could she. In her previous life, fish and seafood were handled by the household helper—or she’d buy them already cleaned at the market.
Then it struck her. Fish and bucket in hand, she headed diagonally across to the neighbor’s house.
Su Chi had closed up early today and was home even before her. He was in the yard, packing dried goods from the drying racks into cloth bags.
The dried radish and daylily had been sunning since those sunny days a while back. With several bright days in a row, they were completely dry—this was the perfect time to pack them away.
Su Chi was in a better mood than usual. His movements were both quick and gentle as he gathered the dried goods into the bag, then tied the opening securely.
He dusted off the bamboo trays and was about to take everything inside when he spotted Xie Yushu standing at his gate.
Xie Yushu saw that he’d noticed her and stayed put—she wouldn’t step inside without his permission.
Su Chi set down his things and went to open the gate.
She handed him the bucket of small fish, telling him to make some fish soup for his father or fry up some crispy fish to enjoy himself.
Su Chi didn’t take it. His gaze fell on the still-flopping little fish in the bucket. His mind was buzzing. He stood there with Xie Yushu, looking conflicted, the tips of his ears warming imperceptibly.
This woman… the first thing she does when she comes back is bring him something?
He’d seen her returning with the bucket earlier while sweeping the yard, but he hadn’t expected it was meant for him.
Xie Yushu kept holding out the bucket, her tone natural, as if she were simply looking out for a neighbor. Her clear, bright eyes reflected his stunned, blank expression.
She urged him again: “Take it.”
Inside, Su Chi was still wrestling with himself.
He didn’t know whether to accept or refuse. A tangled mix of feelings—awkwardness and bewilderment—swirled in his chest.
The awkwardness came from what she’d done before. The bewilderment came from the fact that she was genuinely warm-hearted. He didn’t know how to face Xie Yushu anymore.
Just as she was about to tell him to take it again, Su Chi reached out and accepted the bucket. “…Thank you.”
Suddenly, Xie Yushu remembered something. She left him with a “Wait here!” and hurried home.
Back in her kitchen, she grabbed the jar of soybean oil and returned to Su Chi’s place.
No wonder he’d hesitated—she’d been thoughtless. It dawned on her now.
Soybean oil was expensive in the village; not every household could afford it. Su Chi probably didn’t have any, so asking him to fry the fish had been unfair.
She mentally kicked herself for being so careless.
“Here, take this too. Just return it when you’re done.” She handed it over generously and walked away lightheartedly.
Left with both hands full, Su Chi stood dumbfounded at the gate.
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