“Is this the place?”
“Yes, this is it—this is the Zhai family’s house. A person surnamed Xie lives here. There’s only one Xie in the village, so it can’t be wrong.”
“Thanks.”
He Chao thanked the villager who’d shown him the way, looked around, and gently knocked on the barely-closed wooden gate—careful not to knock it down.
“Miss Xie!” He Chao called out from outside the Zhai house.
Hearing a familiar voice, Xie Yushu hurried out to see who it was. Seeing He Chao, she opened the gate.
“You came? I was thinking of going to the ferry to find you this afternoon, and here you are.”
Xie Yushu didn’t ask how he’d found her home—anyone at the village entrance could point it out. She was fairly well-known in the village by now.
Though they were a man and a woman, it was broad daylight and they were talking in the yard—nothing improper, nothing to gossip about.
He Chao’s forehead was beaded with sweat—clearly, he’d walked all the way from the ferry to Qingluo Village in the heat, unwilling to spend a copper on the ox-cart.
Xie Yushu went to the kitchen and brought him a bowl of cooled boiled water she’d prepared earlier, along with a clean cloth to wipe his sweat.
He Chao accepted them politely, downed the water in big gulps, wiped his face, and felt much cooler.
“Miss, you don’t need to come find me this afternoon. I sold all three jin of dried kelp yesterday, just as you instructed.”
Xie Yushu took the empty bowl from him and asked, “How did it go?”
He Chao grinned. “Business was great!”
His face lit up with excitement. He’d initially thought that even dried kelp wouldn’t sell for much. But since Miss Xie had asked him to sell it, he’d do it.
Who knew that yesterday, just by shouting the “sales pitch” Xie Yushu had given him at his stall, a merchant had been drawn over and crouched down to inspect the goods. Running her fingers over the dried kelp, she murmured repeatedly about how well it had been dried, and asked if he had any more.
He Chao was sharp—he didn’t reveal how much stock he had. He kept his cards close and simply told the merchant that he only had what was on the stall.
The merchant didn’t hesitate. She immediately bought all three jin of dried kelp at thirty-two wen per jin.
When He Chao heard the price—over thirty wen—he was stunned at first.
Xie Yushu had set a minimum price of thirty wen per jin for this batch and told him not to sell below that.
She hadn’t pulled that number out of thin air. High-quality dried goods like these were meant for discerning customers—people who appreciated good food and had money to spare.
He Chao had been shocked at the price—who would buy kelp at that cost? But out of gratitude to her, he’d agreed.
And now, the merchant had opened with thirty-two wen—two wen above Xie Yushu’s minimum.
He Chao played it cool, not letting on that he was pleased with the price. He put on a hesitant look.
The merchant, seeing such excellent dried kelp and fearing she’d miss out, wasted no time haggling. She raised her offer by six wen, landing at a solid thirty-eight wen per jin.
He Chao had to pinch his thigh to keep from yelping. Afraid the savvy merchant would walk, he quickly agreed and wrapped up the dried kelp in oil paper for her.
Thirty-eight wen per jin—for three jin, that was one hundred and fourteen copper coins!
That was more than double what Aunt Hong San used to get at ten wen per jin!
He Chao had truly seen something new.
In hindsight, it was Miss Xie’s sales pitch that did the trick.
“Come see the freshly dried kelp—dark, dry, and firm, with thick flesh. A small piece can rehydrate into a whole basin full!”
“New drying method—preserving the original flavor.”
“Perfect for soups that’ll make your eyebrows fall off, refreshing cold salads, and delicious with wine or rice!”
He’d only shouted a few lines, and the merchant was immediately hooked.
Zhong Shangren was a merchant from an inland prefecture—a familiar face at Mapu Ferry. Her cargo ships would stop here at regular intervals. She favored the dried seafood here, and every trip to Jiangzhou, she’d fill a whole ship with dried goods to take back.
Inland prefectures had many mountains and little water, far from the sea. Fresh seafood was a rarity on ordinary tables—a huge market. She’d been in this business for years.
She also loved fresh catches, but couldn’t bring them back—the heat would spoil them quickly on the ship. Making ice was costly, and she didn’t have that kind of budget.
Dried goods like kelp, however, were light, compact, and long-lasting—stable in price and profitable to ship back.
That said, she was used to the usual ferry quality—rarely excellent, mostly just passable. But this time, drawn in by the hawker’s call, she’d seen kelp of a quality she’d never encountered before. The moment she touched it, she knew this batch was different—it was good.
She asked the stall owner, but he hemmed and hawed and wouldn’t say. She understood he was holding back and didn’t press. Her cargo ship was leaving that afternoon anyway—she figured she’d take this small batch of excellent dried kelp home for her family to enjoy.
She’d be back in a while anyway—there’d be time to do business then. She told the young stall owner to keep her in mind if she got more stock.
“Thirty-eight wen—well done, He Chao.” Xie Yushu was satisfied with the final price. Just as she’d expected—as long as the quality was good, selling above thirty wen was no problem at all.
He Chao scratched his head and grinned sheepishly. “It was nothing—I just shouted a few lines like you told me to. It’s your good eye for quality that did it.”
He took out the one hundred and fourteen copper coins from his pocket and handed them to Xie Yushu.
She accepted them, then took out ten wen and gave them to He Chao. “Your running fee.”
He Chao refused. He’d only done this one small favor for Xie Yushu—he hadn’t even thought about getting paid. Besides, she’d saved his life—how could he take money from his savior?
It just wasn’t right. He Chao stuck his neck out and wouldn’t take it.
“Take it. I’ll have more work for you in the future—are you in or not?”
He Chao still waved his hands. “If you need anything done, Miss, just tell me—no payment necessary. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“I don’t ask people to work for free. He Chao,” Xie Yushu lowered her voice, her brows furrowing with displeasure, “take it.”
His family was clearly struggling, yet he was still happily helping her out. Xie Yushu couldn’t owe that kind of favor.
Seeing she seemed unhappy, He Chao didn’t want to upset her and reluctantly accepted the ten coins.
It was hot, so He Chao drank another bowl of water before leaving Xie Yushu’s house.
Xie Yushu went back to her room and put the first money she’d earned in Songwan Town into her money pouch.
One hundred and fourteen wen wasn’t much—and after deducting the ten wen for He Chao’s fee, she was left with one qian and four wen. But it was money she’d earned with her own hands.
Money you earn yourself feels solid.
Xie Yushu calculated carefully.
She’d spent thirty-six wen to buy Hong San’s kelp—that was the expense. She’d sold it for one hundred and fourteen wen—more than double—that was the revenue.
(114-36)/114 = 0.6842+
The gross profit margin was a staggering 68%!
For net profit in modern terms, you’d subtract rent, utilities, labor, and other costs—but for now, she didn’t have those, so she left them out.
If she scaled up to bulk supply in the future, the unit price would inevitably drop. She’d already prepared for that. Even if prices were squeezed, she could still make her first pot of gold just by moving volume.
This business definitely had potential.
She needed to get the processing base set up—at least a large open drying yard and a few trained workers.
Xie Yushu went back to her business plan, writing and revising. Everything was ready—all she lacked was capital.
She wondered how the Du family was handling the insider situation.
She wanted to shamelessly ask: was Du Yinghua’s attendant’s promise of “good things” still valid? If so, would that come in silver? And if silver, how much?
She was out of the loop in the village—to find out, she’d have to go to the ferry, which took time.
If only there were someone who could carry messages for her—someone who traveled between the village and the ferry.
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, a name came to her. There was indeed someone—the woman who’d relayed a message from the Du family last time.
What was her name again?
Ye, something.
Riding the wave of enthusiasm, Xie Yushu headed out to find the Ye family’s house.
It wasn’t hard—she just asked her neighbors. They’d gotten to know her well over the days she’d been buying this and borrowing that, and they pointed her in the right direction.
She went straight there. Looking at the Ye house, she thought: this place was even poorer than the Zhai house. No wonder the woman last time wore patched clothes—her family must be struggling too.
The yard was empty, save for a timid-looking little boy—maybe seven or eight years old—hiding behind the gate, eyeing Xie Yushu warily.
“My sister’s at work—she hasn’t come home yet. What do you need?”
Xie Yushu then remembered that the ferry workers hadn’t finished their shift yet. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she’d forgotten.
She wasn’t bothered. She said gently to the little boy, “When your sister comes home, tell her Xie Yushu came looking for her. Ask her to come to the Zhai house—I have some work for her, and there’ll be copper coins in it.”
The little boy nodded, saying he’d remember.
Not wanting to linger, Xie Yushu turned and left.
“Xiao Zhi, who was that?” A weathered voice came from inside the house.
The little boy ran inside, soothed his grandmother’s chest, and helped her drink some water. He answered, “A very pretty big sister—she came looking for my sister.”
His grandmother patted his little hand and said fondly, “Good—don’t run off, now. Looks like rain’s coming.”
The little boy nodded vigorously, saying he understood.
Xie Yushu headed home. The light around her dimmed without warning, the sky darkening. She looked up and saw thick clouds pressing low.
Rain was coming.
Summer rains were common—sudden downpours were nothing unusual. She didn’t want to get caught in it, so she quickened her pace.
On her way back, her thoughts drifted—past the village dirt roads, through the ominous clouds, all the way to town, and to a certain someone.
Had he brought a raincoat or umbrella? Would he get caught in the rain? Would he close up early and come home?
As these thoughts swirled, the very person she’d been thinking about appeared right before her eyes.
Su Chi was walking back from the village entrance, carrying his bamboo basket, walking hurriedly as if he had something urgent to get home for.
Xie Yushu fell in behind him. She wasn’t being sneaky—they were just heading in the same direction. She kept a safe distance between them as they walked.
Su Chi had already noticed her behind him. His heart beat faster—he told himself it was just because he was walking quickly.
Seeing he’d spotted her, Xie Yushu cleared her throat and couldn’t help asking, “Why are you back so early today?” It was a full half hour earlier than usual.
Su Chi glanced sideways and replied quietly, “Mm—looked like rain, so I closed up early. Didn’t want Father to worry.”
Just then, he felt the weight on his back lift. He turned to see Xie Yushu had taken the bamboo basket off him.
“You—give it back! What if someone sees?”
Why was she like this?!
Panicking, he tried to snatch it back, but she dodged him, his ears turning pink.
Xie Yushu slung the basket onto her own back with ease, sidestepping his attempts to take it. “Don’t worry—there’s hardly anyone on this road at this hour. It’s just us.”
The basket was full of empty filling jars and odds and ends—quite heavy. Even for her, it wasn’t light. She couldn’t believe that this slender young man carried it back and forth every day.
Ignoring his protests, Xie Yushu carried the heavy basket all the way to his doorstep.
They didn’t run into any other villagers on the way, which put Su Chi at ease. He thanked her.
Xie Yushu didn’t like being thanked, so she stayed quiet.
Not knowing what she was thinking, Su Chi tilted his head and said, “I’ll make soup for you tonight—but it’ll be a little later.”
A trotter soup took at least an hour and a half to become tender and melt-in-your-mouth. Su Chi calculated the timing—dinner would be a bit late.
“Alright.” Her mood lifted instantly, the earlier discomfort gone. She answered crisply.
Good—another meal from the little kitchen prodigy.
Su Chi told her to wait at home, then pushed open his gate. Looking up, he saw the rain was still a while off—no need to slack off. He set to work.
He was neat by nature. He washed his hands at the trough, dried them, and dusted off the grime from the road.
Then he brought in his father’s bedding, which had been washed and sun-dried since morning. He gathered the blankets from the drying line, folded them in his arms, and carried them inside, breathing in the warm scent of sun-baked fabric.
Back in the kitchen, he emptied his basket. The vegetables for tomorrow’s bun filling were all gone. He reached for the basket to go to the back mountain and pick some.
Just then, a hand stopped him. It was Xie Yushu, who’d come back from across the way. “It’s about to rain—where are you going?”
Su Chi answered honestly, “We’re out of vegetables. I need to pick some from the field for tomorrow’s filling.”
Xie Yushu took the basket from him. “I’ll go. You focus on cooking.”
Su Chi didn’t refuse. She’d helped him so many times by now—he was getting used to her kindness.
He figured it made sense too. He needed to light the fire and start simmering the pig trotters—that would take a while. Going to the fields would only delay things further.
He nodded and said, “Trouble you,” then went to the main hall and brought back a bamboo rain hat, handing it to Xie Yushu. Afraid the rain would come down hard, he urged, “Don’t stay too long. Once it starts, it might pour.”
Xie Yushu took it and promised, “Got it. I’ll be quick—I’ll be back before it rains.”
Su Chi told her where the field was—on the back mountain, easy to find, right next to a large rock.
Xie Yushu remembered that rock from her last trip up the mountain—she’d wondered where such a big stone had come from. It was about the size of the boulders at university campuses with the school name carved on them.
So that field belonged to Su Chi’s family. She noted it, told him not to worry, and said she’d be back soon after picking the vegetables.
In the kitchen, Su Chi got busy. First, he chopped the front trotters from the Gao family into manageable pieces. He scraped off the surface fat with a knife, carefully removed any stray hairs, and scrubbed every crevice clean.
He brought out an earthenware soup pot that hadn’t been used in a while—a size larger than the medicine pot. He moved the medicine pot off the small clay stove, set the soup pot in its place, added water, and lit the fire. He put the trotters in cold water with some ginger slices, scallion sections, and yellow wine to blanch them.
Leave a Reply